Chapter 54 Part 2

He replayed the assistant director’s words over and over, only then realizing—belatedly—what Wen Chunshen had meant that first day when he’d promised to “handle the aftermath.”

Reason and conscience pulled him in opposite directions.

Wen Chaosheng shot to his feet, determined to demand answers from his parents. But he hadn’t even reached the stairs when he ran into Wen Chunshen and Song Xuelan in the hallway.

The family of three collided unexpectedly, their faces stripped of the usual warmth and smiles.

Song Xuelan stepped forward. “Shengsheng, didn’t you just get back from the hospital? Where are you headed?”

“…”

Wen Chaosheng fell silent, his expression knotted with conflict as he stared at Wen Chunshen trailing behind her.

Song Xuelan picked up on the tension and tried to smooth things over. “Come on, let’s go back to the room.”

“You’ve gotten so thin lately. Your dad went out of his way to cook some comfort food for you. Eat up, and then we’ll head to the hospital with you to keep watch.”

Wen Chunshen read his son’s hesitation. “The hallway’s no place for this. Let’s talk inside.”

“Mm.”

At Song Xuelan’s nod, father and son filed one after the other into the cramped room.

The door had barely clicked shut when Wen Chunshen spoke. “Spit it out. You’ve got questions for me, don’t you?”

“Why?”

“Why go to all that trouble suppressing the news about the accident on my set?”

Wen Chaosheng choked on his first words, unsure where even to start. “Dad, what you did was wrong! Chang Ming’s still in the hospital—he…”

Wen Chunshen cut him off coolly. “Chaosheng, the accident happened. Face reality and think it through—”

“As a rookie actor on your film who got hurt and lost a limb—what happens if that hits China and the tabloids twist it into a frenzy?”

“…”

Wen Chunshen eyed his son’s defeated slump and drove home the deeper truth.

“They won’t care that Chang Ming ignored warnings and strayed into the unsafe zone. They won’t care about the scenic area’s cover-up or that expired safety certification.”

“They’ll just slam the production for irresponsibility and zero in on you!”

“They’ll spread rumors that you risked actors’ lives for a shot!”

“They’ll brand you a ruthless director and howl for you to get booted from the industry!”

“They’ll rip apart every one of your past projects frame by frame, excavating your life from childhood on. They’ll drag our careers—your mother and mine—into it as juicy hooks to trash every bit of hard work you’ve put in!”

“By then, your dream of directing from boyhood will be a punchline on their lips.”

Chang Ming was the victim, no question—but that didn’t mean Wen Chaosheng had to weather the media storm alone.

“…”

How could Wen Chaosheng fail to imagine that fallout?

His eyes burned red, but he still couldn’t stomach what Wen Chunshen had done without his knowledge.

“Dad, I get that you want to protect me. But if that ‘protection’ erases Chang Ming’s suffering and pretends he doesn’t exist, I—I can’t accept it.”

Perhaps capital in entertainment could blot out the sky with one hand.

Wen Chaosheng knew he was a beneficiary of his family’s status, but his conscience balked—

Chang Ming was just a boy raised in a single-parent home by a mom scraping by with a street stall. He’d clawed his way to a college degree, his life barely begun—yet crippled for life on his set.

Wen Chaosheng simply couldn’t bury someone else’s agony and future for the sake of his own prospects!

“I’d rather wait till Chang Ming wakes, apologize to him, explain everything openly with a statement, and take whatever judgment the public dishes out!”

“Dad, your ‘help’ doesn’t ease my guilt—it piles it on higher!”

“Wen Chaosheng! You’ve got principles, you’ve got spine! So now I’m the big bad capitalist in your book, huh?”

Wen Chunshen had broken into film at nineteen, starting as an assistant director.

He’d eaten more salt than Wen Chaosheng had walked roads; he knew the dirty secrets far better—

Injuries on sets happened constantly across countless productions every year!

Unless someone died, nearly every crew suppressed them. The accidents that surfaced were one in a million.

Sure.

Capital’s hush money wasn’t pretty, but the industry was cutthroat like that!

Sometimes loyalties clashed. As director and father, Wen Chunshen had to safeguard what he valued most.

His chest heaved briefly. “Wen Chaosheng, you think smoothing this over with cash was a breeze? You think I staked my reputation lightly?”

“With your brooding, overthinking nature, if this blew up back home, one netizen’s spit could sink you!”

Father and son had never locked horns like this. Song Xuelan looked pained, words of mediation dying on her lips.

“Dad…”

Wen Chaosheng drew a shaky breath, explanations drowned in bitterness. He hadn’t wanted Chang Ming hurt, hadn’t wanted to rope his parents into his mess.

They stared in heavy silence until Wen Chaosheng switched tracks. “I’m going to the hospital.”

Song Xuelan called after him. “Shengsheng, at least eat something first?”

“Mom, I’ve got no appetite. You and Dad go ahead.”

Wen Chaosheng inhaled deeply. “Sorry. This is all my fault in the end. I’ve put you through too much.”

The door swung open, then shut. Footsteps receded down the hall.

Wen Chunshen’s step faltered; he sank onto the bed.

“Old Wen.”

Song Xuelan rushed to his side, her brow furrowed tighter. “Why can’t you just talk to the boy properly?”

“Shengsheng’s clung to his sense of right and wrong since he was little—responsibility hits him harder than most. With Chang Ming hurt like this, of course he’s torn up inside.”

“If he brushed it off, prizing his career over a life, would he even be our son?”

