Chapter 50 "My father... has he really gone on a long trip?"
At that moment, Li Xiao was determined to die.
On that face, besides the suffocating pain and the forced smile, there was also... utter relief.
...So I think Li Xiao was willing to die at the hands of his own mother.
I knew nothing about what had happened between them, and I was a complete outsider in the eyes of these three people, yet... I just watched the boy die without doing anything...
This is something I absolutely cannot tolerate!
But just then, a hand pressed down on my shoulder, firmly holding me in place as I was about to rush out and do everything I could to stop it.
"Shh, don't be impatient for a moment."
A low, gentle voice.
—It's Li Jinzhi!
This man, who had watched helplessly as his wife went mad and his son was choked, remained silent throughout, yet at this moment displayed extraordinary agility.
"Why are you stopping me?!"
There's a hierarchy of importance in everything. Seeing that someone was about to die, I couldn't care less about manners anymore. I shouted at the man who had nothing to do with me in a fit of rage.
Unfortunately, my throat was terribly dry and hoarse, and my broken cries did nothing to disturb Li's mother, who was going crazy.
“That’s just how kids are,” Li Jinzhi clicked her tongue.
Then, to my horror, I discovered that I suddenly couldn't make a sound.
Not only that, but apart from his eyes, he was completely unable to move from head to toe.
This is……
"Look, what a rare and touching scene! As viewers, we should be grateful and watch it quietly, shouldn't we?"
Li Jinzhi spoke slowly and deliberately, completely ignoring my current state of anger and frustration. She even chatted with me casually, making small talk.
"Everyone thought Xiao'er was interested in that boy from the Lan family, but I didn't think so. Do you know why?"
"..."
I am speechless at this moment and naturally cannot answer.
Li Jinzhi didn't seem to care about my response and continued talking on her own.
"Because Xiao'er has been afraid of me since he was a child and hates being controlled. Therefore, Lan Yunzhi is both a teacher and a friend to him, but definitely not someone he can treat as a lover."
"..."
I don't know why Li Jinzhi told me all this.
I just stared intently at the mother and child not far away—Li Xiao's face was already turning slightly purple, and the veins on his neck were bulging, making him look quite frightening.
I watched in despair.
I even wish it could all end sooner.
In a daze, the images I saw and the sounds I heard began to blur.
In the moment before I lost consciousness, I saw someone fall down—
Loquat...loquat?
A woman's familiar voice rang out in the darkness.
—It's Mother!
I groggily opened my eyes, and the dark blue light of the daylight seeped into the room, barely illuminating a small area beside the bed.
My mother sat there, her head slightly lowered, gazing at me lovingly with concerned eyes.
Upon seeing this, I sat up in bed almost immediately.
"Mom, what are you doing here?" I asked in surprise.
"Silly child, what nonsense are you talking about?"
My mother playfully tapped my forehead, then smiled and said, "This is our home. Where else could your mother go if she's not here?"
……Home?
Upon hearing this, I couldn't help but look around. Sure enough, the gray bricks and tiles in front of me, and the old tables and chairs in the house, were just like the familiar home in my memory.
But... something just doesn't feel right.
"What are you thinking about, remaining silent all this time?"
My mother's gentle voice came through the phone.
I snapped out of my daze and suddenly noticed a bubbling sound coming from the kitchen.
And there's also a faint fragrance lingering in the air...
That is—
"Mom, what are they cooking in the kitchen?" I asked, looking towards the stove with some confusion.
When my mother heard me ask that question, she seemed to pause slightly, then gave an embarrassed smile as if she remembered something: "Look at my memory."
As she spoke, her mother got up from the bed, muttering, "I've been talking to you so much that I forgot there's something cooking in the pot."
I watched as my mother lifted the curtain and walked out, her thin figure suddenly swallowed up by the darkness behind the curtain, and a strange sense of unease rose in my heart.
...What time is it now? Why is it so quiet around us?
Thinking this, I couldn't help but sit up, get out of bed, and walk step by step to the window, stepping on the slightly cold floor.
He pushed open the half-closed wooden window and peeked out.
The small courtyard was also filled with a deathly silence. The azure sky hung low, casting a dark shadow over everything in sight.
Apart from that, the scenery in the courtyard was almost identical to what I remembered.
A well, a platform made of bluestone slabs, some farm tools piled up haphazardly in the corner, and a short loquat tree in the corner.
I then looked away.
After waiting for a while, I didn't see any other villagers pass by the gate. Not to mention people, I didn't even see a cat or dog.
