Chapter 65
The monitor emitted a piercing long beep. Mu Zhengxi held Jiang Wenqing's hand, his palm gently stroking her soft, cool cheek. "Wenqing, you've persevered for so long. You must have had a tough time too."
If you can't find an escape route, then in another time and space, you must live a peaceful, healthy, and happy life.
Faced with Jiang Wenqing's departure, Mu Zhengxi showed unprecedented calmness, not even shedding a single tear, at least in front of everyone. Zeng Yuan watched his composed face as he politely received the guests. The rebellious boy whose every rib seemed to scream "rebellion" was finally showing some of the composure that she and her husband had demanded.
But for some reason, facing Mu Zhengxi, who was defined as grown up, made her feel inexplicably flustered, as if something was slipping away from her fingertips and she could no longer hold on to it.
Apart from the house in the family compound, which was inherited by his grandson Mu Zhengxi, all the other property under Jiang Wenqing's name belonged to his daughter Zeng Yuan.
After the funeral, the lawyer handed Mu Zhengxi a letter that Jiang Wenqing had written when he made his will.
Mu Zhengxi went back to the family compound. Minxia had tidied the house very cleanly. Mu Zhengxi didn't let her throw away any of Jiang Wenqing's belongings and put them back in their usual place.
On the locked top shelf of the bedside table, there was a tin box containing eight letters from home and several torn and pieced-together photographs.
In Jiang Wenqing's lens, the daughter is actually the first to take center stage, not the grandson.
This iron box wasn't discovered until Mu Zhengxi was thirty-two years old, when his family compound was demolished. Now, its existence has been revealed ahead of schedule.
The fact that Mu Zhengting survived the skiing accident but became a vegetable completely devastated Zeng Yuan, worsening her bipolar disorder. Mu Zhengxi inevitably became the vessel for her anger.
In a rare moment of clarity and calm, Mu Zhengxi uttered a pleading question for the first time, seeking a bit of maternal love that would allow him to continue enduring.
This only resulted in Zeng Yuan's even more hysterical breakdown: "Then what do you want me to do? What else do I need to do? You already have all of my mother's love, isn't that enough?"
So that's how it is. The mother and son are ridiculously alike, their jealousy and longing intertwined, trapping them within the answer.
Mu Zhengxi returned home.
Knock on Zeng Yuan's study.
"Enter."
Only a dim desk lamp illuminated the study, barely casting light on a tired face behind the desk. The person who entered brought in a beam of light from outside. Mu Zhengxi placed the box he was carrying on the desk, carefully considering his words, "It was left to you by your mother."
Zeng Yuan's gaze slid from Mu Zhengxi to the rusty iron box, she frowned slightly, and did not reach out to take it immediately.
Mu Zhengxi said, "When I was little, the thing she said most often was that I looked a lot like you. I guess that's why she was against you leaving me at Spruce Temple and insisted on bringing me back."
There were still questions he wanted to ask, but it was pointless now. After finishing his sentence, Mu Zhengxi left the study.
Zeng Yuan reached out and took the metal box, placing her palm on its cold surface. After a long while, she mustered the courage to open it.
The moment I opened it, tears streamed down my face.
So much hatred—hatred for her abandoning her, hatred for her beloved career, hatred for her decisive and strong personality—but in the end, what she hated most was that she didn't love her.
The collapse of city walls is far more likely to cause casualties than their construction.
Mu Zhengxi carefully used a blade to open the envelope, pulled out the white letter inside, and found that the handwriting on the paper was neat and clear.
I am your maternal grandmother, Jiang Wenqing.
This was the first thing I said to you the day we met at Spruce Temple.
I remember it clearly. You looked at me with great curiosity. You didn't call me Grandma, but you remembered the name Wenqing.
Today, June 17, 2002, is the day I am writing this letter. It is your elementary school graduation ceremony. Soon in September, you will celebrate your 12th birthday and officially become a junior high school student.
