Chapter 147: Surgery (Special dedication for Mo Xiyan)

I do not know what other language could possibly express my feelings besides these three words.

Brad arrived shortly after. Following a brief examination, he gestured with his eyes for me to step outside with him.

"Go to America tomorrow."

The smile that had lingered on my face the entire evening instantly shattered into shock. Why was it that those three words seemed utterly impossible to voice? Because I knew the reason all too well, down in the depths of my own heart.

"It would be one thing if he remained completely blind, but this fluctuating state of coming and going is the worst possible scenario. The surgery must be done as soon as possible."

When I re-entered the room, Luo Ange was holding A-jiu, curled up on the sofa watching television. I walked over and sat down right in front of him. With an air of effortless ease, he asked me what Brad had said.

Without a blush or a racing heart, I lied smoothly: "He said it's a good thing, nothing to worry about."

That night, Luo Ange displayed a patience in bed unlike anything I had ever seen before. Every single movement was drawn out to its absolute, lingering limit, yet imbued with fierce, compelling strength. I surrendered to him completely, intertwining with him again and again in a frenzy of passion.

When dawn finally broke, he was at last satisfied. He scooped me up into his arms to take a shower, and gently tracing my lower abdomen, he asked, "Could it have already happened?"

Fighting back my tears, I managed to whisper, "How could it happen that fast?"

Every single time before, we had always taken precautions. Even with his reckless behavior at the hospital the last time, it had only been about a week ago.

He held me tightly against him. "Don't worry. Wait for me, will you? No matter what happens, you must wait for me."

We had consistently avoided discussing the topic of his potential memory loss following the surgery. Now that he had touched upon it so cryptically, I could no longer run away from it.

Running away was never a solution; sooner or later, it had to be faced.

"Luo Ange, whether you remember me or lose your memory entirely, I will wait for you. Forever."

Luo Ange's villa in New York was located in Manhattan. Overcoming jet lag had always been terribly difficult for me, but the very second I caught sight of that figure sitting in a wheelchair, all my sleepiness vanished completely.

Xi-bao rushed into my arms, weeping. "Sister-in-law, Sister-in-law, I thought I would never see you again."

Right before falling asleep, I noticed Luo Ange tinkering with a massive, heavy-duty camera. I asked him what he was planning to do.

Pulling me down onto the sofa beside him, looking thoroughly pleased with himself, he told me, "I'm taking as many videos as I can these past few days."

"Why?"

The moment the question left my lips, the realization dawned on me. He was afraid, too. He was terrified that he would truly lose his memory after the surgery, terrified that he wouldn't remember me, and so he wanted to leave these behind as tangible proof.

The next day, a small entourage swept me off to Columbia University. Luo Ange and I pushed Xi-bao at the front of the group, while Gaine and Long Jue doubled as professional photographers, snapping videos and pictures of us the entire way.

Countless students paused in their tracks to watch us. I grew somewhat shy, especially given how frequently Luo Ange would lean over to kiss me. When he lowered his head yet again, I reminded him to mind his surroundings and maintain some decorum.

He chuckled softly. "Very well, then we'll film in the bedroom tonight."

I failed to notice how he deliberately emphasized the word "tonight." I was entirely absorbed in the scenery of Columbia University, thinking to myself that it was no wonder so many people fought tooth and nail to get into this institution—it was breathtakingly beautiful.

Perhaps sensing my thoughts, Luo Ange remarked, "When you graduate, come work at the company. Be my secretary."

I tilted my head back to look up at him, making sure he was using a declarative sentence rather than a question. I had never envisioned myself entering the Fortune 500 or joining some corporate giant after graduation; I always felt that returning to Kang University to teach after finishing my master's degree would be a rather wonderful choice.

Being a teacher was quite nice, complete with two extended vacations every year.

Seeing me shake my head, he added, "If you don't want to work, that's fine too. You can stay home and raise our children."

