At the school gate, Liu Xie, who had hurried over, had just stepped outside when she saw Liu Anran’s car parked by the roadside, and Liu Anran himself leaning against it.
If it were Gou Yao, having a car like that as his ride, he’d definitely be leaning against the car with his hands in his pockets while waiting, preferably with a cigarette dangling from his mouth, even if he didn’t know how to smoke at all.
A bit like a classic scene from Fast & Furious.
But Liu Anran obviously wasn’t that pretentious. He’d never even watched Fast & Furious.
He was just leaning against the car playing with his phone.
Liu Xie pulled out her phone and checked the time.
Only six minutes had passed.
Of course, Liu Anran had probably been a bit hasty in his actions because of what Liu Xie had said, arriving before the agreed time, as if he was afraid Liu Xie would have to wait too long.
“Didn’t you say ten minutes?” Liu Xie walked up to Liu Anran.
“Didn’t you also arrive early?” Liu Anran countered, then opened the car door and made a gesture inviting her to get in.
Liu Xie didn’t say anything more and slipped into the car.
A moment later, Liu Anran sat down in the driver’s seat from the other side and started the vehicle.
He gradually picked up speed, then spoke to Liu Xie beside him, “Are you hungry right now?”
The last class on Friday was in the afternoon, so it was about time to get dinner right after class ended. Not to mention it was winter, so it got dark earlier.
Liu Xie knew Liu Anran was looking out for her, but she just gave a slight shake of her head.
“It’s fine, I’m not hungry yet. Let’s hurry to the hospital and check on the old man.”
That’s what she said.
She was actually a little afraid—afraid that something really had happened, and that this time would turn out to be Liu Anran’s last chance to see him.
But Liu Anran didn’t seem worried at all. The urgency in his voice had stayed back in that phone call.
Noticing Liu Xie’s gaze, Liu Anran explained while driving, “If you think about it carefully, an unsatisfactory ending was bound to happen sooner or later. He’s almost eighty now. His early years were full of hardship, and he’s accumulated plenty of lingering ailments. By the time I was capable of taking care of him, his condition had already reached the point of no return.”
There was no sadness in Liu Anran’s eyes, but quite a bit of resignation.
“It’s not like I never thought about changing his environment, letting his health recover a little, at least letting him enjoy life for a while longer.”
He paused, stopping at another red light.
“But he refused. He probably knows his own physical condition better than anyone. In our conversations, he said he only wanted to stay in that place where he’d buried nearly half his life. Anyway, even if he changed environments, the effect on his body would be negligible. Maybe a unfamiliar environment would even have the opposite effect.”
It was a long speech, and Liu Xie took some time to fully digest it.
“I actually know that’s just a flimsy excuse he came up with. He hasn’t failed to see through things—he just can’t bear to let go.”
“He can’t bear to leave that place that carried so many children’s childhoods empty. He’s afraid that if he leaves, the kids who want to come back and visit him won’t be able to find him anymore. So he just stays there, guarding the place.”
A look of surprise crossed Liu Xie’s face as she looked at Liu Anran, who was driving.
She naturally couldn’t have figured that out on her own, so she could only rely on Liu Anran to explain it to her.
“Of course he wouldn’t show something like that. Because he knows that if he said it out loud, I’d criticize him and urge him to give up that idea.” Liu Anran’s expression remained calm.
The scenery outside the window was like last time—constantly flashing by, constantly being left behind, constantly moving away from the city’s bustle.
“Of course, he’s also looking forward to the children he adopted in the past coming back to see him. But I know very well that in all this time, I’m the only one who’s gone to visit him.”
“He’s disappointed, but he’s also hopeful. A bit like an empty-nester. He always thinks the kids are busy. He’s happy when they’re busy, and he’s happy when they don’t come to visit because they’re integrating well into their new families.”
“But he still hopes—in these days when he knows he doesn’t have much time left—to see the children he could never let go of in his lifetime.”
Liu Anran was talking far more than usual, and Liu Xie stayed silent beside him.
Just as he’d said, he truly was anxious, but at the same time, resigned.
He didn’t want the director to leave with regrets.
He would lose someone who carried so many memories, and that departure wouldn’t count as true peace of mind either.
But he also knew it was a settled fact, proven out over so many years.
Liu Xie kept her head down beside him, clutching the hem of her clothes.
She felt like Liu Anran’s mood was a bit strange. It wasn’t exactly sadness, but it definitely wasn’t happiness either.
She didn’t know how to comfort Liu Anran, nor how to help him in this situation.
Liu Anran had always been smart, carrying a maturity and wisdom far beyond his years.
He was always rational, carrying a coldness that people his age shouldn’t have.
Because of that, Liu Xie always felt like she was just an optional ornament to Liu Anran—an ornament that didn’t even add any stats.
Liu Xie suddenly looked up.
Maybe she could help here.
She could help find the children the director had sent away, and try to let the director see them.
Had Liu Anran ever tried to find them before?
Liu Xie looked up at Liu Anran in the driver’s seat.
She wasn’t sure. Probably not—otherwise he wouldn’t have said that not a single child who was sent away had ever come back to visit.
Maybe it was just because they were too busy, or perhaps due to all sorts of coincidences.
In any case, she thought she could do it.
The car stopped, pulling into a parking spot. There was another car next to them that wasn’t parked in a spot—probably an Ideal owner.
“We’re here.”
Liu Anran said as he unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door to get out.
Liu Xie got out too.
It wasn’t like the place where the old man lived—where even getting a network cable was a struggle.
Even though it was in a township, the hospital at least didn’t look as rundown or shabby.
Following behind Liu Anran, Liu Xie walked through the hospital’s main entrance.
There was the smell of disinfectant, and the lobby was filled with what seemed to be the local dialect.
Liu Xie couldn’t understand much of it. From two people arguing fiercely, she could roughly guess they were cursing.
Liu Anran seemed to have gotten some key information from the nurse station.
He turned, grabbed Liu Xie by the wrist, and headed in a certain direction.