Great Power Reclamation

Chapter 3019 A Joke of Fate

Massachusetts General Hospital, Boston, USA.

Yang Geyong had been keeping vigil here for three days and three nights. Zhao Ling'er had just undergone surgery, and the anesthesia hadn't completely worn off; she lay pale-faced on the hospital bed. Her son, Yang Wei, sat on a chair beside the bed, his eyes dark-rimmed, clearly having also been up for a long time.

"Dad, go and rest for a while. I'll watch over Mom," Yang Wei said softly.

"I'm not tired." Yang Geyong shook his head, his eyes fixed on Zhao Ling'er's face. "When will your mother wake up?"

"The doctor said it will be soon." Yang Wei paused. "Dad, thank you... for coming with Mom."

Yang Geyong didn't speak, but simply grasped Zhao Ling'er's hand. This hand had once been so strong, controlling the company, controlling the family, controlling him. But now, it was cold and powerless, lying quietly in his palm.

Three days ago, they received devastating news here. Zhao Ling'er had been diagnosed with stage II breast cancer and needed immediate surgery.

Ye Yuze's eldest son, Ye Feng—now a top conglomerate in the United States—personally arranged all the examinations and contacted the best surgeons.

The surgery went smoothly, but the postoperative pathological analysis is crucial. That will determine whether it's an early or late stage, the subsequent treatment plan, and... the survival rate.

The three days of waiting for the results were the longest three days of Yang Geyong's life. He barely slept, his mind a jumbled mess. He thought about his past with Zhao Ling'er, their child, the arguments and cold wars, and the calm at the end of the divorce.

He thought of Song Qingyun. The woman who, on the eve of his departure, smiled through her tears as she saw him off. She said, "If fate allows, we will meet again," but he knew that this parting might be forever.

“Dad,” Yang Wei’s voice interrupted his thoughts, “Brother Ye Feng is here.”

Yang Geyong looked up and saw Ye Feng walking in wearing a white coat. Ye Feng looked like his father, Ye Yuze, gentle and refined, but with sharper eyes.

"Uncle Yang, Wei Zi." Ye Feng nodded, his expression somewhat... strange.

"Ye Feng, the results are in?" Yang Geyong immediately stood up, his heart in his throat.

"They're out." Ye Feng paused, seemingly choosing his words carefully. "It's good news."

Yang Geyong and Yang Wei both breathed a sigh of relief.

"That's great!" Yang Wei said excitedly. "Early stage, right? The prognosis is very good, isn't it?"

Ye Feng's expression became even stranger. He looked at Zhao Ling'er on the bed, then at Yang Geyong and his son, and slowly said, "It's not a matter of early or late stage. It's... there's no cancer at all."

The ward fell into a deathly silence.

"Wh...what?" Yang Geyong thought he had misheard.

"The pathology results show that Aunt Ling'er's lump is benign."

Ye Feng said, word by word, "It is a rare type of breast fibroadenoma, which looks very similar to certain types of breast cancer, so it was misdiagnosed during imaging and biopsy."

However, the complete excised specimen, after the most meticulous pathological analysis, was confirmed to be benign—100% benign.

Yang Wei opened his mouth wide, unable to speak for a long time.

Yang Geyong was completely stunned, his mind blank.

No cancer? Benign? Misdiagnosis?

These three words echoed repeatedly in his mind, like an absurd joke.

He gave up Song Qingyun, gave up their budding romance, flew thousands of miles to the United States, stayed there for three days and three nights, his heart breaking... only to be told that it was all because of a misdiagnosis.
"Ye Feng, are you... are you sure?" Yang Geyong's voice was hoarse.

“I’m absolutely certain.” Ye Feng’s expression was complex, a mixture of relief and guilt. “We cross-validated the results using three top-tier laboratories, and they were consistent. Uncle Yang, I’m sorry, our previous diagnosis was wrong…”

"No need to apologize," Zhao Ling'er's weak voice suddenly rang out.

The three of them looked at the hospital bed at the same time. Zhao Ling'er had woken up at some point and was quietly watching them. Her eyes were calm, without the elation of surviving a disaster or the anger of being misdiagnosed, only a kind of indifference that came from seeing through everything.

"Mom! You're awake!" Yang Wei rushed to the bedside.

“Ling’er…” Yang Geyong walked over and took her hand.

Zhao Ling'er looked at him and smiled: "Ge Yong, you heard everything?"

"I heard you." Yang Geyong nodded, his feelings were indescribably complicated.

