Gentleman Rich Person Sir, I'm NOT Yours!

Beyond The Veil

A faint cacophony of mechanical sounds filled the room. Each apparatus diligently going about their assigned duty.

All in vain.

A monitor that was placed by the headboard of the hospital bed told of the grim inevitable.

A girl, formerly so well put together, sat by the bed holding on to a shattered limb and crying her eyes out. Her hair was messy and not a single stroke of makeup was on her face.

None of her instagram followers could ever hope to recognise her now.

A pair of fraternal twins, a man and a woman, sat by a corner, on couch provided in this state-of-the-art room.

Clutching at each other, their faces were devastated. They never expected that this high premium insurance that they had tirelessly cajoled their baby brother into buying, would be utilised so soon.

None of her smarts nor any of his cleverness could do anything. Both of them were very clear on the situation, after puzzling over the various charts and notations accessible to them as the patient's family members.

Their parents are currently in consultation with a few specialist, trying to make sense of this sudden tragedy. But the twins knew of the only possible conclusion. Sometimes, being intelligent hurts. You'll be able to catch on about horrible things or crappy situations faster.

The door opened and in shuffled their mother and father. They seemed to aged a decade in the span of a few days.

Their father's wide shoulders stooped as if carrying Atlas' burden. His back bowed and weary as he slowly sat down next to the huddling twins on the couch. He supported his heavy head on the couch's backrest. His thoughts, a million miles away, travelling through time.

Their mother walked to the bedside, carding her fingers through what little hair she could touch. Her poor baby!

Her poor, sweet, awkward baby!

The consultation process had destroyed her. She had been carrying a hope that things might not be as horrible as it seemed.

The doctors put paid to that. This is no longer her son, just a rapidly deteriorating shell. The remnants of a ruined carapace, a husk that used to contain the soul of her baby.

They asked her to do the unthinkable, but unavoidable.

To continue as they were, was inadvisable. Especially considering the futility of any further assistance offered to the boy lying still on the bed.

He's gone.

What they're doing now is nothing more than selfish self-delusion.

Even as the hospital poured all the expertise it had into this broken down body, it won't work.

Her baby's gone.

The door creaked open. It was Grandma Shan, making her daily pilgrimage to Yù Rú's side. The old woman unceasing focus was agonising to watch.

Knowing what she does now, Yù Rú's mother was forcibly reminded of the dreadful decision that they must make.

***

That night they discussed everything as a family. Even Grandma Shan was included in the meeting. She was Yù Rú's family too. Every detail were gone over together.

Especially the ugly, harsh, complicated ethical issues.

There was tears and arguments.

The little girl begged for her brother's life to be prolonged.

But the stark truth was inescapable.

Let him rest.

It's time to let Yù Rú go.

***

They settled on a day. Finalised all the appropriate arrangements.

His mother was heartbroken to realise that Yù Rú never got to that haircut he promised. Instead it was done by attending medical personnel, during the treatment of his critical injuries.

His baby sister, through her tears, did her magic and fixed his hair so that he would look presentable for his final journey. The nicest he ever looked.

His elder brother and sister bought him a custom made suit, possibly the most expensive outfit their little brother would ever wear. Joking sadly that he managed to con his way out of paying for it.

She cried as her twin explained to the tailor of their circumstances. The kindly man went out of his way to help them make the best purchase for Yù Rú.

Their parents took on the woeful duty of finalising Yù Rú's interment.

Throughout all this Grandma Shan kept her stoic vigil by Yù Rú's side.

On that final day, as all machinery and medical contraptions was disengaged, she still held on to him.

Holding on to what's left of her ancestors teachings, she slipped a jade trinket to Yù Rú's hand, as his family drowned in sorrow, standing around the bed that held a ravaged body.

A tiny jade cicada, no bigger than a small cough drop.

One of the many little treasures unearthed by his enthusiastic spring cleaning of their shop, that seemed to take place so long ago.

The monitors told them the exact moment their Yù Rú went away, beyond the veil.

As the lines flattened and the scribbles quietly stills, and their tears fell heavier as grief grows deeper, the faint sounds of a jade cracking into pieces went unnoticed.

It swiftly crumbled, as if the passage of aeons were speeding by.

Into dust that quietly soared away.

Unsubstantial, undetectable. By humanity or otherwise.

It's purpose was fulfilled at last.