To be continued
The mountain road was rugged. Following Zhao Zhiling's vague memory, the group finally stopped in front of a long stone staircase.
The stone steps were narrow and covered in moss, clearly untouched for a long time. At the end of the steps, an old but still intact old-fashioned bungalow could be vaguely seen.
Jin Changan sat quietly on a bluestone stool in front of the bungalow.
In his arms, he was holding a violin case tightly, the black shell of which had the paint peeling off in many places.
There was a tranquil and peaceful expression on his face, as if he was immersed in some inaudible melodious music.
Jin Cang, Xiang Yang, Yao Fengqin and Zhao Zhiling approached slowly, lightly walking, for fear of disturbing him.
Finally they found it, and the stone in everyone's heart fell a little.
"Old Jin." Yao Fengqin lowered her voice and called softly.
"Dad." Jin Cang's voice was dry and hoarse.
Jin Changan raised his head, his gaze lingered on Jin Cang's face for a moment, and then he revealed a faint smile.
"You're here?" he whispered, then raised his index finger to his lips, "Shh... your brother is in class inside, don't disturb him."
Jin Cang squatted in front of him, reached out and held his father's wrinkled hands, which were dry and slightly cold.
Jin Changan's eyes drifted off into the distance, as if gazing into a distant time: "Your brother has what we call talent, something he was born with.
You said that playing the violin is so difficult. Zhiling from Fengqin's family complained about the hardship and refused to come after just two lessons.
Alas, your brother's hand, which was pressing the strings, was red and swollen. He smiled and said to me, "Dad, I can't play well now, but I will improve soon. When the time comes, I will play any song you want to hear for you..."
Xiang Yang, Yao Fengqin and Zhao Zhiling stood aside, listening silently.
Jin Changan spoke to himself, very softly, his words filled with happiness, as if the Jin Yu he was talking about was really in that room at that moment, practicing the piano intently...
In Jin Changan's eyes, those dusty scenes were as vivid as yesterday. That was when Jin Yu was eight years old.
Time goes back. Moist sunlight shines through the green leaves of the bamboo forest beside the stone steps, casting dancing, lively shadows.
The young Jin Changan, holding his son Jin Yu's hand, walked on the long stone steps.
Little Jin Yu, carrying the shiny black violin case in his hand, walked with some difficulty.
Suddenly, he moved the violin case to his other hand, then stretched out his empty left hand and tightly held his father's broad hand.
The father and son, hand in hand, bathed in the poetic spring breeze, walked step by step towards the piano room on the mountain.
At this moment, Jin Changan's consciousness was lingering in the warm memory from which he did not want to wake up, and his breathing gradually became even and deep.
He leaned in Jin Cang's arms and fell into a deep sleep.
Xiangyang stepped forward and worked together with Jin Cang to carefully carry Jin Changan's body onto Jin Cang's back.
Jin Cang's steps were a little labored, but extremely determined. He carried his father on his back and walked down the long steps covered with moss from the years, step by step.
Xiangyang walked at the end, his eyes fixed on the figure of Jin Cang carrying his father on his back in front of him.
Jin Cang's young and strong back is now bearing the weight of the family.
This scene touched upon a memory that had been deliberately sealed somewhere in Xiangyang's heart, a scar that had been there for years and was aching slightly.
He couldn't help but think of that late night. It was just like that. He and his brother Xiang Hai, two twelve-year-old teenagers, were just as lost and helpless, searching everywhere for their missing mother, Nie Xiangling...
The tide of memories came and pulled Xiangyang back to Beijing nearly twenty years ago.
That night, Nie Xiangling disappeared again.
Thirty-six-year-old Nie Xiangling is slender and beautiful, with the sensitivity and fragility unique to a poet.
Postpartum depression triggered the schizophrenia hidden in her genes, causing her to often fall into a trance.
Despite long-term treatment, the disease continues to recur stubbornly.
Whenever she fell ill and "suddenly disappeared", her twin sons would once again fall into great panic and fear.
This is not the first time Nie Xiangling has disappeared.
At that time, Xiang Yaozu was already an internationally renowned film director, famous and extremely busy.
However, whenever the brothers needed their father the most, he was always away. Whenever Nie Xiangling disappeared again, the brothers always had to face it alone.
On the outskirts of Beijing, behind the Xiang family mansion, there is a dense birch forest.
The moon was full and the stars were sparse, but because they were far from the mansion, the trees were tall and dense, making the woods seem particularly dark and eerie. That night, it was late autumn and the chill was biting, but Xiang Hai and Xiang Yang were only wearing thin pajamas and even indoor slippers, obviously rushing out of the house in a hurry.
The two brothers had grown taller, each holding a flashlight, the beams of light swaying frantically in the dark forest as they searched anxiously.
Xiangyang took out his cell phone and called his father Xiang Yaozu over and over again, but the receiver always came back with a busy tone.
"No! He's never here! What do we want a dad like that for?"
Xiangyang's voice was filled with anger and helplessness, almost like a roar.
"Don't howl," Xiang Hai's voice was relatively calm. He put his arm around his brother's shoulders and softened his tone. "Yangyang, don't panic. I'm here with you, right?"
"But we are only twelve years old!" Xiangyang's voice was filled with tears.
"It's okay, twelve is old enough."
Xiang Hai tried to make his voice sound more trustworthy. "Yangyang, don't be afraid. Let's search separately. We were the ones who found it last time, right? The police are no match for us two."
