Chapter 266 Unemployment
We meet every day, but all we do is nod or silently pass by.
There was an invisible wall between the two of them, so cold it was chilling.
Now, she's actually taking the initiative to discuss it with her mother-in-law?
The thought swirled in her mind, carrying a hint of absurdity, yet also a touch of resolve.
But what does this little estrangement matter for Fu Li'an?
What do a cold remark and a past grudge mean compared to his life?
She raised her head, her gaze firm, and nodded gently.
"Um."
Her voice was soft, yet exceptionally clear: "I'll tell her tomorrow morning."
The next day, just as dawn broke and the sky began to turn gray, a cold wind slipped in through the cracks in the window, causing the curtains to sway gently.
Qiao Wanyin got up, still feeling exhausted from not having slept all night.
She put on her coat, her steps so light as if afraid of waking someone.
As soon as I stepped out of the room, I saw my mother-in-law, Song Yazhi, already busy at the stove.
The pot lid trembled slightly, and steam rose up, reflecting her slightly hunched figure.
She stood at the kitchen doorway, her heart pounding as if it were about to leap out of her chest.
She took a deep breath, and the cool air filled her lungs, calming her down a little.
Then, she walked in step by step, her steps light but resolute.
"Mom, there's something I'd like to talk to you about."
She got straight to the point, trying to keep her voice steady, but it trembled slightly without her noticing.
“Ophiopogon japonicus has been acting strange lately.”
The soup ladle in Song Yazhi's hand fell into the pot with a "clatter," the crisp sound particularly jarring in the early morning kitchen.
She jolted violently, as if she had been stabbed hard, and froze on the spot, even stopping her breathing for a moment.
When he turned his head, his face was full of shock and unease.
"You noticed it too?"
Her voice trembled, as if emotions that had been suppressed for a long time had finally found an outlet.
“I thought… I was worrying unnecessarily, that I was overthinking things. But these past few days, he hasn’t been eating well, and he tosses and turns at night with empty eyes… When I call him, he only responds after a long time… I’ve been worried sick, but I haven’t dared to say anything, afraid of scaring you.”
The two moved small stools and sat down at the low table in the far corner of the kitchen.
The oil-stained floor, the old stove, the dim lighting—everything seemed so old and real.
Qiao Wanyin recounted every single detail of Fu Li'an's unusual behavior these past few days—
He stopped talking and stayed in his room all day.
He only takes a couple of bites of food before pushing the bowl away.
Sometimes he would suddenly space out, staring intently at the corner of the wall, as if he had seen something that others couldn't see;
On one occasion, she even found him sitting by the bed in the middle of the night, clutching a handful of medicine bottles tightly in his hand, but he didn't take any; he was just staring blankly.
As Song Yazhi listened, her face grew paler and paler, her lips trembled slightly, and her hands gripped the hem of her clothes tightly.
Finally, her eyes reddened, and tears streamed down her face, one by one, falling into the soup in the pot and creating tiny ripples.
“This silly child… what’s troubling you? Why don’t you tell your family…” she sobbed, her voice broken and nasal.
"Wanyin, is this 'depression' you mentioned serious? Is it... does it need to be taken to the hospital? Can it be treated?"
Qiao Wanyin felt as if she had been pricked by needles when she saw her mother-in-law crying.
She carefully chose her words, afraid that saying the wrong thing would worsen the old man's panic.
"It's like you feel suffocated inside, like there's a tangled mess of knots in your heart. Nobody understands, nobody cares. If this goes on for too long, you break down."
She paused, then lowered her voice, "He needs someone to be with him every day, to keep him warm, not to leave him alone. Otherwise, his heart will grow cold."
"We need to think of a solution quickly!"
Song Yazhi was so anxious that she rubbed her hands together, her fingernails scraping against her palms, making a soft rustling sound.
"How about... I go to town and ask an old traditional Chinese medicine doctor to prescribe some calming herbs? I've heard they can calm the mind and soothe the nerves; the older generation believes in that."
When the topic of herbs came up, she suddenly remembered the time she forced Qiao Wanyin to drink bitter medicine.
When she first entered the family, she was weak, so Song Yazhi would brew medicine for her every day and force her to drink it.
Qiao Wanyin refused to drink, so she scolded her with a stern face, saying that it was for her own good and that not drinking meant she was being unreasonable.
Those bitter medicinal soups made her secretly vomit them in the middle of the night, but she was afraid of being discovered and couldn't sleep all night.
Memories cut through her mind like a knife, and Song Yazhi's face flushed red, her heart pounding wildly.
Her face flushed, and guilt surged up instantly, making it hard for her to breathe.
"It's all my fault...it's all my fault!"
She choked back tears, tears streaming down her face, her body trembling slightly.
“If I hadn’t argued with you back then, hadn’t forced you to drink those awful herbal soups, hadn’t always used my position as an elder to pressure you… Mai Dong wouldn’t have turned out like this… He’s been sensitive since he was little, he can’t stand any noise at home… But I always had a cold face and never said a word… It’s my fault, I was so foolish…”
Qiao Wanyin raised her eyes and her gaze slowly fell on her mother-in-law Song Yazhi's face.
She noticed that the other person's eyes were slightly red, with tear stains still clinging to the corners. Those eyes, which were usually filled with authority and restraint, were now brimming with deep self-blame and regret.
She seemed to be bent over by the weight, her shoulders trembling slightly, her lips moving as if she had a thousand words stuck in her throat that she couldn't say.
Qiao Wanyin's heart softened instantly, like ice and snow quietly melting under the warm spring sun.
She took a gentle breath and said in a soft but firm voice, "Don't rush, and don't push yourself too hard. Things haven't reached the point of no return yet. Let me talk to him first and see what he's thinking."
In the following days, Fu Lian's condition not only did not improve, but worsened.
He tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep, his mind a jumbled mess that he couldn't untangle or shake off.
Even if I manage to close my eyes, I can only stare blankly at the ceiling until the gray morning light shines through the window.
During the day, he was even more listless, with empty eyes and a sallow complexion. He was often absent-minded when he spoke, as if his soul had been taken away, leaving only an empty shell mechanically coping with life.
After learning about the situation, the military leaders made a special trip to visit him.
They stood in the living room, their expressions solemn, their voices tinged with worry.
One of the older cadres patted Fu Li'an on the shoulder and said in a low voice, "Young Fu, we understand that you are under a lot of pressure, but you also have to think about the collective. If you continue like this, we may have to transfer you from a key position to avoid problems."
Although the words were phrased euphemistically, they struck everyone's hearts like a heavy hammer.
That night, it was past 11 p.m. when a soft knock came at the door.
Qiao Wanyin put on her coat, got up, and opened the door. She saw Song Yazhi standing at the door, clutching a handkerchief, her eyes red, and tears silently streaming down her cheeks.
She choked out, her voice trembling so much it was almost incoherent: "Wanyin... Mom has figured it out... It's all my fault that Maidong is like this now."
Qiao Wanyin froze, her steps involuntarily halting.
She stared blankly at her usually strong and stubborn mother, unable to reconcile her current state of remorse and weeping.
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