Since the trip was next month, before then, Chi Yao needed to address another issue with his body—a tumor growing on his stomach. Fortunately, it was just a small one and hadn’t turned malignant yet, so a minor surgery would be enough.

Chi Yao kept this a secret from everyone, including his family. Even though they shared the same surname, their relationship barely went beyond that. If they found out about his tumor, more people would probably be happy rather than worried.

Chi Yao contacted a private hospital in another city, knowing that private hospitals, with the right amount of money, would provide better service and confidentiality. He casually told his friends, including Xue Zhongming, that he was going on a trip. As for his “white moonlight,”^[1]Unattainable Shen Ling, he arranged a dinner with him.

During the meal, Chi Yao subtly mentioned his tumor, and Shen Ling immediately showed concern, suggesting a hospital—one that happened to be owned by Fu Rong. Chi Yao had no interest in going to his rival’s hospital. Last life, he was blind to Shen Ling’s true character, but now he saw it clearly.

Chi Yao smiled inwardly. No matter how well someone pretended, their eyes often gave them away. It wasn’t just Shen Ling deceiving him—Chi Yao had been lying to himself all along.

It was his own stupidity, his “love-brain.” Dying once had finally opened his eyes.

Chi Yao had this second chance at life, but he thought about others who were love-brained like him and hadn’t been so lucky. His disgust for Shen Ling deepened.

As Chi Yao coughed and lowered his head to hide his feelings, he wondered if Shen Ling had noticed his change. But even if he had, what difference would it make? Chi Yao was ready to cut ties with him. The sooner, the better—he didn’t want to see Shen Ling anymore. Once everything was settled, it would be over.

“I don’t need to, thanks. I don’t want my family to know about this. You know what they’re like—they’d probably be thrilled if something happened to me,” Chi Yao said, using a perfectly valid excuse.

Shen Ling couldn’t argue with that. Not only Chi Yao’s family but many others would probably relish the chance to see him struggle.

“Alright, I’ll keep this secret for you. And if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask—don’t treat me as an outsider.”

Shen Ling reached out and held Chi Yao’s hand, his eyes full of sincere concern. Chi Yao nodded, though his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

On the day Chi Yao left, Shen Ling drove him to the airport.

“Safe travels,” Shen Ling said, stepping out of the car.

Chi Yao entered the security checkpoint, turned, and waved goodbye to Shen Ling. Once he turned back around, his expression instantly changed—cold and indifferent.

As Shen Ling got back into his car, his gentle demeanor faded too. His kindness had been nothing more than a game, a way to toy with a pretty pet.

At the hospital, everything was already prepared. Chi Yao stayed for two days for pre-surgery checks and preparations. On the third day, he lay on the operating table. Doctors surrounded him, wearing white coats, masks, and sterilized gloves.

Suddenly, panic seized Chi Yao. He was filled with fear, as if transported back to his last life, when he had terminal stomach cancer. He wanted to struggle, but the anesthesia made him weak. His eyes filled with terror, and though he tried to speak, the surgery continued.

Tears streamed from his eyes as he looked down at his abdomen, where a small incision was made. He couldn’t see his internal organs, but in his mind, he imagined them—red, pulsating, and alive. In his delirium, he thought he could see a bloody piece of flesh.

The child he hadn’t had the chance to bring into the world in his past life.

The surgery was successful, but Chi Yao fell unconscious, remaining in a coma for an entire day. He finally woke up on the fourth evening, as the sunset painted the sky a deep red, like blood, casting a glow over his face.

Chi Yao slowly raised his hand and pressed his fingers to his abdomen. He applied slight pressure as if confirming something, and a sharp pain shot through him, turning his face pale.

A nurse came in to check on him and, seeing he was awake, quickly went to call the doctor. The doctor arrived and examined Chi Yao. As the doctor approached, Chi Yao looked up and asked, “How is my child?”

Both the doctor and nurse froze.

A few seconds later, Chi Yao laughed, his abdomen aching with each chuckle. The doctor held his shoulder, noticing that his emotional state wasn’t quite right, and began to soothe him.

“The surgery went very well. You’re in good shape lately. With about a month of recovery and regular follow-ups, you should be fine.”

Given his young age and the early detection of the tumor, which hadn’t worsened, along with the hospital’s extensive experience with this type of case, the doctor reassured him that he would likely have no issues if he took care of himself in the future.

“Thank you, doctor.” Chi Yao smiled, though his eyes betrayed a hint of sadness.

The doctor assumed it was because he had no one to accompany him during such a serious surgery. It was common for patients to feel vulnerable post-operation. After completing his check-up, the doctor advised him to rest and instructed the nurse to keep a close watch on him.

Chi Yao lay quietly, shutting off his phone. All his work matters had been delegated to someone he trusted—someone who had never betrayed him in his previous life.