Chapter 10 Mother Jiang
Sunlight streamed through the small attic window, warmly bathing Jiang Yining's face. She groggily opened her eyes, and the moment her consciousness returned, she abruptly sat up.
"cell phone."
She frantically groped around on the bed and finally grabbed the cold, square phone. The screen lit up, and the battery was fully charged. Then, as if it had been holding back for too long, the phone began vibrating wildly, instantly flooding the notification bar—dozens of unread text messages, and… hundreds of red missed call alerts, all from the same number.
Jiang Yining's heart sank, and her fingers trembled slightly as she opened the text message.
First question: "Is it Ningning?"
The second message: "Ningning, is that you? Call Mom back."
Article 3: "Please, return the call..."
...
The further along the text went, the shorter and more fragmented the sentences became, carrying with them obvious anxiety, fear, and the last vestige of hope that refused to be extinguished. Jiang Yining could almost picture her mother glued to the phone, sending these messages over and over again, her journey from initial hope to eventual despair.
Her nose tingled with emotion. Before she could finish reading all the messages, that familiar number, almost etched into her soul, stubbornly flickered on the screen again.
The vibrations were particularly jarring in the quiet attic. Jiang Yining stared at the name, her heart pounding in her chest, her throat tightening, and her palms instantly becoming covered in cold sweat.
I was a hundred times more nervous than when I first dialed the number. The phone rang and automatically hung up. The screen went dark for less than two seconds before it persistently lit up and vibrated again.
This time, she took a deep breath and pressed the answer button with all her might. The receiver was pressed against her ear, and a brief, silent static came through.
Then came the mother's suppressed trembling and extremely cautious probing, "Hello...? Is... is this Ningning?" Every word seemed to be squeezed out from her dry throat, with a heavy nasal tone and a hoarse voice from not having slept all night.
Jiang Yining opened her mouth, but her throat felt blocked, and she couldn't make a sound. Only a torrent of tears blurred her vision and silently slid down her cheeks.
The silence on the other end of the phone seemed to confirm some suspicion. Jiang's mother's voice suddenly lowered, carrying a self-deprecating, overwhelming sorrow; broken sobs came clearly from the receiver:
"Ha... I knew it... I knew it was fake... It's fine if she's a fraud... At least... at least let me hear her voice again... My Ningning... I've been... I've been..."
That broken, tearful soliloquy stabbed into Jiang Yining's heart like a dull knife! She could no longer hold back and, with all her might, cried out in a heavy sob, "Mom, it's me, it's Ningning, your precious daughter Ningning."
There was a sudden silence on the other end of the phone; even breathing ceased. Jiang Yining knew this was absurd, unbelievable. She had to explain, even if her mother thought she was crazy.
She spoke rapidly: "Mom, I know I died in that car accident eight years ago, and I don't know what happened. When I woke up again, it was eight years later. I woke up in someone else's body, in the body of a florist girl also named Jiang Yining. Mom... I know this is absurd, like something out of a novel... but it's true, do you believe me?"
There was a deathly silence on the other end of the phone for a few seconds. Then, Jiang's mother's voice rang out again, "I believe you, I believe you, Ningning. Mommy believes you. Tell Mommy, where are you? Mommy will come find you right now." Her voice rose with emotion, carrying an undeniable determination.
Hearing her mother's unwavering "I believe you," Jiang Yining felt a huge weight lift from her heart. "Mom, I'm at 369 Guangming Road in H City, at 'Ning Yu Hua Fang,' it's a small flower shop." She quickly gave the address, then subconsciously asked, "Mom, do you... do you still live in that alley in our old house? The one with the big banyan tree at the entrance?"
This extremely detailed question about her hometown was like a precise key, instantly unlocking the last bit of doubt in Jiang's mother's heart.
Her hand holding the phone trembled violently, and her voice shook uncontrollably: "Yes...yes, the old alley, the big banyan tree...it's all gone now. The government demolished it years ago, and it's now a central square. Ningning...you..."
“Mom,” Jiang Yining took a deep breath, deciding to use something more private, something only she and her daughter would know, to completely prove herself. She lowered her voice, with a touch of childish shyness.
"Mom, do you remember when I was five years old, I wet the bed that summer? I was so afraid you'd scold me, so I secretly pulled off the wet sheet and stuffed it under my little brother Yunting's bed. He slipped on the wet sheet the next morning and cried his eyes out."
On the other end of the phone, Jiang's mother's breath hitched. This little "wrongful conviction" that only she and her daughter knew, and that even Jiang's father and Yunting were kept in the dark, was the most private little secret between her and Ningning, a secret that was both funny and guilty. She had never mentioned it to anyone.
"And...and..." Jiang Yining's voice choked with emotion, filled with longing and dependence, "During the most stressful winter of my senior year of high school, I stayed up all night studying. You were worried I'd be cold, so every night you'd secretly slip a hand warmer into my desk drawer. It was wrapped in your old handkerchief, and on it, you'd embroider a tiny 'Ning' character with red thread."
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