Chapter 146 Family Gathering 1 It Turns Out to Be a Veteran Old Man from Abroad (Timeline...)
After returning from the police station and getting everything sorted out, it was already past nine o'clock at night.
The temperature difference between day and night in Los Angeles is huge. During the day, it's so hot that you can see the steam making the asphalt road twist and dance as you stand at the window. At this time, there are only gusts of dry and cool wind that make you hunch your shoulders.
You have returned "home". While the landlord and his wife are parking their car, you look up at the room you rented on the second floor of their house.
While you were at the police station dealing with this farce, the police also came to your room to collect evidence.
You remember opening the window after lunch for ventilation and not closing it afterwards. The police didn't seem to notice, leaving the window wide open, with air flowing between inside and outside, and the curtains fluttering lightly outside.
At first glance, it looks like a woman in a white dress leaning out of your window.
You were startled, shuddered, and got goosebumps all over your body.
"Honey, come in!" Landlady Susan beckons you from the doorway, and you readily agree, crossing the garden to the front door of the house.
Susan's face was kind and concerned—she probably wasn't much older than your mother. Her spouse, Alan, slowly retrieved some tools or something from the garage, then came up behind you, took your coat, hung it on the hanger by the door, and patted you on the shoulder.
"You've really had a tough day. Sit down and have something hot to drink." Allen's tone was low and steady, his eyes full of warm concern.
You obediently sit on the soft, spacious sofa in the living room. A moment later, Susan brings you a steaming cup of cocoa, which is even topped with marshmallows and chocolate chips.
Holding the warm cup, you couldn't help but sigh softly, gradually relaxing.
“Those police officers are so time-consuming. It’s so late, the workers won’t be able to come.” Susan sat down on the sofa opposite you, grumbling about the inefficiency of the police in charge of this area. She quickly smiled at you and patted your hand reassuringly. “It’s okay, kid. You can sleep downstairs tonight. Tomorrow, Allen will fix the front door, change the key, and have the workers replace the floor and dirty furniture in your room. Then you can stay here in peace.”
Even though your "ex-girlfriend" Ambrose survived by sheer luck, your room is still stained with her blood. All the way here, Susan keeps telling you not to worry about it, that they will handle everything.
A warmth flowed through your heart. You opened your mouth, looked at Susan, and held her hand tightly: "How can I thank you? I... I will pay for all the repairs." — You were truly at a loss for words, only able to utter some meaningless phrases.
This is what you should be doing, but Susan puffed out her cheeks, made a "chuchu" sound, and twirled a finger in the air with one hand: "Honey, don't say things like that. Since you're in our house, it's our duty to protect your safety."
She winked at you, which means she doesn't like you being polite, so you had no choice but to thank her repeatedly.
"When you were being questioned alone, what did the police ask you?" Susan asked seriously, her tone cautious yet full of concern. "You weren't wronged, were you?"
You shook your head, picked up the cup, and took a sip. The rich chocolate, coated with the sweetness of marshmallows, melted on your tongue.
You thought to yourself, it's normal for a kind landlord to want to ask more questions, so you didn't hide anything: "Nothing special, they just asked for some details, after all, this is a bit serious," you said calmly, your gaze falling on the cocoa in your cup. Then you felt you should act more panicked, so you choked up and added, "To be honest, I'm still not quite sure if all of this is true."
Hearing this, Alan, sitting next to Susan, exchanged a glance with her, put his arm around her shoulder, and then said earnestly, "What's done is done. But, kid, don't blame us for being nosy, but you might not be communicating with your own ethnic friends enough. Could that be making your judgments a little incomplete?"
Huh? You looked up at Allen, your brows furrowing slightly in surprise.
Seeing your confusion, Allen, after getting Susan's approval, quickly waved his hand and added, "What I mean is, it's good that young people like to make friends. But you've always seemed to prefer talking to us... well, white people, which is fine—if it's about chatting with us, we'd certainly be happy to talk to you too, since looking at you reminds us of our children."
Susan picked up where Allen left off: "But we're really worried that if you don't get to know more people from diverse ethnic backgrounds—especially your own ethnic friends—you might miss out on some very important cultural exchanges and experiences."
Your hand holding the cup paused for a moment, and you can bet you look quite senile right now.
