Chapter 104 The Return Journey is Like a Rainbow, Time Flows Like a Song
The sycamore leaves outside the window turned yellow and then green again, then green and then yellow again. Wang Yi sat in her spacious and bright study, with not memorials or plans laid out before her, but an open family photo album. Sunlight streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, gilding her still-black hair with a soft golden edge, and making the extremely fine lines at the corners of her eyes, which even the best technology could not completely smooth out, faintly visible in the light.
She raised her hand, her fingertips gently brushing over a photo in the album—a picture of her eldest daughter, Lizhi, on her first stage in the school auditorium, wearing a little dress, slightly nervous yet her eyes shining as she played the violin. So young, and now, she's already overseas, pursuing her musical dreams at a music academy abroad. During the video call, the girl excitedly described new musical forms, her rigorous professors, and her breathtaking performances at the concert, her eyes sparkling with the light of youth—a fearless light, a light that shines forth from the things she loves.
A gentle smile unconsciously crept onto Wang Yi's lips. Like her, Li Zhi possessed an indomitable spirit, but with an added touch of an artist's sensitivity and passion. She never interfered with her daughter's choices, only offering unwavering support and calm advice when needed.
Turning the page, there was a photo of the second daughter, Shuyao. The little girl was already engrossed in a math book bigger than her face, her brow slightly furrowed, her expression adorably focused. Now, Shuyao was a student in the gifted youth program at one of the top universities in China, spending her days immersed in formulas, theorems, and the mathematical world that was somewhat unfamiliar to Wang Yi. She was quiet and reserved, but when she talked about mathematics, the occasional sparkle in her eyes was no less passionate than Lizhi's when discussing music. Shuyao's world was pure and profound; all Wang Yi could do was protect this pure land, allowing her to roam freely without distractions.
When Wang Yi's gaze fell on the photo of her third daughter, Qingyun, a complex mix of emotions and understanding crept into her smile. From a young age, Qingyun had an exceptional sensitivity to numbers—not the kind of sensitivity to abstract theories that Shuyao possessed, but rather a sensitivity to concrete, fluid numbers that represented value and risk. At ten, she could point out several unreasonable cost fluctuations in a simplified quarterly report that Wang Yi had deliberately left behind at her company. Now, at fifteen, the girl spends her free time engrossed in the Financial Times and complex business case studies, and has even begun using her allowance for simulated investments, achieving some modest "gains."
Qingyun's dream is straightforward—to inherit her mother's company and make it bigger and stronger. She possesses a natural desire for money and success, and has inherited Wang Yi's calm mind and keen intuition, perhaps even... a greater, more outward-looking ambition bestowed upon her by this era. Wang Yi is gratified to have a daughter carrying on the family business, but often secretly reminds herself that she needs constant guidance to prevent Qingyun from being blinded by pure materialism or a spirit of adventure. Fortunately, while Qingyun has a clear goal, she is also receptive to reason and understands the importance of learning and accumulation.
Three daughters, three completely different life trajectories, yet all are a continuation of her life and a source of pride. Watching them grow from tiny, dependent little bundles of flesh into graceful young women, each with their own unique charm, Wang Yi felt an indescribable sense of satisfaction, accompanied by a faint sense of melancholy at the fleeting nature of time.
She put down the photo album and walked to the full-length mirror. The woman in the mirror still had a straight figure, firm skin, and looked no more than thirty years old—the result of careful maintenance and moderate technological intervention. But only she knew that her body was already over fifty. She had chosen that time to conceive her three daughters, making her a high-risk pregnancy. Now, although she appeared radiant, she genuinely felt her energy was not what it used to be. She felt exhausted after handling company affairs for several hours straight, and recovered slowly after staying up all night. Sometimes, listening to her daughters' energetic discussions of various new things, she would unconsciously drift off, needing to work harder to keep up with their rapid-fire thoughts.
She began scheduling more frequent medical checkups, paying attention to her diet and exercise, and also starting to think and plan more systematically for the company's future, and... her daughters' future. She wasn't afraid of death; it was the natural order. But she feared leaving too soon, leaving her daughters vulnerable and unprepared to face this complex world alone, potentially suffering setbacks and injuries. Especially Qingyun, who had chosen a path fraught with competition and risk.
"Mom, what do you think of this dress? I'll wear it to the prom!" Qingyun burst through the door, holding a tablet computer in her hand. On the screen was a uniquely designed little dress. The girl's face radiated youthful glow, her eyes bright and filled with undeniable confidence.
Wang Yi snapped out of her thoughts, looked at her daughter, and said gently, "The color suits you very well. However, isn't the shoulder design a bit too exaggerated? Is the school allowed to use it?"
