Chapter 142: No Reconsideration, No Appeal

Time seemed to have been seized by the throat.

Tang Yu was dragged into a space where it was difficult to breathe. For a moment, it felt as though she could only hear the sound of her own heartbeat—thump after heavy, agonizing thump.

Qi Mingzhou’s pale fingers trembled as he took off his glasses, the grey exhaustion in his eyes laid bare. "One surgery, two lives. If this matter were to leak out, that little girl who already lost her mother might lose her father as well. No hospital would be willing to accept them. That is why, before my sister passed away, she asked us not to pursue it any further. She said she liked that child; the child was saved by her own life. She hoped... that the child would live a life free of worries, safe and sound."

Tang Yu pressed her lips into a thin line. She lowered her head, her eyes suddenly turning red.

"That is why we sealed all the information, so that the child could continue to receive treatment at the hospital." Qi Mingzhou’s voice wavered. "That is the truth."

The light and shadow in the room were divided between brightness and gloom. He looked at the young girl before him, his reddened eyes softening. "I know you insisted on coming to me because of Bian Yang. I am very happy that he has a partner who cares for him so deeply. But child, things are not as simple as you imagine. You cannot guarantee that once Bian Yang learns the truth, he won't fly into a rage and seek revenge against the family that caused his mother to contract HIV and pass away.

"That child’s father has a stubborn personality. After his wife died, he always believed we were the ones who drove her to her death. He stood on the rooftop time and again, threatening to kill himself, and resorted to extreme defensive measures. He is an HIV carrier. If he is provoked and chooses to commit suicide, following in the footsteps of that child’s mother, or decides to retaliate against society, Bian Yang would bear the weight of one or even several lives for no reason... This is something none of us wish to see."

Qi Mingzhou asked her, "So, if it were you, what would you choose? Do you dare to gamble?"

Walking out of Qi Mingzhou’s company, Tang Yu’s gaze was unfocused, and she wandered the streets without purpose.

If it were her, what would she choose...

Before she left, Qi Mingzhou had shown her a piece of surveillance footage.

After Qi Mingwan was declared dead, only Bian Cheng’s heart-rending wails echoed in the hospital room. He was like a madman, clutching Qi Mingwan’s body, roaring, refusing to let anyone touch her. The room had been smashed to pieces; all the instruments were overturned on the floor. The sharp, piercing sounds emanating from the phone were filled with nothing but Bian Cheng’s despair.

That weeping was so chilling it made one shiver to the bone.

But the woman on the bed, withered to a mere wisp, could no longer hear him. She lay there in silence, unresponsive no matter how he begged or prayed. Her body gradually grew cold; Bian Cheng had patiently held her for a long time, but it was of no use.

Until the nurses forcibly pulled him away, he threw himself back frantically, burying his face deep into his wife’s neck, kissing her, and then biting through her lip. The nurses cried out in alarm at the sight. Seven or eight people rushed forward to pin him down and forcibly administered the post-exposure prophylaxis.

Immediately after, Qi Mingwan’s body was taken away for cremation, and all the items she had used were to be burned.

In the end, all that remained for Bian Cheng was a room of emptiness. He stood there helplessly, seemingly unable to comprehend why his wife—who had just made plans with him to attend a concert, visit an art exhibition, and organize their son’s birthday—was suddenly gone. His soul had been ripped away; he curled up on the floor, clutching her few remaining belongings, sobbing uncontrollably.

Tang Yu touched her cheek, only to find that tears were already streaming down her face.

If Bian Yang had been there, would he have collapsed just like Bian Cheng?

Uncle Bian loved Aunt Qi so deeply that he even wanted to die with her; how could he possibly have been unfaithful?

But Bian Yang knew none of this. He loved his mother so much. If he knew that she had died because that family had deliberately concealed their HIV status, how could he ever easily forgive them?

Qi Mingzhou was right. If Bian Yang were to confront that family, and the other party were provoked, no one could imagine the consequences, and no one could bear that responsibility.

Bian Yang was only nineteen. He was so good, so very good...

His life was grand and brilliant, his future was bright; he could not have any stain, and he certainly could not carry the weight of a life on his conscience.

Tang Yu gripped her bag tightly, squatting on the street, hugging her knees, burying her face between her arms, struggling to breathe.

Then who should be held responsible for the kind Aunt Qi? Who should be held responsible for the devoted Uncle Bian? And who should be held responsible for... Bian Yang?

"Young lady, are you alright?"

A passerby tapped her on the shoulder. Tang Yu looked up, her eyes already red. She wiped her eyes and slowly stood up, but when she opened her mouth, the overwhelming, dull ache in her heart made her choke, and she couldn't say a word.

She shook her head. She just missed Bian Yang. She missed him so much.

Tang Yu didn’t take the subway; she hailed a taxi back to the hospital. She ran with every ounce of strength she had. The scenery blurred as it rushed past her, the wind whipping against her ears and piercing her lungs. She ran until she was breathless, finally entering the hospital lobby, where she spotted that tall, slender figure.

He stood amidst the crowd, looking up, quietly watching the photographs hanging above. He looked lonely, as if he had been abandoned.

Bian Yang’s waist tightened as a pair of arms wrapped around him from behind, pulling him out of his empty thoughts. He frowned, instinctively ready to throw the person off, when a hoarse, soft voice came from behind him.

"Bian Yang."

His body instantly relaxed. He tried to turn around, but his waist was held so tightly by her that he couldn't move. He looked down at his watch. "It’s not even seven yet."

Bian Yang rubbed his thumb over the back of the hand she had wrapped around his waist and gave a light hum. "Didn't you say you were going into seclusion and wouldn't see me until after seven?"

The young girl