Chapter 54

Jincheng mornings always carry a water-washed clarity. The mist hasn't yet completely dissipated, and the moist air is mingled with the aroma of earth and the neighbor's breakfast. When Xia Wan wakes up, the branches of the old locust tree outside the window cast delicate shadows on the curtains, swaying gently.

The seat next to me was empty; my mother, Zhou Wenjuan, had already stood up. From the kitchen came the faint sound of a spatula colliding with an iron pot, and the rich aroma of millet porridge bubbling in the pot drifted into the room.

Xia Wan didn't get up immediately. She curled up in the warm quilt, feeling the familiar peace that belonged to home.

After Jiang Yu left yesterday, the mother and daughter went shopping in the county mall, bought some clothes each, had a big meal, and made a video call to Xia Yang who was far away in Shanghai.

Xia Yang, wearing a helmet, complained to them, "I want to go back too..."

"Work hard!" Xia Wan smiled and took her mother's arm, showing off to her brother.

After returning, the mother and daughter washed and packed up one after another. Xia Wan ran to Zhou Wenjuan's room holding her pillow and quilt.

"Mom, I'll sleep with you tonight..."

Zhou Wenjuan looked at her daughter and joked that she would never grow up, but her happy smile never faded from her face.

Yesterday, the two of them had tacitly agreed not to mention Jiang Yu, but that didn't mean the matter would fade into oblivion. Unlike her previous return, when she'd been completely relaxed, even a bit escapist, this time, a corner of her heart was filled, heavy, and filled with a sense of reassurance. It was Jiang Yu's solemn bow at his father's grave and his promise, "I'll take good care of Xia Wan," that had anchored her heart.

She stood up, folded her quilt, and walked to the window. Downstairs, the elderly, early risers, were already carrying bird cages or vegetable baskets, leisurely beginning their new day. Life here had a slow and steady pace, a stark contrast to the fast-paced urban pulse of Jinzhou. But she knew she would eventually return to that challenging path, only this time, her mindset would be different.

On the breakfast table, there is a simple yet warm homely style: millet porridge with rice oil, crispy cucumbers pickled by Zhou Wenjuan herself, and steaming white flour buns.

"Eat more. You look so thin." Zhou Wenjuan put a peeled egg into Xia Wan's bowl, her eyes wandering over her face with a look of heartache that was hard to conceal. "Go back to work, but don't work too hard. Your body is your own."

"I know, Mom." Xia Wan lowered her head and took a sip of porridge. The warm current slid down her esophagus, soothing her stomach and intestines.

Mother and daughter ate in silence for a while, the only sound being the gentle clinking of dishes and chopsticks. Sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, casting a bright spot on the old but clean tile floor.

"Wanwan," Zhou Wenjuan put down her chopsticks, her voice gentle, yet filled with a solemn determination. "That... Jiang Yu," she seemed unused to the name being mentioned so naturally. "Mom thought about it for a long time yesterday."

Xia Wan raised her head and looked at her mother. Her eyes were covered with fine wrinkles, and her eyes showed worry and fatigue, but more importantly, a calmness that came after a struggle.

"I hadn't seen it before, so I didn't try to stop you. Now that I've seen it, I'm a little uneasy." Zhou Wenjuan sighed, her fingers unconsciously rubbing the rough rim of the bowl. "I'm afraid. I'm afraid you'll be too tired to handle it all by yourself. I'm afraid you'll be wronged and have no one to complain to... A family like ours can't compare to others." She paused, her voice lowering. "But yesterday, at your dad's place... he was like that, and I saw him."

Xia Wan's heart seemed to be gently bumped by something, and a sour feeling instantly rose at the tip of her nose.

"For someone like him to bow like that in front of your father..." Zhou Wenjuan couldn't seem to find a more accurate word to describe the bow, so she just repeated, "Mom knows he really cares about you. At least, it's sincere now."

She reached out and placed her hand over Xia Wan's, which was resting on the table. Her hands were rough from years of hard work, yet strangely warm. "Mom can't stop you, and I don't want to. You've grown up and have your own ideas. You chose your own path, and whether the future is bitter or sweet, you'll have to taste it yourself. Mom still says the same thing," she said, looking into her daughter's eyes, word by word, "If... if there ever comes a day when you feel wronged or sad, don't force yourself, come home. Here, I'll always have food for you and a place for you to stay."

There were no grandiose blessings, only the simplest concessions and the most solid support. Xia Wan didn't cry this time; a faint smile formed at the corners of her mouth. She held her mother's hand tightly with her backhand, smiling sweetly and happily, "Thank you, Mom... I... I'll be fine."

She could not make an absolute guarantee, and the future was still full of uncertainty, but her mother's understanding and unconditional acceptance gave her unprecedented courage.

At the same time, on the speeding "Harmony" train.

Jiang Yu leaned against the window, his gaze fixed on the rapidly receding northern plains. The fields were vast expanses of green, occasionally glimpsing quiet villages and upright poplar trees, like a series of flowing landscape paintings.

A familiar, long, deep, dull pain lingered in his right shoulder blade, reminding him of the terrifying accident not long ago. But his mind was unusually clear, even with a long-lost calmness.

He took out his phone, unlocked it, and the screen stayed on the chat interface with Li Mo. He sent a new message:

"Schedule a follow-up appointment with the Orthopedics Department at Jinzhou First Hospital at 9:00 AM tomorrow. Contact Professor Zhang for a comprehensive rehabilitation evaluation. Also, send me a list of urgent tasks that require my attention next week."

The tone was customary terse, efficient, and unquestionable.

After sending the message, he put away his phone and looked out the window again. His mind drifted back to that slightly dated, yet still full of traces of life, home in Jincheng. Mother Xia's cautious yet concerned gaze, the steaming home-cooked meal on the table, and... the black-and-white photo of Father Xia, his face radiating a gentle smile, on his tombstone.

For over thirty years, the concept of "home" had been associated primarily with cold, spacious mansions, strict etiquette, and long, overseas phone calls. It represented responsibility, discipline, and a certain insurmountable alienation. But this time, in Jincheng, in that small apartment, before the solemn tombstone of Xia's father, he felt for the first time a completely different kind of warmth—a bond mingled with the everyday, with subtle friction yet incredibly tenacious, and a sense of security that he was willing to protect with his life.

He didn't return empty-handed. He brought back a heavy responsibility and a clear goal. He needed to get better quickly, not only physically, but also in terms of his ability to handle the complex family relationships. He couldn't let Xia Wan face the storms of his world alone.

The train rolled along steadily, the tracks stretching off into the distance, stretching towards the reality he must return to and strive for. He closed his eyes slightly, feeling the warmth of the sun shining through the window onto his face. He seemed to sense the faint fragrance of her, lingering on his windbreaker in that small northern town, and the weight of the promise that had reassured him.