117: We Don't Forget
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The hallway of Su Private Hospital was unusually quiet, save for the muffled hum of machines and distant footsteps echoing through the corridor.
Su Zhenghao pushed open the door to the VIP ward, speaking, "Father, Li Yan's already in the car. I told them to wait out front. Is Meilin back yet—"
He froze mid-sentence.
The sight before him drained the color from his face.
His pupils contracted.
Through the glass wall that separated the patient suite from the adjoining private emergency unit, he saw chaos.
Doctors were huddled around the bed, shouting orders.
Machines beeped violently.
The steady beeping of monitors had been replaced with a flatline. A nurse was handing over the defibrillator. Another was setting up the oxygen mask.
His father…
"No—!"
Su Zhenghao stumbled into the room, legs nearly giving way. "What happened?!"
The young nurse at the foot of the bed was pale as a sheet. Her lips quivered. "I-I don't know… I only brought him a small parcel from the front desk… and then… he screamed and collapsed—"
"What?!" Su Zhenghao's voice turned thunderous. "Are you crazy?! Bringing an unverified item to a recovering patient? Are you trying to kill him?!"
The nurse's eyes brimmed with tears. "I swear I didn't know! It only had the room number on it—888! No name!"
"Get out!" one of the doctors yelled at him. "You're disrupting the emergency procedure!"
Su Zhenghao forced himself to step back. But his anger didn't subside.
He glared at the nurse. "Where's the box?"
She pointed with a trembling hand to the far corner near the window. "He… he threw it. It's there... he said its... it's a bomb..."
A shiver ran through everyone in the room.
"A bomb?" someone gasped.
Panic rippled like lightning as doctors began backing away from the bed, tension thick in the air.
"Is it really a bomb?!" someone whispered.
The younger staff began backing toward the door, unsure whether to flee or call security.
"Stop!" Su Zhenghao stormed over to the box.
He crouched slowly, carefully lifting it. His fingers pried open the lid.
Inside lay a small, black metronome.
The pendulum ticked rhythmically.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
A chill crawled down his spine.
He turned, holding it up. "It's not a bomb. It's a metronome."
The room exhaled in one collective sigh of relief.
The doctors rushed back to the patient. "BP rising. Heart rhythm stabilizing. Oxygen levels at 89—bring it up slowly," the head doctor instructed.
—
Su Zhenghao signaled the nurse to follow him. They exited into the corridor. As the door shut behind them, he looked at the box.
He examined it inside—and found something tucked underneath the metronome.
A note. Folded, thick red paper, the kind used for ceremonial messages.
His fingers unfolded it.
The writing was foreign—not Chinese characters. Not pinyin.
"Bakamalirawo, Kalema."
He frowned.
The ink was smudged.
But the words could still be read.
What kind of language was this?
What did it mean?
He looked up at the nurse. "Who brought this?"
"I-I don't know. I picked it up from reception. It had no name. Just said VIP Ward 888."
Su Zhenghao clenched the metronome. "Get lost. And don't breathe a word of this to anyone."
"I'm so sorry… I didn't mean—"
"Go!"
She bowed and scampered away.
—
A moment later, Su Meilin arrived with a paper bag of medicine. She paused when she saw her father standing rigidly in the hallway.
"Dad? What's wrong?"
He looked up slowly. "Your grandfather… had a heart attack."
The bag fell from her hand.
"What? But he was fine!"
He held up the box and note. "This came. We don't know who sent it. No name, no return address."
She took the box as she looked at the metronome, still ticking.
Then her eyes dropped to the red note. "What language is this?"
"No idea."
She couldn't read it, but dread clawed at her.
Her throat tightened.
She wasn't stupid.
She could still connect the dots.
It was about Grandpa.
They were targeting Grandpa.
Her hands trembled. Had they approached her because of her family? Did they already know who she was? Or was this revenge or something else?
"Meilin?"
Her father's voice was distant.
She remembered Eric's mocking voice.
"A gift to the old man..."
The old man… Grandpa…
"Meilin!"
Her father's voice snapped her out of her daze. "What's going on with you? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I'm fine— " she whispered.
She couldn't say it. Couldn't admit that she'd slept with them. Filmed. And now those men—Obsidian Fangs—were blackmailing her.
Before Su Zhenghao could ask her if she's really okay, the door swung open. Four doctors emerged, masks lowered.
"He's stable," the lead doctor said coldly. "But that was close. Another shock like this and you'll be lucky if he survives at all. Why did you leave him unattended?!"
Su Zhenghao bowed slightly. "It won't happen again."
The doctor nodded as they walked away with the nurses leaving only Su Zhenghao and Su Meilin alone.
—
They entered the room together.
Old Master Su lay on the bed, face pale, an oxygen mask over his mouth. Tubes ran from his arms.
His chest rose and fell slowly. Machines beeped steadily now.
But he looked older. Frailer.
Broken.
Su Zhenghao stood silently beside him, holding the box.
He looked so… frail. Old.
Su Zhenghao tightened his grip on the box.
'What happened?'
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At the far end of the corridor, the young nurse who had delivered the parcel whispered into her phone.
"He got it," she said. "And yeah, it gave him a shock. He collapsed. Almost died."
The man on the other end of the line was silent.
Then: "Good."
She pouted. "Is this really necessary? I don't even remember what father looked like. I was just a baby. Why should I care about his enemies?"
"Jenny, because I remember," the man replied coldly. "And because we never forget."
She was silent.
He added, "Stay close. Watch for changes. Call me if anything happens."
"Fine…"
The call ended.
The girl turned toward the direction of Ward 888, her expression innocent it could melt hearts, her honey-coloured skin shining lightly under the lights.
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