FLME Ch84

“Dead?”

Xie Heyu wasn’t surprised by this outcome. After all, in the original novel, Song Mingzhu’s ending was death. However, fans believed that Mingzhu’s current storyline differed significantly from the original, and perhaps there was a glimmer of hope.

Yu Wen was already well-versed in the process of releasing extra content to comfort audiences. After all, the endings of his previous characters had also left viewers deeply affected. But Mingzhu was a bit more special.

“I don’t think Mingzhu is suited for a short epilogue,” he mused.

Xie Heyu tilted his head slightly, indicating his interest in hearing more.

“Mingzhu’s life is full of suffering. Even if we make an epilogue, we can’t ignore the tragic undertone. An ‘if’ storyline wouldn’t work either…”

Yu Wen propped his chin on his hand, thinking it over. Ironically, Xi Su’s lousy suggestion seemed the most fitting.

Director Miao had already crafted a beautifully complete character arc for Mingzhu. Any further changes would be overkill. If they couldn’t show the audience a fulfilled Mingzhu, they could only show them a fulfilled Yu Wen.

When Xi Su received the directive to film a variety show segment, he was shocked.

“Me?”

Yu Wen replied, “That’s right, you! The pillar of the company, Teacher Xi Su!”

Xi Su ignored his flattery. “Is there a paycheck involved?”

Xie Heyu: “…Yes.”

Yu Wen laughed in exasperation.

“You’re earning double for one job. That’s fine, but don’t forget—it was you who leaked my relationship! You’re such a big blabbermouth!”

Scratching the back of his head, Xi Su remembered the incident and said, “Fine, I won’t take a paycheck… Fans will send me virtual gifts anyway. So, how do you want to shoot this?”

Yu Wen and Xie Heyu exchanged glances, while Chu Han, sitting on the sofa, watched the drama unfold with no intention of intervening.

None of them were good at filming or writing scripts, and there wasn’t enough time to find someone else…

Xie Heyu shrugged. “Whatever works.”

Xi Su figured they had no constructive input and had decided this on a whim. He said, “Give me a few days. I’ll gather some materials and do some research.”

With the finale approaching, Xi Su didn’t have much time to prepare. He set up cameras all over the villa to capture plenty of footage.

On the day the finale aired, Chu Han prepared snacks and sat at the coffee table, waiting for the update.

Meanwhile, Yu Wen and Xie Heyu were out by the beach, collecting shells. These two always liked to wander along the shore late at night, doing who-knows-what shady things.

Chu Han didn’t bother with them, enjoying the spacious villa and watching the show alone.

Halfway through the second-to-last episode, Chu Han started feeling uneasy. He stepped outside, dragging the two beachcombers back inside.

“What’s the deal?” Yu Wen protested. “The breeze is perfect right now.”

Chu Han pointed to the sofa, unusually serious. “Sit down and watch the finale with me.”

He already had a bad feeling about the ending and wasn’t about to face the heartbreak alone.

Yu Wen, pinned down by Chu Han, figured shared suffering was better than enduring it alone. He suggested, “Xi Su’s upstairs. Let’s call him down to watch too.”

And so, for once, the four key members of Star Media gathered in one place, huddled together to watch the finale.

This was Gao Qin’s tenth time restarting the investigation.

The story had reached its climax. The truth was finally revealed: the explosion stemmed from old grievances between the Fu and Song families. Specifically, it was the twisted legacy of Fu Wanrong’s marriage alliance with the Song family years ago.

Now, this woman was a shadow of her former self, frail and muddled. Yet she had once been young and radiant, admired by many.

One admirer had smuggled in explosives from overseas. This new and uncontrollable technology had eluded the Fu family’s investigation for some time, but eventually, they traced it back to her.

The detonator was in Fu Wanrong’s hands. She could trigger it at any moment.

The police had surrounded the small villa. Fu Mingshen and Gao Qin were on their way, while Song Mingzhu, as Fu Wanrong’s biological son, had been invited by the police chief to help defuse the situation.

