Chapter 172

The days seemed to stretch on endlessly in the hospital room. Time crawled by as Allen lay in bed, counting the seconds, his mind drifting back to his childhood, to the days when he had battled against illness. As a child, he had never considered sickness to be painful or lonely. But now, after experiencing health, love, and the closeness of someone dear, he found that his once fearlessly independent mindset had vanished. He couldn’t shake the longing for the life he once had.

With his condition stabilizing, a few visitors had come by, including colleagues from the lab, officials from the royal family, the police, and even some of his old roommates like Yang Chengzhe and Jin Fei. But there was one person missing: Su Bin. Allen had made it clear that Su Bin was not to visit.

In the silence of the hospital room, Allen felt an emptiness that seemed to grow with each passing day. Despite pushing Su Bin away, he couldn’t stop thinking about him—wondering what he was doing, whether he was doing okay, if he had already moved on, or perhaps if he had given up on him.

But every time Allen thought that “letting him go” might be the best option, the notion of Su Bin living happily without him pushed the longing away. He told himself that Su Bin deserved more, deserved a life free from the burden of his illness.

Finally, with his condition improving enough to allow for simple meals, Robert came to visit him, bringing a bowl of congee. Allen, tasting it, immediately furrowed his brow. “Did Su Bin make this?”

Robert nodded, his face serious. “Yes.”

Allen set the bowl aside, his voice soft but firm. “Don’t let him make it again.”

Robert looked surprised. “Is it not to your liking? Should I take it back?”

Allen shook his head. “No, just leave it.”

After a few more words of concern, Robert left to avoid disturbing Allen’s rest. Allen sat quietly in his bed for a long time, staring at the bowl. Then, with a deep sigh, he picked it up again and began eating the now-cold congee, each bite slow and deliberate.

A group of noble young men had also stopped by to check on him, including Sean, who was there in place of Harrold, who had been away serving in the Air Force. They joked around with him, trying to lighten the mood.

“How come you made your little servant sit outside? Are you punishing him?” Sean teased.

Donald added, “Sidney says your injury was mostly his fault. The Countess is still upset.”

Allen frowned. “Who told you that? This has nothing to do with him.”

Hua Ling clicked his tongue. “With injuries like this, you’re still defending him? Did you two have a fight?”

Allen shifted his gaze, his tone quiet as he replied, “No.”

Hua Ling, not missing a beat, pulled out an envelope. “He asked us to deliver this to you.” He smiled, handing it over. “Looks like it’s written in Chinese. With your current level, you should be able to read it, right? Or should I translate it for you?”

Allen paused, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. He didn’t know how to react. Su Bin had asked Feiman to pass on messages before, but after Allen had refused once, Feiman hadn’t relayed anything since.

Hua Ling waved the envelope teasingly. “It’s from him. Do you want us to translate it for you?”

Allen’s breath caught in his throat, and he coughed lightly, reaching out to take the envelope, his hand trembling. Seeing Allen’s reaction, Hua Ling immediately stopped teasing and tossed the envelope to him. The group left with more playful remarks, leaving him alone again.

Outside the room, Su Bin was still waiting patiently. As soon as he saw Hua Ling and the others leave, he rushed up to them, asking, “Did Allen read the letter?”

Hua Ling shrugged. “He didn’t seem very eager to look at it.”

Su Bin’s shoulders slumped in disappointment, his voice quiet. “Oh… Thank you for delivering it.”

Hua Ling, still smiling, asked, “We delivered it. Aren’t you going to tell us why?”

Su Bin hesitated. “Sorry, I actually don’t know why.” Allen had suddenly written a will and said those unsettling words to him before, leaving Su Bin in a panic. Now, Allen had allowed all visitors but still refused to let him in.

Was Allen angry? Was he mad that Su Bin had left so suddenly? But when he had said those things before, it hadn’t seemed like a tantrum—he had looked so sad, so broken.

Su Bin sighed, still unsure of Allen’s thoughts. But over time, he had come to accept that Allen’s emotions were always in flux. No matter what Allen said or did, Su Bin wouldn’t give up. He would wait for Allen, always. If Allen didn’t want to see him, he would stay outside, just waiting, no matter what.

He was willing to do this, not for Allen’s forgiveness or to make him happy, but simply because he loved him.

Later, when the nurse came to change Allen’s bandages, Allen couldn’t help but ask, “Is he still out there?”

The nurse smiled gently. “The Chinese boy? He’s still here, always bringing us treats. Such a thoughtful child.”

Allen’s voice dropped. “Doesn’t he go home at night?”

The nurse seemed to think for a moment. “Well, not yet. He stays late every day.”

Allen remained silent, his gaze drifting toward the window. After the nurse left, Allen quietly peeked through the curtains, and sure enough, he saw Su Bin wrapped in his coat, sitting in a chair just outside the room. It was December, and the hallway was likely freezing.

Why doesn’t he leave? Allen thought bitterly. “I’m just a burden to you now. Maybe I always will be.”

His gaze shifted to the letter in his hand. He still hadn’t opened it.