...This is so strange.
Although the exact time is unknown, it should be daytime now, but not the scorching afternoon sun. For this small village that relies on farming for its livelihood, such tranquility is quite unusual.
And what about my mother, who said she was going to check on the kitchen? Why hasn't she come back yet?
Just as I was thinking this, the curtain at the door moved and was suddenly lifted from the outside.
My mother's familiar face appeared in the shadow cast by the curtain, smiling slightly at me.
I couldn't help but blink hard. Perhaps it was because I had been staring at the empty courtyard for too long, but I felt that my mother's face, like the sky outside, had a faint bluish tinge.
"What's wrong? Did you get something in your eye?"
As her mother asked, she lowered the curtain and came in.
I shook my head, then suddenly remembered something else.
"Mother, where did Father go? I can't find him anywhere."
“Your father… has gone on a long trip,” Mother answered calmly, walking to the low cabinet against the wall and bending down to put down what she was carrying.
That's when I noticed that my mother was also holding a tray.
From my angle, I couldn't see what was in the bowl, but I could smell a novel aroma.
"It smells so good..."
I couldn't help but sniffle and mutter to myself.
Hearing me say this, the smile on my mother's slightly haggard face became even more genuine.
"You're craving something, aren't you? You haven't had a proper meal in days since you got sick. This is something your mother specially cooked to help you recover. Alright, go back and lie down. You've only just started to feel better, and you're already getting restless again. If you get sick again, you'll suffer."
When I heard that my mother had cooked something delicious for me, I was immediately overjoyed and forgot all my previous questions. I obediently went back to bed.
Mother also sat down by the bedside with a bowl of steaming soup.
I saw my mother's face, blurred by the white mist, and my heart ached inexplicably.
I feel like... it's been a long time since I've seen them.
"Why are you crying all of a sudden?"
My mother sat by the bed, gazing at me with affection. She reached out a hand and gently wiped my cheek. Her fingers were rough and calloused, but I still found the touch incredibly soothing.
"I...I don't know either, Mother. I think I had a very long dream," I said.
"What dream?" Mother asked me with a smile.
I opened my mouth, wanting to recount the bizarre experience from my dream, but when I met that gentle smiling face, I couldn't help but stop.
"Never mind, it wasn't a particularly interesting dream, and besides, it was too long, I can't remember it anymore," I mumbled, head down.
Some dared not look up into their mother's eyes.
These words are half true and half false.
Although I don't remember everything, there is one thing I remember very clearly, and that is... in my dream, my mother had already died.
The sadness felt so real that I was a little scared; it might not just be a dream.
Otherwise, why would I feel such longing and sadness when I look at the woman in front of me?
...I forget who told me this story under the lamp: after a person dies, the ghost forgets that they are dead and returns to their loved ones.
The ghost had completely lost its memory of the time of death, feeling as if it had just returned home after a long trip. However, its close relatives, who had always been very close to it, all showed it an unusually cold attitude.
The ghost was very sad.
I once doubted that I had done something wrong, but no one could tell me.
As the days went by, the ghost was driven mad with jealousy as he watched his wife greet strangers with a smile but ignore him when she returned home.
A year later, during the Qingming Festival, he and his wife came to the mountains where their ancestral graves were located.
Seeing his name engraved on the new grave, and learning from his wife's longing confession that he had already died, he realized that he was already dead.
Just then, he suddenly heard his wife shout his name in surprise.
It turns out that all this time, the ghost thought it was being neglected by its family, but it was actually just because the family couldn't see it after it had become a ghost.
Now, before the newly raised grave, in the moment he recalls how he died, he is finally seen as a ghost.
The ghost looked at his wife, whose almond-shaped eyes were wide open and whose face was streaked with tears, and felt endless sorrow and desolation in his long-dead heart. The ghost reached out his hand, wanting to embrace the person he once loved most in this world.
But the moment his wife lunged at him, he turned into a wisp of smoke and vanished into the world.
"The saying goes that humans and ghosts are on different paths; such is the law of the world."
The gentle voice in the dream continued, "Actually, if that ghost hadn't investigated, it wouldn't have been impossible for it to never remember that it was dead, and could have stayed by the side of its loved one until the day the other died of old age. What a pity..."
Is it a pity?
I think I asked the storyteller that question back.
To exist like a shadow, unseen and unheard, unable to even offer the simplest hug to a loved one when they need it most—isn't such an existence more terrifying than death itself?
I think if I were that ghost, I would rather disappear after learning the truth, at least I could see them one last time, say goodbye to my loved ones in person, and let them continue their own lives.
