ASHES CH6: Ward

Luo Zhi had a very long dream.

In the dream, he was probably only five or six years old, or perhaps even younger.

His little sister, swaddled in blankets, was well-behaved and soft. She reached out her hands, babbling and smiling at him with curving eyes.

His parents were preparing a birthday present for him. Once it was ready, they mysteriously hid it, teasing him with smiles, deliberately watching him grow anxious and restless.

His eldest brother, sitting by the window reading, got too annoyed by the noise. With a sigh, he put down his book, stood up, and hoisted him onto his shoulders.

Sitting on his eldest brother’s shoulders, he finally found his birthday present on top of the bookcase. Jubilant and proud, he couldn’t wait to pull the ribbon tied around the wrapping paper.

…

As the beautiful ribbon was pulled away, a scorching pain suddenly swept across Luo Zhi’s back.

It felt as if his tendons were being pulled out.

Of course, Luo Zhi had never had his tendons pulled out.

He wasn’t the precious pearl of the Dragon King of the East Sea, who raged and blotted out the sun seeking revenge before Chentang Pass. Nor was he the Third Prince of General Li, the guardian of the pass, who carved off his flesh to repay his mother and scraped his bones to repay his father, severing all ties and having nothing to do with them ever again.

If a person is truly forced to strip themselves down to their bones, to cancel out and repay all the debts of life and upbringing, there is no lotus incarnation to resurrect them.

If you can’t be resurrected, then you can only die.

From then on, knowing nothing, needing to know nothing, owing each other nothing, relaxed and clean.

These are all myths. Myths are legends entrusting a certain strong faith and pursuit; they are not real.

Just like in this dream, Luo Zhi wasn’t real either.

He didn’t know when he detached from his original perspective, continuing to watch this scene from somewhere in mid-air.

It turned out that intense pain was the zipper on his back being pulled open. Jian Huaiyi came out from inside and took over that carefully prepared gift. It turned out the time was long past childhood; Luo Jun’s brow was cold and sharp, and Luo Cheng had grown into a graceful young woman, no longer the little girl who only knew how to cry behind him.

Like a discarded mascot costume, he slumped down softly with an empty heart, calmly observing everything before him, only to be kicked away in disgust by someone.

…

The scene changed, and the person squatting in front of him became Ren Chenbai.

Since it was just a dream, everyone in the dream was strange, and Ren Chenbai was strange too.

Ren Chenbai just looked down at him.

Those eyes, which were usually gentle to everyone, became very cold.

It wasn’t the kind of natural, alienating coldness like Luo Jun’s, but a chilling intent directed solely at him: “How can you still go on living so peacefully?”

The last time Luo Zhi saw this kind of chilling intent was in Madam Luo’s eyes.

When Madam Luo had an episode, her mind confused and unable to recognize people, she would stare at him as if looking at her most hated enemy, tearing at Luo Zhi’s clothes, demanding Luo Zhi return her son.

Madam Luo refused to recognize Luo Zhi as her son, and this became more obvious the more she suffered from her illness.

Madam Luo firmly believed Luo Zhi was some sort of devil who had usurped her son’s identity. Because Luo Zhi couldn’t remember what he liked to eat as a child, couldn’t remember what hobbies he had as a child, Madam Luo firmly believed he was a fake.

Madam Luo could be smiling and handing him a freshly cut fruit platter one second, and the next second, hysterically blow up because Luo Zhi accidentally ate a piece of pineapple he refused to touch as a child. With bloodshot eyes, she would glare at him viciously, wishing she could bite open his throat, tear him apart flesh and skin, and swallow him down.

…

Luo Zhi was already used to these things.

What Madam Luo wanted was the son exactly as he was in her memories, so Jian Huaiyi, who imitated him much better, would become Madam Luo’s spiritual pillar.

Madam Luo needed a stable environment, so he tried not to return to the Luo family home, and even if he did, he only stayed in the most remote guest room on the first floor.

But even now, Luo Zhi still didn’t understand why Ren Chenbai would look at him with that kind of gaze.

It had almost become an obsession for Luo Zhi.

Not because Ren Chenbai was that important in his heart.

