The light curtain was like a fleeting illusion, vanishing in the blink of an eye without leaving any unusual traces.
Xie Tao belatedly reached out to touch her left eyelid, and a stabbing pain surged through her. Lowering her eyes to her fingertips, she discovered a speck of blood.
Still preoccupied with the words Fu Miaolan had spoken to her earlier, Xie Tao didn’t have time to think further. She hurriedly picked up her phone from the ground, which was slightly wet, and, disregarding the scrapes on her hands and knees, she righted her bicycle and rushed towards Qizhen train station.
The station was always bustling, a place accustomed to hellos and goodbyes.
It never lacked for passengers coming and going.
Xie Tao parked her bicycle at the entrance of the station, then ran into the lobby.
Perhaps because it wasn’t a major holiday, the lobby wasn’t very crowded. Thus, as soon as Xie Tao entered, she saw two figures sitting on the chairs across the room.
A tall man was patting the shoulder of a woman whose face was obscured, seemingly whispering words of comfort.
Xie Tao recognized the iron-gray suit jacket the man was wearing; it was the same one Zheng Wenhong had worn when he met her today.
The woman beside him had her back to Xie Tao, her head leaning on Zheng Wenhong’s shoulder, one hand covering her face, her body trembling slightly, as if she was crying.
Hiding in a corner, Xie Tao’s gaze, once fixed on the woman, couldn’t be moved away.
Tears came quickly, too swiftly for Xie Tao to wipe them away, instead rolling down her cheeks.
The woman was dressed in a dark blue dress, covered by a coat, with high heels on her feet. Even just from her silhouette, she emanated elegance and gentleness.
This was a far cry from the image of the woman Xie Tao remembered.
But, it seemed, this was how she was meant to be.
Because of her father, because of Xie Tao, or because of the family they once had, everything she had lost seemed to have been slowly reclaimed.
Zheng Wenhong appeared to be a good enough man for Su Linghua.
Even though he was also selfish and indifferent.
To Xie Tao, he had never shown much care or affection.
But indeed, it was he who had rescued the lost confidence and sense of self of Su Linghua, burdened by their heavy past family life.
He had come to understand all her past, the good and the bad. She was a woman worn by time, not in the best state, but he fell in love with her nonetheless.
As her husband, he accepted all of her, bearing with her the memories of the past, both good and bad, slowly helping her find her sense of self again.
Just by gazing at that dark blue silhouette, Xie Tao knew, perhaps, as the mother she once was, as the wife of Xie Zhengyuan, those years were too hard. But as the wife of Zheng Wenhong, she must be very happy.
Xie Tao still missed the time spent with her parents in Qizhen, when she felt like the happiest child in the world.
But her parents’ divorce was like a thunderclap tearing through the peaceful sky, destroying everything, irreparable.
Xie Tao’s home had completely collapsed when she, in a difficult decision, pointed her finger at her mother, and her father turned away, never to return.
As Xie Tao grew older, she realized that a falling building, no matter how much one tries to repair and maintain it, what’s coming will come.
Even if her parents had chosen to continue their marriage for her sake, in such a family, only she would have been happy.
The waiting hall’s announcement chime rang, and Xie Tao watched as Zheng Wenhong, carrying all the luggage, helped the woman beside him to stand, about to head towards the ticket gate. Just then, he looked up, seemingly in Xie Tao’s direction.
Xie Tao’s body reacted faster than her mind, immediately hiding behind a nearby wall.
“What’s wrong?” Su Linghua followed his gaze, but saw nothing.
Zheng Wenhong withdrew his gaze, “It’s nothing, let’s go.”
Su Linghua glanced at the entrance, where the comings and goings were all unfamiliar faces. She seemed to recall something, as her eyes reddened slightly.
“Linghua, are you really not going to see her?” Zheng Wenhong sighed upon seeing her like this.
Su Linghua shook her head, as if wanting to say something, but the words never made it past her lips. In the end, she softly said, “Let’s go.”
As a mother, Su Linghua deeply regretted the harm she had inflicted on her young daughter, Xie Tao, in the past. She even dared not recall everything from the darkest two years of her life.
She couldn’t bear to remember the bruises and purple marks on her young daughter’s body.
She was not a good mother.
She could never forgive herself in this lifetime.
She knew the barrier between her and her daughter, Xie Tao, was a lock difficult to open over the years.
Once, when that little life was still in her womb, she had sworn to love her forever, to give her everything… But why did it all change so drastically in the end?
