Chapter 91 Mother's Diary
Song Zhiyi remained motionless, engrossed in her reading. Sunlight filtered through the grape leaves, dancing on her and the letter. The courtyard was quiet, save for the faint strains of opera from the radio and the distant chirping of cicadas.
Her face showed no intense expression, and she didn't shed any tears, but her eyes were slightly red, and her fingers, gripping the letter tightly, were white at the knuckles and trembling slightly.
So that's how it is.
It turns out that the hardships she thought she had overcome through her own efforts and luck were actually orchestrated by her grandfather, who, despite his illness and bent back, secretly helped her.
It turns out that the marriage she initially saw as "fulfilling her grandfather's last wish" was, in the end, the last and most secure protection her grandfather had planned for her, his granddaughter who had lost her parents and was single-mindedly pursuing her ideals but had nowhere to rely on.
It turned out that Grandpa knew everything. He knew her wounds, her pain, and the heavy ideals that lay beneath her cool exterior. He knew, but dared not ask. He could only try his best, clumsily and desperately, in his own way to pave a slightly smoother path for her.
"Your maternal grandfather..." Grandpa Chen's voice rang out from the side, tinged with a sigh, "When he wrote this letter, he could barely sit up. I had to help him lie on the bed, and he wrote it stroke by stroke for two whole days."
Song Zhiyi slowly and very carefully folded the letter back to its original shape and put it back in the envelope. Her movements were slow, as if she were handling a fragile treasure.
After a long while, she finally raised her head and looked at Grandpa Chen. Her voice was a little hoarse, but still clear: "Grandpa Chen, thank you. And thank you, Grandpa too... I never knew."
Grandpa Chen waved his hand, his eyes also getting a little moist: "Your maternal grandfather was worried that you would feel guilty. He said that you are too upright, and if you knew that he had secretly helped you with your job, you might resist. As for the engagement... sigh, he had no other choice. Now it seems that the Huo family boy isn't so bad after all?"
Song Zhiyi didn't answer directly, but simply nodded. She carefully put the envelope away, then looked at the burnt notebook in the box.
“This…” She picked it up, her fingertips touching the charred edge of the cover, and a strange sense of familiarity welled up in her heart.
“This was also kept by your maternal grandfather. It was left by your mother.” Grandpa Chen’s voice lowered. “The place where your parents had the accident… later, the people cleaning up the site found this in the ruins. Part of the notebook was burned, but your maternal grandfather recognized your mother’s handwriting, so he kept it. He probably… wanted to keep it as a memento, or perhaps, he wanted to give it to you when you could handle it.”
Song Zhiyi's heart sank.
My mother's...diary?
She gently opened the charred and brittle cover. On the title page, a line of neat yet strong penmanship came into view:
"Shen Qingru's Battlefield Medical Notes"
The afternoon sun was still warm, and the shadows of the grape trellis moved slowly across the ground. But Song Zhiyi felt a chill creep from her fingertips to her heart. She stared at the familiar handwriting, as if she could see through time and space her mother diligently recording her daily clinical observations and experiences in the simple camp by the dim light.
Song Zhiyi closed the notebook and gently placed it, along with her grandfather's letter, back into the wooden box. Holding the box, she bowed deeply to Grandpa Chen.
"Grandpa Chen, thank you. I've put the things away."
"Okay, keep it safe. If you have any questions or need any help, feel free to come to Grandpa anytime." Grandpa Chen patted her shoulder. "Go back now, be careful on the way."
On the way back, Song Zhiyi sat in the car, clutching the small wooden box, watching the scenery rushing past the window. The city's skyscrapers, traffic, and crowds were all separated from her by a transparent barrier.
Grandpa's trembling handwriting floated into her mind, sentence by sentence. Those "smooth sailings" she had once taken for granted, those grievances and pains she had swallowed alone, her initial indifference and estrangement towards marriage... all now had different interpretations.
She remains herself. Her goals are clear, her will is firm, and her heart is set on the land.
But some perceptions have been quietly rewritten. Regarding shelter, regarding sacrifice, regarding the heavy and affectionate entrustment of the two elderly people behind the marriage contract that she once thought was a "binding".
As the car entered the city, the streetlights came on.
Song Zhiyi looked down at the wooden box in her arms. Inside lay the concerns and memories of two generations.
Her grandfather's letter made her see where she came from.
Her mother's diary may help her understand more deeply the true weight of the ideals for which her parents gave their lives.
The road ahead is long, but her heart is calmer and...softer than ever before. Because she knows that she has never truly walked alone.
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