Gu Mingshan

Su Wan did not speak, simply staring at the night scenery flashing past the window.

Gu Huaiyu assumed she was still lost in those past memories and didn't speak again.

He only stole glances at her from time to time, his gaze filled with cautious, fragile treasure.

The car crossed half of Jiangcheng before finally stopping in front of a brightly lit building.

Jiangcheng First People’s Hospital.

Gu Huaiyu parked the car and walked around to the passenger side to open the door for Su Wan.

She stepped out and looked up at the building.

The lights of the VIP Inpatient Department were on, looking like a sleepless eye in the night.

“Let’s go.” Gu Huaiyu tried to take her hand again.

This time, Su Wan didn’t let him. She simply said a flat “lead the way” and started walking on her own.

Gu Huaiyu’s hand froze in mid-air for a moment before he quickly caught up.

The top floor of the VIP Inpatient Department was quiet to the point of being eerie.

The hallways were covered in thick, sound-absorbing carpets, the wall lamps cast a dim, soft yellow light, and the air was thick with the scent of disinfectant mixed with some expensive incense.

Two bodyguards sat in the lounge area at the end of the corridor. Seeing Gu Huaiyu, they gave a slight nod without making a sound.

Gu Huaiyu pushed open the door to the patient suite.

It was a multi-room suite; the outer room was a reception area, while the inner room served as the actual sickroom.

Gu Huaiyu stood at the door and looked back at Su Wan. He looked as if he wanted to say something but hesitated, eventually stepping aside to let her through.

“My father is inside.”

Su Wan walked in.

The room was massive, more spacious than the living room of an average home.

All the medical equipment was cleverly hidden behind custom wood paneling. If not for the low humming of the machines and the faint presence of medical lines, it would have looked more like an executive suite in a five-star hotel.

Gu Mingshan was lying on the hospital bed.

Su Wan stood at the foot of the bed, looking at him.

She almost didn't recognize this person.

In her memory, Gu Mingshan was always dressed in sharp suits with every hair in place.

He was a tall man with a voice like a resonant bell. When he sat in his top-floor office at the Gu Corporation and looked at someone across his mahogany desk, his gaze carried a condescending scrutiny.

Su Wan still remembered the way he used to smile and call her “Wanwan.”

His smile had been warm and his eyes sharp, like an old lion with its claws retracted—beneath the gentleness was nothing but calculation.

The person lying on the bed now was a shell of a man, drained of life by illness.

He was so thin he was deformed.

His once full cheeks had sunken deep, his cheekbones jutting out like two knives, and his skin hung loose and sagging, a sickly, waxy yellow.

His hair had all been shaved off, revealing a hideous surgical scar on his scalp. Oxygen tubes were inserted into his nostrils, trembling slightly with his weak breaths.

The heart monitor at the bedside emitted a slow, rhythmic “beep—beep—”

Su Wan stared at that face, something churning in her chest.

It was this man.

It was him.

Memories came crashing down like a flood through a broken dam, carrying images she thought she had forgotten, slamming into her with full force.

She remembered the way her father looked the last time he returned from the Gu residence.

It was a late autumn evening. Her father had parked the car in front of the Su family’s ancestral home and sat in the driver's seat for a long time without coming out.

She happened to be coming home from outside and saw her father gripping the steering wheel with both hands, his knuckles white.

She called out “Dad,” and her father turned his head, forcing a smile and saying it was nothing, telling her to go inside first.

She only found out later that Gu Mingshan had invited her father to discuss the transfer of that plot of land that day. He had given only one condition—if it wasn't sold, it would be destroyed.

She remembered the way her mother collapsed onto the sofa after hanging up that phone call.

That was the Su Corporation’s most difficult period: the banks were demanding repayment, partners were terminating contracts, and suppliers were blocking the doors.

The call her mother had received was from an old friend who told her that Gu Mingshan had put the word out—anyone who dared to help the Su family would be making an enemy of the Gu family.

Her mother had hung up and sat there for a very, very long time. Then she got up and went to the kitchen to cook a bowl of noodles for her father.

When the noodles were brought out, her tears fell into the bowl.

She remembered that on the day of her parents' funeral, Gu Mingshan hadn't even shown his face.

He had sent an assistant with a wreath, the silk ribbon bearing the words “Deepest Condolences.”

The wreath had been placed in the furthest corner of the mourning hall, right next to the one sent by the Bai family.

The two wreaths stood side by side, the gold characters on the ribbons shimmering under the candlelight as if celebrating something.

She remembered the day the Su family home was seized. She had stood at the door, watching the bailiffs apply the seals.

A black sedan had driven past the gates, the window rolling down half an inch, and she had seen half of Gu Mingshan’s face.

There was no guilt on that face, no sympathy—only the satisfaction of a victor inspecting his spoils.

Su Wan’s fingers slowly tightened at her sides, her nails digging into her palms.

And then there was Su Zhuo.

Her only brother.

That case had been suspicious from start to finish.

Xu Tianlin’s injury assessment was clearly a minor injury, yet it was falsified into a level two minor injury.

Su Zhuo had clearly acted in legitimate self-defense, yet it was characterized as intentional assault.

During the trial, the defense lawyer was replaced at the last minute, the key witness suddenly changed their story, and even the judge’s sentence was the absolute maximum possible under the law.

Six years.

And Gu Mingshan, three days after Su Zhuo was imprisoned, had raised a glass at a private gathering and said: “The youth is undisciplined. It’s good to let him go inside and learn some rules.”

Su Wan’s nails nearly pierced her palms.

An icy surge of mental power churned within her like a suppressed volcano that could erupt at any moment.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and walked toward the hospital bed.

Su Wan sat in the chair by the bed, no more than an arm’s length away from Gu Mingshan.

At this distance, she could clearly see every wrinkle on his face, every age spot, and every eyebrow hair that had fallen out due to chemotherapy.

His fingers were curled on the blanket, his joints protruding, and his skin was so thin she could almost see the blue veins beneath.

At that moment, Gu Mingshan suddenly opened his eyes.

Those eyes had once been sharp and shrewd, able to see through an opponent’s thoughts with a single glance and intimidate the most seasoned businessmen at the negotiating table.

Now they were cloudy and dim, like two oil lamps about to burn out, their flames flickering precariously in the wind.

The moment he saw Su Wan, his pupils contracted slightly.

It was an instinctive alertness—the scent of a natural enemy sensed by an aging prey.

His lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but only a faint, muffled rasp came out.

His hand tried to pull out from under the covers, but it only caused the IV tube to sway; he didn't even have the strength to lift it off the bed.

Looking into those clouded eyes, a surge of gratification welled up in the depths of Su Wan’s heart.

“You finally have your day,” she thought.

But on her face, there was not a single ripple of emotion.

She leaned forward slightly and took Gu Mingshan’s hand in her own.

That hand was ice-cold and withered, light as a bundle of dry twigs.

Her movements were very light, very slow, carrying a deliberate tenderness—just like a junior holding the hand of an elder, carrying relief, forgiveness, and mercy.