Translator: CinderTL
For some reason, the image of a scarecrow suddenly flashed through his mind.
He steeled his resolve and slowly advanced down the corridor. The doors on either side were closed, adorned with ordinary decorative paintings—at least, he couldn't detect anything unusual about them.
Rounding a corner, he found himself facing a room that was clearly larger and more luxurious.
Unlike Luo He and the others, who had to push open the door, Linghu Yong's luck was better. The black wooden double doors were already ajar.
Through the partially open door, he could see a large bed inside.
A person stood beside the bed, and a red lantern sat on the floor.
The candle flame inside the lantern flickered erratically, as if blown by a gentle breeze.
The person had their back turned, slightly bent over, holding something in their hands. They occasionally reached out toward the person lying in bed.
This scene might have seemed incomprehensible to an outsider, but it stirred a deep-seated memory in Linghu Yong. He immediately realized that the person with the lantern was administering medicine to the person in bed.
"Who's there?"
Just as Linghu Yong was about to observe further, he was discovered. His sudden appearance had clearly startled the person.
As Linghu Yong had expected, the person standing by the bed was holding a bowl of medicine, complete with a spoon for feeding it.
But due to the dim light, he couldn't make out the person's face.
"Don't be alarmed. I'm here on Director Qiao's orders," Linghu Yong explained quickly, fearing a misunderstanding. "We're here to help you."
"Director Qiao?" The man hesitated.
Judging by his voice, he was around Linghu Yong's age, likely Master Feng's son.
Thinking this, Linghu Yong continued, "Director Qiao is worried that something similar to what happened before might happen again. That's why he sent us to help. I have several companions with me; you'll meet them soon."
Hearing this, the man seemed to relax slightly, casually placing the medicine bowl on a nearby table. "So it's you. Crippled Liu at the gate mentioned you. But why are you visiting so late at night?"
"Well, we wanted to come during the day, but Crippled Liu said it wouldn't be convenient for you. He also mentioned that Master Feng was seriously ill and we shouldn't disturb him," Linghu Yong explained quickly.
For some reason, he felt uneasy here. After gathering information, he planned to leave immediately.
"My father is indeed ill, but not as severely as he claims. He can already get out of bed and move around," the man said, then turned his gaze to the bed, his voice tinged with sorrow. "But my wife's condition is very bad right now."
Before he could finish speaking, Linghu Yong heard footsteps behind him. There were quite a few people, perhaps five or six, or even more. "Yong'er, who are you talking to?"
An elderly man, leaning on a cane and supported by someone at his side, emerged from the dim corridor.
The old man was dressed in fine silk robes that looked incredibly expensive, but even the most luxurious clothing couldn't conceal his haggard appearance. He looked as though he hadn't rested properly in ages, his face pale, his eye sockets deeply sunken, and his movements stiff and unnatural.
Linghu Yong suspected the footsteps downstairs had been his.
The old man was the true master of the Feng Family, Master Feng.
Seizing the opportunity, Linghu Yong immediately introduced himself to the old man and the group behind him. Several pairs of eyes scanned Linghu Yong's face.
"So that's how it is," Master Feng said slowly, then, with the help of a middle-aged woman, walked over. "Thank you for your efforts. Once the Feng Family has overcome this crisis, we will be eternally grateful."
"Master Feng, you're too polite," Linghu Yong replied.
After speaking, Linghu Yong turned to face the bed. From his angle, he could only see a lump under the covers vaguely resembling a human form. Yet since entering the room, he hadn't heard a single sound from the person on the bed.
Are they asleep?
Or is something else going on?
Linghu Yong's mind filled with various speculations, piquing his curiosity. He began piecing together an image of the woman on the bed in his mind, and this mental reconstruction strangely evoked a sense of familiarity.
In the dim light, a critically ill woman lay in bed while a man beside her fed her medicine...
"Yong'er, what are you thinking about?"
A frail, stiff voice broke through his reverie. Linghu Yong snapped out of his daze and instinctively replied, "Nothing, Father. I... I was just thinking that Ruo Xi's next dose of medicine is due. I should go notify the Nurse."
The next moment, he froze. Then, as if suddenly realizing something, his eyes widened in horror as he stared at Master Feng. The old man's lips twitched occasionally, but the sounds that emerged bore no resemblance to his lip movements!
At that moment, Master Feng resembled an eerie puppet, his aged eyes fixed on Linghu Yong, their depths hollow and vacant.
Linghu Yong suddenly noticed that his own reflection was nowhere to be seen in Master Feng's pupils.
Just then, a familiar voice rang out from behind him. "It's nothing, Father. I was just thinking that Ruo Xi's medicine change should be due. I'll go notify the nurse. You can rest assured, I'll stay here."
As the voice spoke, Linghu Yong's heart plummeted into an icy abyss, a chill spreading from his head to his toes.
That voice... it was his own!
It dawned on him belatedly: why could he clearly see Master Feng's face and everyone else's, yet the man in the room remained a blur?
At first, he'd attributed it to the dim lighting, but now it seemed more like an impenetrable fog perpetually shrouded the man's face.
The same fog that had bewitched him outside!
A ghost!
He was the ghost!
Mustering every ounce of courage he possessed, Linghu Yong slowly turned his stiff neck to face the man behind him.
As his vision cleared, the mist on the man's face vanished like snow meeting boiling water, revealing a face identical to his own.
Slowly, the room's layout shifted. The lavish, enormous chamber transformed into an ordinary, much smaller space.
A cream-colored IV drip stand stood beside the bed, which had become a simple iron frame, painted the pale blue common in hospitals. It was covered with a loose white blanket.
A pair of women's slippers lay discarded on the floor beside the bed.
"Linghu Yong" seemed oblivious to the changes, continuing his task. He slowly leaned over the woman in the bed, and now he could clearly see her gaunt face.
Her face and neck were wrapped in thick gauze, with a faint, yellowish pus seeping through.
Long-buried memories resurfaced, and Linghu Yong trembled. It felt as if he had returned to that rainy night years ago, to the scene of what had seemed like an ordinary car accident.
Their car had crashed into a crooked tree by the roadside.
Fortunately, Linghu Yong, who had been driving, had only suffered minor injuries. But his wife hadn't been so lucky. The impact point had been directly in front of her, and the massive force had nearly broken her neck.
(End of the Chapter)
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