Chapter 55: Exclusive to Jinjiang 1/2

Over the weekend, Song Fuzhi and Shi Zhang visited Shi’s home. The windowsill was lively, and the little falcons, although still small, had grown into fluffy little fighter jets.

They stood by the windowsill to watch them. The falcon parents weren’t very afraid of humans; with their round black eyes, they looked at Song Fuzhi and Shi Zhang with tilted heads.

The birds fluttered around the windowsill, as if they had packed their bags and were preparing to leave home.

“Are they saying goodbye?” Song Fuzhi asked with a smile.

The falcon’s mother spread her wings and made a sound.

The two humans laughed together. Professor Shi, who upheld science, also attributed human speculations to the little birds: “Oh, they’re really saying goodbye.”

So the two big men waved at the falcons, “Goodbye, until we meet again if fate allows.”

After waiting for five minutes, they didn’t fly away. After ten minutes, there was still no movement. Some of the smaller ones even sat down and started to sleep.

“Well, let’s go.” Song Fuzhi smiled. “It seems they’re not in a hurry to leave.”

Shi Zhang pondered for a moment. “Should we wait a little longer?”

After waiting for another five minutes and then ten, they still showed no signs of leaving. Instead, more of them curled up, sleeping like a bunch of fuzzballs.

The two laughed together. “This means it’s not time to say goodbye today.”

Until they left Shi’s house that night, the falcons still showed no signs of leaving. They probably wanted to stay here for a few more days.

In the evening, Shi Zhang was cooking in the kitchen, and since Song Fuzhi had nothing to help with, he sat on the sofa, secretly browsing Teacher Octopus’s Weibo.

Song Fuzhi also had to keep an ear out for any movements on Shi Zhang’s side. If it got a little quieter or there were footsteps, he would quickly black out his phone.

It was really thrilling, with a pounding heart and sweaty palms.

The model student, Song, was not used to doing such heart-pounding things. The feeling of secretly preparing a surprise for someone was really addictive.

He browsed Teacher Shi’s Weibo to find the target he wanted to cosplay.

Choosing less than ten excellent works from the vast twenty years of works was challenging because he liked every single one.

After flipping through for a while, he only went back two years. In the end, he decided to select in reverse order, starting with Teacher Octopus’s latest work at the expo.

Teacher Octopus’s final work was the silver-haired, six-pack handsome man at the expo. Song Fuzhi directly put this into his first arrangement.

“Your end is my beginning, like a rebirth.”

Once the character was decided, things became relatively easy. Buying clothes, wigs, and props; finding a makeup artist and photographer—Song Fuzhi had been through all of this before and could be considered experienced.

Actually, Song Fuzhi did consider using the clothes in Shi Zhang’s wardrobe. However, he quickly dismissed the idea. Firstly, it wasn’t good to touch someone else’s clothes without permission. Secondly, Shi Zhang cherished those clothes, as evident by how well he preserved them.

Another crucial point was that their body sizes were slightly different. Shi Zhang was taller, with broader shoulders and chests. The clothes needed alterations to fit him properly.

Luo Luli knocked him: Have you chosen your character?

Song Fuzhi said he had, and he had also ordered clothes and props. Only the location was left to check.

Luo Luli sent a question mark: Why are you moving so fast?

Song Fuzhi replied matter-of-factly: Time is running out; every second counts.

Luo Luli: And you don’t need my help??

Song Fuzhi: I didn’t want to disturb you. Cosplaying so much is quite troublesome.

Luo Luli: Damn, stop talking nonsense.

Luo Luli: It’s simple; I’ll help you prepare a gift for your husband, and you give me three Gundam models.

Song Fuzhi pursed his lips and smiled: Deal.

Shooting for the official release and going to the expo had significant differences. Expo photos didn’t require a background, but official cosplay work needed more refined and authentic scenes.

Although, in reality, achieving character accuracy was already excellent, Song Fuzhi wanted to do his best.

They spent some time looking for an indoor location for shooting, and just before the shoot, they encountered another problem.

