Chapter 66 The medicine tasted bitter, and with a burning heat, it was slowly pushed away on my cheeks and the corners of my mouth.
When I heard Shen Yun say that she just wanted to see me, I was very moved.
Pipa paused in her action of wiping the other person's hair.
He raised his eyelids in surprise and found that Shen Yun's face was also filled with the same confusion, as if she also didn't understand what he had said.
"Perhaps you're just too tired," Pipa said softly.
"Yeah, probably." Shen Yun smiled, his long eyelashes falling to conceal the emotions in his eyes. He pressed his temple. "I think I'm a little sleepy."
"Let's wait a bit longer; going to sleep now will give us a headache."
Pipa said that she took another dry towel and placed it under Shen Yun's half-dry long hair.
Shen Yun nodded and sat down on the edge of the bed.
Pipa was used to seeing the other person's meticulous and neat appearance. It was the first time she saw Shen Yun with her hair down. The slightly messy strands of hair fell on the side of her face, making her look much younger.
However, Shen Yun was actually only nineteen years old this year.
Pipa looked at the tired face that showed signs of exhaustion, and noticed the faint bloodstains on it. After thinking for a moment, she turned around and prepared to leave.
"Where are you going again?" Shen Yun asked.
"Go get some medicinal powder," Pipa replied, "for dispersing blood stasis."
"No need, wine is fine."
Shen Yun refused decisively, but when she met the boy's hesitant gaze, she said again, "If you think it's necessary, then go and get it."
"Mm." Pipa nodded upon hearing this and chuckled softly.
Watching the boy turn and leave, and hearing him walk back and forth in the outer room, the soft sounds of him opening and closing drawers in an orderly fashion, Shen Yun felt an unprecedented sense of peace welling up in her heart.
Perhaps it's because I only recently came to understand a long-standing entanglement.
Just about fifteen minutes ago, Shen Yun was once again kicked out of the house by her father under the pretext of reflecting on her actions.
This wasn't the first time, but he thought it would probably be the last.
Then, halfway there, it suddenly started raining.
It was like... the afternoon when my mother died.
Shen Yun's mother committed suicide by hanging, a very undignified way to die, and on her mother-in-law's birthday no less. It was clearly a silent provocation.
But what kind of skill is it to kill yourself?
Shen Yun didn't understand. If this relationship had to end with someone's death, shouldn't the one who should die be the father, a heartless man who frequented brothels and was obsessed with courtesans?
But later, when Shen Yun accidentally saw her mother's last words, she realized that her mother's death was more about unrequited love than hatred.
She couldn't bear her father's betrayal, nor could she bear to abandon the father who had betrayed her. That's why she ended her life in such a resolute and tragic way.
All of this is simply so that the other person will always remember you.
After reading the suicide note, Shen Yun felt an indescribable sense of absurdity.
He thought he would probably never be able to understand his mother's love for his father.
But one thing is certain: his mother did not love him.
Because in that letter filled with love and hate, she wrote a lot, but there was no mention of her affection or guilt towards him.
—What a heartless woman.
Shen Yun thought that perhaps it was because she had poured all her love and hate into another person so thoroughly that she was no longer able to love anyone else, including her son and mother.
Ironically, for nearly ten years after his mother's death, his father never had any close contact with any disreputable women, and he didn't even remarry.
Is it a guilty conscience, or a belated repentance and a prodigal son's return?
For Yu Chenyun, these were all insignificant matters.
If the mother's inability to love anyone else stemmed from loving one person so intensely, then perhaps Shen Yun lacked the capacity to love from the very beginning.
Her mother's death was largely her own choice. As for her father, Shen Yun didn't harbor much resentment, nor did she like him.
They felt a sense of duty to each other; the father promised his only son to be well-fed and clothed and not to starve, while Shen Yun promised to do her best whenever the Shen family needed her.
Over time, on the surface, this could be considered a case of fatherly love and filial piety.
However, Shen Yun could not deceive himself into marrying a woman he did not love.
Especially when he realized that the eldest daughter of the Lu family was not heartless towards him.
Even after so many years, Shen Yun still remembers her mother's face hanging under the eaves, her bluish-purple face, her long, protruding tongue, and her unseeing eyes staring at the front yard.
So much so that Shen Yun could hardly remember what her mother looked like when she was alive; it seemed that her mother's face, which was as hideous as a demon, was what she truly looked like.
He no longer felt terrified, but only a little pitiful and a little pathetic.
Occasionally, in Shen Yun's mind, that face would automatically replace any woman he knew.
Although Shen Yun knew that his mother was just an extreme case among millions of women in the world, he still felt genuinely unable to bear it.
He tried to convince himself, but failed.
The more ardent Miss Lu's gaze was, the more Shen Yun felt the emptiness in her heart.
Shen Yun finally stepped into the place where her father used to linger the most.
Singing and dancing filled the air, and toasts were exchanged...
Shen Yun found that he didn't dislike this kind of liveliness. Everyone here was just putting on an act, and faces, some lightly made up and some heavily made up, flashed before his eyes. He could hardly see his mother's shadow on those faces.
But he also couldn't like those people.
—Perhaps it's what's called like repels like?
It doesn't matter, as long as there's wine.
But even fine wine needs fine food to accompany it, like fresh blood, or like a mournful wail...
Shen Yun's dim-witted cousin often thought Shen Yun was a pervert.
Shen Yun felt bewildered; he had merely revealed the true nature of those people.
When he looked at himself, all he saw was a hypocritical facade, pale and tasteless.
But people just happen to like this.
The footsteps came and went. Shen Yun turned her head and saw the boy with medicine walking over to her.
The medicine had a slightly bitter taste, and a burning sensation was gradually spread across my cheeks and the corners of my mouth.
Shen Yun looked at the face so close to hers—not beautiful enough, not handsome enough, and even showing obvious signs of damage.
But that focused expression was very captivating.
Even... something to miss.
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