As your maternal grandmother, I am so glad that I did not miss this important moment today. But as your mother, I have missed your mother's growth all my life. I am an incompetent mother who was only responsible for giving birth but not for raising her.
This compensation is all I can give my daughter as a mother, so I'm sorry, and I believe you can understand my decision.
I secretly hope that you receive this letter later, after you've come of age, or even more greedily, after you've started a family and have children. But if not, no matter what happens, please make sure you eat well, sleep well, and take good care of yourself. You don't need to become an extraordinary person; just be an ordinary, average, and occasionally childish adult. That's all I hope for you.
Your maternal grandmother, Jiang Wenqing.
Growing up isn't about evolving to shed tears; it's simply about taking away some rights that we used to take for granted, like being able to cry.
Do goldfish really only have a seven-second memory? If so, does that mean that in their daily interactions, they have to repeat the process of forgetting and getting to know each other countless times, and their memories of each other will forever remain at the initial self-introduction?
But how can they talk about love then?
Jiang Jiawei stared blankly at the fish tank for a while while waiting for Jiang Jiayi to finish her shower.
The spring rain falls softly, and the heavy workload rolls forward with time. Fleeting thoughts are like dust in the air, and the weight of a test paper is enough to make them overwhelmed.
During the rainy season, every pore breathes moisture, turning the classroom into a still pond covered with green algae and moss.
The news from Xu Yue shattered the calm surface of the pool, causing ripples to spread outwards in concentric circles.
The words "pregnancy" and "abortion" falling on a teenage girl are like a bucket of sudden, unexpected red paint, its sticky, fishy smell covering the once-clean lintel of her life. Contemptuous yet meaningless words of pity ferment in the damp air, where mold grows rampant.
The growing pains of adolescence come not only from the bones that stretch the flesh, but also from the prematurely and forcedly matured heart inside the chest cavity. The swelling sensitivity and weight squeeze the tender veins, making it even more suffocating.
Jiang Jiawei sat on the two steps behind Zhang Chao. Her thin shoulder blades were like fragile newborn wings, barely supporting her oversized school uniform jacket. Her hunched back trembled, and she buried her head in her arms. Her loud crying was a betrayal of the self-esteem and masculinity that she had built up at this age.
She turned her face away, and then, unable to bear it, tears streamed down her face.
Chen Jingyu, who had just returned from the infirmary with her medicine, slowed her pace as she approached Zhang Chao. Zhao Zhipeng and Cai Zejun, who had helped break up the fight earlier, stood in front of her, forming a wall and silently shaking their heads.
Chen Jingyu then walked around half of the teaching building, downstairs, and sat next to Jiang Jiawei, gesturing to her to her hand that had been accidentally injured.
The evergreens of this spring were like an old object forgotten at the bottom of the water, until they were pulled up two months later. The stench of decay that permeated the water became the only conclusive, pungent evidence of this long rainy season.
At first, Chen Jingyu would ask about Mu Zhengxi, but after Jiang Jiawei answered with silence, she stopped asking.
She put her arm around her shoulder and said, "It's okay, there are plenty of men in the world. We'll pick better ones when we get to college."
Jiang Jiawei simply smiled while biting her milk straw.
The red scores from the weekly mock exams are tangible and visible. As the countdown to the college entrance exam goes from three digits to two digits, those melancholic feelings become insignificant again, gradually drying up at the end of spring.
The snow in Hanyang has stopped.
Mu Zhengxi moved from his home to the family compound and went back to his old room. Although he couldn't fully stretch out his body when he fell asleep on the narrow single bed, he slept more soundly and no longer woke up frequently in the middle of the night with the heart palpitation of fear that someone had broken in.
"Wenqing, I'm going to school."
I pushed open the door, said goodbye as usual, pulled my bicycle out of the building, and rode out the door.
Xu Zizhao was busy taking the TOEFL exam. His previously laissez-faire attitude was somehow stimulated, and he began to work hard. Contrary to his usual behavior, he vowed to go to university on his own.
