Chapter 235 A Dead Tree Will Come back to Life, But What About Dead People?
The emotions inside Philip burst out like a volcano. He shut his eyes, leaned his head back, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.
"So tired," he muttered.
He felt like a lonely boat drifting in an endless ocean.
He'd tried so hard.
But the sea was just too vast, too wide, with no end in sight.
His boat couldn't move anymore.
In the rough waters, a boat that couldn't move would eventually capsize and sink.
Mars had seen Philip's cocky attitude, looking down on everyone, and he'd also seen him humble himself, swallowing his pride just to wait for the right moment. But in the past two years, none of that was left in Philip.
It was like time had worn him down, stripping away all his sharp edges.
This wasn't a good sign.
For years, those edges had protected Philip and kept him alive.
Mars stood there, watching Philip's every move.
Suddenly, he saw Philip pick up his phone and find a number.
Mars glanced at the screen and saw the name Regina.
Mars watched as Philip's finger hovered over the call button for what felt like forever.
It must have been over ten minutes before he finally pressed it.
But what was the point?
It had been a long time since he could get through to her number.
If he knew the outcome, why hesitate for so long?
Mars couldn't understand that his hesitation was fueled by hope. Even though he knew the result, he couldn't help but wish for a different ending.
The long hesitation was an unwillingness to shatter that beautiful expectation.
The automated voice on the other end said the call couldn't be connected.
But Philip waited for the call to disconnect automatically again and again, and then redialed tirelessly.
As he kept dialing, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
But that smile was self-mocking, bitter.
Mars couldn't bear to watch any longer.
"Mr. Sterling, the world is so big, there are so many people, you'll meet someone like Regina again someday."
"So what if they're like her?"
That person would never be her.
Mars had never thought that Philip would one day be brought to such a state over a woman.
"Mr. Sterling..."
"Get out."
No matter how many times Philip said it, it seemed Mars couldn't be driven away.
He clutched the phone tightly and spoke weakly, "I'm tired, I want to sleep."
Mars opened his mouth, but seeing Philip already lying in bed, he swallowed his words.
He quietly left the room and closed the door.
The spacious hospital room fell into darkness.
Philip lay in bed, but he couldn't sleep.
He hadn't had a good night's sleep in years.
To fall asleep, he often relied on sleeping pills.
But a year ago, the doctor had explicitly banned those medications, refusing to prescribe them any longer because continued use would cause irreversible damage to his body.
However, to Philip, those so-called damages were less important than a good night's sleep.
He found ways to get those pills from other sources.
Philip sat up in bed again, reaching out and fumbling around on the nightstand until he found several pill bottles. His head was pounding, and his vision was so blurry he couldn't even tell what the pills were.
Over the years, he'd been on a long list of medications, with at least seven specifically for mental health.
The car accident had made him dependent on drugs to get by.
Philip, who wasn't afraid of death, was almost terrified by those pills, making him feel sick to his stomach.
He stared at the pill bottles for a long time, unable to tell the difference, and finally grabbed a few bottles, poured a handful of pills into his hand, and swallowed them with a gulp of water.
His mind started to get foggy, and the thoughts that had been swirling in his head gradually faded away like clouds, leaving a blank space.
His eyes were empty, unfocused, staring at the ceiling.
The whole world was spinning.
But that figure, like a beacon, appeared clearly before him, as if he could reach out and touch it.
At the moment when he couldn't tell if he was losing consciousness or falling asleep, he finally felt relieved, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders.
Sleeping was good.
The idea of never waking up felt like a final escape from everything.
He slept for a long time.
The next morning, Mars went to the hospital room three times.
The first time was at six-thirty in the morning.
Usually, at this time, he would see Philip standing by the window, staring at the sky outside.
But today, he was still sleeping.
The second time was at nine in the morning.
He was still lying in bed, unmoving.
The third time was at ten-twenty in the morning.
The police had arrived.
They wanted to talk to Philip about William's death.
It had been over three years.
A year after his death, rumors had surfaced that he hadn't died accidentally but from a drug overdose.
But Philip hadn't surrendered, dragging it out for so long.
He was too smart, not leaving any obvious clues or loopholes.
But this week, the police seemed to have obtained some crucial information and had been coming almost every day.
Mars knew that the next step would be to take Philip into custody.
He took a deep breath and led the uniformed officers to the hospital room with heavy steps.
He reached the bedside and saw Philip, dressed in blue stripes, lying quietly with his eyes closed. For a moment, he didn't want to disturb him.
Because it had been a long time since he had seen Philip sleep so peacefully.
Until the police urged him.
Mars finally spoke, "Mr. Sterling, the police are here."
No response.
"Mr. Sterling?"
Mars's hand unconsciously touched Philip's hand, which was hanging out of the bed.
The cold, stiff feeling made Mars's heart tremble.
His legs gave way, and he knelt by the bed, staring in disbelief at Philip.
But within two or three seconds, he snapped out of it, stumbled to his feet, and ran to the doctor's office.
His voice was hoarse, but he still shouted at the top of his lungs, "Doctor, doctor!"
Another autumn had arrived.
The ginkgo tree outside the hospital room had turned golden, and the leaves were falling in the wind. Soon, they would become bare, ugly branches.
Dead trees would come back to life in spring.
But what about dead people?
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