π»ππ πππππ πππππ...
Eight men stood inside the room. Apart from a single red bulb hanging low above the table in front of them, there was no other source of light. Because of that, unless one of them leaned forward to study the documents spread across the table, it was hard to make out their faces clearly.
πππ₯π¨, standing off to the side in a red shirt, shook his head, his eyes fixed on the papers as he spoke.
"This location won't work, Pepe. I think we should drop it and move ahead with what we're already certain about."
Peng, the one everyone called πππ©π, turned to look at him. He wore a white shirt with every button undone, leaving his chest completely exposed.
"I'm tired of giving up, Malo. I'm tired of calling every dead end 'patience.' If we don't have the location, how exactly do you expect us to move forward?"
One of the others shook his head in agreement.
"I'm not saying we abandon everything, Pepe. But if we lock ourselves into one single angle, we'll never progress. There are many routes. We've already lost one man over this location...it shouldn't be the only thing we focus on."
Peng nodded slowly as he looked at him.
"I know. And it's not the only thing we're working on. We've also made serious progress with that π¦ππ§'π¬ case. You all know I already have hπ’π¬ cooperation. But we still need that location....nothing will fully work without it."
A man dressed in black joined in.
"That's true, but maybe if we slowed down and removed the urgency that caused us to lose Bali in the first place, we might uncover something new."
"πΌππππππ?" Peng repeated sharply, staring at him.
"I've been on this for five years...and you're calling it urgency?"
He shook his head.
"Do you even hear yourself?"
Malo pulled a chair back and sat down, looking at all of them.
"Let Pepe cool off first. We'll talk again when he's thinking straight."
One by one, they nodded. After glancing once more at Peng, they filed out of the room.
When they were gone, Peng turned to Malo and lifted a bottle of alcohol beside him.
"I haven't even opened it. I'm completely sober."
Malo nodded.
"I know. But you need to focus, Pepe. Every one of those guys was recruited recently...none of them has even been with us for a full year. You know the kind of business we're in. Tomorrow is never guaranteed. You can't keep charging ahead like this while ignoring advices."
Peng stared at him for a few seconds, then set the bottle down and pulled a chair closer. Sitting, he looked at the papers on the table and shook his head.
"You wouldn't understand, Malo. You don't know how badly I want this to succeed."
"But haven't you already started seeing results?" Malo asked calmly.
"Didn't you tell me yourself how well that last plan worked?"
Peng fell silent. In his eyes, images surfaced....proof that his efforts were finally paying off, that the countless days of planning and maneuvering had not been wasted.
After Fuyue managed to obtain several strands of Nainai's hair, Peng had immediately handed them to one of his associates, who passed them to a spiritual man known for psychological manipulation. The promise had been clear: once the charm were secured, the plan would work....Nainai's thoughts would be subtly redirected, her judgment clouded, until all she could see was Zhan marrying Peng.
Within a week, Fuyue called to confirm the success. Nainai now spoke of nothing except wanting Zhan's marriage to happen.
Peng reinforced the effect by visiting her frequently under the pretense of concern, carefully feeding her the same ideas again and again.
Then news broke that Nainai's stress had become so severe she collapsed and was rushed to the hospital. Tests later showed it was overwhelming emotional strain affecting her heart, causing the sudden fainting episode.
When Peng went to visit her, he heard everyone repeating the same explanation...that something deeply troubling must have happened to push Nainai this far, since she had never been prone to worry or illness, not even high blood pressure despite her age.
That was when Peng fully believed what Fuyue had told him: Zhan's guilt over Nainai's condition had crushed him. So much that Zhan had finally agreed to the marriage.
Peng smiled at the memory...at how Zhan's behavior toward him had changed, how he now answered calls promptly, listened quietly, and responded with nothing more than a soft "π°π¬π’πΊ," unlike before, when even picking up his calls felt like a burden.
For now, Peng wasn't rushing things. He didn't want to overplay his hand.
"And now you're planning to give that boy more money?" Malo's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
"What boy?" Peng asked, turning toward him.
"Fuyue....the one you gave a million to."
Peng smiled as he began twisting open the bottle cap.
"The one he took... will return too."
At that moment, Malo understood exactly what he meant.
They laughed together...low, knowing laughter...while Peng imagined his revenge finally coming together. A revenge he was willing to risk everything for. After all, what was the point of a son who failed his parents while they were alive...and still failed them even after they were gone?
β¨β¨β¨
Yibo lifted his water bottle to his lips, took a drink, then set it down on the bedside drawer in front of him. He picked up his papers and MacBook and stepped out onto the balcony of his apartment....there was nowhere else spacious enough to spread out the piles of documents he was working with. He was tired of writing inside the house.
Writing....there was nothing in recent days that consumed his time more than it. It was his book, the one he had started two years earlier. Back then, he had given himself just six months to finish everything, writing relentlessly day and night. That intensity eventually caught up with him; sleeplessness piled up until it became unbearable.
