“Get lost.”
Jiang Luo laughed too.
He leaned closer to Huo Zongzuo and said softly, “I have a feeling… it should be fine.”
“Hm.”
Huo Zongzuo raised his arm and draped it around Jiang Luo’s shoulders. “Even if something happens, there’s no need to worry.”
Jiang Luo turned to him. “I still want to celebrate the turn of the century with you.”
“Of course,” Huo Zongzuo said gently.
“I also want, in a few years… after the year 2000, if we can, to adopt a child and be fathers together.”
Jiang Luo was surprised. “You like kids?”
“Pretty much,” Huo Zongzuo said quietly. “Wang Chuang’s two kids are really cute. I think you like them too.”
“Great!” Jiang Luo brightened. “How many do you want to adopt? Boys? Girls?”
Huo Zongzuo looked at him. “Haven’t you always said you wanted a daughter?”
…
They talked for quite a while until the doctor came out with Jiang Luo’s test report and lung scans.
In the consultation room, the chief physician examined the scans carefully under the light and nodded. “Beautiful lungs. Very clean and healthy. No nodules at all.”
Jiang Luo and Huo Zongzuo both breathed a sigh of relief.
Outside the hospital, Jiang Luo laughed. “This is what they mean by ‘seeing a ghost in a cup.’ That’s exactly it.”
Huo Zongzuo said, “We’ll do regular checkups from now on. I’ll bring you here. If there’s any problem, we’ll treat it early.”
“Not just the lungs… other areas too.”
Hand in hand, Jiang Luo added, “And you too. Checkups. Early treatment if needed.”
“Of course,” Huo Zongzuo agreed.
Jiang Luo adjusted quickly—no cancer, nothing had happened, so he didn’t dwell on it or let it consume him. He focused on what he needed to do.
But Huo Zongzuo, worried about him, didn’t let the matter pass so easily. The man who never believed in gods, spirits, or karma actually sought out a master to check the feng shui of their Wukang Road home and Jiang Luo’s birth chart.
The master found nothing wrong with the house, but Jiang Luo’s chart revealed something unusual. He explained that most people’s fate is a single, continuous line, but Jiang Luo had two separate lines: one indicated early death, while the other was relatively smooth, even hinting at wealth and success.
Convinced the master might be right, Huo Zongzuo spent a fortune having a ritual performed at home to ensure Jiang Luo’s safety and health.
Not only that, he donated to several major temples—Wutai, Putuo—offering eternal lamps for Jiang Luo. Eternal light, eternal life.
He also brought a consecrated Bodhisattva statue into his office and wore a string of prayer beads on his wrist.
At first, Jiang Luo didn’t care, thinking it didn’t matter whether one believed or not. But seeing Huo Zongzuo, who normally only wore a watch, suddenly wear the delicate beads, he realized that Huo Zongzuo truly feared he might not make it through the two thousand years.
One day, while chatting casually, Jiang Luo asked what would happen if, by some chance, the outcome mirrored his previous life—if he died—what would Huo Zongzuo do?
Jiang Luo said calmly, “Luckily our wedding was just Mom’s birthday banquet, not a formal ceremony. But… if in the future you end up with someone else…”
Huo Zongzuo interrupted, visibly displeased, “What other person? What are you talking about? Stop saying nonsense!”
“Really,” Jiang Luo continued, matter-of-factly, “people die first sometimes. If I die first… would you be alone?”
“Huo Zongzuo.”
“I mean, if in the end my fate matches my previous life… forget me. Two thousand years later, in 2001, 2002… go love someone else. I can’t bear for you to be alone.”
Huo Zongzuo silenced him with a kiss, cutting off the rest of his words. Jiang Luo sighed internally—he hated the idea of dying even more.
