TSFLIP Chapter 778

Han Qi was a good man—or at least, he firmly believed he was. Taking Han Chen’s place didn’t feel wrong to him because, in his mind, he was only helping everyone achieve what they truly desired.

He had never intended to sacrifice Han Chen. He knew clones lived short lives; all he had wanted was to experience the kind of life he’d never known—not trapped in that dimly lit room surrounded by instruments, but out in the real world. Yet in the end, he realized that escaping one prison only led him into another—the hospital.

On his bookshelf, beside a book on hypnosis, was a worn copy of Stray Birds.
“Let life be beautiful like summer flowers, and death like autumn leaves.”

He longed for that beauty—life burning bright, death fading gently. So before dying, he wanted to see the outside world one last time. That was when he met Feng Guang.

It was an accident.
A beautiful accident.

And suddenly, he didn’t want to die anymore. He wanted to live.
If he could be with Feng Guang, there were so many things he wanted to do—see the world’s beauty, walk down the aisle with her, grow old together…

Sometimes, a person’s resolve changes in a single instant—and in that instant, Han Qi decided what he must do to survive.

He pretended to despair, telling Feng Guang to leave, only to make her heart ache more deeply. Women, he knew, were emotional creatures—easily drawn to sympathy. Han Chen’s tragic existence would naturally stir her compassion, so Han Qi needed to act even colder, more ruthless, especially once he sensed Han Chen had become a threat.

So… to make sure Feng Guang would choose him, Han Qi decided to die.

By faking his suicide to “save” Han Chen, he made Feng Guang live through the terror of losing him. That fear would make her believe that sacrificing Han Chen’s life was the only way to save Han Qi. It was a dangerous gamble—he might have died for real on that operating table—but he won.

He lived. Han Chen didn’t.

Yes, Han Chen’s death left a scar in Feng Guang’s heart, one even time couldn’t erase—but emotions can be redirected. And so, Feng Guang became pregnant.

She loved children—and their child, his and her child, would surely fill that emptiness. Maternal love, after all, could wash away excess grief. A few years from now, or maybe a decade later, when Han Chen’s name was mentioned again, it would only draw a quiet sigh.

Han Qi had planned everything perfectly—until the day Han Wei died.

That day, Han Qi accompanied his father to an award ceremony. A careless waiter spilled wine on his suit, and while cleaning up in the restroom, Han Wei caught a glimpse of a scar on his son’s arm.

That scar broke open a hole in Han Wei’s memory. He remembered—years ago, he had cut that very spot himself, during an experiment testing a clone’s blood coagulation. The wound had been deep. There had been a lot of blood.

Bright red blood.

And so, Han Wei died.

The room was utterly silent. Then Han Qi’s phone rang. Seeing “Baby” flash on the screen, he smiled tenderly and answered, his tone filled with warmth.

“Feng Guang, are you missing me already?”

“Mhm,” her gentle voice came through. “When are you coming home?”

“Soon,” he said softly.

“Is Mother all right?”

“She’s fine. She’s doing very well.”

She sighed in relief. “That’s good to hear…”

“Anything you’re craving? I’ll bring it back for you.”

Ever since she got pregnant, she sometimes had late-night cravings—and Han Qi would always go out to get whatever she wanted, no complaints.

“Um… that cake from Ruby’s Patisserie… but it’s probably too far,” she said hesitantly.

That bakery was over forty minutes away.

“It’s not far at all. If my baby wants it, then I’ll make it happen.”

She laughed happily. “Our child’s going to be so lucky, having such a loving father.”

No—he wasn’t talking about the child. The “baby” was her.

Han Qi didn’t correct her. Still smiling, he hung up, straightened his tie, and turned to leave.

Behind him stood Zhen Wei, her expression blank, her eyes empty.

“Oh, right,” he said, pausing at the door, his voice calm and almost casual. “The afterlife must be lonely, Mrs. Han. Would you like to go keep your husband company?”

“Yes… I’ll go keep him company,” Zhen Wei murmured vacantly, her gaze unfocused. Slowly, she picked up a fruit knife from the floor and, with trembling hands, drew it across her wrist.

Blood streamed down her arm, yet she didn’t seem to feel any pain—just sat there, dazed and motionless.

Han Qi let out a quiet sigh. “Mr. and Mrs. Han truly are a devoted couple. How enviable.”

With that, he walked out of the room and gently closed the door behind him.

He had a cake to buy.