“…”

Wen Chunshen fell quiet for a long stretch before conceding his selfishness. “Chaosheng has a point. Fault aside, paying to bury this news isn’t fair to the kid.”

Song Xuelan nodded. “I heard Chang Ming’s mother raised him selling from a little stall. Put myself in her shoes as a mom—it tugs at the heart.”

“Once Chang Ming wakes, we’ll sit down properly. We’ll cover whatever living costs he has from here on out.”

The accident was done; they needed to make it right.

Wen Chunshen glanced at the untouched thermal lunchbox, mindful of the crushing weight Wen Chaosheng had carried alone lately. “Let’s head to the hospital too. The boy’s barely eaten a decent meal these past few days.”

“All right.”

…

Helplessness crashed over Wen Chaosheng like a wave, exhaustion surging back to fray his nerves.

The elevator dinged at the sixteenth floor. Doors parted to a raw, heart-rending bellow in Chinese: “Get out! All of you, get the hell out!”

Crashes of heavy objects followed.

Wen Chaosheng knew instantly something was wrong. He bolted straight for Chang Ming’s private room.

Chaos engulfed the ICU—

Chang Ming, unconscious for days, had come to and now sprawled wretchedly on the floor, monitoring wires yanked free everywhere.

The IV line from his arm had pulled out; the unfinished drip bag tipped over nearby.

Worst of all, fresh blood welled uncontrollably from the stump of his left thigh, saturating the sterile gauze and dressings.

The nurse spotted Wen Chaosheng and pleaded, “Mr. Wen, you’re here! He woke up refusing to accept it, freaking out and fighting our help! His vitals are still shaky—this can’t go on!”

“Get away!”

Propped on the floor, Chang Ming’s eyes gleamed bloodshot, his face a mask of dark terror—no trace of his old sunny optimism.

Wen Chaosheng’s pulse spiked. Without a word, he dropped to his knees beside Chang Ming. “Chang Ming, it’s me. Try to calm down, okay? I’ll help you back to bed and explain everything step by step.”

“…Brother Wen?”

Chang Ming shuddered violently, clamping onto Wen Chaosheng’s wrist like a drowning man seizing the last plank. “Brother Wen! Tell me—is this a nightmare? Where’s my left leg? Why is it gone?”

His fingertips dug in, blood welling up almost at once.

Wen Chaosheng could no longer pay attention to his own pain. He gazed into Chang Ming’s eyes, brimming with terror and rejection, struggling to piece together the right words. “Chang Ming, I’m sorry. The situation was too dire back then. The doctor said amputation was the only way to save your life. I…”

“Shut up! I don’t want to hear it!”

Chang Ming cut him off sharply, his entire body shaking. “Brother Wen, what are you saying? You were the one who nodded and agreed to it?”

Wen Chaosheng couldn’t come up with a single word of defense. He could only repeat his apology. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry? Can ‘I’m sorry’ bring back my leg? Who gave you the right to make that call for me? Who?!”

“Wen Chaosheng, why didn’t you just let me die? Why?!”

Chang Ming’s expression twisted into madness once more. “I’ve lost my legs! What’s the point of living like this? Why? Why did you save me? Why not let me die on the spot!”

“Ah—”

As Chang Ming’s behavior veered into extremism and spiraled out of control again, Wen Chaosheng had no choice but to restrain him with all his strength. “Chang Ming! Stop this!”

“I know—I know you can’t accept it right now! All your pain, all your resentment—you can vent it on me. Take it out on me.”

“I’ve already called Aunt Chang. Her expedited visa came through. She’ll be here the day after tomorrow to stay with you!”

“I’ll stay with you too! I’ll take care of you! Until you’re better!”

“…”

Chang Ming looked as if he’d heard the biggest joke in the world, gasping through his ragged breaths of agony. “You want my mom to see me like this? Huh?”

He glared at Wen Chaosheng with venom, his features contorting into something unrecognizable. “Wen Chaosheng, you say you’ll take care of me? Why should I believe you’ll stick around forever?!”

“Come on, feel this—”

Chang Ming seized Wen Chaosheng’s hand and slammed it down onto the stump of his left leg, unleashing his hysteria in a torrent of pain and despair. “Do you feel it? My life is over! It’s ruined!”

Wen Chaosheng’s palm met only empty air at first, followed by the sticky, nauseating warmth of blood that sent a chill straight to his heart.

Suffocation crashed over him in an instant. By now, words were pointless.

“You say you’ll take care of me? How long? Ten days? Half a month?” Chang Ming stared into the pallid face so close to his own, all traces of his former meekness gone. In their place burned a dark, obsessive possessiveness that had jumped its rails. “Wen Chaosheng, my entire life is destroyed. Are you ready to take responsibility for it? For the rest of it?”

“…”

“Oh, right—does your boyfriend know you did this to me? Turned me into this? Weren’t you rushing back to celebrate his birthday?”

Wen Chaosheng’s eyes flew wide. “You…”

Chang Ming forced out a sinister, chilling laugh, laced with months of bottled-up jealousy. “Brother Wen, you think I really don’t know? That actor named Xi Zhui—he’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?”

Bang!

Wen Chunshen pushed open the door to the ward, thermos box in hand. A stunned Song Xuelan trailed in his wake.

“Chaosheng, what did he just mean by that?”

Wen Chunshen’s face was darker than it had ever been, as if he could scarcely believe the absurd truth he’d just overheard. “Are you dating Xi Zhui?”