Chapter Eighty-Five: Gu Zhiheng Suddenly Departs

Gu Zhiheng refused to utter a single word about the backlash, no matter how persistently Liu E pressed him. Faced with his silence, Liu E could only relent and let him be. He was worried—deeply so—seeing Gu Zhiheng in such poor condition, but with nothing to go on, there was nothing he could do.

Time slipped by. Neither of them had rested at all the previous night, so Liu E finally coaxed Gu Zhiheng to lie down on the sofa in the living room and try to sleep. He himself went out to the vegetable garden with Jing Shushu to pick vegetables, thinking that Gu Zhiheng would likely be fine. After all, the last time he nearly suffered from qi deviation, he’d pulled through; a little blood shouldn’t be a big deal. With that, he left the one on the sofa to his own devices.

“What’s wrong with your brother? Why would he suddenly start coughing up blood? Are you really sure he’s alright?” Jing Shushu still sounded anxious, but Liu E was unconcerned.

“It’s nothing. That kid’s always got something minor going on. Coughing up a little blood is no big deal.” Truth be told, he had no idea what was happening either! Gu Zhiheng never told him anything. He’d only been with him for less than two days and really didn’t know him at all.

Since Liu E seemed so unconcerned, Jing Shushu didn’t press, but continued picking vegetables. They would need plenty for lunch for the elders later.

“Shushu, how are you feeling these days? Has your health held up these past years?” Liu E asked tentatively, afraid that too many questions would irritate her.

“I’m fine. After so many years, there’s really nothing serious anymore,” Jing Shushu replied, her smile tinged with strain, though Liu E didn’t notice.

Just then, a little girl of seven or eight came running up. “Director, your little guest seems to have left,” she told Jing Shushu, meaning Gu Zhiheng was gone.

Liu E felt a stab of unease. He glanced at Jing Shushu, dropped his handful of vegetables into her basket, and dashed off without another word.

As he ran, he tried calling Gu Zhiheng’s phone, but it rang endlessly with no answer. Now Liu E was truly alarmed. Gu Zhiheng would never leave without telling him—something must have happened.

Meanwhile, Gu Zhiheng, who had left alone, had already arrived at the Jiacheng Grand Hotel. He rushed into the restroom, leaned over the sink, and could no longer hold back—blood poured from his mouth in great gulps. He hadn’t expected that a simple divination would result in such severe backlash.

This time, the aftereffects would not fade in ten days, or even half a month.

Coughing fitfully, Gu Zhiheng heaved at the sink for a long while, then broke out in a bout of harsh coughing. His head spun, his legs felt weak and unsteady. Bracing himself against the wall, he managed a few steps before a wave of dizziness crashed over him and he collapsed.

Liu E searched everywhere he could think of, retracing every place Gu Zhiheng might have gone, but found no trace. At last, he wondered if Gu Zhiheng might have returned to the hotel to rest and raced there as fast as he could.

He knocked on the door for a long time without response, but the sharp smell of blood in the air made him think of Gu Zhiheng’s earlier episode. Without hesitation, he slipped inside.

The reek of blood nearly made him faint. The bed was empty; he rushed to the bathroom and found Gu Zhiheng sprawled unconscious on the floor. Blood spattered the area around the sink—who could say how much he’d lost?

Seeing Gu Zhiheng so pale, Liu E’s heart clenched. He gathered him up with great care and laid him on the bed, then set about cleaning up the mess in the bathroom. Only after much effort did he scrub away all the blood. He hurried to wet a clean towel and gently wiped Gu Zhiheng’s face and hands.

Blood had splattered across Gu Zhiheng’s clothes as well; the stark red against his white T-shirt looked like plum blossoms blooming across his chest.

“Gu Zhiheng, you little brat, you’re really something!” Liu E muttered. Even now, he wouldn’t say a word—not a peep about something so serious. If Liu E hadn’t gotten there in time, the kid might have died.

“I… I’m not dead yet. Why are you carrying on like someone died?” Gu Zhiheng’s weak voice drifted to Liu E’s ears, startling him enough that the towel slipped and landed squarely on Gu Zhiheng’s face.

Just as he regained consciousness, Gu Zhiheng promptly fainted again—this time courtesy of the towel’s mighty blow.

“Hey, kid—don’t scare me like that. I swear, I didn’t mean it,” Liu E stammered. Could a single towel really knock him out? Was Gu Zhiheng’s body so fragile now?

For a moment Liu E was dumbstruck. Was he really that strong?

As Gu Zhiheng lost consciousness, he found himself facing Ye Zheng, who regarded him with undisguised contempt. “Well, look at you now. Completely useless, aren’t you?” Ye Zheng’s words were sharp, but not untrue.

At this point, Gu Zhiheng truly looked like someone beyond saving—his pallor could put a corpse to shame.

“Heh. And what would my death do for you? You seem awfully pleased about it,” Gu Zhiheng said, sprawled on the ground, too weary to bother with Ye Zheng. After all, Ye Zheng had claimed they were one and the same, yet here he was, full of disdain.

If he really died, would that guy seize his body—use it to pursue his sister? The very thought was treacherous, shameless even.

“I’ve told you before—some things are not meant to be forced. Now you’re paying the price,” Ye Zheng chided, his outward concern belied by his true nature.

Gu Zhiheng was simply too tired to care. He lay there in silence, unmoving. If Ye Zheng didn’t exist, would he just be an ordinary man, free from fate and its burdens?

He was exhausted—he wanted nothing more than to lie here forever.

He knew he’d frightened Liu E by disappearing, but he simply couldn’t let anyone see him so broken and weak. No one in the Gu family ever showed weakness, least of all him. No one could witness his vulnerability.

He admitted he'd been reckless today. But as for Jing Shushu’s matter—he would not give up. He had to uncover the truth.

“Ye Zheng, wake me up later. I need to rest for a while,” Gu Zhiheng murmured, listless and dispirited.

He was tired. How wonderful it would be if he were at home, if Chu Xingran were here—he would have someone to rely on, a place to belong.

But it was all just a luxury—none of that belonged to him. Loneliness was his birthright; he should have been used to it long ago.

And yet, what was he yearning for now, what hope was he still clinging to, what was he trying to forget?

Who did he have to become to be true to himself—or should he become the person everyone else expected?

It was all so complicated. He wanted to run, but there was nowhere to escape.