Soon after, he began suffering from severe headaches....so bad he had to consult a neurologist. The medications he was given made him sleep constantly. That was when he abandoned the manuscript entirely and, over time, almost forgot it existed.
Until now.
These past days, as his thoughts became tangled and everything inside his head began to collide, he found himself unable to settle on a clear position regarding Zhan, whose presence refused to leave his mind.
There was one truth....bright and unmistakable...that had been staring him in the face for a long time: without asking his permission, his heart had split itself open and made space for Zhan.
All the excuses he told himself, all the detours and denials...he was exhausted by them. He finally admitted it. He loved Zhan. Deeply.
It was a kind of love he had never allowed his heart to feel for anyone else. The kind he'd only ever seen in other people. And once he accepted that truth, questions began to swarm him.
Why would his heart rebel against his plans?
Why choose a path completely different from his reason?
Had it forgotten who he was? Forgotten the life he lived?
Why would it imagine that he could continue living this way?
Why, from the very beginning, had he made the mistake of following his heart and letting Zhan get so closeβclose enough for everything to intertwine?
Why hadn't he suppressed it, pushed Zhan away, the way he had done with so many other things in his life?
(π° πππ πππ ππππππ π©ππππ πππππππ ππ ππ ππππ ππππ ππππ ππ πππππ πππππππ ππππππππ.π)
The thought that Zhan himself might begin to form expectations about him forced Yibo to take action. He chose paths he knew would bring him control again. He gathered the emotional strength he had once mastered and fastened it back around his heart. From then on, whenever he entered the hospital, he made sure nothing connected him to Zhan beyond their professional duties.
He also began avoiding the SRRI department unless absolutely necessary. If he didn't have heavy work there, he stayed away...sometimes for days..choosing instead to remain in his office after surgeries. On days without operations, he avoided the hospital entirely. At home, he dug out old research papers he hadn't touched in ages, and even returned to drafting his book. If he wasn't attending to personal needs, his focus stayed locked on writing...anything to leave no room for idle thoughts.
Still, there were three occasions when circumstances forced him to reach out to Zhan. Each time he heard that familiar voice, he couldn't name what stirred inside him...only that it worsened the very thing he was trying to heal, something he knew was real yet felt impossible to pursue.
He closed his eyes slowly, pulling himself back from the spiral, then exhaled heavily as he looked at the title of his book...the one that had finally settled after countless discarded options scribbled across the page.
ππ¨π«π ππ¨π§πππ©ππ¬ π’π§ πππ©ππ«π¨π¬ππ¨π©π’π ππ©ππ«πππ’π―π πππ«ππππ π².
He lifted the water bottle again, taking another sip, calculating how many days it might take to finish. He was already close to completing half of it, and he had no intention of easing up. Once the SRRI program ended, he knew his schedule would only grow lighter....time he refused to waste on thoughts that would bring him nothing.
As night settled in, he gathered his things and went back inside. He had plans later that evening. In a short while, he was meeting Malo...the same Malo who had reached out to him two weeks earlier, after their unexpected encounter at the gym.
Seeing Malo show up at his hospital office back then hadn't surprised him at all. From the way Malo had stared at his license plate that day, Yibo had known...no matter where he went, as long as he had that car, Malo would find him.
Their conversation hadn't lasted long; Yibo had been heading into surgery. They agreed to meet again later, especially since Malo mentioned he'd be traveling and would be away for some time.
Malo was, without question, the first real friend Yibo had made since his life changed. Through Malo and his circle, Yibo had been encounter Professor Fan Shutong...the man whose help had reshaped his life and brought him to where he stood now.
8:30 p.m. that evening, Yibo arrived at a small restaurant where he and Malo had agreed to meet.
"I swear, Lion, I'm still amazed," Malo said after finishing his stories about people they used to know. "I never imagined life would bring us back together like this."
Most of the names he mentioned came with grim endings...some had died in humiliating circumstances, others were still stuck exactly where life had left them years ago. None had truly moved forward. Just like Malo himself, sitting across from Yibo now.
"You, a doctor," Malo went on, shaking his head in disbelief. "A surgeon, of all things. Do you remember the day Zulu died? How your hands were shaking when you picked up his body? Who would have thought you'd one day be cutting people open and saving their lives?"
As he spoke, Malo reached into his pocket for a cigarette. Before he could light it, a staff member stopped him from a distance.
"Sir, sorry....smoking isn't allowed here."
Malo glanced at the man, then turned back to Yibo with a laugh.
"See my problem? I'm not used to places like this."
Yibo reached for the bottle of water in front of him and said calmly,
"And you forget that I'm a doctor? Should I start listing the health risks for you?"
Malo scoffed loudly.
"What kind of man are you? You really dare want to lecture me?"
They both laughed. Yibo took a sip of water, then studied Malo closely. Finally, he asked the question that had been on his mind ever since they ran into each other at the gym...the real reason he had agreed to meet again.
"That guy I saw you with the first day we met...who is he?"
Malo's expression shifted slightly. He paused, thinking.
