"Xiao Yan, why did it take so long to answer? Your brother told me about what happened—how are you feeling now? Are you better?" Zhou Yuelan's concerned tone sparked a faint warmth in Lin Qingyan's heart, which had sunk into icy despair. He'd always shielded his family from his struggles, forcing a steady reply: "Don't worry, I'm fine."
"Glad to hear it… but Xiao Yan, Mom has something to discuss," she hesitated, quickly shifting topics. "Your father invested in a business deal recently and lost 300,000 USD. Creditors are hounding us, and your brother needs tuition for university…"
Lin remained silent.
"Mom knows celebrities earn well. If you have extra, could you help repay the debt? Thirty should be manageable for you, right?"
The fragile warmth shattered instantly, leaving his heart raw and hollow. How absurd—every family call followed this script: false concern, then financial demands. When had his parents ever reached out without an agenda?
"Mom," he interrupted coldly, "did you really call just for this?"
Zhou Yuelan stiffened, her voice Feeling guilty: "Of course not! I care about you first—"
"Xiao Yan, as a role model, you should discipline your fans. Crowding in public caused this mess. I taught you to be upright—netizens criticize you for a reason. Reflect on your mistakes…"
Her sanctimonious words burrowed like knives, twisting in a heart that couldn't physically feel pain but ached all the same. Why couldn't even family see his innocence?
Leaning against the Bedside,he cut her off again: "Sometimes I wonder if I'm your biological child… Don't worry, I'll transfer the money. I need rest—goodbye."
He hung up, unaware of the strange expression on Zhou Yuelan's face at his words.
That midnight, the scandal-plagued star posted a simple update: Lin Qingyan: From this moment, I formally Withdraw from the entertainment industry.
By dawn, he'd left the hospital. The man who arrived later found only an empty room, sunlight spilling over neatly made sheets—a stark contrast to the storm in his obsidian eyes.
Online, skepticism raged. "Hype!" "Cowardly stunt!" But as weeks passed, no comeback emerged. His last remained a silent Declaration,his absence a mystery. Had the critics been wrong?A thousand miles from Nancheng, in a shabby rental flat, the vanished youth emerged from the kitchen with a pot of steaming noodles. Hugging the wall, he stumbled into a table leg, crashing to the floor. Scalding broth splattered his hand, turning his pale, translucent skin crimson—yet he felt nothing.
Blind for days now, he'd yet to adapt to darkness. His hearing faded too, a cruel legacy of the hematoma Oppression nerves. After leaving the industry, he'd drained his savings to escape the agency's grasp, sending the last Hundreds of thousands to his parents as "repayment," now surviving on a few thousand yuan in this Strange town. No treatment—he'd given.
Lin Qingyan suddenly found himself swept into a bridal carry, a startled gasp escaping him as his arms instinctively looped around the man's neck. With his sight stolen, his sense of smell sharpened—the faint, cool scent of cedar lingered, oddly reassuring, hauntingly familiar. He remembered this aroma from the Shopping mall accident; the man who'd shielded him then wore the same fragrance. Now blind, he'd never see that face, yet a bone-deep trust anchored him—this stranger, the first to offer help without motive, had earned his unwavering faith. What did he have left to lose, anyway?
The man settled him on the sofa, retrieving a first-aid kit to gently clean the burn on his palm, then tidied the spilled noodles without a word. He returned with a new bowl, spooning the simple broth into Lin's mouth—a gesture so tender, it cracked the last of Lin's defenses. Hot tears traced his cheeks, silent sobs wracking his frame. For 24 years, he'd endured Indifferent family affection and hollow love; now, a stranger's kindness unraveled him completely. Was it too much to crave being cherished, just once?
Later, he nestled into a warm, sturdy embrace, the man's hand stroking his bony shoulders. A sweet-tart plum candy was pressed between his lips—the same flavor from childhood, a forgotten comfort. Lin laughed through his tears, clinging to the only warmth he'd ever truly known.
Days blurred into a haze of decline. Missing the best treatment opportunity, his health deteriorated day by day, but he was grateful for the company of the man. It was not until that day that the cruelty of fate came - he went out in the dark and didn't hear the roar of the truck. The impact came without warning. The thin body was thrown to the ground, and blood meandered like a river.
He didn't see the man's horrified return, only felt familiar hands cradle him, heard choked sobs he couldn't understand. With his last strength, he mapped the man,It's as if I want to engrave this person into my bones.
Until scalding tears fell on his hand, one drop after another, unable to stop.
"Don't cry..." Lin Qingyan tried hard to force a smile. Her weak voice carried a relieved smile that was almost inaudible. "You must be a very good-looking person..." What a pity! I won't have the chance to see it...
Thank you... Goodbye.
If there is a next life, he hopes he won't be foolish again, won't fall in love with Wen Yan, won't believe An Nan Yi's hypocritical face, won't be so weak and incompetent anymore, and won't be bullied by others anymore...
Also, I hope to meet this man again.
Know what he looks like and what his name is...