Chapter 180 Accomplices
"What are you talking about?"
Suddenly a voice came, and recognizing the owner of the voice, Pipa instinctively shivered.
The undigested food from earlier seems to be rising again.
Turning around, he saw his father standing at the doorway of the main room. But as he spoke, his father walked towards them.
“Father, Father—” Pipa couldn’t help but stammer again.
The man ignored his son's pathetic behavior and instead looked at his wife, lowering his voice: "It's just a kitchen knife, why bother sharpening it like that? Let's eat first."
Pipa then noticed the knife her mother had been holding in her left hand.
But the knife didn't look like it was used for cutting vegetables, and Pipa didn't remember ever having such a knife at home.
At this moment, the hilt of the knife was held in the mother's hand, and the tip of the knife rested on the wet whetstone, gleaming with a cold light.
Pipa hadn't noticed before, but now he seemed to smell a damp, fishy odor in the air. He guessed it was the smell of rust that had been ground off the knife.
—Even though the knife didn’t look dull at all.
That strange smell, like rust melting, still lingered on the cheek where the woman had touched the loquat.
A sense of unease stirred within Pipa.
Hearing the man's question, the woman looked up and smiled slightly. She sat on the kitchen threshold, looking up at her husband, the person she shared her bed with day and night, and revealed a girlish, innocent smile.
Her face was no longer as beautiful as it had been in her youth; her complexion was dull, fine lines had appeared at the corners of her eyes, and streaks of gray had appeared in her once jet-black hair.
There was even a not-too-old scar on his forehead.
That was on a night of howling ghosts and howling wolves. The woman pounded on the door repeatedly to no avail, and finally crashed her head into the doorpost, leaving her with these injuries.
Pipa stared at the scar, as if it were proof that that night had indeed happened, and that her mother, who loved her so dearly, had indeed existed.
However, it was hidden away.
Pipa didn't know if she would ever have the chance to see her hidden mother again.
He undoubtedly preferred his former mother to the unpredictable one before him.
But what if this is how things should have turned out?
Just as they said... on what grounds?
Does this mean that all mothers in the world must love their children and make selfless sacrifices for them?
Even if she didn't become a mother voluntarily, even if she endured immense hardship and pain to give birth to this child... it's unfair.
Loquat thought.
No matter how reluctant he felt, he had to admit that it wasn't fair.
Pipa didn't know if her mother had suddenly figured something out the reason she became the mother she was now.
But he thought, what if this is what the other party wants?
So whether you are a child of a mother or an ordinary person who has enjoyed her care and love for many years, you should give her the greatest support.
"What are you laughing at all of a sudden?"
Pipa heard her father's somewhat puzzled voice. This usually silent and stubborn man only showed a little helplessness when facing his wife.
Although in reality he imprisoned the woman...
He forced her to leave her hometown and made her give birth to an equally unlikable child for a man she didn't love at the prime of her life.
Even though everyone around him is saying how much this man loves his wife, does that mean she is truly loved?
—Or, as a woman who has lost her freedom, does she really crave this so-called love?
"Of course I'm laughing at you two, you both love to talk such nonsense. A knife, if it's not sharpened, how can it be used to skin and dismember animals, or gut them?"
The woman spoke gently, her tone matter-of-fact. The innocent softness in her eyes combined with the weathered look in her brows and eyes did not seem contradictory, but rather created a wonderful harmony.
It's as if it were innate.
This was the first time Pipa had heard from her mother that she and her father had any similarities.
Almost everyone in the village said he looked more like his mother, with his eyebrows, eyes, and facial features. Although he wouldn't be mistaken for a girl, you could tell at a glance that they were mother and son.
When Pipa heard such things before, even if the people talking about it didn't use a pleasant tone, he would still feel a slight sense of relief from the bottom of his heart.
At that time, he didn't really understand his mother's situation. He just hated her so much that he wanted to get closer to his beloved mother, even in the most obvious way. And he wanted to have absolutely no resemblance to the person he called his father.
However, he forgot that there was a most solid and profound connection between him and that man—blood ties.
