Chapter Sixty-Eight: Mo Qinghan Jumps from the Shuihui Bridge

The atmosphere of the meeting turned deathly silent following He Zheyu’s furious roar. None of the shareholders present dared to utter a word; they exchanged uneasy glances, each pretending ignorance of what had just transpired.

He Xuanyi, seated at the head of the table, his face dark as thunder, opened his mouth, but before he could speak, He Zheyu had already stormed out of the conference room. He pulled out his phone and dialed Mo Qinghan’s number, only to have Aunt Lin answer instead. His heartbeat instantly quickened, a wave of unease washing over him and leaving a cold sheen of sweat on his brow.

Just as He Zheyu was about to exit the company building, his phone rang again. This time, the screen displayed an unfamiliar number. Normally, he would have hung up without a second thought, but today, his hand seemed to move of its own accord, answering the call. The sound of raindrops striking metal echoed through the receiver, accompanied by faint, shallow breathing. He Zheyu immediately called out, “Is that you, little one? Where are you?”

Standing atop the framework of Shuihui Bridge, Mo Qinghan gazed at the river below, its current raging more fiercely in the rain. She listened as He Zheyu’s anxious voice repeated her name over and over before she finally replied, her voice slow and distant, “He Zheyu, the thing I regret most in this life is meeting you, and letting you dwell so deeply in my heart. But what have you left behind there? It hurts. I’m so tired.”

He Zheyu’s voice was frantic on the other end. “Little one, where are you?”

Mo Qinghan sniffed, then answered, “Shuihui Bridge.”

The moment those three words reached his ears, He Zheyu bolted out of the company. Han Mo followed closely behind. Their own car was parked too far from the entrance, but just then, another car pulled up. Its occupants were just opening the doors when, in the blink of an eye, He Zheyu and Han Mo commandeered the vehicle—one dragging the driver out, the other pulling the passenger from the back seat. The two displaced individuals had no time to protest or even comprehend what had happened, and just as they began to raise a fuss, Gu Yan stepped forward to reassure the woman in the black dress, “If you have any complaints, come to me.”

A few moments later, Mo Qinghan’s voice returned, heavy with sorrow. “Zhao Yiya said that Qingyu jumped because the things I did made him feel ashamed—that his death was my fault, and that I should go keep him company, so he wouldn’t be alone. He Zheyu, if there’s another life, I hope never to meet you again, nor to love you. The price is simply too high.” With that, she threw the phone into the river.

By then, the police had already closed off the bridge to traffic, and a crowd had gathered. Someone shouted, “Miss, come down! There’s nothing in life that can’t be overcome.” Others quickly chimed in, “That’s right! That’s right! Most days in life are hard, but you just have to push through.” Countless voices offered encouragement, brimming with hope, but Mo Qinghan was the very embodiment of that old saying: ‘Of all sorrow, none is greater than a heart that has died.’ Her heart was already numb; her body, nothing more than an empty shell.

Turning her back to the river, Mo Qinghan listened to the crowd’s pleas, a faint, inscrutable smile playing at her lips. She closed her eyes and whispered to herself, “Qingyu, my child, I’m coming to join you. No one will be able to separate us again.” She released her grip on the railing, leaned back, and in the midst of the crowd’s horrified cries, Mo Qinghan was swallowed by the raging waters below.

He Zheyu arrived just in time to witness her fall. Heaven only knew how desperately he wished he could grasp her hand, hold her back from the edge. But he was too late. He had already lost their child with his own hands, and now he could only watch, helpless, as Mo Qinghan leapt into the river, powerless to do anything at all.