Of course, Ren Chenbai was indeed very important in Luo Zhi’s heart—but that was nothing more than self-indulgent, one-sided reliance on someone who could never possibly become family—besides, Luo Zhi had long since grown up and stopped being so ungrateful.

If he had to put it into words, it was probably a kind of confusion mixed with a thirst for knowledge.

It was the confusion of binge-watching a drama right up to the most critical point, watching the victim on their dying breath utter the words “the killer is,” only to have their head loll and hand drop, facing a suddenly appearing ending theme song.

The confusion of researching a problem all night, coming up with eighteen different results using different methods, turning to the last page, and finding the standard answer ripped out.

Luo Zhi really couldn’t figure out exactly why Ren Chenbai hated him.

Perhaps this confusion would entangle him forever, making him become a ghost after death, knocking on Ren Chenbai’s window to generously ask about it clearly.

…Why would he become a ghost?

Because he had a high fever and, instead of going to the hospital, locked himself in his car.

Why did he lock himself in his car?

Because he truly didn’t know where to go; it was the only place he could go, the only place he could hide.

Why did he have to hide?

Because it was very hard for him…

The word “sad” didn’t stay in his consciousness for more than a second.

Luo Zhi’s brain automatically helped him block this part of the conclusion. He had known very clearly from a long time ago that he absolutely couldn’t let himself sink in.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have enough strength to support himself to crawl back out, return to this broken place, and do it all over again.

That instinctive shudder from his subconscious violently yanked Luo Zhi out of the continuous, deep dream.

…

He wasn’t in his car.

The moment he arrived at this conclusion, Luo Zhi had already pulled the needle out of the back of his hand, rolled off the bed, tumbled under the bed in one swift motion, and gripped that needle tightly in his hand.

These actions bypassed his brain, purely out of instinct. It took quite a while before Luo Zhi slowly recovered from the chaotic daze and the dizzying fall.

Hiding under the bed, half of his face pressed against the cold, hard tiles, blood dripping drop by drop from the back of his hand.

This was a single patient ward, very clean. White walls, white tiles, blue curtains and a blue screen, a steel-framed hospital bed, and a sink by the door.

Luo Zhi curled up his body, firmly protecting his chest and abdomen. The needle was clamped sharply outward between his fingers, his arms crossed over his head for protection.

Only after he confirmed his surroundings did he finally let out a low breath. The string in his brain that invariably tightened infinitely during the few seconds of transitioning from sleep to wakefulness trembled and loosened bit by bit.

Luo Zhi lowered his gaze, looking at the blue and white striped hospital gown on his body.

For what felt like an exceptionally long dozen seconds, Luo Zhi felt a sense of regret that left even him somewhat bewildered.

He didn’t know where this regret came from; was it “sure enough, beautiful memories are just dreams and this is reality,” or “why was I still able to wake up”?

The latter emotion was actually not right.

Luo Zhi knew this, so he never asked himself unnecessary questions.

Compared to his own situation, Luo Zhi actually wanted to know immediately what happened to his car.

What did Ren Chenbai do to his car?

Why, after Luo Zhi had locked the car and hidden inside, did Ren Chenbai still find a way to get him out and forcibly bring him to the hospital?

…

It wasn’t too hard to find this answer.

During the standoff with Ren Chenbai, so many people at the mall had recognized him, so naturally, some people would follow him to the parking lot.

What happened later had long been spread everywhere online. It didn’t take Luo Zhi much time to find photos from the scene and several versions of live accounts. The photos were taken from different distances and angles, comprehensively recording the scene at the time.

Ren Chenbai had called the police.

Ren Chenbai told the police that his younger brother was throwing a tantrum and had locked himself in the car, potentially having suicidal thoughts and doing something foolish.

His tone was very urgent, a matter of life and death, so in the end, it was decided to force entry.

Luo Zhi’s car was equipped with bulletproof glass, making it extremely difficult to break the windows. Professionals with welding torches had to try from several different angles before they finally dragged the long-unconscious Luo Zhi out of the car.

The comments said all sorts of things. Some said Luo Zhi was playing the victim for sympathy, some said he was wasting public resources by acting suicidal, and some said no one would believe a grown man playing such tricks.

