Wang Pengzhe had been transferred from the ICU to a general ward. Jiang Hansheng came alone to visit, occasionally crossing paths with members of the research institute.

The criminal research institute had quickly launched a new project — centered around Qi Yan’s case — entitled “Criminal Psychology Research and Juvenile Crime Prevention and Control.” The research team consisted of the institute’s younger members, two of whom had long been among Wang Pengzhe’s favorite students.

This time, Wang Pengzhe planned to retire completely, handing the project over entirely to the young people to lead on their own.

Of course, that didn’t mean they could do without guidance from Jiang Hansheng, the senior disciple.

When only the two of them — teacher and student — remained in the ward, Wang Pengzhe complained it was too stuffy and asked Jiang Hansheng to take him downstairs to walk around the small garden.

Jiang Hansheng checked with the doctor first and, having been told there was no issue, wrapped Wang Pengzhe in a hat and scarf and wheeled him downstairs.

Wang Pengzhe narrowed his eyes and gazed out toward the last traces of daylight on the horizon, letting out a long sigh.

He said, “I heard from Old Tan about the Nanshan villa operation. Hansheng, you specialize in psychology — you of all people should understand that in that kind of situation, Qi Zhen’s appearance would very likely have inflamed Qi Yan’s state of mind and done nothing to help the arrest.”

Jiang Hansheng sat on the long bench beside Wang Pengzhe. He smiled, not looking at his teacher but gazing ahead at the beautiful sunset alongside him.

“I understood,” he replied.

“Then what were you doing?” Wang Pengzhe asked.

“I did what needed to be done,” Jiang Hansheng said. “Teacher, there are some things that are simply not worthy of forgiveness or mercy.”

Kindness without limits is nothing but indulgence toward those who do harm.

Whether toward the woman who had abused him in Gardenia Lane, or toward Qi Yan, who had taken so many innocent lives — he had at times approached both with a measure of goodwill.

He turned to look at Wang Pengzhe’s worried eyes and reached out to tuck his scarf into place. He smiled. “Teacher — don’t worry. I am not someone who stares into the abyss.”

From start to finish, the only one he had ever truly gazed upon was Zhou Jin.

Wang Pengzhe laughed despite himself. “Yes, I should stop worrying… Director Tan tells me it was your decisiveness in the moment that saved one of the special officers’ lives.”

Jiang Hansheng said, “Did you come all this way to praise me?”

Wang Pengzhe nearly rolled his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself!”

Zhou Jin had barely recovered before she grew restless lying in the hospital. She insisted on being discharged and convalescing at home.

Since Jiang Hansheng still had classes to teach at the university, the two of them returned to Haizhou together.

After getting home, Jiang Hansheng remembered to call Jiang Bozhi.

He described everything in passing, downplaying it considerably. Jiang Bozhi didn’t react much — he simply said he would finish closing a deal tomorrow and then return to the country.

About half an hour later, Jiang Bozhi suddenly called back of his own accord.

It seemed he had gone to ask Wang Pengzhe for details about the operation, and only then learned just how close a call it had truly been.

Jiang Bozhi demanded loudly — why was he only being told now?

Jiang Hansheng could hear the anger and fury in his voice and wasn’t quite sure how to handle it. Just as he was about to offer another explanation, Jiang Bozhi abruptly hung up.

Not long after, Fang Rou contacted Jiang Hansheng privately and asked him to remember to come to the airport — Jiang Bozhi had just booked two direct flights to Haizhou. He had dropped everything, all his business dealings, and was determined to return to the country.

Jiang Hansheng couldn’t understand why he was so furious this time. Nonetheless, following Fang Rou’s instructions, he arrived at the airport early to wait.

Jiang Bozhi’s face was dark, his lips nearly white. The moment he saw Jiang Hansheng, he erupted: “Do you still consider me your father? If I hadn’t asked, were you just not going to tell me? Jiang Hansheng — something that dangerous, and you went ahead and did it — what else are you going to put yourself through? You… cough, cough… you…”

He broke into a violent fit of coughing. Fang Rou patted his back and coaxed him, “Stop being angry — Hansheng is fine, isn’t he? It’s rare to see him at all…”

Jiang Bozhi kept coughing, his face still ashen.

He closed his eyes. Suddenly the world spun violently around him. His balance gave way — his tall frame, solid as a mountain, began to sway. Just as he was about to say “you reckless child,” his entire body lost control and pitched forward.

Jiang Hansheng’s expression changed instantly. He shot out his arm and caught Jiang Bozhi. “Dad! Dad!”

Chaos. Panic. An ambulance siren screamed to life, wailing all the way to the hospital.

