The New Year is coming to an end, and the air is filled with the atmosphere of bidding farewell to the old and welcoming the new. After dinner one day, 놖 casually asked her, "께敏, the New Year is coming soon, do you want to go home?" She was originally cleaning up the dishes, but suddenly she stopped. The air was quiet for a few seconds, and then she slowly turned around. The usual bright smile on her face faded, replaced by a complex emotion that had been hidden for a long time and was finally about to break out. In that kitchen filled with a faint smell of oil smoke and the lingering fragrance of food, she revealed to 놖 for the first time the heaviest page in her life.
Her voice was very soft, but it was like a blunt instrument hitting my chest. She said that she and her sister Peng Xiaohui had completely lost their mother when they were only three years old. The father who should have been their safe haven was addicted to alcoholism and gambling, and in another uncontrolled rage, he accidentally beat their mother to death. His bloody fist earned him a suspended death sentence, which completely shattered the sisters' ignorant world.
No one dared to touch the orphans who were burdened with family shame and bad luck. In the end, the cold gate of the orphanage accepted their fear and helplessness. The years of growing up in the orphanage were deeply engraved on the gray background.
Later, Yue Mingyuan learned about their plight during a condolence activity, and out of sympathy, he began to provide long-term financial support. This timely help supported the two sisters to grow up and study until they were finally able to stand on their own feet in this world.
She said that this was the first half of their entire lives. The coldness of being abandoned and the loneliness of struggling alone were like cold water that forged her into an extremely independent and even stubborn character early on.
She finally understood what kind of heavy gratitude made Yue Mingyuan take it for granted to drive the sisters; their difficult past also made her feel unspeakable pain.
"Let me massage your back." She spoke softly, with a sense of initiative seeking comfort.
He turned his head and looked at the faint traces of fatigue on her face. He couldn't bear it: "You've lived a day, you've worked hard enough, take a break."
She shook her head, a faint but stubborn smile appeared on the corner of her mouth, and her fingers had tentatively placed on my shoulders and neck: "Only when my hands are busy, I feel at ease and feel that... my life is full." Her fingertips were covered with thin calluses, and the force began to slowly penetrate in, and her voice seemed to calm down with the movement, "To be honest, these days here are the days that are most like 'home'. Uncle and aunt treat me like their own daughter, caring and loving me. And Xixi is such a smart person, she sticks to me and calls me 'sister', and is as lovable as if she had a younger sister..."
The natural attachment she showed when she mentioned her parents made her look up at their bedroom door subconsciously. The door had quietly closed at some point. As if it was a tacit agreement, the old couple coaxed Xixi into the house early, leaving the private world of the living room, along with the hazy lights and the subtle atmosphere, completely to her and her. The intention was self-evident - in their eyes, Peng Xiaomin, who was diligent, considerate and liked by Xixi, was undoubtedly the best candidate to fill that position. This eager matchmaking made her feel mixed emotions for a while.
Silence flowed in the rhythm of the massage for a while. She spoke carefully, trying to touch the person she didn't want to touch: "Jiu Min... Count the days, your father should be here by now, right?"
The fingers on the back of his neck paused for a moment, and then she pressed down with more force, kneading along the taut muscle lines, as if she wanted to crush something invisible. "He came last year." Her voice was flat, as if she was stating something that had nothing to do with her. "It was Yue Mingyuan. His hometown gave him a small house to stay in. After all these years in prison... he has learned to be a 'good boy' and doesn't make trouble anymore, except... he still can't quit drinking, and he gets drunk all the time, but he's... well-behaved." The word "well-behaved" squeezed out from between her teeth, with a chill like ice chips.
The clear pain behind 놖's neck was a direct release of her suppressed hatred. 놖 endured the discomfort and said softly: "No matter how big a mistake he made in the past, the suffering in prison these years can be regarded as paying off the debt. You... should try to let it go. Carrying hatred is too heavy."
She didn't respond. In response, the pressure on her shoulders suddenly intensified, and the soreness spread instantly. This silent force declared more directly than any words: Let go? How easy is that!
He took a deep breath and changed the topic: "Your sister... doesn't she plan to go back to see him?"
"Hmph!" She uttered a short nasal sound, full of disdain and resentment, and she stopped massaging. The air seemed to freeze for a moment.
놖 was a little interested: "You guys...are having a conflict?"
Her fingers started moving again, but her strength had weakened a little. Her voice was muffled, with obvious grievance and stubbornness: "Why? Just because... I moved in. She... she was right!" The simple word "right" was like a thorn that pierced her heart and threw up another unsolved mystery.
"Why is she right?" He blurted out doubts, and his brows tightened unconsciously.
께敏놇놖's hands that were massaging her back suddenly stopped. She didn't answer immediately. 꿯땤 walked around to her and leaned over slightly. Her clear eyes looked straight into hers, with scrutiny and a hint of subtle nervousness: "Guan Hongjun," she lowered her voice, a little tentatively, "Do you really not know, or...are you pretending to be confused with me?"
Her sudden approach and straightforward questioning made 놖뀞's head tremble. 놖 took a step back and sat on the soft sofa, leaning forward slightly, meeting her inquiring gaze, and said frankly: "놖 really doesn't know. Why should I pretend to be ignorant about this matter?"
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