Of course, many people also became fans of Ren Chenbai because of this news—the gentle and open-minded noble young master who didn’t show disdain even when faced with such a dirty, despicable burden, personally carrying Luo Zhi into the ambulance.

Perhaps it was some law of conservation; the more people praised Ren Chenbai for being gentle, handsome, and the ideal man, the more people cursed Luo Zhi for being ungrateful and biting the hand that fed him.

Luo Zhi actually didn’t care about these things.

He clicked on these posts just to find the photos inside.

If the rescue took so much effort, the car naturally must have been ruined beyond recognition.

Luo Zhi clicked on every image, saved the original size, zoomed in to the limit, and examined the details of the pictures bit by bit.

He hadn’t been awake for long and had thrown himself under the bed once. Although he had barely managed to prop himself back onto the bed now, he was still terribly dizzy, and his vision was far from clear.

But Luo Zhi still looked very seriously. He even opened an image editing software. Burying his head, he flipped through those photos—taken from various angles primarily to capture how disheveled and ugly he looked—examined his car, and marked every potentially repairable spot with dark blue circles.

This was a very tedious and mentally draining project. After checking a dozen photos, Luo Zhi noticed someone turn on the light. He raised his eyes and saw the figure pushing the door open.

It took Luo Zhi a moment to recognize the blurred block of color in his vision as Ren Chenbai.

Ren Chenbai didn’t come alone. He also brought Luo Cheng. The two shadows stood at the edge of a large, almost glaringly white block of light.

Luo Cheng walked to the side of Luo Zhi’s hospital bed.

The girl’s complexion wasn’t very good. She bit her lip, looking at him silently.

Luo Zhi put down his phone and smiled: “Little sister…”

“What is your meaning?” Luo Cheng spoke at the same moment, her voice hoarse as she questioned him in a low voice, “I just want to do what I want to do. Must you use this kind of method to punish me?”

Luo Zhi’s words halted, and he lowered his gaze.

“You want me to feel guilty for the rest of my life, don’t you? You want me to blame myself forever, thinking you had suicidal thoughts because of me.”

“You didn’t want to give the company to Second Brother, so you directed and acted out this whole scene yourself.”

Luo Cheng’s voice seemed to tremble a bit: “This was your idea. You hate me, you absolutely won’t let me have it easy…”

The pale fingers resting on Luo Zhi’s blanket convulsed slightly, curling up bit by bit and tucking into his palm.

“No,” Luo Zhi’s tone was very relaxed, “I fell asleep in the car.”

His body sank back into the pillow, tilting his head back with curving eyes: “Too tired, didn’t wake up. Brother Chenbai made a fuss over nothing and blew things out of proportion…”

“You’re still falsely accusing Brother Chenbai even now!”

Luo Cheng gritted her teeth, glaring at him as if with hatred: “It was clearly Brother Chenbai who saved you! You almost—”

Luo Zhi looked at the needle mark on the back of his hand and slowly let out an “oh”.

…Luo Cheng really was very easy to bait into spilling information.

In all the years Jian Huaiyi was responsible for taking care of his little sister, he hadn’t taught Luo Cheng a single thing about how to speak and act cautiously, or how to handle questions, simply pushing her into that big dyeing vat of a circle.

Luo Cheng seemed to suddenly snap back to reality, tightly shutting her mouth, her face uncontrollably turning a bit pale.

…

When he was carried out of the car by Ren Chenbai, Luo Zhi’s breathing was already very weak.

If it were a normal person with a high fever, the danger wouldn’t be too great. But at that time, Luo Zhi had also suffered an episode of hypoglycemia and had already fallen into a coma. No one knew what would happen if it dragged on for too long.

Luo Zhi himself had only just learned of his condition at the time, but Luo Cheng clearly knew about it.

That was why she blurted it out without thinking when defending Ren Chenbai.

“I almost lost my life then.”

Luo Zhi softly helped her finish the sentence, then looked up with a bit of curiosity: “Little sister, you knew I almost died, so your first reaction was to hate me, come question me about having ulterior motives, and acting it out myself?”