It feels like some previously unknown aspects of "you" are about to unfold.
This is the first time you've learned about yourself through the words of a "local".
As you continue listening to them talk, it feels like you're getting to know another person through their words—which isn't entirely wrong, since you and the person in the "copy" aren't the same person after all.
This also gives you more objective perspectives to look at the stance of these statements.
It must be said that Alan and Susan's concerns actually sound reasonable and are easy to accept.
But for some reason, when these words come out of their mouths, even if the person is not actually you, they still make you feel a strange sensation.
"Thank you for your concern," you said carefully. "Actually, I wasn't deliberately avoiding anyone. I just think it's always a good thing for friends from different cultural backgrounds to have more interaction, right?"
Susan smiled slightly, nodded, her eyes full of understanding and encouragement.
"Of course, darling, we understand your thoughts and think you are very brave to do so. But you know what? In all the time we've known you, we've never seen you hang out with your friends from the Flower Country. Of course, as we said before, it's your freedom to choose your friends, but you've been here for so long that we're really worried about your cultural identity. This might affect your judgment of others."
You blinked, as if you were starting to understand: "Uh, you mean that I encountered someone like Anbo because some of my own perceptions and beliefs were wrong?"
"No, no! Child, please don't misunderstand us." Susan gripped your hand tightly, her eyes gentle and moist. Even Allen had a similar gaze that made people's hearts soften.
The two of them were very distressed and racked their brains trying to advise you on something, but they were also very aware of the sensitivity of the topic and were afraid of offending you.
You could only smile and gently tell Susan and the others not to take it to heart: "I understand what you mean. After what happened today, I've learned a lot and grown quite a bit. In the future, I will learn how to treat myself and others better."
"My child, that's good." Susan touched your face. "Oh my god, it really is! We actually know you better than you think. These are the things we wanted to say, no, so many things, but we didn't dare to say them. But, how could we not feel at ease with such a little child like you!"
You put down your glass and turned to look at Susan. Her words surprised you—in fact, from the moment they both showed you excessive concern, you felt this was just too much of a "good American" attitude.
You absolutely believe that genuinely kind-hearted people exist in the world, but this is a copy. You've received genuine care from these locals countless times, only to eventually realize that the difference between them and you is almost like the difference between a vengeful ghost and a living person.
You retain your sincere heart, cherish every precious moment of genuine emotion, and never let your guard down.
“Oh, yes, that really touches me, but,” you ask tentatively, “what is it about me that makes you so worried?”
You chuckled and said, "I'm an overseas student living alone in a foreign country. I'm all grown up, how could I be so troublesome?"
“Oh! My little one! You look just like our little Eve!” Susan laughed. She got up and picked up the photo on the fireplace. It showed a sunny and cheerful girl who looked several years older than you. “Our Eve is our only child. Since she went to college, she hasn’t even bothered to come home for summer vacation. She just wants to do volunteer work all over the world.”
"Haha!" you laugh along.
“We know that compared to other parents, we are far too dependent and too clingy to our child; but they don’t know how difficult it is for a mother with only this one child to leave her heart!” Susan said, stroking the photo and looking at you. “Was your mother like that too? I think that’s probably why your mother and I have been able to stay in touch for so many years.”
Your ears perked up instantly!
What? Your mom and your landlord are friends??
Before you could guess any further, Susan answered your question: "You were the first and only homestay student we hosted. We were all quite nervous back then, wondering what a child from the Flower Country would be like—Ellen, do you remember? When she was the same age as you, Eve was a little devil. We even had a big fight with her to stop her from getting tattoos!"
“Yes, if you hadn’t come to our family, we would have really thought that all teenagers in the world were like our Eve, only knowing how to argue and fight with their mom and dad.” As Alan spoke, he became sentimental and actually hugged Susan and shed tears.
Seeing Alan cry, Susan cried too; seeing them cry, you pinched yourself and started crying as well.
As you cry, you mimic the characters in those home life videos you've come across, calling them "Mom" and "Dad."
You probably understand now. Your identity here isn't just that of a college student who came to the US; you've even been studying here alone since you were a minor, and your host parents have become your landlords.
That's understandable; they treat you with such familiarity.
