Pushing open the ward door, Yue Qingci walked out and left before Jiang Xiaochuan arrived.

But he couldn’t leave. At the entrance of the hospital, he saw a car with a very familiar license plate. He paused for a moment and didn’t leave.

The car stopped, the door opened, and an old man in a military coat got out of the car and looked at him. “Qingci, have you seen it?”

“Yes,” Yue Qingci nodded.

“He… left?” He hesitated, a hint of complexity and regret in his voice.

“Gone.”

Gone.

Jiang Xiaochuan did not shed a single tear.

When he reached the door of the ward, he saw that someone was already cleaning up. He noticed the bullet casing on Jiang Encheng’s chest.

Jiang Encheng’s body was completely stiff, his eyes, as calm and stern as ever, closed forever.

Jiang Xiaochuan’s calmness was palpable, yet no one dared to approach him.

He reached out for pale blue palm and picked up the bullet casing. He recognized this item from before.

It was from Yue Qingci; he had been here.

Qu Zhendong, the photos, Qiu Yu, Hua Feng, bullet shells, Yue Qingci…

His father harbored many secrets, but he knew nothing about them.

He walked over and covered his father’s face with a white cloth with his own hands.

Covering all death under the whiteness of snow.

The old man in the military coat happened to witness this scene as he arrived at the ward’s door.

Jiang Xiaochuan turned around and saw him, along with Yue Qingci standing next to him.

Ignoring them, he escorted his father on his final journey to the morgue.

When he returned to pack his things, he encountered the old man again.

The old man asked, “Brother Encheng, he…”

“He is dead,” Jiang Xiaochuan replied unusually cold.

He recognized this person as the chess friend Jiang Encheng mentioned he met on the street. But – how could he be a chess friend in this situation?

“General Yue, can you tell me what happened between you and my father?”

No one could ever doubt Jiang Xiaochuan’s intelligence. He could discern who the person in front of him was, just by observing where Yue Qingci stood.

There was a general in the Yue family who had made significant contributions during the Vietnam War and was renowned. It was because of him that the Yue family held such prestige in Chengzhou.

The more prosperous and powerful the country, the more influential the family.

In response to Jiang Xiaochuan’s blunt inquiry, Yue Huasheng actually lowered his head, with an indelible sadness in his resolute eyes. “We were comrades-in-arms back then.”

Comrades-in-arms? If it were as simple as being comrades-in-arms, would he still wear such an expression now?

Perhaps Jiang Xiaochuan’s gaze was too piercing, causing Yue Huasheng to avert his eyes, but tears escaped from the corners. He was a general, a soldier trained in iron blood. Tears did not come easily, yet here they were, in this moment…

“Your father’s leg is crippled because of me. It was my fault that he was mistaken for a deserter…” The war in Vietnam forged a lifelong bond between Jiang Encheng and Yue Huasheng. However, during a battle, Jiang Xiaochuan was injured by shrapnel in his leg while pulling Yue Huasheng away from an explosion site. In the ensuing chaos, they were separated. Jiang Encheng vanished and was branded a deserter. Meanwhile, Yue Huasheng rose through the ranks, earning accolades and advancing his career.

Decades later, they meet again. One was a decorated general, the other an elderly farmer who had endured much hardship; one had a large family, the other was orphaned. The stark contrast of their realities made it difficult for the two, who once stood on the same level, to reconcile. They could only reminisce about the blood-stained glory on the chessboard.

What was gone was gone.

“So, you’re here to pay respects to my father now, out of pity and compensation? Tell me, how could the illustrious Yue family stoop to acknowledge me, a low-level official with no background? Are you still beholden to my father’s memory? Well done, Yue family.”

Jiang Xiaochuan sneered, spreading out his hands and offering the old, rusty cartridge case he had kept to Yue Qingci. “My father doesn’t need these.”

But it wasn’t Yue Qingci who accepted it; it was Yue Huasheng, his aged hands wrinkled and trembling as he took them.

Jiang Xiaochuan had never been so indifferent. He stiffened his back and turned away, intending to leave, but he found himself confronted by another uninvited guest.

Qiu Yu.

The elderly woman stood in the corridor; her eyes fixed on Jiang Xiaochuan with a strange intensity.

.

In a dark alley…

“Don’t let him escape!”

“Get him…”

Xue Yan gazed at the sky, never expecting misfortune to find him again so soon.

Ahead of him, a dead-end alley. At its end stood Qiao Yusheng, wielding a sharp scalpel and regarding Xue Yan with cool detachment.

Xue Yan clutched vital information to his chest. Pain shot through him as the cold blade pierced his body. He glared at Qiao Yusheng. “You…”

Qiao Yusheng sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Had he… placed his trust in the wrong person?

Weakness overcame Xue Yan as he slipped, blood staining the ground.

The paper bag he carried fell, drenched in red. Qiao Yusheng picked it up with pristine hands, his white coat unsullied.

“Help me…” Xue Yan’s final plea before losing consciousness…

Qiao Yusheng stood silently for a long moment.

“Let me help you, but who will help me?”

.

Jiang Xiaochuan gazed at the sky beyond, with Yue Qingci and Yue Huasheng behind him, and Qiu Yu before him.

He suddenly felt trapped.

“President Qiu, please don’t tell me you have any blood connection to me.”

Note:

Gasp!!!! That was crazyyy… Yue Qingci also reborn??? Wow