Cheng Zhaorui heard about what happened at the old residence from Dr. Yang.

Dr. Yang was a doctor from the old residence who maintained close, constant contact with the family physician there, which let him track all the gossip coming out of the old residence in high resolution.

But what happened at the old residence tonight was gossip only to them. To Cheng Zhaorui, it meant something entirely different.

Clatter!

A delicate porcelain cup suddenly fell to the floor without warning and shattered into countless pieces.

Cheng Zhaorui seemed not to notice at all and stood there, dazed.

The sight scared the soul out of Dr. Yang. He shook the young boss in panic and concern. “Mr. Cheng, Mr. Cheng?”

Stiffly, Cheng Zhaorui turned his head. His expression was vacant, and his voice wavered. “You just said… Father lost the bet, and after coughing up blood at the table from anger, not only did he not drive them out of the old residence, he actually acknowledged that man’s viewpoint?”

Dr. Yang answered uncertainly, “That’s… what I heard. If you want details, you should ask Brother Wang.”

There was no need to ask the butler. After all, at the old residence, if something hadn’t truly happened, who would dare spread rumors about his father?

It was precisely for that reason that he found everything unbelievable.

Father… He could fail, concede, lower his head, admit he was wrong?

Could there really be such a day when Father recognized and admitted that his educational philosophy over all these years had been wrong?

If it was all true, then for the generations of Cheng descendants who had lost their childhood and all color in their lives because of Father’s education… from now on, when they returned to the old residence to breathe, would they finally be able to draw one more breath of fresh air?

Dr. Yang waited uneasily at his side. As he waited, he suddenly saw the young boss shed two lines of tears for no apparent reason.

It startled him badly. “Mr. Cheng, you…? Did I say something wrong?”

With one hand, Cheng Zhaorui covered his eyes. He shook his head. There was no excitement or rage in him, only a measure of fatigue, confusion, and sorrow. He said, “It’s nothing. It’s not about you.”

It was just that—he had never seen it before, and he was not used to it. Even the sun can sting the eyes to tears.

…

What happened at the old residence in November caused a great stir in the shadows across the Cheng family. Of course, they did not know the truth, and what they heard was worlds apart from reality—

They heard that, in order to protect the “Little Uncle” who had returned home last year from being “tormented” by the old master, Cheng Huanzhen made a bet with him using the new product’s sales figures after launch.

The outcome, obviously, was that the numbers were exceptional. As soon as the first-week results came out, they decisively confirmed Huanzhen’s victory in the wager. So on that day, Huanzhen stormed into the old residence alone and had a fierce and exhilarating debate with the old master!

In the debate, Huanzhen won. The old master was so angered he spat blood, and with the data impossible to refute, he had no choice but to admit that there were problems with his educational approach over the years.

For a time, the family’s goodwill toward this heir apparent favored by the old master surged. Some private jokes that had once circulated about “AI running the household” quietly disappeared in unspoken agreement.

Yet the birthplace of the storm is also the first place where the wind dies down.

Ever since the day he “snatched back” his Little Uncle, Cheng Huanzhen hadn’t devoted even a sliver of attention to the old residence.

He was busy. In fact, he was getting busier and busier.

His Little Uncle’s medication costs had doubled, putting great pressure on him. Even if he could earn one quarter’s worth of medication costs, the payments after that still had no clear source.

Because of this, he was even proactively considering launching new projects outside the original plan—ones that could earn money easily and quickly.

All the rest of his time was spent on his Little Uncle.

Lately… his Little Uncle’s condition had been getting worse.

December. No sooner had he finished his school exams than Cheng Huanzhen rushed home without stopping.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Little Uncle.”

The first thing he did upon returning home was go to the room next to his and knock on his Little Uncle’s door.

No response. That was normal.

Lately, his Little Uncle had been sleeping longer and longer. It was a symptom unique to this episode—something that had never appeared before. His daily sleep had a baseline of twelve hours. Sometimes it even stretched to sixteen, deep and unarousable.

This made Cheng Huanzhen very worried. For some time already, he had been planning to take his Little Uncle to the hospital for a formal examination.

But his Little Uncle had kept refusing, and he couldn’t carry him off to the hospital like a bandit, so things had dragged until today.

But today, he was unwilling to delay any further—

Today, he met someone: a young master of the Li family.

The man said he had been investigating something and had sought him out specifically to ask about various aspects of his Little Uncle’s condition.

He was reluctant to disclose anything, and the other man didn’t press him. He just told him that over the last two years, the probability of ill young masters getting into trouble at the start of the year had been relatively high, and urged him to be vigilant. If he noticed any suspicious person showing up around his Little Uncle, he hoped to be contacted.

Cheng Huanzhen felt Li Yunhui’s level of vigilance was somewhat exaggerated.

But he did recall that in recent years there had indeed been people in their circle who died of illness before the new year. Perhaps the weather at the start of the year was particularly harsh on the sick?

He didn’t know. But he was nervous.

So he decided that if he couldn’t persuade his Little Uncle again today, he would wait until he was asleep and quietly move him to the hospital!

Cheng Huanzhen gently opened the door and went in.

To his surprise, his Little Uncle was awake!

He was sitting at the head of the bed.

