A silver-gray sedan sped down the highway.

In the back seat, a corpulent woman clutched the hand of the man beside her, tears streaming down her face.

In the front passenger seat, a girl of seventeen or eighteen turned around, gently comforting the woman. "Mom, please stop crying.

Uncle is back; you should be happy." "Okay, I won't cry, won't cry," the woman dabbed her eyes with a tissue. "I'm just too happy." The man, who had been silent until now, patted her hand, deliberately changing the subject. "Sister, how are Mom and Dad’s health?" These three were naturally Zhong Yun, his sister Chen Yi, and her niece, Chen Yijia.

That morning, a dramatic reunion had unfolded at Jinghui Square.

Zhong Yun’s brother-in-law, Chen Xiang, recognized him instantly, but because two decades had passed, and Zhong Yun looked so remarkably young, he hesitated to acknowledge him immediately.

Chen Xiang remembered his younger brother-in-law had disappeared at the age of twenty-one.

Twenty-three years later, even if he were alive, he would be forty-four.

The man before him, though bearing an uncanny resemblance to himself, looked barely in his early thirties.

When Zhong Yun finally uttered "Brother-in-law," Chen Xiang felt as if he were still dreaming.

The disappearance of his wife’s brother had struck their family with devastating force.

The pall of gloom that had hung over them only slowly began to dissipate with the passing years.

Now that his brother-in-law had returned, how could he not be ecstatic? He immediately reached for his phone to call his wife.

Having been reunited after twenty-three years, both siblings wept tears of overwhelming joy.

After talking for a while about the separation, Zhong Yun finally inquired about his parents' condition.

Only upon learning they were still alive did the anxiety in his heart finally subside.

His greatest fear upon returning was arriving too late to care for them.

Zhong Yun did not want to linger; he had to return to see his parents immediately.

Chen Xiang could not accompany them because he was tied up with urgent company matters.

When her brother asked about their parents, Chen Yi’s brow furrowed.

A knot tightened in Zhong Yun's chest.

He knew both parents suffered from various ailments, which was why he was so tense. "Dad is doing very well, it's just Mom..." "What about Mom? Is it serious?" Zhong Yun’s anxiety and concern were evident on his face. "High blood pressure, the chronic one." Chen Yi sighed softly. "It’s been recurring ever since you vanished.

We’ve seen so many doctors, but nothing has managed to control it.

A few days ago, she kept complaining of dizziness and feeling unwell, and she’s been lying in bed." Zhong Yun’s brow knitted together, a mixture of worry and self-reproach churning within him.

He knew his mother had mild hypertension, but it wasn't severe.

It wouldn't have worsened to this degree had he not disappeared.

Chen Yi noticed his self-blame and, unable to bear it, tried to reassure him. "It's not your fault; you didn't want this to happen." Zhong Yun shook his head, forcibly restraining the urge to fly back immediately.

As long as his mother still drew breath, he could save her.

This trip back, the most substantial items in his Mech Key, apart from Origin Stones, were various types of medicine: for hypertension, heart disease, diabetes—nearly every ailment was accounted for, precisely in case of such a situation.

However, medicine alone was useless.

High-tech medicine demanded targeted treatment.

Without large diagnostic equipment, it was impossible to ascertain which drug to use or what dosage.

Prescribing carelessly would only cause adverse effects.

The so-called universal cure for all diseases simply did not exist.

It was unfortunate that all the diagnostic apparatus remained on the Mercury, which Zhong Yun could not bring alone.

And the Mercury was at least another month away from reaching Earth.

Fortunately, he still carried many advanced pharmaceutical agents; even if someone were critically ill, these could sustain life for a year or two.

A question began to form in Chen Yi’s mind: her brother’s disappearance was strange, and his return was equally peculiar.

Unable to resist, she asked, "Xiao Jia, why did you disappear so suddenly back then? Where have you been all these years? Why didn't you ever come back?" Zhong Yun rubbed his temples. "Sister, please don't ask about that.

I assure you, I didn't leave willingly.

During those years away, there wasn't a moment I didn't long to return." Chen Yi didn't press further, sensing her brother must have compelling reasons for his silence. "The important thing is that you are back." At that moment, the car took a turn and exited the expressway.

The driver reached the suburban county, more than a hundred kilometers from the big city, in under an hour.

It was a small, two-story detached house, elegantly and exquisitely decorated.

The courtyard was verdant, sheltered by thick shrubbery.

On the balcony of the second floor, an elderly man with hair as white as frost was meticulously pruning a bonsai tree with a tiny pair of shears.

He wore reading glasses perched on his nose, squinting at the miniature landscape before him.

It was early winter, and the old man was dressed in a white shirt layered beneath a gray sweater, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Under the warm winter sun, his wrinkled face was a mask of intense concentration.

Hearing the sound of the gate opening, he paused his work and looked toward the courtyard, spotting his daughter’s silver-gray car driving in.

He removed his glasses, placing them on a small table, and straightened up, leaning on his back, standing unsteadily.

Walking downstairs with his hands clasped behind his back, the old man spoke, "Yiya—Yi girl, you just left at dawn, why are you already back turning around?" "Grandpa!" Chen Yijia bounced over like a cheerful rabbit, quickly reaching his side to link arms with him, her face blooming into a radiant smile. "Look who’s here!" "Who is it?" The old man chuckled, patting his granddaughter’s head. "Oh, my sweet little granddaughter?" "I wasn't talking about me," Chen Yijia said playfully. "Look over there." "Always so mysterious." His lovely, charming granddaughter’s coaxing brought immense comfort to the old man's heart.