This had to be done secretly behind Shi Zhang’s back, but Professor Song was usually busy, and there wasn’t much individual time.

Originally, Song Fuzhi had planned to go out and take photos during the lunch break. However, on that day, when Shi Zhang mentioned that he had to visit the hospital to see Shi Zhenglin over the weekend, it was estimated to take the entire day.

Song Fuzhi’s initially excited mood, due to cosplay, plummeted. He asked Shi Zhang if something had happened.

Shi Zhang said, “Shi Zhenglin’s condition suddenly worsened, and now he can’t even leave the bed. I have some paperwork to deal with his family, so it will take some time.”

Song Fuzhi lightly “mm”ed, not knowing what to say.

Regardless of what this person had done in the past, at least he was Shi Zhang’s father, a living person. Suffering from a terminal illness always made people sad, but Song Fuzhi couldn’t muster sympathy for him.

So, Song Fuzhi just patted Shi Zhang’s shoulder and said, “Go ahead. Do you want me to accompany you?”

“No need,” Shi Zhang said.

On the day Shi Zhang went to the hospital, Song Fuzhi and Luo Luliu went to the indoor photography studio.

In the hospital, outside the high-level ward, stood a solemn group of bodyguards. The corridor was long and quiet. Shi Zhang was far away, yet he could hear the painful cries coming from the ward.

Shi Yan, expressionless, stood outside the ward. When she saw Shi Zhang, there was no visible reaction; she just glanced into the room indifferently.

So Shi Zhang didn’t say anything and went in.

Beside the sickbed were several doctors and senior caregivers, all dressed in pure white. The walls and the bed were also white. At first glance, there were no family members around.

Only Shi Zhenglin’s wife sat on the edge of the ward’s sofa, holding an embroidered handkerchief, her gaze somewhat vacant.

Shi Zhang nodded slightly and called out, “Aunt.”

She looked up, saw Shi Zhang, didn’t say a word, and directly walked out.

Shi Zhang didn’t care much. He passed through the medical staff, seeing Shi Zhenglin lying on the bed.

In just a few weeks, Shi Zhenglin had become extremely thin.

Previously, he could stand up from a wheelchair and talk to Shi Zhang. Now, he looked like he had been drained, wrinkling his forehead in pain.

Seeing that a family member had come, a doctor explained in a low voice, “Cancer pain, a symptom that is very uncomfortable in the late stage of cancer. We are administering painkillers to Mr. Shi. The symptoms will ease soon.”

Shi Zhang made a soft “mm.”

After a while, Shi Zhenglin seemed to be a little more awake. He opened his eyes with difficulty, looked at Shi Zhang, and weakly called his name.

The doctors and nurses beside the bed, seeing Shi Zhang, whispered, “Mr. Shi is calling you. Go and talk to him.”

Shi Zhang moved to the bedside, lowering his head slightly.

Shi Zhenglin’s speech was unclear, and Shi Zhang listened for a long time, only hearing ragged gasps.

Finally, he heard clearly. Shi Zhenglin intermittently said, “And Song… Song… divorce… I’ll give you…”

Shi Zhang didn’t listen to the rest. Whether it was about money, houses, or family business, it was meaningless.

Shi Zhang straightened up, leaving Shi Zhenglin alone in the bed to repeat those persistent and feeble words.

Suddenly, Shi Zhang felt a wave of pity-like emotion. In the last moments of life, his mind was still fixated on such narrow things.

Shi Zhenglin was still struggling to speak, but Shi Zhang ignored him, sat on a chair, and said gently with clear words, “Yes, I married a man named Song Fuzhi. We love each other, and our life is happy. We won’t divorce, and we won’t have children.”

Shi Zhenglin’s breathing suddenly became rapid, each breath seeming to want to pull his lungs out. “Song, I will know about your past.”

“Yes, he will know,” Shi Zhang quietly interrupted him, “but it’s not for you to say.”

Suddenly, Shi Zhenglin began to cough violently, and the doctors hurriedly gathered around.

Shi Zhang stepped aside, glancing at the patient on the bed one last time before calmly walking out.