Chapter 211

Yu Dong—when you found out I had died in the last life, you must have been heartbroken too.

“I love you.”

Jiang Luo loosened his embrace, tears streaming down his face as he leaned in to kiss Huo Zongzhuo. “I love you. I love you so much.”

“I’ll stay with you forever.”

“I love you.”

Yu Dong—thank you.

In May of 1997, on the eve of Hong Kong’s return, Huo Zongzhuo entered the senior ranks of the postal and telecommunications system under the identity and name of Yu Dong, at a time when the system was facing division and restructuring. He later moved into what would become China Telecom, formally beginning his path in government service.

That same year, Jiang Luo merged Shengfei and Zekun, renaming the company Kunsheng Group.

Jiang Luo kept Huo Zongzhuo’s original office and also left intact the Bodhisattva shrine that Huo Zongzhuo had once set up in a corner of it.

The string of Buddhist prayer beads Huo Zongzhuo used to wear was now in Jiang Luo’s possession.

Every morning, when Jiang Luo arrived at the company and entered his office, he would first light a stick of incense and, with sincere reverence, offer it to the Bodhisattva enshrined in the corner, bowing respectfully.

He asked for nothing else—only great wealth and success for himself, smooth advancement for Huo Zongzhuo’s official career, and that the two of them remain healthy and grow old together.

—

The New Year was approaching, and the Zhao family’s villa was especially festive this year. Su Lan had organized a full renovation. Half of the furniture and appliances were gifted by Zhao Shuo and Huang Bingbing; the other half was sent by Huo Zongzhuo in Jiang Luo’s name.

These past few days, Huang Bingbing and Su Lan had been hanging red lanterns and red paper decorations around the house with their little granddaughter Yanyan. Everything looked bright, beautiful, and full of cheer.

“Grand-Uncle!”

Zhao Guangqian had come back as well, and Yanyan was overjoyed.

The moment Zhao Guangqian entered, he scooped Yanyan up into his arms, clearly doting on her to no end.

The little girl told him, “Grand-Uncle! Little Uncle gave me several LEGO sets—they’re so fun!”

Zhao Guangqian had no idea what LEGO was, but he was happy all the same. Laughing, he teased her, “Then do you like what Little Uncle gave you more, or do you like Grand-Uncle’s red envelope more?”

“I like Grand-Uncle!”

Yanyan’s mouth was incredibly sweet, making Zhao Guangqian beam with joy. He hugged her even tighter, carrying her everywhere and chatting with her nonstop.

Zhao Guangyuan was on the phone at the time, smiling as he spoke. “Yes, yes, it’s fine.”

Then he added, “Wishing you a happy New Year as well.”

“Alright, alright.”

It turned out he was talking to Huo Zongzhuo, calling on Jiang Luo’s behalf. Even though Zhao Guangyuan couldn’t hear Jiang Luo’s voice, just hearing Huo Zongzhuo say, “Jiang Luo wishes you all a happy New Year,” was enough to make him deeply satisfied.

After hanging up, Zhao Guangyuan immediately called out to Yanyan, “Yanyan, Little Uncle will give you a New Year’s gift on New Year’s Eve too.”

“Wow, really?!”

Yanyan clapped excitedly. “I love Little Uncle the most!”

Then she quickly added, “Except for Grand-Uncle!”

The whole room burst into laughter.

In Suzhou, at the old residence, Aunt Zhao had gone back to her hometown for the New Year. Jiang Luo, Huo Zongzhuo, and his mother were in the living room, the three of them sitting around a table making dumplings.

His mother said with a smile, “People in the north make dumplings for New Year. This is my first year doing it.”

“Just for fun,” Jiang Luo said as he worked on his.

He was terrible at it—either the wrapper tore, the filling leaked out, or the dumplings came out crooked and misshapen.

Huo Zongzhuo, wearing his wedding ring on his left hand, was mixing the meat filling. Seeing this, he couldn’t help but laugh helplessly. “Stop, stop. Put it down. Don’t make things worse.”

“No way,” Jiang Luo said, stubbornly continuing. “I want to see whether what I make can actually be eaten.”

“Right, Mom?”

Then he looked over at the old white cat on the sofa. “Right, Xiaohua?”

On New Year’s Eve, after dinner, Jiang Luo took out several big bags of fireworks and went outside to set them off on the stone-paved lane. All the children from nearby houses ran out, gathering around him, watching and setting off fireworks together.

