Rebirth 02, the Celestial Being Told Me to Stop Pretending

When Yang Shoucheng saw these lines, his hand holding the teacup paused.

The cigar rested on the edge of the ashtray, its newly lit smoke rising slowly.

Albert Yeung's gaze shifted from the paper to Lu Chen's face and remained fixed.

"Who are you?" he asked.

The voice wasn't loud, but every word was deep.

Yang Shoucheng is very superstitious about this kind of thing, or rather, many wealthy people believe in this kind of trick.

Otherwise, the White Dragon King wouldn't have been able to thrive among the wealthy.

Albert Yeung invited Leslie Cheung out, using the most understated reason.

"Meeting a friend."

This is a reason that others wouldn't be able to give.

Leslie Cheung has barely seen anyone in the past year. He doesn't answer the phone, turns down all dinner invitations, and even when Florence Chan invites him for coffee, he has to give a week's notice before he'll agree.

But Albert Yeung is different.

The two had a close personal relationship, and when Albert Yeung asked, he couldn't bear to refuse.

It's located at the Clipper Lounge on the 24th floor of the Mandarin Oriental.

When Leslie Cheung arrived, he was wearing a black turtleneck sweater and a mask, and his figure was much thinner than Lu Chen remembered.

He had just sat down and ordered a glass of water when his gaze fell on the unfamiliar young man and the lively girl opposite him, and he raised his eyebrows slightly.

Albert Yeung didn't beat around the bush; after greeting everyone, he turned directly to Lu Chen. "You tell him yourself."

Lu Chen pulled an A4 sheet of paper out of his bag and pushed it in front of Leslie Cheung.

The heading on the paper reads: Novel psychiatric drug: Selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor (SSRI).

Fluoxetine hydrochloride (Prozac).

Sertraline hydrochloride (Zoloft).

Escitalopram oxalate (Lexapro).

There is one more line of text.

Atypical antipsychotic drugs.

Olanzapine.

Each line is labeled with its mechanism of action and the indications he can remember.

Leslie Cheung put down his water glass and looked at him through his mask.

"Who are you?"

Lu Chen answered this question for the second time.

He looked directly at Leslie Cheung.

"Someone who doesn't want to see you jump."

The air froze.

A crack appeared in the gentle and kind demeanor that Leslie Cheung possessed, like lukewarm water.

He leaned back in his chair and slowly removed his mask by raising his fingers.

His face, when revealed, looked even more tired than it had appeared from afar. The dark circles under his eyes looked as if someone had drawn a long streak of charcoal from his left cheekbone to his right eye socket.

But his gaze was fixed on Lu Chen's face, and his tone was not dismissive.

"What else do you know?"

Lu Chen pushed the second sheet of paper over.

The paper contained only one line of text: Mandarin Oriental.

This is the hotel that Leslie Cheung last visited in real history.

Leslie Cheung lowered his eyes and unconsciously tapped his fingers on the table.

His fingers were slender and long, with distinct knuckles. He paused for a moment, then spoke softly, as if confirming something he already knew.

"Where did you hear that? Nobody knows yet."

Lu Chen did not answer the question.

"There's one more thing I want to tell you."

Leslie Cheung did not respond.

He didn't pay any attention and continued talking.

With each word spoken, the table fell into silence.

The third piece of paper had a name written on it: Chen Shufen.

Lu Chen pointed to that name and explained to Leslie Cheung, word by word, the things he didn't yet know.

He told Leslie Cheung that his current emotional breakdown was not due to a lack of willpower, but rather a medical condition.

It's not fundamentally different from a cold or fever; as long as you find the right combination of medications and the right treatment plan, you can fully recover.

He told Leslie Cheung the truths he had never heard in real history: if patients received standardized treatment three months earlier, their full recovery rate could be nearly doubled.

If you force yourself to continue, your condition will only collapse systematically.

Leslie Cheung's eyelashes trembled slightly.