Su Linghua missed Xie Tao, starting from that winter night a year ago, from the moment she saw her daughter leaving without looking back, carrying a backpack and wearing a thin sweater, a huge void formed in her heart, one that could never be filled with anything in this lifetime.
She missed her daughter so much.
But when Su Linghua was about to meet her, she became afraid.
What would she say upon seeing her?
Should she repeat “I’m sorry,” “I was wrong” over and over again? Su Linghua remembered how Xie Tao, still so young after being hit, would hug her back while listening to her apologies over and over.
Life is bitter, living is hard, but her daughter was sweet.
But the Su Linghua of the past was stuck in a mire, only aware of the darkness before her, unable to taste the sweetness around her.
Her heart still deeply loved Xie Tao, but she had already lost the way to express her love.
All the accumulated harm made her unsure how to face her daughter, who had silently accompanied her through the darkest times of her life.
While Zheng Wenhong was leading her to the ticket gate, Su Linghua suddenly remembered the New Year’s Eve a year ago, when after she had hit her daughter, she saw in Xie Tao’s almond-shaped eyes, so similar to hers, the last spark of light extinguish like the fireworks outside, and heard her say:
“Mom, you’ve found your home, but I haven’t.”
That softly spoken sentence, which she hadn’t really considered in her anger at the time, now felt like a sharp dagger stabbing deeply into Su Linghua’s chest every time she thought of it, invisible but excruciatingly painful.
Just past the ticket gate, Su Linghua couldn’t help but burst into tears.
And in the hall, Xie Tao, watching Zheng Wenhong and Su Linghua go through the ticket gate and gradually disappear, ignored all the occasional glances at her. Her slightly dry lips parted slightly, but she made no sound.
Mom…
Xie Tao turned around, wiped the tears from her face with her sleeve, and walked towards the outside of the waiting hall.
Seeing Su Linghua, she couldn’t help but reminisce about the good times they had shared and miss the mom who had once loved her so much.
But that, after all, was not forgiveness.
And meeting, was unnecessary.
As night deepened, her bike left outside the station disappeared, and Xie Tao searched several times but couldn’t find it. In the end, she had to walk back on her own.
By the time she reached the Fu Family cake shop, it was already past ten o’clock.
Fu Miaolan emerged from the back, draped in her clothes, to see Xie Tao sitting alone on a high stool by the counter, lost in thought.
Her clothes were smeared with mud and dirt, looking filthy, with even a trace of blood on her pants, making her appear quite disheveled.
“Tao Tao, what happened to you?” Fu Miaolan quickly approached.
Xie Tao seemed to snap back to reality, “I fell off my bike.”
After speaking, she covered her face, her voice slightly choked, “Auntie Fu… I lost my bike.”
Xie Tao had always been gentle and well-behaved, a very obedient child. But Fu Miaolan hadn’t seen her cry over the past year, so seeing her like this, she immediately pulled up a stool to sit in front of her, patting her shoulder, “Oh, Tao Tao, don’t cry. If the bike is lost, it’s lost. Auntie Fu will help you look for it tomorrow, and if we can’t find it, I’ll buy you a new one!”
Fu Miaolan stood up, turned around, and fetched a small first aid kit from a nearby cupboard, taking out some medicine and cotton swabs.
“Oh my, how did you also hurt your eye here?” Fu Miaolan pulled her hand away, only then noticing the cut on her left eyelid.
Xie Tao had forgotten about it until Fu Miaolan mentioned it.
To be honest, she wasn’t quite sure what had scratched her eyelid.
“It’s okay, Auntie, it doesn’t hurt anymore,” Xie Tao said, sniffing.
But when Fu Miaolan gently applied medicine to her eyelid with a cotton swab, the sharp pain still made her furrow her brow.
Fu Miaolan huffed, “You call this not hurting?”
“It’s not that bad…” Xie Tao said quietly.
Fu Miaolan treated all her wounds, on her arms, the back of her hands, and even her knees, and then put a band-aid on her eyelid.
“Such a pretty girl shouldn’t be left with scars,” Fu Miaolan finally pinched her cheek.
Xie Tao couldn’t help but smile at Fu Miaolan, looking somewhat silly.
But seeing her like this, Fu Miaolan suddenly felt a wave of sourness in her heart.
Xie Tao’s father, Xie Zhengyuan, was from Qizhen, and Fu Miaolan used to know him. She had also met his then-wife, Su Linghua, a few times.
