Overdo

I saw Director Shi enter and softly call out, "Sir."

Only then did Father look up. Director Shi said, "It's time for you to go."

Father gave a quiet "Mm" in response, then turned and noticed me. He asked, "Is your mother asleep?" I nodded. He looked at me—I had never seen him so gentle before. He said, "When she wakes up later, you and Zhuo Zheng should spend some time with your mother."

Remembering all the hardships Mother had endured, I couldn't help but say, "I know everything." Under normal circumstances, my deliberately provocative tone would have angered him, but this time he only sighed. Just then, Zhuo Zheng came downstairs. Father never had much to say to him, merely instructing him to take good care of Mother. At that moment, Zhuo Zheng suddenly cried out, "Sir!"—he still hadn't grown accustomed to the change in address. Father's brow furrowed slightly, but he immediately realized what was happening and reached up to wipe his nose, only to find his hand covered in blood. Director Shi quickly helped him tilt his head back, while an attendant hurriedly handed over a tissue. Father pressed the tissue to his nose and said, "It's nothing serious. Probably just the dry weather causing this."

His clothes were spattered with blood droplets. Director Shi grew quite uneasy and said, "Let's call Dr. Cheng over." Father replied, "You're all too quick to panic. Is a nosebleed worth making such a fuss about?" He set down the tissue and added, "See, it's already stopped."

Seeing the bleeding had ceased, Director Shi felt somewhat reassured. An attendant brought a change of clothes for Father. Unable to hold back any longer, Director Shi said, "Sir, perhaps we should cancel today's schedule. The weather is so hot..." Father responded, "The weather is hot, but everyone is waiting for me. How can we cancel?" He turned to me and said, "I'll be back this evening. You and your brother stay with your mother."

I agreed. Not long after Father left, Mother came downstairs. She hadn't slept well either, but upon seeing Zhuo Zheng and me, she offered a gentle smile and sat down to have afternoon tea with us. I clung to Mother like sticky candy, chattering incessantly, and she listened with a constant smile.

The familiar sound of Father's voice came from the television, with the familiar building behind him. Mother watched Father's figure on the screen from a distance, and Zhuo Zheng also turned to look. I joked lightly, "In such hot weather, Mr. Murong still has to stand under the scorching sun to give a speech..." Before I could finish, the screen showed Father swaying unsteadily before suddenly collapsing forward. His arm knocked several microphones to the ground with a loud crash, emitting a sharp screech. Only then did the crowd gasp in shock—I was too stunned even to cry out, staring blankly as the television screen descended into chaos. Members of the entourage rushed forward, blocking the camera with countless backs. Amid the clamor, nothing could be heard clearly. The television signal was cut, flashing into static before plunging into a silent, all-consuming darkness—a darkness so terrifying it felt suffocating.

After Father's incident, Mother nearly fainted, and I was utterly lost. Fortunately, Zhuo Zheng remained remarkably composed—far more than I—and in that moment, his resolute expression gave both Mother and me great courage. Without hesitation, he called the entourage and insisted on going to the hospital.When we saw Father, he seemed to have recovered, resting calmly on the sickbed. The private ward was spacious and bright, resembling an ordinary luxury apartment. If not for the faint scent of disinfectant in the air, it would be hard to tell it was a hospital room. Mother stood beside me, emanating a subtle, pleasant fragrance—neither perfume nor floral, elusive and ethereal—that enveloped and masked the smell of medicine. As she approached, I clearly saw Father’s expression brighten, like a long-overcast sky suddenly clearing.

Father turned to me and asked, “Why did you come?” His tone carried a hint of reproach. “You must have frightened your mother.”

The doctor said he needed immediate surgery.

I was worried—it wasn’t without risks, as evident from the grave expressions of those outside. Father had matters to discuss with them, so Zhuo Zheng and I accompanied Mother to the lounge. After a long while, he sent for us.

I thought he wanted to speak with us alone, but Minister Lei and Mr. Huo were also in the room. We entered quietly and stood by Father’s bedside. Pointing at us, he said, “Nannan has been mischievous since childhood, but I’m relieved that you’ve always treated her as your own daughter.” He paused, then added, “I entrust Zhuo Zheng to you.”

Both of them were taken aback and immediately stood up. Mr. Huo exclaimed, “Sir.”

Father said, “He wasn’t raised by my side, so his upbringing may have been lacking. I only hope you will regard him as your own son and guide him well on my behalf.”

Minister Lei replied, “Sir, you worry too much—how can we possibly deserve such trust?”

Father sighed softly and said, “In truth, I only wish for him to live like an ordinary person, doing what he desires and leading a peaceful, happy life.” He turned to look at us, his gaze tender and indulgent, as if we were still very young children. I finally understood that, deep down, he was utterly exhausted.

After everyone left, he closed his eyes wearily to rest. Just then, Mother arrived. Her footsteps were very light, but Father opened his eyes instantly, as if sensing her presence. He smiled at her, and she smiled back.

Mother’s smile was like a luminous pearl, suddenly brightening the entire room. Father whispered, “I’m sorry.” A misty gleam shimmered in Mother’s eyes, tears welling up as she replied, “I understand.”

They had only spoken three words each, yet it seemed as if they had exchanged countless sentiments. Their eyes met, filled with nothing but serene contentment. Father’s smile gradually warmed, radiant like sunlight. He reached out his hand, and Mother gently placed hers in his palm.

They held hands and gazed at each other, as if they could continue until the end of time.

I turned around, and Zhuo Zheng was looking at me. He walked over quietly and tugged at me, saying, “Let’s go.” I was about to say something, but he half-pushed, half-pulled me out, closing the ward door behind us. I rolled my eyes at him, glaring. He tapped my nose and said, “Don’t you think we’re superfluous here?”He led me along the corridor toward the exit. The weather was hot, and the setting sun shone through the glass, warmly imprinting itself on our bodies. Outside the window, far on the lawn, two children were laughing and playing on a swing. After all, they were children—even while sick in the hospital, they could be so joyful. Above them, the sky was a deep, clear blue, washed clean like jade, as if it might drip with water. Across the sky stretched magnificent sunset clouds, shifting gradually from crimson to orange, then to purple, and finally settling into shimmering shades of vermilion, gray, and gold as they descended.