The heat was cranked up in the room, and his Little Uncle wore only a very thin, bright pink set of pajamas. There was no expression on his face. He looked as if he had just woken up, dazing in place with his head tilted toward the window.

The sun was setting; only a little smoldering ember of orange-yellow light remained, warm and cool as it fell on the bed.

His Little Uncle’s room was lively.

The headboard was packed with all kinds of stuffed toys. The windowsill was crowded with potted plants. The desk was filled with ornaments large and small, many in type and number, yet the space didn’t feel cramped or messy. It was clearly arranged with great care.

These were all things they had encountered while out together last term. If his Little Uncle liked something, he’d buy it and bring it home. After a few months, the room had become this lively.

But ever since his Little Uncle’s episode and blindness, nothing new had been added to the room.

Cheng Huanzhen walked to the head of the bed. “Little Uncle.”

It was as if his Little Uncle hadn’t heard him. No response.

“Little Uncle!” He sat on the edge of the bed and raised his voice.

Still no response.

He sighed, found his Little Uncle’s hand under the quilt, held it, patted it, and called again, “Little Uncle!!”

His Little Uncle finally returned to himself.

Although blind, he had the habit of turning his head toward the source of any sound he heard.

Recognizing his voice, his Little Uncle turned and smiled at him. “Nephew, you’re back!”

—Aside from the increased time asleep, his Little Uncle’s reactions had clearly become slower lately.

“Yes, Little Uncle, I’m back,” said Cheng Huanzhen earnestly. “How was your day today? What did you do?”

His Little Uncle tilted his head and thought for a while. “Today? …I went out at noon to sunbathe. It was so cold. In the afternoon, I was chatting with Big Brother. He recommended a film he acted in and told me I must see it once I’m better. But to be honest, the synopsis sounded terribly boring.”

“Then don’t watch it if it’s boring,” said Cheng Huanzhen. “He’ll understand.”

He paused. “I heard the capital hospital is running a promotion today. Everyone who registers has a chance to win a mysterious lucky prize. Little Uncle, do you want to try?”

His Little Uncle chuckled. “Nephew, I’m blind, not stupid.”

Cheng Huanzhen felt a bit deflated. He had spent half the day thinking up that good excuse.

With the pretense punctured, he could only get straight to the point. “Little Uncle, your condition hasn’t been great lately. I want to take you to the hospital. Today. We can’t put it off anymore.”

As expected, his Little Uncle didn’t want to go.

He pouted, and his upper body melted like a puddle, flopping onto the bed.

Drawing out his voice, he sounded particularly plaintive and pitiful. “Nephew, I don’t want to go to the hospital!”

Today, his heart was hard as iron. “We have to go today, Little Uncle. What do you want to wear, which outfit? If you don’t choose, I’ll fetch my suit for you to change into.”

A wail. “No, you can’t! You can’t make me go somewhere I don’t want to go and wear clothes I don’t want to wear!!”

His Little Uncle gripped the sheet tightly, as if that could maintain some seal on the bed.

After observing for two seconds, Cheng Huanzhen bent down and slid his fingers under his Little Uncle’s palms, neatly prying them off the bed one by one. He held both hands together so they couldn’t latch back onto the sheet, then effortlessly scooped up his entire Little Uncle from the bed.

By now, he had worked out some methods for coaxing his Little Uncle (the slowed-down version).

For example: “Little Uncle, what color do you want to wear today—how about red—which piece? Which perfume do you want to use today, still the tuberose bottle, or should we switch? You can even try mine.”

At that point, his Little Uncle would follow along with the questions, pick clothes and perfume, and—feeling aggrieved—insist on being properly dressed up. Only after that would he remember that he didn’t want to go to the hospital.

But by then it would be too late. The clothes were on, the perfume was sprayed. He was all ready; they had to go out.

And so he successfully got his Little Uncle to the capital hospital.

The examinations were done quickly, but the conclusion came out painfully slowly.

He and the butler waited with his Little Uncle for quite a while outside before finally seeing a doctor open the door with a stack of test reports and beckon to him, face grave.

“You stay with Little Uncle,” Cheng Huanzhen told the butler.

He entered the room to see Dr. Yang and several senior specialists, all wearing somber expressions.

A faint thud sounded in his heart, and his step faltered. He set his gaze on the doctor who had opened the door and beckoned him in, and asked seriously, “How is he?”

The doctor frowned deeply, sighed long, and shook his head.

“We’ve just reviewed the patient’s history with Dr. Yang,” the doctor said. “The patient’s prior course with an intracranial space-occupying lesion was relatively stable and consistent with a benign tumor. But judging from today’s examinations…”

The doctor explained many things: tumor volume increase; suspected malignant transformation; an anatomically special location that made surgery impossible; even radiation would be severely limited…

In the end, the doctor sighed and offered a conclusion. “Whichever plan we choose, the risks are extremely high. We recommend maintaining the original approach and continuing with the current disease-controlling medication. Based on the present situation, the patient has approximately two months of life remaining.”

Cheng Huanzhen froze where he stood.

He stood there blankly, his expression vacant, as if he had even forgotten how to breathe. A noisy buzzing rose in his ears and drowned out everything, and then it fell into silence, draining away all sound and sight, leaving him unable to hear anything, unable to see clearly.

He didn’t know how long it was before his mind finally produced its first response.

Two months?

How… is that possible?!”