He changed the topic. “Let’s adopt a little boy. Two grown men raising a daughter isn’t exactly convenient. Someday, our son can marry and give us grandchildren. I want a boy who looks like you. Then we can remodel the house, make a kid’s room, a study, maybe a playroom. You teach him to read and write, I’ll teach him sports, horseback riding…”
Jiang Luo imagined casually, knowing it was unlikely they’d find a child who resembled Huo Zongzuo. After all, he wasn’t Huo Zongzuo’s biological son; the world was too vast for such coincidences.
What Jiang Luo didn’t know was that in the end, in late 2004, his right-hand man, Xue Zhizhong, would find a boy in an orphanage in a certain city who resembled both him and Huo Zongzuo. That year, the three of them would form a family and live happily together on Wukang Road.
“Get out! Just go!”
For a while, Su Lan’s mental state remained fragile. She was completely consumed by the memory of giving birth more than twenty years ago after her child had been swapped, feeling endless guilt.
She couldn’t face Zhao Mingshi. Every time she saw him, she was reminded of Zhang Xiangping—the woman who had taken her biological son.
She thought of how Zhang Xiangping refused to buy winter coats for her child, leaving him with frostbite on his hands. She thought of how Zhang Xiangping denied Jiang Luo meals, forcing him to beg elsewhere.
Meanwhile, what was she doing? Loving the culprit’s son.
Su Lan hated Zhang Xiangping and could no longer love Zhao Mingshi. Loving him meant abusing Jiang Luo with her own hands. Every ounce of love was misplaced.
“Get out!”
Zhao Mingshi had no choice but to leave the Zhao residence.
He realized Zhao Shuo’s attitude toward him had changed. His once-beloved older brother now looked at him as if he were a stranger.
Zhao Mingshi said, “It was that woman who swapped the child. I didn’t know anything. I was just a baby back then. I didn’t understand, and it wasn’t me who swapped the child.”
Zhao Shuo said coldly, “Bingbing was right. Only Jiang Luo is my brother. You and your mother… you’re thieves. One stole my brother, the other stole my brother’s life.”
Zhao Mingshi felt like he had been struck by lightning. He hated Zhang Xiangping—why would she admit it so easily after hiding it for so long? She should have stayed silent forever!
He hated Jiang Luo too. If Jiang Luo didn’t care, why reveal it? Was he trying to ruin him?
Zhao Mingshi despised himself.
He drank in the hotel, one glass after another, calling women, embracing them, touching them, kissing them, using alcohol and sex to numb himself for days.
When he sobered, he paid off the women with dollars from his wallet, showered, changed, ate, and returned to normal.
Standing by the hotel window, he dialed a number. On the line, he said, “Bi Feng, I remember you mentioned your brother is a secretary in some mountain province, right?”
After a few words, Zhao Mingshi suddenly said, “Do you want to make a big move, once and for all? I’ve got a fat fish here… very, very, very, very rich.”
…
That day, while the secretary was tidying Huo Zongzuo’s office, she spotted something unusual—a letter from a provincial environmental protection association.
It reported that a factory under Zhikun’s company had violated pollution regulations. The letter demanded rectification and requested responsible personnel to report to the association.
Having seen such letters before, the secretary didn’t think much of it, closed it, and tossed it into the trash with other useless documents.
Huo Zongzuo went on a business trip, Jiang Luo flew to Shenzhen for work and to visit Bai Ting.
Bai Ting had recovered well, was energetic and optimistic, and had returned to work at her phone shop.
Meeting Wang Chuang at the Shengfei factory, Jiang Luo teased him, putting his hands together in mock prayer. Wang Chuang laughed and scolded, “Get lost! It’s my mom, not yours. Aren’t you worried?”
Jiang Luo snorted. “Not worried? Want me to say it again?”
Wang Chuang looped an arm around Jiang Luo’s neck. “Going to Hong Kong in a couple of days? Come along.”
“I want to get some Chinese medicine for my mom and a birthday gift for my wife.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
Jiang Luo teased, “Can’t you get Chinese medicine domestically?”
“Fine, fine. I’ll get socks for my dad.”