Chapter 6
High-class ward, Sanatorium
Song Chengyan stood at the doorway, his expression troubled as he looked at his younger brother lying on the bed, eyes closed, hooked up to various monitoring devices.
Although it was called a ward, it was furnished almost identically to Song Jingmo’s bedroom at home, every detail meticulously arranged.
Their mother sat by the bed, gently wiping her son’s arm, tears welling up in her eyes.
Their father sighed heavily, putting an arm around his wife’s shoulders to comfort her.
She quickly composed herself, wiping away her tears. “Alright, go and take care of your work. I’ll look after Momo.”
Their father murmured a few more words of comfort, tucked the covers around his younger son, and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Song Chengyan lowered his gaze: “Father.”
His father patted his older son’s shoulder. “You’ve worked hard these past few days.”
After Song Jingmo’s accident, all their energy had been focused on their younger son. The family and business matters had fallen entirely on their older son’s shoulders. He already had his own company to manage, and he must have been working around the clock, still finding time to visit Momo.
“I’m alright,” Song Chengyan replied. He hesitated, remembering the message his secretary had given him a few days ago, and finally spoke: “Father, shouldn’t we tell Xie Zhang something about Momo’s condition…?”
“Your mother is not in a good state emotionally.” His father didn’t directly answer, his gaze fixed on his wife and son bathed in sunlight through the viewing window in the door. “Chengyan, you know something about this. Your mother and I have always been against Momo’s relationship with that Xie boy.”
Song Chengyan frowned: “That’s irrelevant, Father. Xie Zhang is Momo’s partner. Even if they’re not legally married, he has the right to know.”
Song Chengyan didn’t understand why his parents were hiding the fact that Momo was in a vegetative state, instead spreading the news of his death. Just as he didn’t understand their opposition to Xie Zhang.
Momo had come out to them in college, never hiding his manga and novels. And Xie Zhang, from every perspective, was a flawless young man.
His parents had always doted on their sons, rarely interfering in their choices.
Their father had been eager to retire, finally relieved when Song Chengyan finished his studies, only to have him start a business in a field completely unrelated to the family business.
And their younger son, Song Jingmo, was even less inclined towards the family business, pursuing his musical dreams with single-minded passion.
Neither son wanted to inherit the family business. Although frustrated and disappointed, their father hadn’t interfered.
Their mother had always been gentle and accepting, her few harsh words directed at their father, protectively shielding her sons like a mother hen.
But this open-mindedness seemed to vanish whenever Xie Zhang was mentioned. His parents became unusually sensitive and resolute.
His father was silent for a long time before speaking softly: “The Xie family’s bankruptcy wasn’t a simple matter. That Xie boy has never given up on finding the truth.”
Song Chengyan wasn’t particularly close to Xie Zhang, but as fellow young entrepreneurs, and knowing that Xie Zhang had overcome millions in debt to achieve his current success, he felt a sense of camaraderie.
If he, Song Chengyan, had been in that situation, he wasn’t sure he could have achieved what Xie Zhang had.
The Xie family had gone bankrupt overnight, and Xie Zhang’s parents had both died in a car accident…
Wait, a car accident?
Song Chengyan realized something, turning sharply to his father.
“Momo’s accident…” Song Chengyan’s voice was strained.
He remembered how his family had insisted on bodyguards for Momo since childhood, whether he was studying abroad or back home. Even for simple errands, his parents never let Momo go out alone.
And Song Jingmo’s accident had been so sudden. The family had assigned bodyguards to him. They arrived at the scene before Xie Zhang, not only taking Song Jingmo away but also crucial evidence.
Song Chengyan had naturally wanted to investigate his brother’s accident. He’d inquired about the car involved multiple times, but his father had remained tight-lipped. The Song family was like an impenetrable fortress, even keeping him in the dark, refusing to divulge any information.
Strangest of all, even the police investigating the accident hadn’t questioned the Song family’s clearly unusual behavior.
Song Chengyan suddenly felt like he didn’t know his family as well as he thought.
“It was deliberate,” his father said, meeting his gaze. “Just like with CEO Xie and Mrs. Xie all those years ago.”
Song Chengyan’s pupils constricted: “Why didn’t you tell Xie…?”
“Momo’s biological mother also died in a similar car accident,” his father said calmly, his lips pressed into a thin line of suppressed anger. “And Momo’s biological father, your uncle, is still missing.”
Song Chengyan was speechless.
The weight of his father’s words hit him like a tidal wave, rendering him momentarily incapable of thought.
He’d heard whispers of a younger uncle from the older generation. When their grandmother was still alive, she would occasionally mention him, but there had never been any trace of this person in the Song family.
After their grandmother passed away, Song Chengyan never heard about him again, the faint memories fading into the recesses of his mind as he grew older.
“Your uncle’s profession was… sensitive. No one knows why the Xie family got involved in his mission, except for those directly involved. Even if I told that Xie boy, what could I say?”
“I don’t know the truth, I don’t know the details, and I don’t know the Xie family’s stance.”
“But I know I promised my only brother that I would protect his wife and child.”
“I’ve already broken that promise twice. I can’t do it a third time.”
“Momo has just passed the critical period. We can try other treatment options soon. Your mother and I don’t want to have to worry about someone else trying to harm him at a time like this.”
His father’s hand clenched at his side.
“That boy has been through a lot, but I am Momo’s father first.”
“At a time like this, I can’t afford to be concerned about anything else.”
Song Chengyan was silent, his lips moving soundlessly. After a long moment—
“…I understand.”