Following the direction of her pointing finger, the smile on his face instantly froze.

Five meters away stood a tall, broad man, his eyes red-rimmed, staring at him intently.

The old man’s legs buckled, and he began to fall, only to be caught by Chen Yijia. "Dad..." Chen Yi rushed forward, steadying her father from the other side. "He looks...

he looks so much like him..." The old man’s lips trembled, his gaze fixed, murmuring incoherently.

Chen Yi’s eyes welled up with tears. "Dad, he is Xiao Jia." "Xiao Jia?" Tears streamed down the old man’s face. "Xiao Jia...

he's already..." "No, I didn't die." Zhong Yun could hold back no longer, rushing forward. "Look closely! I am your son, Xiao Jia!" The old man scrutinized Zhong Yun’s face at such close proximity, his eyes growing brighter. "Are you really Xiao Jia?" "Xiao Jia, the car is low on gas, go fill it up in the north of the city tomorrow...

Oh, and tomorrow, Director Zhao's daughter is returning from Australia.

The Zhao family won't be free; could you pick her up from the provincial airport for him? Here’s a photo...

Didn't you always say you wanted to intern at your brother-in-law’s place? Swing by Tianshun Road and check it out..." As Zhong Yun spoke, hot tears poured from his eyes uncontrollably.

The old man’s chest heaved violently. "Xiao Jia, you are Xiao Jia." These were the exact words he had spoken to his son at dinner the night he disappeared—a day he would never forget.

The old man choked, unable to draw a full breath, as if something had seized his throat.

His face flushed crimson. "Dad!" Zhong Yun noticed his father’s distress immediately.

He pulled Chen Yijia aside, supported his father, and pressed a hand onto his back to help him clear his airway.

After a long moment, the old man recovered his breath.

He looked at Zhong Yun, then suddenly raised his hand and slapped him hard across the face, shouting in fury, "You...

How dare you come back? Why didn't you just die out there?" "Dad!" Chen Yi was startled.

Seeing her father raise his hand to strike again, she quickly grabbed his arm. "Dad, stop! He must have had his reasons." "Let go of me!" The old man's anger flared, nearly overwhelming him. "I’ll beat this unfilial son to death..." Zhong Yun felt a knife twist in his heart from the slap.

He immediately sank to his knees. "Dad, you can beat me if you must, but please, don't hurt your health because of me." "Fine, I’ll beat you to death!" The old man kicked Zhong Yun’s shoulder, knocking him flat onto the ground.

Zhong Yun scrambled up and knelt before his father again.

The old man raised his foot a second time, looking at the bright red handprint on his son's face, but he couldn't bring himself to strike.

Overwhelmed, his chest felt tight, and he clutched his sternum, panting heavily, an unnatural flush creeping over his face.

Zhong Yun was the first to realize his father was truly unwell.

He sprang up from the ground, his hand flashing out to produce a small bottle.

Supporting his father’s body, he swiftly uncapped it and poured the medicinal liquid into his mouth. "Where is Dad’s room?" Zhong Yun asked his sister, who stood nearby, frozen in shock and helplessness. "This way!" Chen Yi finally snapped out of her stupor and hurried to lead the way.

Zhong Yun carried his father's body, following his sister, placed him gently on the bed, removed his shoes and socks, and covered him with a quilt, watching his complexion anxiously.

After a while, the old man’s breathing eased, and the color returned to his cheeks.

Zhong Yun carefully scanned his body using his senses, discovering multiple latent ailments but concluding nothing was immediately life-threatening, which finally allowed him to relax genuinely. "Let's go outside.

Let him rest alone for a while," Zhong Yun said.

He then left the room with his sister and the others, gently closing the door.

In the quiet room, two tears slipped down the old man's eyes. "Is Dad okay?" Chen Yi finally dared to ask. "Nothing serious, just momentary excitement.

He’ll be fine after a good rest," Zhong Yun replied. "Take me to see Mom." Chen Yi opened the door across the hall.

As soon as they entered, Zhong Yun was hit by the thick, heavy scent of traditional Chinese medicine.

In the room, an elderly woman lay peacefully, eyes closed, clearly asleep.

Her hair was completely white, and the deep wrinkles on her face spoke volumes about the relentless passage of time.

Looking at his aged mother, Zhong Yun felt an unbearable tightness in his chest, an extreme wretchedness. "Mom is only seventy, right?" Chen Yi’s eyes remained red as she nodded. "She just celebrated her seventieth birthday." Zhong Yun’s gaze swept the room, landing on the wooden nightstand beside the bed where three framed photographs sat: one was their family portrait; another was of an infant—a black-and-white picture taken when Zhong Yun was one year old.

The third was a full-length portrait taken the year he started university. "Mom carried those three photos everywhere she went, never letting anyone touch them, not even Dad..." Zhong Yun could no longer hear his sister’s voice.

Images flashed before his eyes, countless fragments surging through his mind—every single one centered on his mother.

P: Parents are always the most magnificent people; I hope all parents enjoy peace and good health.