"That's good." Zhao Ling'er said softly, "It's benign, that's great news. You don't need to stay with me, go back."

These words, spoken casually, felt like a knife piercing Yang Geyong's heart.

"What nonsense are you talking about?" He squeezed her hand. "Now that I'm here, I'll stay with you until you're fully recovered."

“But…” Zhao Ling’er looked at him, “Teacher Song is still waiting for you.”

Mentioning Song Qingyun caused Yang Geyong a sudden pang of pain in his heart. He fell silent.

Seeing this, Ye Feng tactfully said, "Aunt Ling'er needs to rest, so I'll go out first. Uncle Yang, Wei Zi, call me anytime if you need anything." He gently closed the door as he left.

Only three people remained in the ward. Yang Wei looked at his father, then at his mother, and said softly:
"Dad, Mom, I'm going to buy you some food." He left, leaving his parents some alone time.

After the door closed, the ward was so quiet that you could hear the ticking of the medical equipment.

“Ge Yong,” Zhao Ling’er spoke first, “Go back. I’m really alright.”

"Ling'er, I..."

"Let me finish," Zhao Ling'er interrupted him, her voice weak but clear and firm. "This illness—even though it was a misdiagnosis—has made me realize a lot of things. Life is too short, too short to waste time on regrets and compromises."

She looked at Yang Geyong with tender eyes: "I know you love me—not the kind of love that's romantic, but the kind that's familial, habitual, and responsible."

"I love you too, but it's not romantic love, it's the affection we've built up over decades of mutual support. But we both know that our marriage died long ago, killed by endless arguments and control."

“Divorce was the right thing to do. We both need new lives.” Zhao Ling’er paused. “And you, Ge Yong, you’ve found true love.”

"Teacher Song is a good woman. She made you a better person. This is something that so many women before you couldn't do. This is the most gratifying thing in my life—seeing you finally understand life, finally know what love is and how to love."

Yang Geyong's eyes welled up with tears: "Ling'er..."

“So, go back,” Zhao Ling’er smiled. “Go find her. Tell her it was all a misunderstanding, tell her you love her, tell her you want to be with her. Don’t let me be an obstacle between you two, or I’ll never have peace of mind.”

"But you just had surgery..."

“It was just a benign tumor that was removed, a minor surgery.” Zhao Ling’er shook her head. “With Wei Zi here and Ye Feng taking care of me, I’ll be fine. But if you don’t go back soon, you might really lose her.”

Yang Geyong lowered his head, tears finally streaming down his face. They were tears of gratitude for Zhao Ling'er's magnanimity, tears of his own guilt, and tears for this absurd fate.

"Ling'er, I'm sorry..." he choked up, "All these years, I'm so sorry..."

“It’s all in the past.” Zhao Ling’er gently patted his hand. “We’re getting old, it’s time to learn to let go. Let go of resentment, let go of guilt, let go of the past. Let’s live our lives well from now on, it’s better for you and for me.”

Yang Geyong raised his head and looked at the woman who had been entangled with him for most of his life. Her face was wrinkled and tired, but her eyes were clear and calm, a sense of relief he had never seen before in many years.

He knew that she had truly let go.

And what about him? Can he let go? Let go of his guilt towards her, his worries about the children, and the entanglements of these decades, to pursue his own love?

"Let me stay with you for a few more days." Finally, Yang Geyong said, "I'll leave after you're discharged from the hospital and it's confirmed that you're really okay."

Zhao Ling'er looked at him for a long time before finally nodding: "Okay."

A week later, Zhao Ling'er was discharged from the hospital. She recovered very well; apart from some pain in her wound, she was basically able to live a normal life.

Yang Geyong booked a flight back to China. Before he left, Zhao Ling'er saw him off at the airport.

"When you get back, please give my regards to Teacher Song," Zhao Ling'er said. "Tell her that if I have the chance, I would like to meet with her in person to apologize and thank her."

"Ling'er, you don't need to..."

"Yes, I will," Zhao Ling'er smiled. "It's my wish."

Yang Geyong hugged her lightly, but sincerely: "Take care."

"You too," Zhao Ling'er patted his back, "Live a good life."

The plane took off. Yang Geyong looked at the clouds outside the window, his heart filled with mixed emotions. This trip to America felt like a dream. An absurd dream triggered by a misdiagnosis, yet it allowed him to see many things clearly.

