Chapter 53: Daddy, don't cry. Momo will put you to sleep.

In the second month since Fuying left, He Cong discovered he was mentally ill.

He began to sleepwalk frequently.

When Butler Chen first told him about this, He Cong didn't take it seriously.

Until one sleepwalking incident, he pulled a pistol from the safe and pointed it at his heart again.

He was awakened that time by the cries of his cub.

He Cong didn't tell anyone about this, and he couldn't.

Yunqing Group was on the rise, and his position as the head of the He family hadn't yet been solidified. He couldn't, and wouldn't, allow himself to have any problems at this time.

So, He Cong privately met with Dr. Liang and, requesting confidentiality, began long-term psychological treatment and regular medication.

Even so, He Cong's condition showed no improvement.

Until one day, Dr. Liang noticed the

Buddha amulet around his neck. Learning it was a gift from his late wife, Dr. Liang offered him a new proposal.

From then on, He Cong would go to Changci Temple, where Fuying had taken him, to burn incense and worship Buddha every once in a while.

Not only that, later when He Zhimo's health improved a little, He Cong would also take the child to Changci Temple during special seasons.

Perhaps it was a psychological effect, He Cong's originally depressed and irritable temperament did calm down a lot.

He Zhimo didn't find out that his father suffered from sleepwalking until he was almost one and a half years old.

Although He Zhimo was weak and sickly since birth, he was more conscious than most human children.

While other children were still sitting in walkers and expressing some simple needs such as "drink milk" and "hug", He Zhimo heard some words about "cultivating the body and mind" and "good for health" from the abbot of Changci Temple, and he naively thought that chanting scriptures and worshiping Buddha could make the body healthy and no longer need to take medicine.

Gradually, he learned to imitate his father's burning incense and worshipping Buddha at Changci Temple. His soft, white hands began to twirl a string of small Buddhist beads, and he began to recite sutras in his limp, babyish voice.

That night, He Zhimo finished his milk obediently as usual, and was taken back to his room by his father to sleep.

Except during thunderstorms, He Zhimo could now sleep in his own little bed. He closed his eyes, listened to his father's usual emotionless voice telling him a sleep story, and slowly fell asleep.

He Zhimo dreamed of his mother, whom he had never met.

He Zhimo started dreaming about his mother when he was one year old. At that time, He Zhimo could hardly speak clearly. The first time he dreamed of his mother, it was a rainy night. The little guy cried and shouted "Mom, Mom, don't go" to the golden light in his dream...

When he woke up, the little guy was already in He Cong's arms. At that time, He Cong's face was still silent and suppressed as always, but his hands gently wiped the little cub's tears and asked He Zhimo softly, "Momo, did you dream about your mother?"

He Zhimo curled up his little fingers and sobbed, looking up at He Cong with tears in his eyes and asked, "Ba, ba, ba, Mom doesn't want you, doesn't want Momo?"

He Cong paused, then put two photo frames in He Zhimo's small room and told him that the person in the photo was his mother.

Since then, every time He Zhimo dreamed of his mother, he would climb out of his crib, take the photo on the bedside table and tuck it into the quilt, secretly wiping his tears and crying softly in front of the photo.

This time, too, He Zhimo dreamed of his mother disappearing from his room in a golden glow. No matter how he cried, she never even glanced back.

He Zhimo woke with tears streaming down his face. With a look of grievance, he wiped his tears with the back of his hand. He climbed out of bed, intending to tuck the photo under the covers and cry again, as he always did. But just as he rose, he heard a strange noise outside.

With tears welling in his eyes and his hairy head tangled,

He Zhimo climbed out of bed and carefully pushed the door open to leave. Daddy's door was ajar, and He Zhimo, with his shaky gait, paused, looking up at the sound.

At the end of the hallway, on the terrace, Daddy stood by the locked door, his forehead gently banging against the edge, as if about to leave.

"Bang, bang?"

He Zhimo called out, but Daddy remained expressionless, banging on the door, oblivious.

He Zhimo was inexplicably anxious, but the little guy's calf bones weren't strong enough, and he accidentally fell to the ground in the corridor, whimpering in pain.

He Cong was awakened by the little boy's cry. He blinked slowly, walked back quickly, picked He Zhimo up from the ground, and carried him back to the house to check.

He Cong rolled up the little boy's trouser legs and looked down: "Momo, are you hurt?"

He Zhimo didn't feel any pain after a while. He raised his little hand to wipe the tears from his eyes, shook his head and said in a baby voice: "No, it doesn't hurt."

As the little guy said this, he used his little hand to clumsily touch the tear marks at the corners of his father's eyes that had not dried yet. "Ba Ba, Niye, don't cry, don't cry."

He Cong was slightly stunned, and touched his eyes with his fingers, then realized that he had shed tears during that sleepwalking.

He Cong naturally couldn't admit that he cried in front of the child, and only lightly denied it, saying that it was because of the strong wind outside.

He carefully checked the cub's body and limbs, making sure it wasn't injured. He then carried it back to his room, tucked it in again, and waited until He Zhimo fell asleep before leaving.

However, He Zhimo would catch his father sleepwalking several more times.

Once, his father sat by his bed, took down the photo he'd placed on the nightstand, and, expressionless, stared at his mother's picture, quietly crying.

He Zhimo, initially shocked and disoriented, gradually grew accustomed to it.

By the time he was over two, he'd figured out a pattern. At the end of each month, he'd sigh helplessly, roll up his own blanket, and carry it to his father's room. He Cong

was puzzled, "What do you mean?"

He Zhimo spread his own blanket and pillow over it. He turned with a stern face, reached out to pat his father's shoulder, his expression heavy and reassuring, "Don't cry, Daddy. Momo will get you to sleep."

"..."

But the little one's company was clearly working.

When He Zhimo was three years old, He Cong finally stopped the three-year-long medication treatment, and the sleepwalking symptoms became less frequent.

He Cong thought he would always be calm and clear-headed, but still miss his wife in the dark. Until

Shang Youqing appeared.