Chapter 52 I will remain here until darkness recedes and dawn breaks. ...

On the way back, Jiang Yueming didn't hear a word Lin Cuiqin said. What was she talking about? Aunt Yan was asking her what to do next, wanting Jiang Yueming's advice, since he and Shuo Shuo were roughly the same age. Lin Cuiqin didn't know what Jiang Yueming and Xu Shuo had talked about that day. But Jiang Yueming was unusually silent the whole way, his gaze fixed on the withered trees outside the car window.

"Yueming," Lin Cuiqin hadn't heard a sound and was a little worried. This person was really acting strangely; usually, he could talk about anything and everything, but today he was unusually quiet. So she turned around and looked at him. "Are you alright, Yueming?"

Jiang Yueming suddenly realized what he meant, and quickly said "Oh," forcing a wry smile, "It's nothing, Auntie. I'm just... a little tired."

"Then close your eyes and rest. We'll be home soon. You might feel a little dizzy on the bus..." Lin Cuiqin said with some concern. She glanced at the back seat, where Tian Tian was sleeping soundly.

You are all people who look forward. These words echoed repeatedly in Jiang Yueming's mind. Xu Shuo's words, like vines, wrapped around his ears, tightening more and more, making it hard for him to breathe.

Yes, he did look forward.

He admitted it; he didn't make excuses, nor did he have much to say. Everyone told him to look forward—his aunt told him, his second uncle told him, and Yin Guiying told him. Everyone around him who cared about him said the same thing. They all said that one cannot live in the past; life goes on, and you have to live it too. Living in the past and being unable to move on is not good, nor can it work. So he tried hard to break free from the shadows.

His memories of Lin Cuilan end when he was six years old.

In her memory, the woman with long hair tied in a low ponytail and dressed simply was her mother. She was young, but from hard work, fine lines had already appeared at the corners of her eyes. She always liked to wipe her hands on her apron after finishing her work, and then wave to Jiang Yueming. At that time, four or five-year-old Jiang Yueming would stumble towards her and rush into that warm embrace.

Mingming, Mingming. Lin Cuilan always called him that gently with a smile.

Now, that voice has broken through the long-sealed memories, echoing in Jiang Yueming's ears, so real, yet so distant. She clearly existed, yet she feels so unfamiliar.

Jiang Yueming's brows furrowed involuntarily, and he felt a sharp pain in his temples. He slowly closed his eyes.

mom……

A silent, fearful voice exploded in my heart: What do you think of me? Do you also think I'm selfish and cold-blooded? Did I also see you as... a stumbling block?

My aunts told me not to cry and to be strong. So I really stopped crying after that.

Jiang Yueming thought this was being sensible, but now, endless regret and grievances overwhelmed him like a tide. He was drowning at the bottom of the water and could only helplessly think, "Should I still cry? Should I cry? Is it only by crying my heart out that I can prove I haven't forgotten you?"

It's not that he doesn't want to think about it, it's that he's afraid to think about it; the thought of it makes his heart ache.

Lin Cuilan passed away on the third day of the Lunar New Year; the wind was bitterly cold that day.

Years ago, before this time of year, Jiang Yueming would lie in bed staring blankly at the pitch-black ceiling, his mind blank, with no sound around him except for his own breathing. He thought he had cried all his tears the year Lin Cuilan left, but with every blink, tears would slide down his cheeks and drip onto the sheets.

To avoid worrying his aunt, Jiang Yueming stayed in his room after returning home. He didn't turn on the light, letting the darkness engulf him. Memories of his childhood kept replaying in his mind—the old brick house where he had lived as a child, now long gone. The old courtyard was still there, and the old jujube tree he used to climb was still there, though years ago when he visited, it was overgrown with weeds.

I kept thinking and thinking. Xu Shuo's cold voice echoed in my memories, his departing figure so clear, leaving me trapped in the same place.

A light drizzle was falling outside. At 11:30 p.m., Li Leshan opened the iron gate. He was still awake and had heard the knocking, but he didn't know who it was. After all, it was the middle of the night, and he really couldn't guess who it could be. There were still mock exam papers from the Third Municipal High School spread out on the table. His grandmother was already asleep.

The sight outside the door stunned him instantly.

Jiang Yueming was standing at his doorstep, his hair and shoulders were completely wet, and water was dripping down his face.

Li Leshan's heart tightened, and he hurriedly asked, "Who bullied you?"

He quickly pulled Jiang Yueming inside and then hurriedly found a dry towel to wipe Jiang Yueming's hair.

“It’s raining outside,” Jiang Yueming said, letting him pull her along, her eyes red and her voice a little hoarse. “Is it my mother crying?”