They had a relationship where they were not close but knew each other.
Fu Miaolan was aware of Xie Zhengyuan and Su Linghua’s divorce.
When two adults decide to separate, isn’t that the end of it?
But in this matter, wasn’t this girl in front of her the one who suffered the most?
“Tao Tao, did you see your mother today?”
Fu Miaolan stroked her hair, asking gently.
Xie Tao stopped smiling, her eyes cast down, lips pursed, and after a moment, she said, “I saw her…”
“I saw her,” she repeated.
“Didn’t you go up to her and say a few words?” Fu Miaolan asked.
But Xie Tao looked up, her dark eyes reflecting the lamplight, “What should I say to her?”
Fu Miaolan heard her say, “Auntie Fu, I don’t know what to say to her.”
Fu Miaolan stared at the profile of the girl in front of her for a while before sighing, “Tao Tao, go back, go back to Nan City.”
“Aunt Fu, I won’t go back,” Xie Tao shook her head, with the same determination she had when facing Zheng Wenhong.
She was a stubborn child, something Fu Miaolan had always known.
So with just that sentence, she couldn’t bring herself to persuade any further.
“Don’t go back to your old house tonight, sleep with Hua’er instead,” Fu Miaolan patted her shoulder.
Fu Hua, Fu Miaolan’s daughter, had suffered a high fever at the age of eight. Due to her father’s negligence, her condition worsened, damaging her brain.
Later, Fu Miaolan resolutely divorced Fu Hua’s father and returned to Qizhen with Fu Hua.
This year, Fu Hua was already fifteen years old but had the intelligence of an eight-year-old.
Life is not easy, and there are always sorrows. Fu Miaolan never showed her hardships, but Xie Tao could still sense them.
“Okay, Aunt Fu,” Xie Tao hugged her waist, nuzzling her arm like a kitten.
Fu Miaolan smiled, her eyes crinkling with a few wrinkles, “Alright, hurry up and get ready for bed. Be careful not to touch your wounds clumsily, okay?”
“Got it,” Xie Tao replied softly.
After Xie Tao had washed up and entered Fu Hua’s room with light steps, seeing Fu Hua sleeping soundly on the bed, she planned to take off her dirty jacket.
Only when she pulled out her phone from the jacket pocket did she remember that it had fallen into a puddle that day.
She quickly checked the screen and, seeing no issues, felt relieved.
Lying in bed, Xie Tao, with her eyes wide open, thought of Zhou Xinyue, feeling somewhat restless in her heart.
Zhou Xinyue was her only good friend in Nan City.
They had never lost contact over the past year.
But starting a month ago, all the messages she sent to Zhou Xinyue received no reply.
Turning over, Xie Tao took out the phone from under her pillow, lit up the screen, intending to check WeChat for any messages from Zhou Xinyue, but unexpectedly saw a message from an unknown contact in the top row of WeChat.
The profile picture was blank, and even the name was.
Opening the chat, Xie Tao found a bunch of gibberish she had sent.
Nothing else.
Xie Tao was puzzled. When had she added a stranger and sent a bunch of gibberish?
She suddenly remembered that her phone had fallen into a puddle when she fell off her bike that afternoon. Because she was rushing to the station, she quickly picked it up, wiped it with her hand a few times, and then stuffed it into her jacket pocket.
Could it be… that she had accidentally pressed something on WeChat, added a stranger, and then sent a bunch of gibberish?
Xie Tao couldn’t figure it out.
Unbeknownst to her, at the same time, in another space-time, in a room filled with ancient charm, a young master in a dark red brocade robe, with a slender figure, was sitting in front of a desk. His peach blossom eyes, born with a passion yet seemingly heartless, were fixed on a piece of golden paper spread out on the desk, his expression dark and unfathomable.
On the paper, there was nothing but a baffling cluster of mysterious ink marks: @#￥……%##&%
His brows furrowed slightly, and his amber-like eyes shifted back to the object pressing down the letter, which seemed to be just an ordinary copper round object.
It was only about twice the size of a typical round jade pendant, with both sides polished to a shine. Beyond that, there was nothing special about it.
Suddenly, footsteps were heard from outside the door, followed by a figure appearing outside the gauze window, “My lord, Shao Anhe is dead.”
When the young master inside the room looked up, his eyes showed no ripples, deep as a starless eternal night, devoid of any warmth.
As he spoke, his voice was clear and cool, like refreshing water.
“Set off for Yingdu tomorrow.”