“You were only sixteen years old then, completely alone in a foreign country. We took care of you like our own child,” Susan said softly. Allen went to get a photo album, which recorded everything after “you” came to this family. “Later, you went back to the country after graduating from high school, and we…we never wanted to find a host family again.”
"Because we couldn't suppress our longing for Eve, we hoped to take care of another child, but gradually you became another unforgettable little angel in our hearts. Separation from you made us realize that even overwhelming family affection can hurt, so we learned the language of flowers to comfort our longing for you. By the way, we're also preparing to take the HSK6 exam soon!" Susan jumped from one topic to another as she talked.
She wiped away her tears and pulled you into her arms: "I never imagined that you would come back to study at university after all these years, and even choose to rent a place from our family... If this isn't what the language of flowers calls 'fate,' then what is it?"
Your brain is working rapidly, processing this information.
When you see Susan and Allen's notes recording the first flower language words they learned, along with their first little limerick, you realize that the handmade tofu with the flower language notes in your refrigerator actually came from Susan and Allen.
Seeing your "ex-girlfriend" Anbo making floral food and hearing her say a few words about the meaning of flowers, plus the heart and address on the note, you naturally assume that it was left for you by Anbo.
But how could someone who only knows how to make rice-style flower dishes possibly make handmade tofu for you? It turns out it was Susan and her friends!
For a moment, you really didn't know how to react.
One second you're still immersed in the invisible yet profound cognitive imprint left on you by the vast majority of the locals in the copy, who have two completely different faces. The next second, you're overwhelmed by a wave of love.
If... if you were truly this version of yourself in the game, would you feel happy? These anomalies and horrors are beyond your dimensional understanding, beyond your memory and cognition. So, what difference would life and you make to "you"?
After you came here, your life and relationships changed drastically, as if you had been haunted. What will happen to you after you leave?
Countless rational questions overwhelmed you before you were overwhelmed by overwhelming emotions. You recalled how, in the beginning, you had watched helplessly as an ordinary "local" was "stole" and reshaped into another "outsider".
Once you've calmed down a bit, you simply hug Susan back, your voice trembling as you comfort her, "I'm sorry."
You don't even know what you're apologizing for, and of course, Susan and the others don't know either.
Susan quickly shook her head: "You don't need to apologize, my dear. We're so glad we still have the chance to take care of you. Speaking of which, we were planning a family gathering tomorrow night, and a lot of old friends will be there. With all that's happened to you, you should have some fun and relax."
.
You felt a shiver run through your body, as if you had been splashed with cold water.
"Tomorrow night?" you asked hesitantly.
“Yes, honey, they’re all neighbors around here. Many of them are probably friends you met in high school. Maybe chatting with them will make you feel better,” Alan encouraged with a smile. “We think it will be good for you.”
You gaze at them, outwardly calm, but inwardly a storm raging.
You know, since you're not just an ordinary tenant, but a "boarding daughter" who has had a deep bond with the landlord couple since high school, it's no wonder they're so familiar with every detail about you, and it's no wonder they pay so much attention to your social life, your friends, and even every aspect of your life. All of their actions are perfectly reasonable.
But, but…
Your palms are sweating, your heart is racing, but you still try your best to maintain a calm demeanor.
“Okay…” You took a deep breath and nodded slowly. “I will definitely attend the party tomorrow. Thank you for telling me this.”
Allen and Susan visibly breathed a sigh of relief, their eyes filled with contentment.
It's hard for you to question them and say that the party they organized was a trap to kill you.
But you know your special status, and any reasonable yet sudden event like this will cause trouble.
intuition.
You have sensed the danger.
But what can you do? You've just been crying your heart out with the two people in front of you, reminiscing about the past. How can you possibly refuse them with a cold face the next second?
Most importantly, you're staying in their house, but your own room is uninhabitable; tonight, you can only stay in their guest room.
Susan quickly noticed your absent-mindedness, but they assumed you were just tired or lost in thought. Alan then grabbed a guitar and, surprisingly, started playing and singing with Susan.
Some folk songs you've never heard on any platform before, perhaps written and composed by the two people in front of you, and you sway your body slightly to the rhythm of the melody.
After so many copies, you finally understand, or rather, have to admit, one thing:
Even though you are an outsider, there are still many moments when you find it hard to refuse and are not in control of your own destiny, even outside the rules.