"Oh my, Mom, what era are we living in! It's just a little bit of design!" Qingyun came over and hugged Wang Yi's arm affectionately. "Weren't you also unconventional when you were young?"
Wang Yi chuckled and patted her daughter's hand: "I wasn't as bold as you back then. Alright, buy it if you like it, just remember to try it on beforehand."
"Thank you, Mom! I love you the most!" Qingyun cheered and ran out like a gust of wind, leaving behind a room full of youthful energy.
Wang Yi smiled and shook her head, turning her gaze back to the window. The city sky was dyed a magnificent orange-red by the sunset, and the flow of cars returning home formed a river of lights. Here, there were no grand palaces of the Tang Dynasty, no power struggles with swords and shadows, but rather ordinary, mundane yet real and warm daily life; the satisfaction of watching children grow up healthily; and new plans and expectations for the second half of her life.
The time-travel experience was like a long and bizarre dream. Upon waking, she returned to her identity as a modern woman, carrying with her the wisdom and composure gained from the experience, as well as a deeper understanding of life and family. She is a mother, a business manager, and herself.
Life is like a song, with rousing chapters and soothing interludes. Her first half of life was full of ups and downs, spanning ancient and modern times; in the second half, she only wishes to guard this world that belongs to her, watching her daughters grow up brilliantly like rainbows and walk steadily forward.
My phone vibrated; it was a message from Shuyao—a jumble of mathematical symbols followed by, "Mom, this derivation is finally finished! [Happy spinning]"
Wang Yi looked at the symbol, and although she couldn't understand it, she smiled sincerely and replied, "Great! What do you want to eat tonight? Mom will make it for you."
As the last rays of the setting sun faded, the city lights gradually illuminated the night. Wang Yi stood by the window, her shadow elongated in the warm light, appearing serene and resolute. The journey home might be ordinary, but it possessed its own solid and warm foundation. And as for the future, no matter how many years lay ahead, she was prepared to face it calmly, together with her daughters.
However, her uncle's "troublemaking" was like a bucket of ice water, unexpectedly waking Wang Yi from her idyllic state.
The incident stemmed from a routine audit document for a family trust fund, which involved the distribution of some patent rights left by her father in his early years, now quite valuable. Her uncle, sensing something amiss, joined forces with several equally restless distant relatives and launched an attack under the pretext that "Wang Yi, as a woman, has focused on her family and company operations for many years, which may have led to oversights, and that joint family oversight is necessary to protect the rights of the younger generation (referring to Wang Yi's daughters)."
The methods weren't particularly sophisticated; they were nothing more than baseless accusations, emotional appeals, and even subtle hints that Wang Yi was "getting old and her energy waning, and it was time to consider her daughters' future." In the past, Wang Yi wouldn't have taken this level of provocation seriously at all; she had enough legal, financial, and business resources to shut these people up.
But this time, she felt a chill she had never felt before, a chill that was deeper and more profound. It wasn't because of her uncle's methods, but because of the nakedly malicious speculation in his words about her "age" and "woman" identity, and the calculations that vaguely surfaced behind that document about her potential "inability to cope" in the future.
She swiftly and forcefully retaliated, using sound company bylaws, an independent legal team, and clear property rights documentation to nip the trouble in the bud. Wang Zhenye and his associates were humiliated and retreated dejectedly, unlikely to dare to act rashly again for some time.
The matter had subsided, but the turmoil in Wang Yi's heart remained unsettled for a long time.
She sat in the quiet of her study late at night, the main light off, only the dim glow of a reading lamp on the desk casting a yellowish hue. The computer screen still displayed the encrypted plan she had just finished processing—a plan to strengthen the family's asset firewall and protect her daughters' future rights. Her fingers unconsciously traced the warm rim of her coffee cup, her gaze unfocused.
"Advanced age"... "Lack of energy"...
These words, like tiny needles, pierced the illusion of youth she had long maintained through technology and willpower. In her fifties, in a modern society with increasing life expectancy, she was certainly not old. But in the ever-changing business world, in positions requiring abundant energy and sharp decision-making, in the eyes of those eyeing her with predatory intent, this might already be an age that could be labeled as "starting to decline."
She's not afraid of getting old, nor is she afraid of retiring. The wealth and connections she's accumulated over half a lifetime are enough for her and her daughters to live comfortably for generations. The company can be handed over to professional managers, or even gradually transformed or sold.
What she fears is what will happen to her daughters after she grows old or even passes away.