Yan Yuheng has also received his admission notice.
So, apart from Xu Zizhao, the two of them had a lot more free time in the second semester of their senior year. Under Mu Shaoqing's arrangement, they both went to work at an information technology company doing odd jobs.
The taciturn Mu Zhengxi, who could sit obediently at the dinner table until the end, and who followed the adults' arrangements, brushed off the dust of rebellion and transformed into a model child.
This praise left him bewildered, because the truth was that whether he went to the dinner party or accepted all of Mu Shaoqing's orders, it was simply a choice made when he didn't know what to do and had nowhere to kill time.
Aside from his routine between home, school, and company, the aquarium at the flower and bird market became the only place Mu Zhengxi was interested in.
The young man stood silently and intently in front of the fish tank for a long time. He seemed to be looking at the fish, but then again, he wasn't. When asked if he needed anything, the shop owner always replied that he already had many fish at home. At first, the shop owner was a little annoyed, but his presence often attracted young women to come into the shop and stop by.
Separated by a glass tank.
The boy asked the girl, "Do you think she has feelings for me?"
"It's hard to say. I don't think you're her ideal type. Just looking at your appearance, you're not her type at all. After knowing Zhao Ting for so many years, how could I not know her?"
"Ideal type is a false proposition. You said your ideal type was Takeshi Kaneshiro, but now you've found Wei Xiaobao. What's the connection between the two?"
"Damn, I'd like to find Takeshi Kaneshiro. Okay, come on, tell me, what made you think Zhao Ting was interested in you?"
"Didn't she bring me medicine to my dorm when I had a cold last time? And this weekend, she even asked me to go to an art exhibition. Doesn't that count?"
"Brother, the reason she brought you cold medicine last time was because you called Weihao. We were both in the lab at the time. Weihao was going on a date with his girlfriend and asked her to run errands. Also, the art exhibition this weekend is because I'm busy. You happen to be free, okay?"
Eavesdropping wasn't my intention; it was just a matter of volume.
Mu Zhengxi felt that this conversation was strangely familiar. It must have taken place on Changqing Street in late spring or early summer, with two people squatting in front of a convenience store, each eating an ice pop.
Liu Xinze's appearance at that time set off alarm bells in his mind, prompting him to ask the most demoralizing question of his life.
"So, what do you think... how does your sister feel about me?"
"To be honest, I don't think you're my sister's ideal type, but you can still give it a try."
"Ideal type my ass! Haven't you heard people say that the people you end up with aren't your ideal type?"
"Who said that? Which family?"
"Everyone, everyone, the majority."
"Tch... You don't like it when I tell you the truth, so why did you ask me? Besides, have you known my sister longer or have I known her longer?"
"...So what if he's not my ideal type now? He'll be sooner or later anyway!"
"Hey bro, we can be confident, but let's not be blindly confident, okay?"
Then, like setting up dominoes, he carefully laid out all sorts of evidence, such as Jiang Jiawei bringing him water when playing basketball, reminding him not to forget to bring his clothes, remembering his taste preferences, and taking good care of the goldfish he bought... meticulously presenting proof that Jiang Jiawei was also special to him.
As a result, Jiang Jiayi easily overturned them all with a single finger.
"So what? That's just my sister's personality, and that's how she treats me too. Maybe she really does see you as a younger brother."
When Jiang Jiayi moved out, he was initially jealous and questioned Jiang Jiawei about why she was so good to Mu Zhengxi. Jiang Jiawei replied that it was because Mu Zhengxi was also a child, just as naive as him.
Mu Zhengxi was furious but couldn't find a better rebuttal. Then Jiang Jiawei came out of the school gate, and her classmates greeted her, "Your two younger brothers are here to wait for you."
She smiled and said yes.
The last domino, which was already on the verge of collapse, was finally destroyed.
Fortunately, seventeen-year-old Jiang Jiawei hadn't fallen for him yet.
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