Jichen stepped off the private jet into the cool, crisp air of China. The city lights flickered in the distance, but none of it registered. His mind was a void of numbness, his face devoid of any emotion. The man who had fought through chaos, laughed with friends, and found a new sense of purpose just days before, now felt hollow inside.
He moved through the airport with mechanical precision, his thoughts singularly focused on his father. His father, the man who had built an empire from nothing, now lay on the edge of life, unable to speak or guide the world he once controlled.
A black car was waiting for him. The driver bowed his head slightly as Jichen got in, closing the door behind him.
The ride to the hospital was long, but the silence suited Jichen. He barely noticed the traffic or the blur of city lights as they passed. His thoughts drifted back to Xiaoxing, the little girl he had saved. In the chaos of the mission, she had quietly attached herself to him. She called him "papa," though they were strangers in every sense. But now, her innocent face haunted him, her voice calling out in his mind.
"Daddy?" she had whispered the last time he saw her, clutching onto Yuri's hand as they waved him goodbye.
He hadn't known what to say then, and he still didn't. A sharp pang of guilt settled in his chest, but he pushed it down. He had bigger things to face.
---
At the hospital, the sterile smell of antiseptic and the hum of machines greeted him. His mother, Li Mei, was waiting at the entrance. She looked older than he remembered, her once smooth features now etched with lines of worry and grief. Her eyes, usually sharp and calculating, were red from crying.
"Jichen," she whispered, her voice trembling as she reached out to touch his arm.
"Mother," Jichen replied evenly, giving her a small nod.
"You're here…" she said, as if not quite believing it. "He's… he's in bad shape."
Jichen nodded again, his face betraying none of the turmoil inside. "Where is he?"
"In the ICU," she said, her voice cracking. "The doctors are waiting for you."
Jichen placed a hand on his mother's shoulder. He didn't know how to comfort her, not in this moment, not with the weight of everything pressing down on him. But he tried. "I'll speak with them."
Together, they walked to the ICU. The sterile lights felt too bright, the soft beeping of machines too loud. His younger brother, Jianyu, was already inside, pacing the floor anxiously. When he saw Jichen, his face twisted with a mixture of relief and frustration.
"About time you showed up," Jianyu muttered under his breath, though there was no real malice in his voice. "I've been dealing with this alone for days."
Jichen ignored the comment, walking straight to the foot of his father's bed. There he lay—Chen Jinyu, the great patriarch, now reduced to a motionless figure in a hospital gown, tubes and machines keeping him alive.
"He's stable, but…" Jianyu's voice wavered. "The doctors don't know when—if—he'll wake up."
Jichen's jaw clenched as he stared at his father. It was strange seeing him like this, a man who had always been larger than life now so vulnerable. So… powerless.
Just then, the doctors entered. A gray-haired man in a white coat approached, his expression solemn. "Mr. Chen, I'm Dr. Wang. I've been overseeing your father's condition. May I speak with you privately?"
Jichen nodded, following the doctor into a small consultation room. His mother and Jianyu trailed behind him, their eyes fixed on the floor.
"Your father sustained severe trauma to his brain during the accident," Dr. Wang explained, his voice calm and professional. "He's in a deep coma, and while we're doing everything we can, there's no way to predict when—if—he will regain consciousness."
"Is there any chance of recovery?" Jichen asked, his voice flat, emotionless.
"There is always hope," Dr. Wang said gently. "But I must be honest. The damage is extensive. It could be weeks, months, or… never."
Jichen's expression didn't change. He nodded, absorbing the information. "And the company?"
Jianyu spoke up, his voice shaky. "The board's been in chaos. They're waiting for you, Jichen. Father didn't name a successor, but everyone expects you to take over. I've tried to manage things, but… I'm not ready for this."
Li Mei looked at her eldest son, her eyes filled with both sorrow and expectation. "Jichen, your father always wanted you to lead. He built this empire for you. You have to step up."
The weight of her words settled heavily on Jichen's shoulders, but he didn't react. Inside, he felt nothing—just a cold, empty void where his emotions should have been. He had spent years distancing himself from this life, from the responsibilities that came with being Chen Jinyu's son. And now, in one swift moment, it had all come crashing down.
"I understand," Jichen said finally. "I'll take care of everything."
His mother's face softened with relief, and even Jianyu looked somewhat reassured. But Jichen felt no sense of victory, no pride in stepping into the role he had always avoided. It was just another duty, another responsibility to shoulder.
As they walked back to the ICU, his mind drifted again to Xiaoxing. Her innocent eyes, her small hand reaching for his. In this world of power and legacy, she was the only thing that had felt real to him in the past few days. She was waiting for him—his little "star."
But for now, that world was far away. He was back in China, back in the cold, emotionless life he had left behind. His father's empire was his to run, and whether he wanted it or not, he had no choice.
He stood at the foot of his father's bed again, staring down at the man who had shaped his entire life. Jichen's face remained expressionless, but deep down, a storm was brewing.
The question now wasn't if he would take over—it was how long he could carry the weight without breaking.
To be continued…