Wouldn't that be even more straightforward?
But the voice said, what if we look at it from the perspective of the widow?
If you were the one who lost your dearest loved one, could you give such a resolute answer?
Later, I can't remember how I answered in the dream, or what the person said.
But looking at that heartbreakingly familiar face before me, I think I could never make a second choice.
As her thoughts wandered, her mother scooped up a spoonful of fragrant hot soup and gently blew on it.
She knew I was afraid of getting burned, so whenever she fed me when I was little, she would always make sure to cool it down first, or like now, she would gently blow on it again and again, without finding it troublesome at all.
I said, "Mom, don't bother. I'm not hungry. Let it sit for a while and we can eat it later."
But Mother just waved her hand and replied with a smile, "This meat soup should be drunk while it's hot. Meat and fishy things don't taste good when they get cold and greasy."
What were originally just ordinary words left me completely stunned.
"Is this meat broth?"
"Yes. I asked the doctor, and he said that you're not eating enough nutritious food, so you're weak and always getting sick. Otherwise, you were so healthy when you were little, you could run and jump, and you loved to climb high places."
"..."
"You're so brave, aren't you afraid of falling off and hurting yourself? Only your mother could watch with such fear and anxiety."
My mother seemed lost in her memories, talking to herself with great interest, unaware of the shock and astonishment I felt.
wrong--
Why don't I remember what my mother said?
Am I not naturally afraid of heights?
Isn't it because I'm naturally slow-witted and never liked by others that I always sit alone in the courtyard staring blankly at the loquat tree in the corner?
My mind was filled with doubts.
His gaze drifted aimlessly to the steaming bowl of soup.
A few sprinklings of bright green scallions dotted the milky white broth, giving it a rich and enticing aroma. Not to mention, the tender, stewed meat slices floating in the broth looked so perfectly balanced between lean and fat, with beautiful marbling.
"Eat it while it's hot!" Mother urged softly, still holding the bowl beside her.
I smelled the enticing aroma of meat, but my voice trembled uncontrollably.
"mother."
"Um?"
My mother looked at me, puzzled. The daylight outside seemed to have brightened a bit, reflecting on her pale face, which still showed no trace of color.
I suddenly realized that something was wrong.
In my memory, my mother's face was always covered with a layer of dust.
Until I personally covered her with the last handful of yellow earth.
Even in the years when food rations weren't so scarce, my mother had never had skin this fair, almost to the point of showing through her bluish veins.
Not to mention, the land has been severely neglected in the past two years, and we might not be able to eat a meal of rice for ten days or half a month.
...So, where did this meat come from?
I thought of the overly quiet village, the empty courtyard, and my father who suddenly disappeared.
I suddenly felt a tightness in my throat.
Only now have I finally confirmed one thing—I'm really not hungry.
And he doesn't look like someone who has been bedridden for a long time due to illness at all.
I suppressed my unease and the nausea rising in my stomach, and asked, "My father... has he really gone on a long trip?"
—A long silence.
Mother did not speak.
While waiting for the answer, I belatedly sensed something else.
It was a faint, bloody smell hidden beneath the rich aroma of the broth, so sweet it made one's heart race.
The scene before them suddenly changed, darkness suddenly spread, and on the woman who was hanging her head and not saying a word, the old clothes full of patches suddenly became stained with large patches of blood.
I stared in disbelief at the changes before my eyes, watching helplessly as the mother I remembered was replaced by a strange woman dressed in red.
Suddenly, ten sharp fingers emerged from beneath the long robe and tightened around my neck.
My breath caught in my throat, tears welled up in my eyes from the pain, and my vision quickly blurred.
Through my blurry vision, I saw two faces—my mother and the woman in red.
Two faces appeared one after the other, and soon they could no longer be distinguished from each other.
I started to lose track of who was choking me, and who I was.
It's the child who sits in the yard with his knees drawn up, lost in thought; it's the little boy who holds someone's hand and slowly walks down a quiet street; it's the toddler who leaps lightly over a high wall while running.
My heart felt incredibly tight, as if it were about to break free of its restraints, tear through my flesh, and burst out of my chest.
And I was jolted awake from this painful struggle...
However, before I could recover from the lingering effects of the nightmare, a large face right in front of me startled me.
I gasped and pulled back the covers, along with the guy lying on them.
There was a loud thud as a heavy object rolled to the ground.
Then, a low, dissatisfied whimper came from some unknown corner under the bed.
"Meow..."
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