"Is it news from the boss?" Qin Siyu asked.
Deng Ge nodded, lifting his phone at the sa ti.
The others also stood behind Deng Ge. Everyone was very concerned about how the boss was doing and also very curious why he had gathered them here.
At first, the video only showed a chair. The cara was shaky; the boss seed to be adjusting its angle.
Suddenly, a figure appeared in the fra, walking towards the chair.
The person was wearing a dark red sweatshirt; his steps were slow, as if walking was a great effort.
When the person in the video walked to the chair and turned to face the cara, shock spread across the faces of Deng Ge and the others.
"Long ti no see... everybody."
The person in the video was indeed the boss; there was no doubt about it.
But what was unbelievable was the boss sitting before them. His face was so thin it looked sunken, the arm visible from his sleeve was re skin and bones, and it was spasming uncontrollably.
"What happened to the boss!" Deng Ge exclaid.
Three years ago, when everyone had disbanded, the boss had looked only slightly unhealthy from long hours working at his desk. For modern people, this was hardly a concern.
But now, the boss looked like a re skeleton.
Had he fallen ill?
The purest relationships were the ones most worth recalling. No matter their current success or failure, no one could erase the camaraderie they had shared during those five years.
"Deng Ge, are you still mad at ?"
Zheng Fan’s (the boss) voice was very hoarse. He spoke with great difficulty, as if forcing two rusty gears to turn.
"I’m sorry..."
Zheng Fan’s voice was feeble.
Deng Ge gritted his teeth.
"Deng Ge, forgive for not listening to your advice back then. Otherwise, we might not have disbanded, and the studio... might still be here."
"We’re doing well now," Deng Ge muttered to himself.
"I just didn’t want to change," Zheng Fan continued. "There are certain things, certain tastes, once you grow fond of them, you just want to hold onto that feeling forever. I didn’t want to change, nor did I have the energy to.
"Because, I didn’t have much ti left to live anyway.
"So, Deng Ge, so, everyone, please forgive . Forgive my selfishness."
Zheng Fan seed to want to stand and bow in apology, but as soon as he tried, he lacked the strength and sank back into the chair. In the end, he could only lower his head.
"Five years ago, I was diagnosed with a rare, incurable disease. Worldwide, there are perhaps only a little over a hundred people with this disease. There’s no dical cure. So, at that ti, I knew... I knew I wouldn’t live much longer."
At this, Zheng Fan gave a self-deprecating laugh, which triggered a coughing fit. Each cough seed to nearly suffocate him.
"I’m sorry. To earn money, I drew so comics that weren’t my usual style. Actually, it felt pretty good.
"I liked those comics too. However, they definitely weren’t the style and genre I loved most.
"But when I realized my health was continually deteriorating and I foresaw my eventual end—paralyzed on a sickbed, rely prolonging my suffering—I decided to go to the Netherlands for euthanasia.
"I drew those comics to save up the money for euthanasia in the Netherlands.
"By the ti you see this video, I should already be in the Netherlands, heh.
"Siyu, you need to take care of yourself. Your constitution is really too weak... Heh... Of course, I’m in no position to say you’re in poor health.
"Siyao, don’t be so picky. It’s ti you found a partner. Hmm, just don’t choose Deng Ge."
"..." Deng Ge.
"Brother Qiang, that last bowl of noodles you made for the day you left—I’ve never forgotten the taste.
"Deng Ge, I’ve seen all your movies. They’re very well done. The visuals are excellent, truly excellent. It’s a pity our old works probably won’t get a chance for an animated adaptation, nor will they ever make it to the big screen.
"Ah Qiu, you should learn to let go of Liang Cheng’s passing. By the way, Ah Qiu, in the desk drawer, there’s a will I left. The property deed has also been notarized. I don’t have much money left, just this house. I know you’ve been doing charity work since Liang Cheng passed away. Help sell this house, and donate the money to charity too.
"After drawing demons for so many years, I had to leave sothing behind. That’s why I never chose to sell my only house to fund the trip to the Netherlands.
"My body really can’t hold on any longer. Honestly, I don’t want to spend the last stretch of my life lying in a hospital bed. So, today is the day I’ve chosen to say my goodbyes.
"I’m so happy, so happy to see you all again.
"I’m so happy to have had your companionship during those five years. I’m so happy we could create so many exciting stories and characters together. I... will miss you all.
"I wish you all success in your careers and good health."
「...」
In a hospital room, Zheng Fan sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze slowly sweeping over the seven comic books placed around his bed:
Mo Wan, The Woodsman, A Ming the Vampire, Blind Bei, Feng Siniang, Xue Three the Dwarf, Zombie’s Blood.
When a person’s life is nearing its end, they often like to reminisce.
Like an elderly person in their twilight years, lying on a recliner, basking in the sun with narrowed eyes.
"Let’s start," Zheng Fan said to a doctor and two nurses standing before him.
He then lay down on the bed—the bed surrounded by comics.
"Mr. Zheng, are you sure you don’t need a pastor present?" the doctor, David, asked again out of professional courtesy. He added, "He can help your soul find peace in Heaven."
Zheng Fan calmly shook his head. "David, I believe in demons. I won’t be going to Heaven."
David shrugged, nodded, and gestured for his assistants to begin.
Zheng Fan slowly closed his eyes, sensing a cold needle pierce his arm.
SIGH. Is it finally ending...?
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