In past years, they’d eat breakfast at Lin Lao’er’s place, have Lin Chuanyao lead them up the mountain, lunch back home, then “collect” some local produce they sent off with before leaving.
This year, with no one leading, