Challenges and Growth
On Christmas Eve, December 24, 2015, a cold front swept across Florence, shrouded in the melodies of Christmas carols. In the living room, the warm yellow glow of the fireplace danced on the French windows, and red wine stains spread dark crimson patterns across the wool carpet. Rao Haiyi, wearing a leather jacket, was mingling with the crowd at the party. As soon as a Ducati pulled up, Xiaofeng stared at her. "Ducati?"
Rao Haiyi approached and nodded, introducing: "This is my daughter Rao Xiaofeng."
"Ferrari." The man took off his black leather gloves, his fingertips feeling the coolness of a motorcycle, and shook hands lightly with Xiaofeng.
Xiaofeng's eyes lit up: "Dad, can I go for a bike ride with Uncle Ferrari?"
"Go ahead."
The Ferrari and Ducati roared, like dormant beasts awakening. Xiaofeng climbed onto his Guzzi motorcycle, his fingertips lightly touching the accelerator. The body of the motorcycle shone with a cold metallic luster in the sunlight.
The two motorcycles stopped side by side at a red light. Ferrari raised an eyebrow, adjusting his rearview mirror, while Xiaofeng stared at the green light countdown—three, two, one—as her tires first tore through the asphalt. Her driving had a breathtaking rhythm: three precise turns in a row, the car almost parallel to the road; while accelerating down the straight, she dared to let go of her left hand to adjust the helmet strap.
The Ferrari was thrown halfway away, and his tightly pursed lips were reflected in the rearview mirror, with a hint of approval in his eyes.
But this talent was now being overwhelmed by a certain undercurrent. As Xiaofeng swerved into the oncoming lane at 80 mph to overtake, Ferrari suddenly released the accelerator. Her motorcycle was like an arrow ignited by anger, each movement imbued with a desperate determination: the front wheel nearly lifted off the ground during a sudden brake, the body of the motorcycle tilted at a sharp angle; on a downhill slope, she didn't even brake, letting the motorcycle dive downwards due to inertia...
At the dinner table, everyone chatted about interesting things. Zhou Yang and Xiaofeng wrapped the children in blankets in their room and carried them downstairs. During the meal, Ferrari suddenly mentioned, "Rao Xiaofeng's cornering technique... is exactly the same as her father's when he was racing. It's amazing."
Lucas, in Xiaofeng's arms, suddenly uttered a "Ya ...
On the other side of Ninghai City, Jiang Wan clicked on the message. In the photo, Xiaofeng was holding Lucas. The pixels were blurry but the outline could be seen clearly.
"Where are they?"
"My friend's family said it was his daughter and two grandchildren. The children look exactly like Wenqing when he was a child."
"It's Wenqing's wife and children." Jiang Wan's fingertips hovered over the send button for three seconds, and finally pressed it.
"There was a young man with them, whom her father called his 'friend Zhou Yang'."
"Thank you. There's a misunderstanding between the young couple. Jiang Heng and I will be there soon."
"See you later."
Jiang Wan turned off her cell phone, glanced at the light on in the house next door, grabbed her down jacket and went out.
Wen Qing's figure leaning against the door frame was stretched into a distorted silhouette under the light. The strong smell of alcohol mixed with the chill of the winter night hit him in the face: "Who...ah?"
Jiang Wan suppressed her anger: "It's four o'clock. Did you just come back, or are you about to go out?"
"Hmm..." There was an unclear syllable stuck in Wen Qing's throat, like a rusty screw.
"Look at what you look like now?"
"Who cares what I'm like... It's none of your business..." He lowered his head even lower, his voice echoing in the empty room, "Why is it that no one cares what Wen Feng does? Why do I have to consider the overall situation? He left so cleanly, so selfishly, and he still wants to tear open all these things... I have nothing now..."
"If you can't let go, go get Xiaofeng and the child back."
"She won't forgive me..." Wen Qing struggled to get up from the ground, but his legs felt as soft as cotton, and he fell heavily beside the shoe cabinet. Jiang Wan suddenly loosened her grip on his sleeve and helped him onto the sofa. "Go get some sleep first."
The dining room's chandelier cast four intertwining shadows on the glass turntable. The four members of the Jiang family sat around, no one speaking. Chopsticks dangled in mid-air, the white mist rising from the hot dishes gradually dissipated. The silence was so intense that even the gentle clink of the soup spoon against the bowl was particularly piercing. Jiang Hui instinctively tugged at his tie, while Jiang Tao stirred the lemon in his glass with a straw. Outside, the sound of rain mixed with the ticking of the wall clock, becoming even clearer in the stillness.
