Curse and Redemption
The air at the doorway seemed to freeze.
Shixu stood there, like a taut sculpture, awaiting final judgment. His gaze was fragile and vulnerable, as if a single word of denial from Yunxi could shatter him completely. What he feared was not the revelation of his childhood secrets, but whether the endless cycle of hell that would follow once this door to the past was opened would frighten her away.
Looking at his pale face and those uneasy eyes, Yunxi felt her heart clench as if gripped tightly by an invisible hand, a sharp, aching pain gripping her. She shook her head, her voice soft: "No. I don't remember anything specific. It's just... I found this."
She handed the photo in her hand to him.
Shi Xu's gaze fell on the photograph, looking at the two innocent children, and at the line of childish pencil writing on the back. His tense body swayed almost imperceptibly. He reached out and took the photograph, his fingertips gently stroking the smiling little girl in it. His eyes surged with a tidal wave of emotions—longing, pain, and a cherished memory that hadn't faded even after countless cycles of time—a complex mix that was chilling.
"So," Yunxi looked at him and asked softly, "you really... saved me?"
Shi Xu slowly raised his head, gazing intently at her, as if trying to etch her image into the depths of his soul. He nodded, his voice low and hoarse: "Mm." This acknowledgment, a single, light word, concealed the "first cause" of all tragedy, something he could not change even after countless rewinds of time.
He held the photo tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force, as if it were his only piece of driftwood.
"Would you... tell me?" Yunxi stepped aside, gesturing for him to come in. "What exactly happened that day by the river?"
Shi Xu walked in silently and closed the door. He didn't sit down, but leaned against the wall in the entryway, as if he needed that support. He lowered his eyes, staring at the photograph in his hand, and began his labored narration, his voice seeming to drift from a great distance. He was recounting the "initial event" etched at the starting point of reincarnation.
“That day…it was very hot. I went with my mother to my maternal grandmother’s house, which is your small town. I ran to the river to play by myself and saw you squatting by the river, reaching out to try to catch…a small fish in the water.” He spoke very slowly, as if each word required a great deal of effort.
“The stones by the river were slippery. You… fell in.” His voice trembled slightly. “The water wasn’t actually deep, but it was terrifying for us at the time. You were struggling and crying in the water…” This scene played out repeatedly in his later reincarnations in various forms, each time with the water becoming deeper, colder, and more despairing.
Yunxi held his breath, as if he could see that thrilling scene through his description.
“I was terrified, but I remember the water only came up to my chest. I jumped in and desperately pulled you to shore.” He closed his eyes, his brow furrowed, as if he could still feel the panic and fear he felt at the time. “You choked on water and kept crying. I finally managed to push you to the shore and climbed up myself. We were both soaking wet and shivering with cold…”
He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was filled with even deeper pain: "You were terrified and kept crying. I... I didn't know what to do, so I just held you and patted your back like a little adult, saying, 'Don't be afraid, don't be afraid, brother is here.'" This unintentional promise later became a curse that bound his soul.
"Later, your mother and my mother came looking for you after hearing the noise... and took you away. As you left, you were still sobbing and looking back at me..." He opened his eyes, staring blankly ahead. "That was the last time I saw you. Not long after, my mother... her condition worsened, and we left that place and never went back." His mother's death and her "loss" together formed the prelude to the collapse of his world.
The living room was silent except for his heavy, suppressed breathing.
Yunxi finally understood. She understood why he was so sensitive to "the riverside," and where his extraordinary obsession came from. At that innocent age, he was not only her playmate, but also the one who reached out to her in times of crisis, offering her comfort and protection. That fledgling-like dependence and trust was deeply etched into his heart that summer.
However, what followed was the death of his mother, a drastic change in his life, and a forced separation. She became the last bit of warmth and light in his bleak childhood memories, and also the unfulfilled protection he could never truly protect in countless reincarnations to come.
“I’m sorry…” Shi Xu’s voice pulled her back from her thoughts. He looked up, his eyes slightly red, filled with self-blame and pain. “I’m sorry, Yunxi. I used the wrong methods. I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have schemed against you like a pervert, followed you, and painstakingly tried to get close to you… I…” He was apologizing not only for this “premeditation,” but also for the forty-nine previous attempts, perhaps using more extreme and wrong methods, yet all of them had failed.
He became incoherent; all his composure and self-control crumbled at that moment, leaving only primal unease and remorse.
Seeing him like this, all of Yunxi's doubts and the slight resentment caused by the "scheming" vanished. In their place was an overwhelming feeling of heartache.
She stepped forward, reached out, and gently embraced his trembling body.
Shi Xu froze, the rest of his words stuck in his throat.
"No need to apologize." Yunxi's voice rang in his ear, gentle yet firm. "Shixu, thank you. Thank you for saving me back then."
She felt his body tremble even more violently.
“And,” she paused, hugging him tighter, “didn’t you find me?”
These words, like a ray of light, instantly dispelled all the gloom and pain in his eyes. "Find it back." This word carried immense weight for him. It meant that, in this "fiftieth round," before achieving the ultimate goal of "protection," he had at least achieved unprecedented success in the initial step of "retrieval."
His stiff body slowly softened, and he reached out to hug her tightly, burying his face in the crook of her neck like a child who had been lost for a long time and had finally returned home. In this embrace lay the weight of fifty lifetimes of searching, despair, and reunion.
This time, it's not the undercurrents beneath the ice, but rather a mutual embrace under the sunlight.
The secret by the river was finally revealed, and the protection that began in childhood, after many twists and turns, reconnected them in a deeper way.
The past has not been forgotten.
The future is already within reach. —Although only time knows how many bloody warning signs he brought from the past lie on this seemingly "promising" path to the future.
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