In early autumn, the remnants of summer heat still lingered on the earth.

In recent days, the Omega’s condition had clearly deteriorated, and his lucid moments had become increasingly shorter. Due to his physical condition, the previously scheduled surgery had been postponed repeatedly. Finally, the surgery was scheduled for the following week. Strangely, as the deadline approached, the scenery that had gone unnoticed in daily life became more cherished.

Today was somewhat cool, with the autumn breeze brushing against one’s face, dispelling the lingering heat of the scorching sun.

In the late afternoon, the old man accompanied Meng Chen on a leisurely stroll downstairs.

The old man spoke a lot, mentioning how the ginkgo trees along the road had changed their attire, how the chrysanthemums in the park had bloomed, how the wild geese were flying south, how the sky was clear and the air refreshing.

His voice trailed off.

Meng Chen realized that the old man was crying.

The old man, who had once been accomplished in his youth but had lost his wife and children by middle age, stood silently in the setting sun, the sky tinged with a lingering crimson hue. The wind dried his tears, leaving only winding, dried traces.

Meng Chen recalled that a few days earlier, the old man had given him a red string, saying it was for blessing and protection.

The old man’s hands were rough; his calloused fingers deftly twisted the string, tying a knot around Meng Chen’s wrist. With a twist and a tuck, the knot was secured, as if grasping that slender thread of hope even tighter.

Grasping it just a little tighter.

The mountain wind at four or five in the morning was bitterly cold, and the old man’s frost-tinged temples exhaled a puff of warm breath, his hands already numb from the chill. Throughout his life of ups and downs, he had never believed in any gods or Buddhas, yet for the sake of this red string, he had trekked up thousands of steps.

After all, most people are like this. When human efforts fall short, they seek solace in something else.

All for that single thread of hope.
Only for that single thread of hope.

When they returned to the ward, the “beta” was still there. The “beta” seemed to be living alone, somewhat isolated, but after the man’s previous assistance, the two had become acquainted.

Grateful for the man’s help and recognizing that everyone’s situation was not easy, Meng Chen often had the old man bring an extra portion of food.

A few days ago, Meng Chen asked about the man’s circumstances, learning that he had undergone a not-so-small surgery and would be staying here for a while.

“Thank you.” Meng Chen accepted the spoon handed to him by the “beta”.

The man did not respond but opened the lunch box for Meng Chen again.

“Lin-ge, thank you for everything these days,” Meng Chen said, twirling the spoon in his hand. He knew the man seemed to have a problem with his voice and didn’t like to talk. He had only learned the “beta’s” name a few days ago, not that it was a full name – the “beta” had only written a single character on Meng Chen’s palm.

“Lin”, as in a forest, Meng Chen remembered clearly because when the “beta” wrote it, he had some strokes in the wrong order, writing the vertical stroke first.

In the evening, there seemed to be the sound of insects chirping. Meng Chen tossed and turned in bed. The pain in his abdomen was like being pricked by needles. The Omega gripped the bedsheets tightly, enduring the excruciating pain as it passed. Beads of sweat the size of soybeans rolled down his forehead and seeped into his temples. Meng Chen wanted to struggle, to call for help, but his body had long stopped obeying him. Darkness choked his breath, and the Omega’s limbs were unresponsive, his mind a blur.

Was this how it was going to end?

The light before dawn was too elusive to grasp. He expended all his strength, but was he still defeated in his struggle against the Grim Reaper?

Suddenly, Meng Chen craved sugar.

When he was a child, his mother gave him sweet candy, saying that there would always be a rainbow after the storm.

Meng Chen thought, there must be a rainbow.

He just couldn’t wait for it, couldn’t see it, couldn’t grasp it.

He had never been a lucky child; in truth, he had endured such hardship.

The Omega’s forehead bulged with veins, his entire strength seemingly exerted as he swept his arm, knocking over the glass on the bedside table.

Just as his consciousness was about to sink into complete darkness, Meng Chen heard a commotion nearby, as if someone had sat up. Then, the Omega heard slightly frantic footsteps.

A pair of hands covered his forehead but quickly withdrew as if burned. The emergency call button rang out, and the sound of the on-duty nurse running down the hallway could be heard.

Soon, the on-duty doctor rushed over, and the Omega was wheeled into the emergency room.

Everything happened within a minute or two. As the emergency room door closed swiftly, the “beta” seemed to suddenly lose all strength, kneeling on the floor, his hands trembling.

Zeng Lin had never felt so powerless before. He choked back sobs, letting out low whimpers – he had always hidden his voice well.

The man hung his head, his back hunched, all his energy drained like a broken bowstring. Tears splattered on the icy floor, blooming into tiny ripples. Something exploded in Zeng Lin’s chest, causing a dull ache that spread through his body.

The harsh white lights shone down on the man’s head. The “beta” covered his face as tears streamed down through his fingers.