My gaze remained fixed on the magnificent architecture of Columbia University and the students drifting past us, when Luo Ange gave my waist a sharp pinch. "Set on being a teacher, are you?"

I nodded like a pounding pestle, fully expecting him to praise me for being such a good girl, only to be met with his flat declaration: "Dream on."

"Why?"

"I'm not that foolish. What if some male teacher at the school takes a fancy to you, and you lose your self-control..."

I shrieked indignantly, "Luo Ange, I am not like you men, who think entirely with your lower halves!"

The very next moment, I realized I had walked right into a trap, as the man in question clearly intended to demonstrate to me firsthand precisely what it meant to think with one's lower half.

"Hey..." I batted away the hand he reached out, threatening him, "Try touching me, and I swear with you—"

The crisp, clean scent of peppermint radiating from his skin began to mist into my breath. Someone once said that human beings always retain a trace of primal instinct, and if you truly love someone, you will always find yourself drawn to their scent.

Luo Ange pulled me tightly into his embrace, making no further aggressive moves. He simply rested his chin atop my head, and after a long silence, murmured, "My heart is so plain for all to see, as obvious as Sima Zhao's treacherous ambitions—known to everyone on the street."

Yearning deeply for his scent, I answered back, "So is mine."

The warm, amber sunlight draped softly over his lean shoulders, casting the entire world in an extraordinarily tender emotional hue. At that exact moment, my heart softened into something resembling the delicate kelp swaying on the ocean floor.

The two of us simply stared into each other's eyes, entirely reluctant to look away even for a fraction of a second. I suppose this must be what love is: your gaze is forever locked onto a single person, whose every subtle expression and fleeting smile pulls upon your most delicate, vulnerable nerves.

Upon our return home, Brad arrived promptly. The group of men vanished into the study, and I headed to the kitchen to brew coffee. Rolling herself over in her wheelchair, Xi-bao asked me, "Sister-in-law, is Big Brother's surgery... is it very dangerous?"

She hadn't returned home since her arrival in America, choosing to stay behind to cooperate with the doctors on a new regimen of medication and to undergo physical rehabilitation. Luo Ange had specifically instructed that whatever was happening back in Kangcheng should be kept from this young girl as much as possible.

Squatting down, I took her small hands in mine. "Xi-bao, let's wait for Big Brother together. We will stick together through thick and thin, okay?"

She suddenly burst into tears. "Sister-in-law, will Big Brother die? Will he leave us?"

I desperately wanted to give her a firm, unwavering assurance that no, nothing of the sort would ever happen. Yet the words refused to leave my throat, and suddenly, I felt completely stripped of any certainty.

All I could tell her was that we had to keep our faith.

When it was time for bed, Luo Ange carried a massive stack of documents and laid them across the bed. I assumed he still had corporate matters to attend to, considering his surgery was scheduled for the very next day.

To my surprise, he flipped open those papers, thrust a pen directly into my hand, and demanded my signature.

I clutched the pen without moving, intending to examine the contents closely and understand precisely what these documents were and why my signature was required.

Luo Ange intercepted my movement. "Don't worry, trust me. You only need to sign."

A turbulent mixture of elation and sorrow warred within my chest. I stared up at Luo Ange, choking back tears as I remained silent.

He let out a heavy sigh, flipping to the first page to show it to me. The moment I caught sight of the words "Share Transfer Agreement," the tears broke free.

Luo Ange turned to the next document, a marriage agreement, within which it was explicitly and clearly stated that every single piece of immovable property under his name was transferred entirely to me.

I knew, of course, that he was doing this for my own good, but I detested seeing him act this way—it felt as though he had already resigned himself to the possibility of the surgery failing.

My hands trembled violently, and I refused to sign. He clamped his hand over mine. "Be a good girl and listen to me, Don't Worry. This is the only thing I can do for you. Only when you sign can I have peace of mind going into the operating room."

Fixing him with a burning, fierce stare, I asked, "And what if I refuse to sign?"

