Idol Chapter 166 Part 1

Early summer is not particularly hot, but the basement is always warm and dry.

Strictly speaking, this isn’t exactly a basement.

The Mei family’s old mansion, purchased twenty years ago, was originally a vast compound with seven courtyards, designed to appeal to the aesthetic of the middle-aged and elderly.

Now, this place has fallen into disrepair. A renovation crew moved in three or four years ago, and to this day, the exterior is still a hubbub of activity, looking both noisy and desolate.

All the construction workers can only enter and exit through the front door, oblivious to the structure inside.

—The basement in the central area was originally transformed into Mei Heng’s meditation room, which is now locked with four levels of security, requiring iris, voiceprint, and fingerprint verification, plus a military-grade gilded key.

The brilliant sunlight, akin to a surging ocean, is guided in real-time by smart light panels, ensuring ample illumination from eight in the morning to six in the evening.

Clusters of Spring Feathers are planted by the windows and walls, sometimes fluttering in the breeze like azure birds about to take flight.

When Mei Shengyao remotely opens his eyes, he habitually looks towards the caretaker bed on his right.

His nightingale has not yet awakened.

Caring for a vegetative person is neither simple nor romantic.

It’s monotonous, cold, unresponsive, like a mutual confinement and binding of true souls.

On the day Chi Ji fell, Qi Ding used all his connections and a series of deceptive maneuvers, like a skilled international con artist, making three hospitals believe the body was specially transferred for care, ultimately ending up elsewhere.

The autopsy report was fake, the body was fake, and all the apologies and explanations given to the media were also fake.

Su Rong drove away alone in an SUV, secretly taking away Chi Ji, who still had a breath of life.

The only reason Chi Ji survived is that Mei Shengyao had installed a cushioning device on the seventeenth floor four years earlier.

The seventeenth floor is too high, but everywhere there are high balconies and sky gardens as barriers, without any safety nets.

Iron railings would make the windows look like prison bars, detrimental to the members’ mental health.

Back then, not long after the Bathtub Dance ended, Mei Shengyao spent a long time looking out the window one day and suddenly suggested installing a fall prevention device below.

He mentioned it several times, and Jiang Shu, out of annoyance, took it as adding extra insurance for the cleaners and hired a professional team to install a large inflatable sign.

From afar, it’s the full English name of SPF Company, flashing like cat’s eyes at night, especially eye-catching.

Up close, it’s a long barrier, even occupying the space where the trainees below used to dry their clothes and quilts.

Later, when Chi Ji was diagnosed with depression, all the knives in the house were collected by Xie Lianyun.

Bo Jue had a habit of stewing soup, though initially clueless about household chores, he became proficient for the sake of his brothers.

Kitchen knives, bone-chopping knives, even scissors were excessively carefully hidden in a magazine cabinet, with two plush bunny dolls in front as a disguise.

When Xie Lianyun went to Bo Jue’s bedroom looking for music scores and saw those bunnies, he once remarked that they seemed like pubescent guardians.

The doctor mentioned it many times.

Don’t stimulate, don’t imply, wait patiently with warmth and companionship.

2016 was almost entirely without mishaps, which made Mei Shengyao feel an anxious lack of reassurance.

He and his seniors had grown up together, very familiar with each other’s characters.

Chi Ji was pure white and fragile, like a brittle strawberry cookie.

Perhaps a delicious cookie, but when maliciously broken, it also snaps crisply.

Like the last powerless resistance.

Mei Shengyao, now nineteen, was no longer the chubby little boy he used to be.

He knew what putting a camera in his brother’s bedroom would reveal.

The scenes of changing clothes, the pursed lips and smile while applying body lotion, even how the cute bunny sighs while pleasing itself.

Just for a little while.

The young man quietly admonished himself.

This is unethical.

Just one more year, the doctor said his brother would be completely healed, and he would secretly remove the camera and confess with all the evidence.

He would admit his mistake.

In 2015, the Bathtub Dance caused a sensation, elevating Chi Ji to a shining star, crowned as the ideal boyfriend by many young girls.

In 2016, one event followed another, rising and falling, like an endless series of work tasks.

Mei Shengyao began to have recurring nightmares.

He always dreamed that Chi Ji had died.

Having been left alone in a vast house for too long as a child, he developed a pathological fear of darkness and separation.

This should not be told to the team leader.

So, he told Xie Lianyun.

“I dreamt about my senior brother getting into trouble again.”