The doctor confirmed that, thankfully, it was not a cerebrovascular incident — only severe fatigue compounded by his pre-existing hypertension, which had brought on the fainting spell.

Jiang Hansheng, upon hearing there was no serious danger, exhaled a long, long breath. Only then did he realize that his hands had been trembling with fear for quite some time.

He stood in the hospital corridor and did not go into the ward. After about half an hour, Fang Rou emerged from the room, saw Jiang Hansheng, and said suddenly, “Hansheng, do you have a moment? Auntie Fang has something she’d like to talk to you about.”

Jiang Hansheng was puzzled, but nodded.

The two of them went to a quiet spot by the stairwell.

Fang Rou folded her arms and leaned against the wall. “Your father heard you’d been in danger and immediately took the earliest flight back. He’s barely slept in the past three days — that’s why he collapsed just now.”

Jiang Hansheng said, “I see. I’m sorry.”

Fang Rou could hear no emotion whatsoever in his response. This child, Jiang Hansheng — he always gave her a sense of cool detachment. Warmth and refinement on the surface, but underneath, a deep coldness.

Trying to communicate with someone like him was far more difficult than it would be with most people.

But her feelings for Jiang Hansheng weren’t deeply personal, and there were things she wanted to say that Jiang Bozhi, precisely because of his feelings, found difficult to put into words — which meant it was actually easier for her to say them.

She said, “I’ve heard from your father that you’re formidable in your professional field — that sometimes after talking with someone for an hour or two, you can understand exactly what kind of person they are. But do you understand your father?”

Jiang Hansheng did not answer.

Fang Rou continued. “When you stepped down from the provincial bureau and went to teach at the university, your father visited you there often — just without letting you know. Any father who finds his son spending every day out of the house and rarely coming home — his worry is perfectly natural. But he’s not good at communicating with you. There are things he can’t bring himself to ask. So he spent his own time looking into things himself.”

She paused and looked steadily at Jiang Hansheng. “Do you really think it was a coincidence that you ended up meeting Zhou Jin through that arranged introduction?”

At those words, Jiang Hansheng’s whole frame gave a slight jolt.

Fang Rou finally saw some flicker of emotion on his face. She smiled. “Your father went back to Gardenia Lane under the pretense of reminiscing, to pay the Zhou family a visit. You should hear how he spoke of you to her family… Over all these years, I’ve been by his side, and I’ve watched every little thing he does for you, as your father. He loves you, Hansheng — I can see it clearly — he loves you very much. It’s just that sometimes he doesn’t know how to show it…”

“…”

“Whether or not to have children — that is my own right, and no one can take it from me.” Fang Rou said this firmly, then softened in the very next breath. “But watching you and your father like this, I think a child needs parents to accompany them, to shelter them through most of a lifetime, before they can learn how to find happiness… Your father and I are getting on in years. Perhaps caring for a grandchild or two might suit us rather better…”

Jiang Hansheng was briefly taken aback, watching as tenderness gradually spread across her face.

He was quiet for a moment, then lowered his head and said sincerely, “Thank you.”

Fang Rou’s smile deepened. She reached out and patted Jiang Hansheng’s shoulder. “We’re family — no need for formalities. Your father has woken up. Go in and see him.”

In the ward, Jiang Bozhi had just come to, lying back against the bed, still at the mercy of the lingering dizziness.

Jiang Hansheng sat down at the bedside. Before he could say anything — before he could even ask how Jiang Bozhi was feeling — Jiang Bozhi suddenly pulled him into an embrace.

It was an almost unfamiliar embrace.

Jiang Hansheng could no longer remember when Jiang Bozhi had last held him like this. Perhaps when he was very, very small. After he grew up, they had barely spoken at all.

Faced with this sudden gesture, Jiang Hansheng found himself at a loss.

Jiang Bozhi could not speak for a long while. He was suppressing his sobs as hard as he could, forcing them down into his throat. His whole face was flushed red from the effort, and Jiang Hansheng could even feel the fine trembling of his shoulders.

Now that they were this close, he could see the threads of grey that had spread through Jiang Bozhi’s hair.

It occurred to him dimly — when had he grown so old?

After a very long time, Jiang Bozhi finally managed to force out a single sentence. “Dad isn’t blaming you. As long as you — as long as you’re alright.”

Jiang Hansheng came back to himself from his speechlessness. His hand moved, inch by inch, to Jiang Bozhi’s back, and he patted it twice — stiffly.

He said, with difficulty, “I’m sorry, Dad. I made you worry.”

The morning light settled over the ward in a quiet stillness.

Time flows always toward old age — and yet in itself, it is eternal. So even if they were only beginning now, in this very moment, to learn how to understand each other and to speak — it was not too late.