Amid the laughter, Huo Zongzhuo held a camera with a flash and captured every moment—especially Jiang Luo’s bright, radiant smile as he held the sparklers.

That night, before going to sleep, Huo Zongzhuo followed his usual habit of kissing the scar at Jiang Luo’s waist. The scar was small and round, its color and texture different from the surrounding skin. It was the place on Jiang Luo’s body that Huo Zongzhuo cared about the most—without exception.

Huo Zongzhuo kissed it gently. Jiang Luo felt ticklish and laughed.

Laughing, he reached out, pulling Huo Zongzhuo back in front of him, kissed him, and said, “That’s my medal of honor.”

Huo Zongzhuo replied, “I’d rather that medal were on me.”

“No, that won’t do. Then it would become your medal.”

Jiang Luo kissed him again, coaxing him softly. “Can we have a ‘good night’ tonight? And not a short one.”

Huo Zongzhuo smiled, lowered his head, and kissed him firmly. “Of course.”

The next day, Jiang Luo and Huo Zongzhuo each supported his mother by one arm as the three of them went strolling along Pingjiang Road.

The shops were open, and even on the first day of the New Year there were plenty of people out.

They visited various little stores and also sat down again at the spot where Jiang Luo and Huo Zongzhuo had once taken photos before, taking new pictures to commemorate the moment.

They even asked a passerby for help, handing him the camera and asking him to take a photo for them.

So Jiang Luo and Huo Zongzhuo each sat beside his mother. The passerby held up the camera and said, “Alright, look at me—one, two, three, smile.”

Click.

Frozen on the film was a scene against the backdrop of Pingjiang Road’s white walls, gray tiles, small bridges, and green water: Jiang Luo and Huo Zongzhuo smiling together, arms linked with their mother in the middle, her face full of gentle warmth.

That Spring Festival holiday passed in just such happiness.

After the New Year, they left Suzhou. Huo Zongzhuo returned to his unit, and Jiang Luo went back to the company.

Kunsheng moved offices, relocating to Pudong, not far from the Oriental Pearl Tower.

After offering incense to the Bodhisattva, Jiang Luo stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office, gazing into the distance. He could see the towering television tower, and beyond it, the Huangpu River.

The river surged endlessly forward, just like the tide of the times.

“President Jiang.”

Someone called from behind.

Jiang Luo turned around.

That year was 1998. Jiang Luo was twenty-six years old.

What new experiences and encounters would the new year bring him?

Even Jiang Luo himself looked forward to it.

Behind him, beyond the window, stood Pudong’s already-rising skyline of tall buildings.

The times were advancing, moving forward, and so too was fate and life—like the rushing river, never stopping.

—

“Jiang Luo! Jiang Luo!”

Jiang Luo heard crying. It annoyed him. Who was it? Couldn’t they let him sleep in peace? So loud—louder than the music blasting at Dongfang No. 1 nightclub.

Shut up. Stop it. Be quiet. I’m sleeping.

Jiang Luo ignored it. He was clearly awake but refused to open his eyes, trying to fall back asleep.

“Beep—beep—beep.”

On the monitor that had been a straight line, a regular heartbeat suddenly appeared.

“Doctor! Go get the doctor!”

Someone screamed.

Then came all kinds of noisy sounds, making Jiang Luo unbearably irritated.

Finally, he opened his eyes—and froze.

His vision was filled with a cluster of heads, all crowded together, staring at him without moving.

He shot upright, staring at them in confusion, blurting out instinctively, “What the hell—who are you people?”

Where is this?

Jiang Luo thought, Didn’t I just dance all night and come home to catch up on sleep?

What kind of place is this?

Who are all these people?!

Then a chubby man, both familiar and unfamiliar, lunged forward. He didn’t know whether he was laughing or crying, eyes wide as he stared at him. “Brother Luo? You’re okay? You’re really okay? You’re awake? You’re alive again? That’s amazing—this is amazing!!”

“Wang Chuang?”

Jiang Luo looked him over from head to toe and snorted. “Damn, are you acting or what? Dressed like some tacky nouveau riche. You look even more vulgar than Huazi’s cousin who’s supposedly a big boss.”

That year, eighteen-year-old Jiang Luo was reborn into a parallel world on New Year’s Eve of 1999. With his young, healthy soul, he repaired a body that had withered like a dying flower—overnight curing what had once been an incurable case of lung cancer.

What would he experience here this time?

—The End—