"Peng. You wouldn't know him. He joined the gang after you left. A real menace, I'm telling you. These days, everyone listens when he talks."
"A menace? How bad?" Yibo asked.
"Worse than Ashero and the others we knew?"
"Ashero?" Malo laughed. "If I tell you, Lion, you won't believe it. If I tell you the kind of project Peng is running right now, your head won't carry it."
***
π»ππ ππππ πππππππβ¦
"This patient with the inguinal hernia...there's something off about him," Zuzu, one of the nurses, said as she looked at Zhan, who was seated at his desk, scrolling through something on his tablet.
Zhan lifted his head slowly, his expression thoughtful.
"What did you notice?"
"Physically, everything checks out. His vitals are stable, parameters are fine. But emotionally⦠it feels like something's bothering him."
Zhan didn't respond, only continued to look at her.
"If you were really focused, you'd notice it too," Zuzu added gently. "But you've been off these past two days...ever since your Nainai fell ill."
She didn't need to explain further. Zhan already knew.
For two days, he had barely come to the hospital. Truthfully, he no longer knew how to separate the worries crowding his heart. The turmoil inside him felt frighteningly familiar...something he had experienced only once before, when their mother died. That was when their lives turned upside down, shifting from everything they knew into something painfully unfamiliar, until fate returned them into Nainai's hands and her family's care.
So if anyone asked, he would say his mind had completely unraveled. During the two days Nainai spent in the hospital, he knew he was only breathing...nothing else registered.
It was eventually confirmed that Nainai's condition was related to her heart. Medically, it wasn't considered severe, but to the family, the weight of it was indescribable. And to Zhan, it hit harder than anyone else...because he knew the truth. Nainai's distress wasn't her own. It was his. Everyone knew it too, even if no one said it aloud.
That was why there wasn't even the smallest doubt in his heart when it came to accepting Peng's proposal. He would marry him. He would commit fully...if that was what it took to ease Nainai's heart and lift her worries.
Only then, he believed, would he no longer see himself as selfish or ungrateful.
Zhan nodded after that brief moment of reflection and then said to Zulu,
"I noticed it too. It aligns with my notes. I've logged decreased oral intake and social withdrawal since postoperative day two, and his pain scores are also low."
"So what are you suggesting?" Zulu asked him.
"I'll brief the doctors and get their opinions later today."
"Alright then."
Nurse Zulu said, gathering her things before leaving. Zhan returned to his work, managing to clear his mind for a while. But it didn't last long. His phone rang inside his bag.
The moment he pulled it out and saw Uncle Elder flashing on the screen, his chest tightened. It felt as though something dropped from a great height straight into his heart.
"Hello," he said softly after answering.
"Zhan⦠our miracle nurse."
It was a nickname Uncle Elder had used since Zhan's school days. Normally, it would have drawn a small smile from him. This time, his lips didn't even twitch.
"Good afternoon, Uncle."
"Good afternoon. How's work?"
"I'm fine."
"What time do you finish today?"
"Around two o'clock."
"Good. When you're done, I need you at home. Come and see me."
What stirred inside Zhan at that moment told him the unease he'd felt earlier wasn't random at all. He forced himself to swallow, his heartbeat loud in his ears, before answering with effort,
"Alright, Uncle. I'll come."
"Good. I'll be waiting."
The call ended abruptly.
Slowly, Zhan lowered the phone and stared at the screen. It felt as though he had been expecting this call all along...as if the next turning point in his life was tied to it.
~~~~~
"ππππβ¦"
Uncle Elder's voice called gently as Zhan sat on the soft carpet spread across the living room floor, not long after arriving. He had just come from the Taichen section of the house, where greetings had been exchanged.
The fan blew cool air around the room, yet the moment Uncle Elder said his name, Zhan felt a wave of heat crawl over his skin.
"Yes, Uncle."
"I'm sure you know why I called you here, don't you?"
It was a question Zhan couldn't answer. He didn't know whether to say yes or no. Uncle Elder continued without pressing him.
"It's about Nainai's recent illness. We all know that whenever something troubles her, the issue of your marriage is always part of it...just as she's held in her heart for a long time."
Zhan remained silent as he went on.
"You've seen how things are. No matter how much we try to explain to her that marriage has its own timing, she doesn't let it go. That's why I want us to address this now, before it grows beyond what we can manage. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Uncle," Zhan replied quietly.
"I spoke with Shui. She confirmed that your heart isn't with Peng, and that your agreement was only because of what happened recently. So let me remind you...Nainai's wish is simply to see you married, as she has always hoped. It isn't specifically about Peng or anyone else. What I want from you now is this: within a short time, bring forward the person you truly want to marry. Let us all come together and fulfill Nainai's wish, so this worry doesn't continue to harm her."
A heavy silence filled the room. It was as though the air itself paused, weighing the words yet to come.
"But if you don't bring anyone forward," Uncle Elder added calmly, "then we will consider Peng. After all, he's someone we know very well."
π»πππππ ππ, 8 π±ππππππ
2026
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