Inside the ward, their mother rushed out, her face alight with joy: “Lao Song! That master we contacted replied! He said he can come and see Momo!”
“Maybe Momo’s soul is just lost. If we can find it, he might wake up!”
His father quickly calmed his wife, soothing her gently: “Yes, yes, this is good news. But we must ensure Momo’s safety first…”
He then signaled to Song Chengyan to leave for work.
Song Chengyan: “?”
The CEO rubbed his throbbing temples. Half his mind was occupied with car accident conspiracy theories, the other half with soul retrieval and shamanistic rituals.
His CPU was about to overload thanks to his parents.
His father accompanied his mother back into the ward.
Song Chengyan took one last look at his unconscious brother, burying the information he’d just learned deep within his heart. Only when his reflected image in the glass window betrayed no emotion did he turn and leave the sanatorium.
Their mother’s health hadn’t been good for years. The official reason for her stay at this Song family-owned sanatorium was that she had suffered a severe emotional shock and needed to recuperate.
But before Song Chengyan could even leave the grounds, he received a call from Xie Zhang.
Song Chengyan: “…”
Caught between his parents and his brother’s lover, the CEO just wanted to return to his office and bury himself in paperwork.
The phone rang for a while. Xie Zhang, seemingly sensing Song Chengyan’s reluctance to answer, hung up.
A few minutes later, sitting in the car, Song Chengyan looked at the text message he’d received, his dilemma deepening.
`I know I have you to thank for getting Momo’s violin back. Thank you.
I’ve heard that your mother is unwell, and I wouldn’t want to intrude. If possible, could you tell me where Momo is resting? I… I want to be with him.
Xie Zhang`
Song Chengyan typed a reply, then, remembering his father’s words, deleted it character by character.
He had helped Xie Zhang retrieve the violin to prevent him from doing something drastic. After all, keeping him in the dark was unfair.
But Song Chengyan was also concerned about his brother’s safety. Until they had more concrete evidence, or until Momo woke up, he couldn’t act rashly.
The fact that those people could bypass the Song family’s security and Xie Zhang’s bodyguards to tamper with Song Jingmo’s car, successfully causing the accident, was deeply disturbing.
And whether Xie Zhang had discovered something, or whether his uncle had left something behind that led to Momo’s misfortune, remained a mystery.
But Xie Zhang…
Song Chengyan looked at the wording of the text message, sensing something amiss in Xie Zhang’s state of mind.
He didn’t truly know the depth of their relationship. In the seven years they’d been together, apart from the suddenness of their initial commitment, their relationship had seemed rather… ordinary.
After careful consideration, Song Chengyan decided he needed to see Xie Zhang in person to assess his condition.
He couldn’t let his brother’s situation harm someone else’s child.
After dealing with Xie Zhang’s message, Song Chengyan paused, then sent a message to the housekeeper at the family estate, asking him to gather Momo’s belongings, especially diaries, photo albums, videos—anything that documented his life.
“Let’s go,” he said to the driver.
It was time he investigated what happened all those years ago.
And that so-called “master” who specialized in soul retrieval needed to be warned to stay away.
The staunchly atheistic CEO’s eyes glinted with a dangerous light.
This was troublesome.
Back at the villa, the genuinely soul-less Song Jingmo was happily playing the role of shadow ghost.
And his control over Xie Zhang’s shadow was becoming increasingly refined.
The inky black cat shadow gracefully leaped over the back of the sofa, strutting proudly in front of Xie Zhang, its tail held high.
For the umpteenth time, Xie Zhang’s attention was diverted by Song-shadow. He reached out to touch the cat’s head.
Song Jingmo dodged swiftly, even though he knew Xie Zhang couldn’t actually touch him, perfectly embodying the teasing, untouchable nature of a haughty feline.
Xie Zhang, completely distracted by the Song Jingmo-esque shadow cat, ended up opening all the curtains and windows in the villa, letting in the light.
Song Jingmo wagged his shadow tail triumphantly.
See? He still had it.
Back then, Xie Zhang had been completely captivated by Song Jingmo, who had diligently studied the art of love (through manga and novels), transforming him from a gloomy young man into a lovestruck puppy.
Of course, from Xie Zhang’s perspective, he had been the one pursuing the young master Song.
Song-shadow perched on the edge of the desk, the tip of his tail swirling.
He quietly watched Xie Zhang, the cat head reverting to its original form. He extended a shadow tendril, picking up the pen on the desk.
Xie Zhang looked at the paper beneath the shadow.
“Aren’t you going to ask who I am?”
Song-shadow, summoning his courage, carefully wrote the sentence, then pushed the paper towards Xie Zhang expectantly.
Xie Zhang closed his eyes, silent for a few seconds. Then he clutched his stomach, groaning softly, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead.
Song Jingmo immediately recognized the signs of Xie Zhang’s stomach problems. He dropped the pen and paper, frantically searching for medicine and water, dragging Xie Zhang back to the bedroom to rest.
A few hours later.
Confirming that the shadow had returned to its normal, quiet state, Xie Zhang opened his eyes.
He replayed the words on the paper in his mind over and over.
It resembled Momo’s handwriting, but there were subtle differences.
Xie Zhang’s eyes darkened.
The moving towel, the glass of water appearing in his hand… everything could be explained away as hallucinations and unconscious actions.
People with schizophrenia often confused reality and hallucinations, attributing their own actions to their hallucinations. If they had violent tendencies or delusions of persecution, they might even harm themselves in extreme ways, oblivious to the pain.
But could someone with schizophrenia… do things they couldn’t do in a conscious state?
Like, for example, write in a way they couldn’t replicate when awake?