He met my gaze steadily. "Then I won't have the surgery."

I sucked in a sharp breath, snatched up the pen, and violently scribbled my name across the paper before hurling the pen straight at his chest. Satisfied now?

Did you really have to back me into a dead end just to have peace of mind?

He quietly gathered the scattered papers. After a very, very long silence, he spoke: "Don't Worry, if I had even a fraction of an alternative, did you really think I would choose to do this? You know what I'm afraid of, just as I know what you're afraid of. Anyway, I've said it before: if you ever dare to make yourself unreachable to me, you're dead. Therefore, you'd better put away all those wild, tangled thoughts of yours. Even if we're headed straight to hell, you are coming down there with me."

Though meant as sweet nothings, the words tumbling from his lips felt coated in poison.

We were like two people drinking poisoned wine to quench a burning thirst, or perhaps two hedgehogs, mutually wounding one another yet pressing close for warmth.

I had been granted permission to enter the operating room. Brad had everything meticulously prepared. I sat down on a stool directly facing the operating table while the upper portion of Luo Ange's head was draped in surgical sheets, shielding me from the sight that chilled my soul.

A moment later, Brad gave the signal to commence. I knew the anesthesia was taking effect, and I mentally comforted myself, whispering that Brad would surely announce the surgery's success in no time.

As the scalpel sliced downward, I felt Luo Ange's left hand tighten around mine. Brad softly prompted me to talk to Luo Ange.

My voice failed me; I couldn't think of a single appropriate thing to say. After a brief, awkward hesitation, I began, "Hello, Mr. Luo."

The hand gripping mine tightened further, drawing chuckles from the surrounding medical staff. Peering out from over the surgical field, Brad advised me to speak words that would soothe Luo Ange and keep his nervous system from spiking.

"You'd better hurry up and get well. Even if you never remember me again, even if you go around having scandal after scandal, getting married and having children with whoever comes along, I can accept all of it. As long as you are safe and sound, my heart will be at peace."

Brad interrupted me again, suggesting I talk about something happier.

"Do you remember Du Fanchuan? I saw the news this morning—turns out he got a promotion and is about to return to Kangcheng."

Brad sounded deeply dissatisfied, asking if I could possibly avoid mentioning other men.

Since when were surgeons allowed to crack jokes and banter during major, critical operations?

Ultimately, even I could scarcely believe it, but I actually ended up reminiscing with Luo Ange about every single minute detail of how we had first met.

Just as I became completely lost in those memories, something splashed across my face—hot, wet liquid that was not my own tears.

Brad barked an order, and a nurse immediately rushed in carrying several blood bags. In a daze, I reached up and wiped my cheek, coming away with a palm smeared entirely in blood.

The medical waste bin beside Brad was overflowing with blood-soaked cotton sponges. When he lifted his head to look up, I was terrified out of my wits.

His face was completely covered in blood, and his surgical mask had been dyed almost entirely red.

Lunging to my feet in a panic, I heard him roar, "Sit down! Sit down and keep talking to him, keep him stable!"

Bereft of my senses, I dropped back onto the stool and screamed, not knowing what on earth to say.

He shouted at the top of his lungs: "I LOVE YOU..."

More and more nurses flooded into the room carrying blood bags. The various monitors around us began to beep in a frantic, unceasing rhythm. If one of those sharp, rapid beeps were to stretch into a long, unbroken tone, it would signify surgical failure—it would mean Luo Ange would never wake up again.

Tears streaming down my face, I grabbed Luo Ange's hand, the words tumbling past my lips entirely of their own accord: "You are not allowed to be hurt, you are not allowed to be anything else. Do you hear me? You are not allowed to have anything happen to you! Luo Ange, I'm begging you, wake up. Listen to me say I love you, please..."

In the end, the only words remaining in the world were those three, repeated over and over again. I lost count of how many times I had uttered them, right up until the moment I heard that single beep stretch out, agonizingly long and unbroken.