He saw Zhao Ling'er's strength and magnanimity, understood his own responsibilities and choices, and also realized... that his love for Song Qingyun was deeper than he had imagined.

After a flight of more than ten hours, the plane landed at the Capital Airport. Yang Geyong turned on his phone and immediately sent a message to Song Qingyun: "I'm back. Where are you?"

no reply.

He tried calling, but the phone was off.

A sense of foreboding washed over him. He took a taxi directly to the studio, knocked on the door, but no one answered. He asked the security guard downstairs, who said that Professor Song had left three days ago to attend an academic conference out of town, and his return date was uncertain.

Yang Geyong stood at the door of the studio, looking at the closed door, feeling empty inside.

He went to the courtyard house to find Ye Yuze.

Ye Yuze was pruning the flowers and plants in the yard, and he didn't seem surprised to see him.

"You're back?" Ye Yuze put down the scissors.

"Yes. Ling'er has a benign tumor; it was a misdiagnosis," Yang Geyong said simply. "What about Qingyun? Where did she go?"

"Didn't she tell you?" Ye Yuze raised an eyebrow.

"I can't get in touch with her."

Ye Yuze sighed and gestured for him to sit down: "Qingyun went to Dunhuang. The State Administration of Cultural Heritage has an urgent project that needs her to be a consultant. She may be gone for two or three months."

“Dunhuang…” Yang Geyong murmured, “Why didn’t she tell me?”

“Maybe she thinks you need time to deal with your own issues,” Ye Yuze said, looking at him. “Maybe she thinks you both need time to calm down.”

Yang Geyong fell silent.

“Ge Yong,” Ye Yuze said slowly, “this incident, although a misunderstanding, has tested many people. Ling’er’s performance impressed me, and your choice also makes me happy. But Qingyun… she is a proud woman, you know that.”

“I know,” Yang Geyong said with a wry smile. “That’s why I need to see her and explain things to her.”

"Explain what? Explain why you chose to stay with your ex-wife? Explain why you gave up your budding relationship because of a misdiagnosis?" Ye Yuze shook his head. "Ge Yong, some things can't be solved by explanation."

"Then what should I do? Just give up like this?"

“I didn’t say you should give up.” Ye Yuze looked at him. “I just said you need to think it through. After what happened, are your feelings for Qingyun still the same as before? Can you really completely let go of your responsibility to Ling’er?”

"Are you sure you're going to see her now because you truly love her, and not because of guilt, or to prove something?"

A series of questions made Yang Geyong fall into deep thought once again.

Yes, after this incident, everything is different. Zhao Ling'er's magnanimity makes him feel guilty, the absurdity of the misdiagnosis makes him fearful, and Song Qingyun's disappearance... terrifies him. He loves Song Qingyun, that's beyond doubt. But this love is now mixed with too many other things. Can he distinguish them? Can Song Qingyun accept it?

"Old Ye, I..." Yang Geyong's voice was hoarse.

"Don't rush into a decision." Ye Yuze patted his shoulder. "Take a few days to rest and sort out your thoughts. Qingyun's project in Dunhuang is very important, so don't bother her. She'll contact you when she's thought things through."

Yang Geyong nodded, but his unease did not lessen.

The next few days felt like an eternity to him. He texted and called Song Qingyun every day, but all his messages went unanswered. He went to the school to inquire and learned that she was indeed in Dunhuang, but the project was confidential and her exact location was unknown.

A week later, he finally received a message from Song Qingyun, which was only a short sentence: "I'm at the Mogao Grottoes in Dunhuang. I'm very busy with the project, don't worry about me."

He replied immediately, "I'll come find you."

no answer.

The next day, he booked a plane ticket to Dunhuang.

It was already 8 p.m. when the plane landed at Dunhuang Airport. The night sky in the northwest was exceptionally clear, with stars scattered across the heavens like shattered diamonds. Yang Geyong hailed a taxi and headed straight for the Mogao Caves.

When he arrived, he found that the tourists had already left and the reserve was closed at night. He lingered at the entrance and was stopped by a security guard.

“I’m looking for Ms. Song Qingyun; she’s here to work on a project,” Yang Geyong explained.

“I know Ms. Song, but she lives in the experts’ building inside, and we can’t go in at night.” The security guard shook his head. “Please come back tomorrow.”

Having no other option, Yang Geyong found a small hotel nearby to stay in. The room was simple, but he couldn't sleep all night.

The next morning, he waited at the entrance of the reserve. It opened at eight o'clock, and he was the first to enter. Following the directions given by the security guard, he found the experts' building.