He didn’t want to read it. He was afraid that if he did, Su Bin would still say something disappointing, something that showed he hadn’t yet understood. He also didn’t dare to read it, because no matter what Su Bin wrote, he knew he would immediately soften, would let him in, even if it was just for a moment of warmth. Even though he knew that Su Bin’s pleading and apologies were simply habitual attempts to please and elicit sympathy—if he gave in to his selfish desire to take that fool who mistook gratitude for love with him, it wouldn’t be fair to him.

Allen repeatedly picked up and put down the letter. The envelope had already become wrinkled from his handling.

But no matter how much he tried to suppress it, he couldn’t stop the urge to read the letter.

Unconsciously, a tear appeared along the edge of the envelope.

It felt as though he had prepared himself for some significant ritual. Hours passed that afternoon, his heartbeat echoing in his chest, confirming that he was still alive.

The thin sheet of paper, with its simple words written in neat characters, held no complex phrases—just a single message, repeated over and over.

…It was a full page of—”Li Yansi, I love you.”

(“I don’t have anything to ask or explain. I’m here only because I love you.”)

Allen’s hands trembled uncontrollably, and his heart clenched with pain.

That sly fool—he always knew how to leave him helpless…

The new hospital room had large windows. Being on the fourth floor, there were no taller buildings opposite, so the only view Allen had was the sky.

One morning, as Allen sat on his bed, lost in thought, he saw a few red balloons float past his window. They didn’t drift away; instead, they floated up and down just outside his room.

He could almost guess who had released them. Allen couldn’t ignore them. With effort, he moved to his wheelchair and wheeled himself over.

On closer inspection, he saw that each balloon was attached to a small piece of paper. Allen couldn’t resist opening the window, stretching his hand out to untie the papers.

Below, in the hospital garden, amidst the frost-covered white maples, stood a small figure, wrapped in a thick scarf, hurriedly trying to control the height of the balloons.

When Allen untied the paper, the person below waved their arms excitedly, and a few of the balloons immediately broke free, soaring into the sky.

Allen pulled his gaze back to the papers he had collected. Each one had a name written on it—“Su Bin,” “Love,” “Li Yansi.”

One letter wasn’t enough. Now, he was sending balloons…

Allen smiled bitterly as he put the papers away and carefully slid them into an envelope. The thought of meeting Su Bin again was pushed down. He was greedy, wanting to see what other tricks that fool had up his sleeve.

It seemed that Allen’s act of collecting the balloons encouraged Su Bin. Over the next few days, a variety of strange and unconventional ways of expressing love appeared.

He bribed the caregivers and nurses to bring flowers, had Yang Chengzhe deliver food to Allen, and even conspired with Simon. Somehow, he found Allen’s phone, charged it, and had it sent to him.

On Skype, Allen’s phone buzzed nonstop as Su Bin sent him messages:

m: “iloveyou.”

m: “imissyou.”

m: “iamalwaysherewaitingforyou.”

Allen set the phone aside, his heart—frosted and cold—starting to melt.

That evening, just as Allen was about to sleep, a commotion outside his door caught his attention.

A nurse hurriedly knocked and called out, “Oh my God! That boy has filled the lawn downstairs with red candles!”

Allen was startled. Without even bothering to sit in his wheelchair, he grabbed onto the wall for support and walked over to the window.

The cold night air rushed in, and he saw below—a giant heart made of red candles, with a message in English in the center:

“Allen, you will be fine.”

Allen: “…This trick again? Last time it was to win back an ex-girlfriend, and now it’s a different line to flatter me? So sly!”

All the patients, nurses, and doctors in the building stuck their heads out to watch, whistling and loudly reading the message, turning the ordinary night into something like a grand celebration.

Before long, a couple of security guards came running, shouting, “Sir, open flames are not allowed in the hospital!”

The crowd fell silent.

The young man wrapped in a scarf was led away by the guards, and Allen nervously turned to the nurse. “Go check on him.”

Half an hour later, the nurse came back, panting, and said, “It’s fine. Those weren’t real flames, just imitation candles—electronic lights. I was wondering why they didn’t blow out in the wind!”

Allen twitched his forehead. “I’m asking about him. What happened to him?”

The nurse paused. “I don’t know. It seems like the security took him away…”

Allen: “…”

Sighing, Allen finally opened his phone and sent Su Bin a message:

all.89: “Come see me tomorrow morning.”

It had been a whole month since he’d heard from Allen. Su Bin, holding his phone, was ecstatic. “Allen loves me! He finally agreed to see me!!”

Jin Fei, sitting beside him in the car, smiled and said, “Oh? Is that so?”

“Ah! I’m so excited! I’m getting out of the car!” Su Bin shouted, throwing open the car door and running down the deserted road, howling in joy.

Jin Fei watched Su Bin’s retreating figure, slowly following him in the car, thinking with satisfaction, At least we got those 3,000 candle lights from some online store in China, and had Yang Chengzhe set up a button system to light them all at once. Even someone as dignified as Allen couldn’t resist this romantic gesture from a hopeless nerd like Su Bin…

No matter the challenges in life—whether it’s sickness, aging, or death—those who are immersed in love might just be the happiest people in the world.

 

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