When you are in your own world and in your own place, you have to comply with many things that go against your own wishes; but even in another world, with a completely detached identity, it is still extremely difficult to take the initiative in doing anything.
You seem to always be within a framework, waiting for things to come to you.
But what's the solution? You can't find one. You're still stuck in a passive position, waiting to retaliate.
You feel a moment of frustration.
But the next moment, your fighting spirit soared again.
You may not be able to actively fight against a powerful global will, but you can bravely face any storms that come your way.
Being passive does not mean being absolutely weak; those who can adapt to changing circumstances may actually have an advantage.
You shake your head, casting aside all negative, depressing, and powerless thoughts, and instead, you loudly join Susan's chorus.
You and your landlord sat on the small sofa, enjoying an exceptionally peaceful evening.
Finally, you got up to say goodbye, and carrying your pillow, went to the newly cleaned guest room.
You are lying in bed, with only a small bedside lamp on in the room, its dim light illuminating your face and the screen of your phone in your hand.
Having never spent the night in someone else's room before, you suddenly realize that "your" room actually has a familiar scent from the real world.
This gives you a moment of disorientation.
Forget it, let's focus on the problem at hand. There are many things we can do, such as figuring out in advance what kind of people we'll be meeting tomorrow.
Open Facebook and the pink camera app to quickly browse through the landlord's friend list.
As always, Oumi's social network is almost open and transparent. All the men and women who claim to value privacy are unguarded online. You can easily see the people Susan has been interacting with the most recently, and even clearly see their residences, workplaces, and recent life status.
You frowned, zoomed in on the map, and marked the homes of several neighbors nearby. After doing this, you had almost completely uncovered Susan Allen's background.
You even start searching your own name and Los Angeles, using maps and lingo to search for nearby neighbors to expand the possibilities.
You jotted down everyone's information and made a simple mental sketch of the guests Susan and the others might invite, so you were naturally a little prepared for the scene you might encounter tomorrow.
Before you knew it, you had fallen asleep.
**
The next day, you spent the whole day with Susan and the others, chatting and helping them set up the yard for their dinner party.
"Thank you, darling!" Susan said with a smile, handing you a string of LED lights. "Could you help me hang this on the tarpaulin?"
You smiled and nodded, then climbed the small ladder to install the light strip. Soon, the courtyard was warmly and softly lit, and the atmosphere of the dinner party became brighter.
As evening approached, the guests began to arrive one after another.
You naturally take on the responsibility of welcoming guests.
The first to arrive was Betty. She was wearing a floral dress and carrying a basket of beautiful flowers. She gave you a warm hug: "Wow, you've grown so much, baby!"
As you talk to her, she picks a small flower and pins it to your shirt.
"That suits your style better," she said, quite satisfied.
You chuckled, neither confirming nor denying.
The second guest was named Josh, who was wearing a wrinkled shirt and looked slightly uneasy.
He's not good at small talk, so you take the initiative to smile and shake his hand: "Hi Josh, how have you been lately?"
Josh was a little surprised by your initiative in greeting him. He pushed up his glasses and said nervously, "Um... it's alright. You are... oh, you are that student? Oh, you're about the same age as Eve, hahaha! I've heard about what you've been through lately, I'm really... sorry."
You wave your hand: "It's okay, we won't talk about this tonight."
Just as dinner was about to begin, two more guests arrived.
One of them was Margaret, extremely thin and tall, dressed in a very formal suit. She also brought a gift, a homemade apple pie.
She just glanced at you, remained reserved and didn't say much to you, even refusing your offer to take the cake.
The second is Kevin, who looks much younger than his age and even has an outstanding presence.
This man, with his distinguished bearing and proudly full chest honed from years of fitness training, made his white shirt bulge out.
He brought a bottle of expensive red wine, and after shaking hands and hugging Allen, he paused for a second when his gaze turned to you, a strange smile appearing on his face: "Long time no see. I heard you've had a tough time lately."
You instinctively sense a subtle, profound meaning in his eyes, and his smile doesn't seem quite natural.
But you quickly composed yourself and calmly replied, "I'm fine, thank you for your concern."
Of course, there are also other guests who are your age, probably their children.
After looking at it from all angles, there really wasn't a single Asian.
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Author's Note: I'm here! I'm here! I'm here! I'm here!
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