“Recently, I’ve been vaguely remembering a woman…”

While officers negotiated inside, Song Mingzhu stood outside the villa’s gate, chatting idly with the police chief.

He gazed at the carefully tended roses on the fence, speaking slowly and thoughtfully. “I don’t know who she is, but I remember her words. It’s as if fragments of memory have appeared out of nowhere. I even remember her telling me to remember her…”

The police chief, who had crossed paths with this young master in Shanghai, remained polite and humored him with a few remarks.

“Haha, is the young master lovesick? I wonder which lady could leave such an impression on you…”

Song Mingzhu shook his head slowly. “It’s not longing. I’ve never met her.”

“Is it an emergency?”

The police chief, clearly too busy for small talk, interrupted, “Young Master Mingzhu, there’s so much explosive buried underground. Let’s go inside and persuade her first. The lives of the people are in our hands.”

Song Mingzhu’s eyelashes fluttered, as if something the chief said had struck a chord. He furrowed his brows thoughtfully.

After a while, he pulled himself out of his thoughts, realizing the chief was still waiting for a response. He said, “Mother might not allow me to go in.”

As soon as he finished speaking, a young officer stumbled out of the villa, looking disheveled and with shards of a broken vase on him. Embarrassed, he reported, “Second Miss Fu doesn’t want to see Young Master Mingzhu. She said—she said—”

The police chief barked, “What did she say?”

“She said she wants to see someone from the Song family! If anyone other than a Song steps into the villa, she’ll detonate the bomb immediately!”

Without hesitation, the police chief ordered, “Go and call them!”

Song Mingzhu stood quietly where he was. The dew from the rose branches clung to his coat. He lowered his gaze, seemingly lost in thought, utterly detached from the bustling scene around him.

The police chief paced back and forth.

“Why does she want to see someone from the Song family?” Song Mingzhu suddenly asked.

The police chief glanced at him, unsure if he was talking to himself or asking him. He replied perfunctorily, “Maybe she has some demands…”

Song Mingzhu said, “She doesn’t have much time left.”

The police chief nodded absentmindedly, “Mhm, mhm…”

Song Mingzhu continued, “The roses on the fence are in full bloom. Mother tended to them carefully.”

The police chief replied, “Very pretty, very pretty…”

Song Mingzhu smiled.

Fu Wanrong was bedridden, experiencing a moment of lucidity before death. She didn’t have long to live.

She didn’t want to see someone from the Song family. She wanted to take one of them with her.

Fu Wanrong wasn’t one to move around much. The roses on the fence had never bloomed so beautifully. She had cleaned and tidied the villa as if a girl preparing her appearance before her final moment.

If not for today’s accident… the bomb in her hand was meant to go off tomorrow, at the grand opening banquet, to take out most of the Song family.

“Mother, you… truly hate them to the core.”

“Hey, young master, don’t go forward! Second Miss doesn’t want you inside.” The police chief spotted Song Mingzhu moving toward the villa and quickly stopped him, awkwardly smiling. “At a time like this… let’s not provoke her.”

Song Mingzhu arched his brows and smiled faintly.

“I am a member of the Song family.”

This statement left the police chief stunned. He belatedly slapped his forehead—of course!

Song Mingzhu’s pace wasn’t hurried. From the gate to the villa was a path of pure white gravel, flanked by lush green grass and scattered with small wildflowers.

Those hazy words echoed in his ears.

“Mingzhu, follow your heart.”
“Learn from Fu Mingshen. He’s a good person, and a normal one too.”
“I am human. You are Mingzhu.”
“Try harder—remember your sister.”

…

So many fragmented phrases.

Song Mingzhu stepped into the villa—and the voices faded, the dust settled.

Fu Wanrong stood at the staircase on the second floor, looking down from above. Song Mingzhu tilted his face upward to meet her gaze.

Fu Wanrong said, “Leave.”

Song Mingzhu replied, “What has Mother prepared?”

Fu Wanrong hesitated. “…Arsenic. A table full of arsenic.”

Song Mingzhu’s smile deepened. “Then they won’t come. I can see through your intentions. They won’t walk into a trap.”