He saw Song Qingyun in the courtyard downstairs.

She was sitting on a stone bench reading documents, wearing a simple white shirt and khaki pants, her hair tied in a ponytail, and glasses. The northwest sun was strong, casting a golden glow on her.

Yang Geyong stood not far away, quietly watching her. She seemed to have lost some weight in the few days he hadn't seen her, but she was in good spirits, intently studying the documents in her hands, occasionally making a note with her pen.

He stared at it for a long time before quietly walking over.

The footsteps startled her. Song Qingyun looked up, and her eyes flickered for a moment when she saw him, but she quickly regained her composure.

“You’ve arrived,” she said, her tone as flat as if she were saying, “The weather is nice today.”

"I'm here." Yang Geyong sat down opposite her. "Why didn't you reply to my messages?"

"Busy." Song Qingyun closed the documents. "The project has a tight schedule and heavy workload."

"What about the phone? Why is it switched off?"

"The signal is bad in the mountains."

This was clearly an excuse. Yang Geyong looked at her, a sense of powerlessness welling up inside him. He could feel that she had erected an invisible wall in front of him.

“Qingyun, let’s talk,” he said.

“What are we going to talk about?” Song Qingyun looked up at him. “Why did you choose to stay with Ms. Zhao when she was sick? Why did you come back to me after you found out it was a misdiagnosis? Yang Geyong, I am not a puppet that you can summon and dismiss at will.”

These were very harsh words. Yang Geyong's heart sank.

“Qingyun, it’s not like that…” he said urgently, “I went to be with Ling’er because of a sense of responsibility. But in my heart, I love you. Now that she’s alright, I…”

"So you came back," Song Qingyun interrupted him, "with your responsibilities fulfilled, your conscience at peace, and then you came back to me to continue our love. Is that right?"

Yang Geyong opened his mouth, but found himself speechless. Because what Song Qingyun said was, to some extent, true.

“Qingyun, I know I hurt you,” he said with difficulty. “But I truly love you. This incident has made that even clearer to me. When I thought Ling’er had cancer, all I could think about was you. I was afraid I would never see you again, afraid I would never hear you play the piano again, afraid…”

"Afraid of losing me?" Song Qingyun laughed, a hint of sarcasm in her smile. "Yang Geyong, what exactly are you afraid of losing? Is it me as a person, or that symbol of 'love' in your heart? Is it the 'salvation' you finally found?"

These words were like a sharp knife, dissecting the deepest secrets of Yang Geyong's heart.

He froze, staring blankly at her.

Song Qingyun stood up, walked to a poplar tree in the courtyard, and said with her back to him, "Yang Geyong, I've thought a lot about things lately. About you, about me, about our so-called 'love'."

She turned to look at him, her eyes clear and sharp: "I admit, I loved you. I loved the changes you made for me, I loved your clumsy sincerity, I loved how you learned to love like a child. But this incident made me realize that our love was unequal from the very beginning."

"You see me as a salvation, an escape from your chaotic life. You need my 'cleanliness' and 'purity' to prove that you can become better and have beautiful love. But what do I need?"

She paused, her voice trembling slightly: "What I need is a complete, independent lover. Not a lost soul who uses me as a source of emotional support, not a man who wavers between responsibility and love. Yang Geyong, you are good, you are really good. But you are not good enough—at least, not good enough for me to entrust the rest of my life to you with peace of mind."

Yang Geyong was struck dumb. He had never imagined that Song Qingyun viewed their relationship this way.

“Qingyun, I…” He wanted to explain, but didn’t know what to say.

“You don’t need to explain.” Song Qingyun shook her head. “I understand. You are loyal and responsible, which are your strengths. But it is precisely these strengths that make it impossible for you to completely belong to me. You and Ms. Zhao have a decades-long relationship, a child together, and an inseparable past. These are like threads that will forever connect you and her.”

She walked up to him, looked into his eyes, and said, "Yang Geyong, I have a question for you, and you must answer it honestly."

"...You ask."

"If—I mean if—Ms. Zhao's illness wasn't a misdiagnosis, if she really needed long-term treatment and long-term care, what would you do? Would you stay with her the whole time?"

Yang Geyong couldn't answer that question.

Because he knows the answer—he will.

It wasn't because he loved her, but because of responsibility, guilt, and decades of friendship. He would stay with her, take care of her, until she recovered, or... until the very end.

Song Qingyun also knew the answer.