In the center of the birch forest, there is a small octagonal pavilion.
After discussing, the two brothers decided to split up and look for it along the paths on both sides of the pavilion.
The night was too dark. Xiangyang walked a few steps alone. The darkness around him was like a tangible monster, which frightened him and he retreated.
"Brother," he called out softly, his voice trembling, "Hei, I'm scared."
Xiang Hai turned around and shook his brother's cold hand very, very firmly: "Okay, let's go together."
His hands were shaking, too.
The two brothers held hands, walked around the pavilion, and continued to grope in the forest with the faint light of the flashlight.
After a lot of effort, they finally saw their mother's figure under an old tree not far ahead.
There was a dilapidated archway there. Nie Xiangling was walking barefoot, wearing a white nightgown, around the archway, round and round, looking confused and anxious.
Seeing this, Xiang Hai and Xiang Yang immediately ran over.
"Mom! Mom!" Xiang Hai spoke first, his voice as gentle as possible. "What are you looking for? I'll help you find it."
Nie Xiangling stopped and saw the two teenagers running towards her. A hollow smile appeared on her face. "That's great... My two sons are missing. I've searched everywhere, but I can't find them..."
"Your son, right?" Xiang Hai followed her words and compared his own height. "About this height? I've seen him. Let me think..."
"Great! Great!" Nie Xiangling clapped her hands happily. "Can you take me there? We have to go quickly. Yangyang is afraid of the dark. He'll cry if he doesn't see me."
"Mom! Mom! Look at me! We've grown up!"
Xiangyang couldn't help crying out.
Xiang Hai immediately stopped him with his eyes.
He bent down and said to his mother with great patience, "Mom, the road is too slippery and it's cold. Let me carry you on my back. Let's go home. They are all home."
Nie Xiangling nodded like an obedient child. "Okay, okay, we have to hurry. Don't disturb their father. He's very busy."
Xiang Hai crouched down in front of his mother. Although the twelve-year-old boy was still thin, his back was straight. "Understood. Be careful... Let's go."
He took a deep breath and used all his strength to carry his mother steadily on his back.
Xiangyang followed his brother silently, his eyes blurred with tears, and walked out of the cursed forest step by step.
Is the nightmare of memories over?
Deep within Xiangyang's subconscious lies a darkness and coldness that he resists facing even more. It happened when they were fifteen, on an afternoon when the world seemed to be crumbling...
The Xiang family mansion in Beijing sixteen years ago.
Xiang Hai and Xiang Yang, who had just entered high school, returned home from school. When they entered the house, they were chatting and laughing about interesting things that happened at school.
They walked into the bedroom the brothers shared and put down their school bags.
It was a huge bedroom, belonging to the sunny end. On the wall was a huge movie poster of "Remembrance of Things Past" by French writer Marcel Proust.
Xiangyang took off his school uniform jacket, threw it on the bed, and walked out of the room first, wanting to see his mother.
Xiang Hai packed up his books and followed Nie Xiangling out of the room. He first went to the study and then to the balcony, but he didn't see Nie Xiangling.
For no reason, he felt an ominous premonition in his heart, quickened his pace and ran up to the second floor.
As soon as I reached the stairs, I saw Xiangyang standing at the door of the master bedroom bathroom, as if nailed down, stupidly and motionless.
Xiangyang's face was filled with indescribable fear, his lips were trembling, but he couldn't make any sound.
Xiang Hai's heart sank suddenly and he rushed over in a hurry.
He looked inside the open bathroom door, and at one glance, all the blood in his body seemed to freeze in an instant.
The bathtub was filled with water. Nie Xiangling lay quietly inside, dressed as usual. Her eyes were closed, and her frighteningly pale face was filled with a peaceful and tranquil expression. One hand hung limply outside the tub, and at her wrist, a deep, long cut was visible.
Bright red blood, like rain nourishing the earth, was continuously flowing out of the wound, dripping onto the smooth bathroom floor, gathering into a shocking red ocean.
"Mom! Mom! Mom..."
Xiang Hai let out a shrill howl, his voice changing in pitch. He pushed Xiang Yang, who was blocking the door, aside and stumbled inside as if he had lost his soul.
Fifteen-year-old Xiang Yang stood there in a daze, staring at the hellish scene before him. He felt dizzy and lost, with no idea where he was or what to do. He was not even aware of his own existence...
The tragedy that happened to his mother Nie Xiangling is a grief that Xiang Yang will never be able to heal from, and it is also an iceberg that can never be removed between him and his father Xiang Yaozu.
Xiangyang struggled, trying to pull himself out of the suffocating sadness.
He subconsciously straightened his spine again and took a deep breath. The fresh air with the fragrance of bamboo leaves rushed into his lungs, slightly dispelling the depression in his heart. He took a big step and caught up with Jin Cang in front of him.
From this angle, Xiangyang just saw Jin Cang carrying his father on his back. At the moment he slightly turned sideways, a corner of a white business card was faintly visible in the back pocket of his jeans.
That was what he gave to Jin Cang when he was about to leave Taipei for the first time.
"A Cang, remember my phone number. If you have any questions in the future, call me first."
This is what he said to Jin Cang.
Xiangyang's brows slowly relaxed unconsciously, and a very faint smile even appeared on his lips, which he himself did not even notice.
Perhaps, it was this small business card that became the password key to the "To be continued" story between him and the Jin family, and between him and Ah Cang.
Frankly speaking, he was so grateful for this "To Be Continued"!
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