No matter how unwilling Pipa was, he still had his father's blood flowing through his veins.
In other words, beneath this skin that resembles her mother, half of the flesh and blood inside comes from a bloodline passed down through generations of sordid dealings.
The skin of the victim is used to wrap the flesh and blood of both the victim and the perpetrator, thus forming this seemingly innocent figure.
How ridiculous, how ironic!
But this is loquat, and also the sin and shackles he is destined to be unable to escape in this life.
Even if the seed was brought from elsewhere, it is still growing on this land. Without the nourishment of the soil and water, it will never be able to sprout from a seed kernel and grow into a trembling sapling.
As for what the tree will look like, whether it will bear fruit in the future, or whether it will have the chance to grow into a towering tree... none of that matters anymore.
Once you've settled down and taken root, you have no choice but to leave no room for regret from the very beginning.
—But why go back on your word?
Pipa stared at the black blade, lost in thought. A golden light flashed in his mind, and a thought that had been vaguely lingering in his heart for a long time suddenly surfaced and became exceptionally clear.
Rather than dwelling on the past that can never be reached, it's better to sever the connection with the future yourself... with these same hands that grew from the same soil of sin.
However, his hands were too thin and weak, so he needed to rely on some tools and external forces to achieve this bright vision.
"If you really want to eat meat, I can just go buy some ready-made, why bother? Here, give me the knife."
The man spoke again, his words seemingly carrying a tone of discussion, but actually conveying the matter of notification. He tried to take the knife from his wife's hand, but she let go first, and the knife fell beside the whetstone, the two pieces colliding with a soft clang.
The voice seemed to resonate within Pipa's mind, and his gaze fell upon the knife, a strong desire to pick it up filling his heart.
And then he actually did it.
The handle was slightly cool, the blade felt heavy, and it carried a faint smell of rust... or was it really the smell of rust?
Pipa stared at the knife in a daze, when suddenly he heard his father calling him again.
He instinctively wanted to hide the knife, but then realized he didn't need to. So, he paused in his action of sheathing the knife and instead reached for the whetstone.
When his father turned around, he saw Pipa slowly packing his things.
Whether it was the sarcastic remark about "you two" that had an effect or not, the impatience in the man's gaze toward his son seemed to lessen, and his tone was much gentler than before.
"At least you have some sense."
The man gave a perfunctory compliment, then instructed in a somewhat clumsy, fatherly tone, "Put your things in the storage room. Once you're done tidying up, go play by yourself."
Pipa nodded obediently in agreement.
He watched as his father turned and walked straight into the main room, while his mother followed behind, led by the hand like a docile sheep.
Just before entering the room, Pipa saw the woman turn around and glance at him, smiling slightly, and silently making a shushing gesture by lightly touching her lips with her index finger.
The hand that gestured for Pipa to keep the secret was the same hand the woman had used to hold the whetstone, and also the hand that had gently stroked Pipa's cheek.
And now, that knife, sharpened to a fine point, is in the hand of the loquat.
In that instant, Pipa suddenly understood what the other person meant—it turned out that her mother actually shared the same thoughts as her.
That is, the secret they need to keep together from now on.
This secret will remain buried in their hearts until the day their wish is truly fulfilled.
Pipa followed the instructions and put the whetstone back in the storage room, but he threw the knife under his pillow.
Anyway, his father has never cared about these kinds of things.
They smashed things in their house, bought new ones, and then smashed them again.
If asked, you can just say it was carried away by a mouse; after all, there are similar precedents.
The consequence of thinking too much during the day is that I fall asleep almost as soon as my head hits the pillow at night.
I was suddenly awakened in the middle of the night.
I groggily opened my eyes and saw that it was Yuanxiao, who had been missing for a day. I had no idea where this guy had come from.
Those emerald green cat eyes gleamed with an eerie light in the darkness.
Before Pipa could figure out what was going on, he saw the other person pounce on him again, and then—
It started scratching and biting his pillow.
It was as if it weren't an ordinary pillow, but some kind of enemy from a past life...
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