Li Leshan paused for a moment, the towel still lingering on Jiang Yueming's hair. He faced Jiang Yueming, meeting his eyes for three seconds. Before Li Leshan could decipher the helplessness in his eyes, Jiang Yueming turned his face away again.

“Has someone said something about you?” Li Leshan felt a sharp pain in his heart. His hand trembled slightly as he pressed down on Jiang Yueming’s shoulder. He needed to look at him to know what he was saying. “Look at me.”

Jiang Yueming turned around, saw the worry in his eyes, and finally couldn't hold back anymore, sobbing on his shoulder.

"Mom, they all bully me..." Jiang Yueming choked up, as if he wanted to pour out the emotions that he had suppressed for many years. He had been holding back all these years. "From childhood to adulthood, they all said that I had no father or mother, and they all looked down on me."

“I’ve looked forward, Mom… Do you resent me? Do you also think I’m selfish? Have I really forgotten you…” Jiang Yueming’s shoulders trembled slightly.

His voice was broken and intermittent, the only sound in the quiet space, punctuated by sobs. Every word, every sentence, made Li Leshan's heart ache. He had never seen Jiang Yueming like this before, never seen him in so much pain.

Jiang Yueming's hand was tightly gripping his clothes. Li Leshan slowly took his trembling hand in his and felt the coldness of his palm.

He knew this wasn't the time to reason with her; nothing he said would work, and Jiang Yueming wouldn't understand. Li Leshan tightened his arms, holding Jiang Yueming close, and gently patted her back, slowly but firmly.

Finally, Jiang Yueming's sobs slowly turned into intermittent, suppressed sobs. He buried his face in Li Leshan's shoulder, his tears soaking Li Leshan's shoulder.

Li Leshan sensed the change in the person in his arms. He loosened his embrace slightly and distanced himself from Jiang Yueming. Her face, which had always been bright and cheerful, was now streaked with tears, her eyes were red and swollen, and her gaze was unfocused.

Li Leshan's heart clenched. He raised his hand and slowly and gently wiped away Jiang Yueming's tears with his calloused fingertips, with a silent tenderness, urgently wanting to wipe away his pain and unbearable suffering.

“Looking forward is not wrong,” Li Leshan signed slowly, trying to make Jiang Yueming see each word clearly, though he wasn’t sure if Jiang Yueming could understand it in the current situation. “I’m looking forward too, we all have to look forward. Those who stop you, those who question your ability to look forward…”

"Their resentment and hatred have nothing to do with us."

Jiang Yueming was stunned for a moment, his Adam's apple bobbed, but he didn't utter a single word. After a long while, he slowly slid down to the ground as if all his strength had left him.

Seeing the redness in his eyes, Li Leshan felt a pang of pain in his heart. For some reason, seeing Jiang Yueming cry made him want to cry too.

In the dimly lit room, the lamp that was supposed to be providing illumination was now extremely dim, offering only a faint light. The two people leaned against the door, their shoulders pressed tightly together.

Li Leshan turned to look at him, pointed to his own heart, and then to Jiang Yueming's heart. "I haven't forgotten her. She's in my heart."

"You haven't forgotten her either; she's still in your heart."

She lives on in their hearts, vividly alive. No one can say they've forgotten, or that she's been forgotten. This feeling, this memory, this pain, is etched into their very being, connected to their very bones, and cannot be erased. Perhaps with the passage of time, it will fade somewhat, but how much time will pass, and to what extent, no one knows.

Slowly, Jiang Yueming grasped Li Leshan's hand, as if it were the only anchor in a vast ocean. His palm was slightly cool, while Li Leshan's hand was warm. Everything around them was an illusion; only this place was real.

Li Leshan remained motionless, like a silent mountain. He let Jiang Yueming lean on his shoulder. After a long while, when he felt the shoulder beside him finally stop trembling, he looked down and saw that Jiang Yueming had closed her eyes.

He leaned on Li Leshan's shoulder, feeling a little tired but also very, very safe and secure.

Sleep. Li Leshan squeezed his hand, silently thinking in his heart, I'm here, I'm watching over you, I believe in you.

Time flowed quietly. Li Leshan's gaze fell on a spot on the wall, yet it seemed to penetrate the wall and land in a more distant place.

The rain outside had stopped, and all was quiet except for a solitary lamp on the sewing machine table, which illuminated two figures embracing each other.

He knew that Jiang Yueming's wounds wouldn't heal from a night of crying. Those hurtful words and the fear and stubbornness buried deep in his heart... might have taken root, and might one day make a comeback.

but.

He leaned gently against Jiang Yueming, lowered his head, and pressed his cheek against Jiang's damp, cold hair.

He is here.

He will always be here.

Until the darkness receded and dawn broke.