He finally turned his face and looked directly at Lu Chen.

This was the first direct gaze he gave me after entering the room; all the previous glances seemed to come from a great distance.

How do you know all this?

Lu Chen didn't answer. He turned the paper over and wrote a few English letters on the blank page.

SSRI

"Show these letters to your doctor. He will tell you what they mean."

This time, his tone wasn't a suggestion, it was a demand.

"Please."

He paused for a moment, as if swallowing something.

"Give this world a little more time."

Liu Yifei stared blankly at Lu Chen across from her.

She had never seen him speak in that tone before.

Leslie Cheung remained silent for a long time, then his eyes curved into a smile, and his tone was as soft as a sigh.

You are so young.

"Young people," Lu Chen said, "are the ones who should be shamelessly begging for help."

Leslie Cheung's lips twitched slightly.

"At my age, I'm usually the one asking others to take care of their health."

"Unless this person weighs less than 120 pounds, has been blind for a year and a half, has hands that shake so much that they can't hold a water glass, and needs to take a handful of pills every day just to get through 24 hours."

Lu Chen spoke in a flat tone, but each word landed heavily on the table.

"Then instead of seeking a more specialized doctor, he drove around the mountain roads alone, thinking he might as well just crash into them."

This statement wasn't found in any documents.

Leslie Cheung's pupils contracted slightly.

Leaning back slightly, the chair cushion made a soft creak.

"How...how do you know all this?" His voice was extremely soft, as if he were talking to himself.

Lu Chen reached into his coat pocket and took out a piece of candy.

The throat lozenges were bought by Huang Bo last time; there are still a few left from the roadshow.

He placed the candy on the table and pushed it in front of Leslie Cheung.

"This stuff doesn't cure anything, but if you have a sore throat, sucking on one is better than nothing."

He looked into Leslie Cheung's eyes.

"My main purpose in coming to Hong Kong this time is to handle film distribution. But if I don't say these things, no one else will say them for me."

Leslie Cheung looked down at the candy and remained silent for a long time.

Lu Chen had no idea what he was thinking.

Perhaps he felt that others had seen right through him, or perhaps he thought the young man was unreasonable.

But Leslie Cheung reached out and folded the paper neatly, putting it into his pocket.

"Thank you," he said.

Albert Yeung sat to the side, without saying a word.

He picked up the now-cold tea, took a sip, and slowly said, "Leslie, I've always considered you my younger brother. I don't care about the past, but listen to me this time."

His gaze fell on Lu Chen, then turned back.

"This young man is worth your trust, even once."

Leslie Cheung put his mask back on.

Before standing up, he suddenly asked, "What's your name?"

"Lu Chen".

He nodded.

As she walked around the table toward the elevator, she paused for a second without turning around, and her voice drifted over.

"Can I take those papers with me?"

In response, Lu Chen gently pushed the envelope in his hand forward.

March 30, Hong Kong Sanatorium & Hospital.

Anita Mui sat on the sofa in the ward, wearing a large hospital gown and a purple velvet coat, making her look much thinner.

Denise Ho, who was with her, sat on the edge of the bed, like two lamps that could be blown out by the wind at any moment.

She was admitted to Hong Kong Sanatorium & Hospital again three days ago because of severe side effects from chemotherapy, which caused her white blood cell count to drop below normal.

The reporter waited downstairs for three days and three nights to take pictures, but couldn't get a single front-facing photo.

She wrapped her bald head tightly with a silk scarf and insisted on going out through the side door to buy an egg waffle, proclaiming to the world, "I can still walk by myself."

Lu Chen and Liu Yifei waited in the corridor for nearly an hour.

When Denise Ho came out to call them, she looked somewhat surprised, as if she hadn't expected such a young face to be waiting for them.

Once inside, Anita Mui's gaze swept back and forth between the two of them.

First, look at Liu Yifei. "You're prettier in person than in photos."

Then he looked at Lu Chen, and the corners of his mouth slowly turned up.