So she smiled, a smile that contained relief, bitterness, and blessing: "You see, this is the problem. Yang Geyong, you are a good person, but you can't give me the love I want."

"What I want is completeness, uniqueness, and completeness. And you can't give me that—not because you're unwilling to, but because you can't."

She reached out and gently stroked his face: "Go back. Go back to Beijing, go back to your life. Let's... leave it at that."

Yang Geyong grasped her hand, tears finally streaming down his face: "Qingyun, I..."

"Stop talking." Song Qingyun pulled her hand back and took a step back. "Yang Geyong, thank you for loving me. I will remember this relationship as a beautiful memory. But it ends here."

She turned and walked towards the experts' building. Reaching the door, she stopped, didn't turn back, and said softly:
"Take care of yourself."

Then, she pushed open the door and went inside.

The door closed gently. Yang Geyong stood there, looking at the closed door, at the lonely poplar tree in the yard, and at the azure sky of the northwest.

He knew that this time, he had truly lost her.

It wasn't because she didn't love him, but because she was too clear-headed, too proud, and knew too well what she wanted. She didn't want a love mixed with responsibility, guilt, and the past; she wanted purity, wholeness, and completeness.

But he couldn't give it to me.

Because his life was too complicated, his past too heavy, and his responsibilities too great.

The wind blew, stirring up dust from the ground. Yang Geyong stood in the courtyard for a long, long time.

Finally, he turned and left.

The plane took off again, leaving Dunhuang and returning to Beijing. Yang Geyong looked at the sea of ​​clouds outside the window, feeling empty inside.

He recalled his first meeting with Song Qingyun, her focus when she played the piano, her vulnerability when she was sick, her courage when she decided to go public with their relationship, and her last words, "Take care."

This relationship was like a beautiful dream. But when the dream ended, reality was exceptionally cruel.

After returning to Beijing, Yang Geyong went to find Ye Yuze.

After listening to his story, Ye Yuze remained silent for a long time.

"She's right," Ye Yuze said finally.

“I know,” Yang Geyong said with a wry smile, “that’s why I let go.”

"Then what are you going to do next?"

"I don't know." Yang Geyong shook his head. "Let's figure ourselves out first. Ling'er is right, we should all live our lives well from now on."

Ye Yuze nodded and poured him a cup of tea: "I'm relieved that you think that way."

Days passed. Yang Geyong continued his life, managing his business, studying, growing flowers, and occasionally visiting the children. He became much quieter, but his eyes were more composed.

Song Qingyun stayed in Dunhuang for three months. After the project ended, she did not return to Beijing, but accepted an invitation from a university in the south to teach and conduct research there.

She occasionally publishes papers in academic journals and gives presentations at professional conferences, but she lives a low-key life and rarely appears in public.

Yang Geyong would keep up with her news, but he never bothered her. He knew that some relationships, once missed, were gone forever.

Zhao Ling'er recovered well in the United States and returned to China six months later to resume managing the foundation. She and Yang Geyong met occasionally and chatted like old friends, talking about the children and their own lives. They finally found the most comfortable way to get along.

Ye Yuze's courtyard house remains a popular spot for everyone. Yang Geyong, Zhao Ling'er, and Ye Yuze, three childhood friends, now sit in the courtyard drinking tea and chatting, reminiscing about the past and discussing the future.

However, no one mentioned Song Qingyun anymore.

That autumn, Yang Geyong received a package from the south. Inside was a book—Song Qingyun's new work, a monograph on the study of Dunhuang music and dance. On the title page was a line of elegant handwriting:

To Ge Yong: Thank you for the encounter, take care. Qingyun.

Yang Geyong stroked the words and remained silent for a long time.

Finally, he placed the book in the most prominent position on the bookshelf, next to the monograph that Song Qingyun had given him before.

Outside the window, autumn leaves are falling. Another season has come full circle.

Life is like this: there are encounters, there are partings, there is love, there is responsibility, there are choices, and there is letting go.

But life goes on, no matter what. Everyone is on this path, searching for their own answers and completing their own journey of self-cultivation.

Love may not be everything in life, but what it teaches us will remain in our lives forever, becoming the strength to move forward.

Just like that old folk song goes:

"When I left, the willows were swaying. Now I return, the rain and snow are falling."

Let bygones be bygones. What matters is that we loved sincerely and lived sincerely.

This is enough.

It's the last day! Thank you all so much for your votes, you're all amazing! Do you have any left? Don't waste them, throw them all out there!