"Honey, let's go to Florence?" Jiang Wan spoke first.
"What about Wenqing?" Jiang Tao asked.
"We must persuade him to see a psychiatrist," Jiang Hui said, emphasizing each word. "We can't go on like this."
Jiang Tao asked, "Who can persuade him?"
Jiang Heng said in his usual calm voice, "I'll go look for Zhou Yong."
On the evening of January 1, 2016, after the children fell asleep, Zhou Yang and Xiao Feng prepared to go out to participate in the New Year's Day celebrations.
Before leaving, Zhou Yang carefully wrapped a scarf around Xiaofeng: "It's cold at night, don't catch a cold."
As the fireworks bloomed over the Arno River, lighting up the entire night sky, Zhou Yang leaned close to Xiao Feng's ear and spoke in a voice as gentle as a feather: "My New Year's wish is to always be by your side."
On the way home, someone was singing and playing guitar at a street corner, attracting many passersby to stop and watch. The familiar melody of "Speak Softly Love" flowed out, the song so gentle that it seemed soaked in moonlight - "Speak softly love so that no one hears us but the sky..."
After the performance, Zhou Yang walked into the crowd and whispered a few words to the lead singer. The entire band tacitly stepped back, giving him the microphone. Zhou Yang cleared his throat and looked at Xiao Feng: "Sorry, there's no accompaniment."
He began to sing: "It's still not too late to repent," "It's all my fault," "Be silent when you shouldn't be silent, be weak when you should be brave," "Or maybe later, I'll meet the mature me"...
As the final note fell, the crowd erupted in applause, punctuated by friendly whistles. Zhou Yang's steps toward Xiaofeng were more measured than expected. He saw the tears still lingering on Xiaofeng's eyelashes, and suddenly realized—this apology came too late. Her vulnerability at this moment demanded companionship, not calculated exploitation.
At home, the warm yellow light shone across the wool carpet, casting a flowing pattern of light on Jiang Wan as she stood up. "Dad, Mom," Xiaofeng's voice still carried the sweetness of the New Year.
Jiang Wan suddenly stepped between Zhou Yang and Xiao Feng, smiling and pulling her towards the dining table. "Are you attending the New Year's event?" Xiao Feng looked at her blankly. Jiang Wan patted the back of her hand and said with familiarity, "Have you forgotten? Mom and Wenqing lived in Florence for ten years, staying in Mr. Ferrari's hotel. Is this fate? It seems you can't escape it."
"When did you... arrive?"
"Just arrived. I came here after settling in at the hotel."
"It's too late. Let's talk about it tomorrow."
"Some things must be said now." Jiang Heng almost knocked over the wine glass when he stood up, but his tone was extremely firm.
"Dad, Mom, just chat if you want." Xiaofeng said, and walked straight to the dining table and sat down.
Zhou Yang quickly weighed the pros and cons in his mind, and ultimately decided to stay. He quietly stepped back a few steps and leaned against the door frame.
"We are sorry for you..." For the first time, Jiang Heng put aside all the dignity of an elder in front of his daughter-in-law. He looked at Xiaofeng's tear-soaked face, his throat seemed to be blocked, and he couldn't say the rest of the words.
"Dad, I understand you." Xiaofeng's tone suddenly rose. "Really, in your hearts, the child is Wenfeng's blood and the only thing he left behind, right? Wenfeng's behavior is a crime, but for the Jiang family's reputation, you won't call the police, let alone stand up to defend me."
Jiang Wan leaned forward slightly and suddenly spoke, "Because of Wen Feng's heart disease, we do feel guilty towards him, and even acquiesced to his transgression. If you want to blame us, we have no excuse. But Xiaofeng, you and Wenqing are both victims. You should go back and face it with him."
"Mom..." Xiaofeng couldn't hold back her tears any longer, and they fell softly. "From the time Wenqing and I met, to the time we got married, and then the time our children were born, it was a full five years, and he never touched me once. That's why when I got pregnant, he was so sure the child was Wenfeng's. I didn't go back precisely for the Jiang family's dignity."
Rao Haiyi took Xiaofeng's shoulder and patted it gently: "Forget it, don't say anymore."
Xiao Feng shook his head, his voice trembling uncontrollably: "I don't even dare to think about whether the two brothers had this 'premeditated'..."
"That's enough!" Rao Haiyi couldn't hold back any longer and interrupted her abruptly, "Just let her go!"
The next morning, Jiang Heng and Jiang Wan came to see the two children and then set off back to Ninghai.
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