Fu Wanrong said coldly, “I have thousands of lives in my hands.”

Song Mingzhu replied, “They don’t care. In the Song family, nothing matters more than themselves.”

Fu Wanrong fell silent.

She was already very thin, her sunken eyes flickering with a sinister cold light.

Thousands of lives weren’t enough to make a member of the Song family sacrifice themselves. Not even tens of thousands would be enough. Among the people Song Mingzhu knew, only Fu Mingshen would willingly give himself up in such circumstances.

But Fu Mingshen wasn’t a member of the Song family.

Fortunately, he was.

Song Mingzhu wanted to be someone like Fu Mingshen. A voice in his head said so.

He couldn’t tell where it came from—perhaps it was the cry of his blood, heart, and soul.

“…Who taught you to be so kind and easy to manipulate?” Fu Wanrong asked coldly.

“No one taught me.”

Mingzhu rested his hand on the banister and slowly ascended the stairs. Halfway up, he smiled at Fu Wanrong. The sunlight refracted through the glass window into his pupils, making him seem alive and vibrant in a way that was uniquely his own.

“This is my first time making a decision for myself, Mother. Please be happy for me.”

Fu Wanrong’s cooking was terrible. Awfully terrible.

But Mingzhu wasn’t picky. He ate one bite after another, very seriously.

He didn’t like using chopsticks. He preferred scooping up a spoonful of rice and vegetables, piling it into a small mountain, and stuffing it into his mouth in one go. He chewed slowly, his face showing a faint expression of satisfaction.

Fu Wanrong only ate a few bites before setting down her chopsticks. In the dim light, the elderly woman’s expression was complicated.

“Every dish has arsenic in it,” she said.

Song Mingzhu replied, “I know.”

Fu Wanrong said nothing more and quietly watched him eat.

Mingzhu had good table manners. In earlier years, before her mind had deteriorated, Mingzhu had been raised by her side. He was an easy child—he didn’t need to be fed, didn’t need to be coaxed to sleep, and when he saw her crying, he would come over to wipe her tears.

His eyes had been strikingly beautiful, clear, and bright.

How did he end up like this?

She didn’t know.

Maybe she had gone mad.

In silence, Fu Wanrong raised her hand and placed a remote control on the table, pushing it toward him.

Song Mingzhu paused.

Before he took the remote and left, Fu Wanrong said, “I’ve done no good in this life. I can’t wish you peace and smoothness in your next. But if there is a next life, I promise I won’t ruin you again. I will pray for a woman a thousand times better than me… to be your mother.”

Song Mingzhu froze. When he came back to his senses and looked at her, Fu Wanrong was slumped over the table, blood spilling from her lips. She was already gone.

Fu Mingshen and Gao Qin finally arrived.

As expected, no one from the Song family came. The police chief anxiously spoke to Fu Mingshen about something when suddenly, Song Mingzhu appeared at a second-floor window. Everyone’s gaze turned to him.

He looked at Fu Mingshen and nodded slightly. Raising his left hand, he revealed a remote control in his palm.

The officers cheered excitedly and swarmed into the building. But Fu Mingshen frowned slightly, stopping in place, his gaze fixed on Song Mingzhu.

He felt that Mingzhu had something to say.

Song Mingzhu also felt he had something to say. But after much thought, he couldn’t utter a single word.

He had hoped for some praise. After all, this was the first decision he had ever made on his own. But the distance was too great, and the words he wanted to say were too scattered. He thought his brother probably couldn’t hear him.

To Fu Mingshen’s left stood a short-haired woman. Mingzhu’s gaze briefly swept over her, fluttering like a butterfly before settling. In his heart, he thought, So this is what you look like…

Sister.

Gao Qin waved at him enthusiastically, giving him a thumbs-up as if to commend him for what he had done.

So Mingzhu returned the gesture with a smile.

That was his final scene.

The director didn’t show the gruesome effects of the poison. Until the very end, Mingzhu remained beautiful. He was the most beautiful Mingzhu.

Later, the police station held a funeral for him. People sang praises for the first decision he had ever made from his heart…

And the…only one.