Lizhi is immersed in the world of art, pure and sensitive, lacking vigilance against the treacherous nature of the business world; Shuyao is focused on academics, clear-headed, and even more naive; Qingyun, though possessing business talent and ambition, is still too young, in her early twenties, a time when experience, connections, and character are still in need of refinement. The business world is like a battlefield, and human nature is unpredictable. How can these three girls, fresh out of school and still developing their skills, withstand the malice, scheming, and even open and covert attacks hidden in the shadows?
She can leave behind meticulously prepared wills, trusts, and legal documents; she can cultivate loyal subordinates; she can pave the way. But these are ultimately material guarantees, static defenses. When faced with real, unpredictable malice and competition, the daughters need more than just a thick stack of documents and a powerful business empire; they need a "backer" who can provide guidance, support, and even protection in crucial moments—an experienced, exceptionally wise elder who can unconditionally stand behind them.
This role should have been shared by both parents. But in this world, they only had her as their mother.
A thought, like a flash of lightning in the darkness, suddenly and clearly appeared in her mind—if...if Li Shimin were here, that would be wonderful.
The idea was so absurd, yet it carried a chilling, deep-seated desire.
Li Shimin, the Emperor Taizong of the Tang Dynasty, was the biological father of her daughters. Although in that era, there was no worldly marital affection between them, only a complex web of interests, mutual exploitation, and a peculiar tacit understanding based on shared goals and a degree of comprehension, it is undeniable that he gave life to his three daughters and passed on some of the most outstanding traits from his genes to them—his great talent, insightful understanding of human nature, decisiveness, and an almost instinctive protectiveness towards his own people.
If he were here, with his wisdom, skill, and experience, people like his uncle Wang Zhenye probably wouldn't even be worthy of his attention. He could probably see through the essence behind business traps at a glance, clear obstacles for his daughters in the most effective way, and use his emperor-like vision and confidence to subtly influence and shape them, helping them grow and become stronger more quickly.
He was a true strongman, a natural leader, and an extremely qualified, even outstanding, "father" (as evidenced by historical records and his attitude toward Li Chengqian and others, at least in terms of his expectations, upbringing, and protection of his children).
Once the thought took hold, it grew wildly like vines. Wang Yi felt a surge of absurdity, followed by an indescribable pang of sorrow. How could she have such an idea? To place her hopes on a man from over a thousand years ago? A man who didn't belong to this era at all, and whose very existence in her memories was uncertain?
But... what if?
In this era, time travel phenomena she couldn't comprehend happened to her. So, was there even a sliver of possibility—a reverse, or other, intersecting timelines? Even if it was just a one in a billion chance?
She shook her head sharply, banishing the unrealistic fantasy from her mind. It was absurd. She couldn't entrust her daughters' future to such a vague "what if."
However, the deep anxiety and sense of helplessness in her heart did not dissipate. She walked to the window, gazing at the deep night sky and the dazzling lights of the city in the distance. How many unknown risks and challenges were hidden beneath those lights?
How many more years can she protect her daughters? Ten years? Fifteen years? No matter how well she takes care of herself or how energetic she is, she will eventually grow old and become unable to do so. And ten years from now, her daughters will only be in their twenties, the age when they are starting out in life and need guides and protectors the most.
A deep sense of weariness washed over her, not just physically, but also mentally. Traversing two time periods, surviving life-or-death struggles, managing a vast enterprise, raising three daughters alone… it seemed she had always carried everything alone. She hadn't felt it before because she had clear goals and strong motivation. Now, when the greatest threat targeted her most tender concerns, she realized for the first time so clearly that she too could feel tired, and that she too could hope… for someone to share this burden.
That person couldn't possibly be Li Shimin. It was merely an untimely phantom born of despair.
She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. Relying on illusions is a sign of weakness. She, Wang Yi, was never one to live on fantasy.
Since there is no readily available "backer," then I will become the strongest "mountain" for my daughters myself. At the same time, I will do everything possible to create a safer environment for them and cultivate their ability to become "mountains" themselves.
She returned to her desk, closed the encryption scheme, and reopened a new document. The title was: "A Long-Term Plan (Revised Edition) for the Systematic Cultivation and Risk Defense System for the Three Heirs: Lizhi, Shuyao, and Qingyun."
Under the lamplight, her gaze regained its sharpness and focus. Age was not a problem, energy could be managed, and maternal love and wisdom were her inexhaustible source of strength.
As for that fleeting, absurd thought about a peerless emperor, let it remain forever buried in the deepest corner of my heart. It was merely a weak yet luxurious reverie of a weary mother in the dead of night when no one was around.
In reality, she still has to rely on herself, taking one step at a time to pave the way for her daughters.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com