They sat outside the glass conservatory, watching how that tall, gentle young man amused a little white dog with laughter.

Xie Lianyun massaged his forehead, exhaling deeply, “It’s just been a year without a new album, can we not transfer work anxiety to such an ominous topic?”

“Brother Yun,” Mei Shengyao hugged the pillow tightly, glancing nervously at the pure white irises blooming in the glass conservatory, and whispered, “I dreamt he drove away, alone in the middle of the night heading south, and no one could find him.”

Xie Lianyun nearly choked, wiping his hand and said, “Just the day before yesterday, you dreamed Chi Chi fell off a cruise ship—considering our many years of friendship, Shengyao, go talk to Dr. Wu. I can help you schedule an appointment.”

Mei Shengyao whimpered in frustration, like an anxious little lion not comforted.

In 2016, almost everyone in Corona was having nightmares.

They rarely shared these negative thoughts with others.

Huo Ren often dreamed they didn’t win the crown, and Pei Ruye ultimately married someone else, even inviting him to pay respects at the scene.

Or that Corona went through something again, needing him to single-handedly rescue everyone from the abyss.

Bo Jue dreamed of being caught with Long Jia, or of many nonexistent breakup scenarios.

Or that he caused the whole group trouble, resulting in the brothers being insulted and hurt.

Xie Lianyun dreamed of the scar on Huo Ren’s eyebrow, of Bo Jue crying by the piano.

And that he failed to remind Chi Ji to take his medication in time, leading to a public emotional breakdown, utterly shocking.

Long Jia seldom dreamed. He rarely fantasized about things that hadn’t happened.

But occasionally, family calls would come in, subtly asking when he would get serious.

That year, Xuan Yu Group began to experience a difficult transition period.

In the end, Mei Shengyao bought two mannequins to practice all the first aid steps alone in his bedroom.

He hoped he would never need to use those skills.

Then Xie Lianyun burst in: “Hiss—”

“Close the door, Brother Yun!!!”

“You’re not sick enough to—buy two???”

“Are you a pig, Xie Lianyun!!!”

February 17, 2017.

As Chi Ji was at the window burning papers, Mei Shengyao was about to go on stage, habitually glancing over.

Sensing something wrong, he hastily called Su Rong.

“What? I’m on my way.”

Chi Ji sat at the window, letting the phone vibrate several times in the living room, still bowing his head over those damning pieces of evidence.

Then, a second before Su Rong arrived, he jumped out of the window, embracing a fierce fire.

The young man backed against the wall in the restroom, unleashing a tearful scream as if finally engulfed by the nightmare.

Then he dashed out of the TV station alone, eyes red with tears, furiously accelerating home amid New Year’s songs.

He could no longer bear any separation.

His childhood home was so empty, with overly tall, expressionless servants coming and going, their formulaic smiles like those of dolls.

Later, he was sent to the Red House in Los Angeles, pulled into a new classroom by his senior brother, finally living a life bathed in sunlight.

Even if his mother was indifferent and cold, even if his father was always busy, he had people to talk to and accompany him.

His senior brother’s hands carried the scent of daisies, seemingly with a relaxing warmth.

Then he had the seventeenth floor, had Corona, and the hearty smiles of every brother.

He could no longer bear separation.

On February 17, 2017, God took Noah away.

On the same day, he exhaustedly saved Chi Ji back to the basement of the Mei family’s old mansion.

Mei Heng, after Mei Shengyao disappeared for two days, traced him here, never imagining his own son could go to such extremes.

Qi Ding and Su Rong, after quickly assessing the medical environment, left swiftly, only arranging for vehicles disguised as garbage trucks to transport supplies through a hidden passage, minimizing unnecessary personnel access.

His wife, Wu Qiuyi, as the chief physician, would come regularly for consultations, alone performing a series of tasks like lab tests and infusions.

And brought two young students for surgery, a total of three times.

The shadowless lamp and all sterilization equipment are still stored in the warehouse, ready for use.

“Subarachnoid hemorrhage is a very serious condition,” the female doctor said delicately, “caring for a vegetative person is a long-term process, it’s best to find a sufficiently reliable caregiver.”

Mei Shengyao paused for a long time, refusing before Mei Heng could agree.

“No need, I’ll do it.”

Wu Qiuyi looked at him.

“The patient needs to be turned over repeatedly every day, and there will be incidents of incontinence.”

Mei Shengyao chuckled.

“No one else needs to come into contact with him anymore.”

“I’ll do it.”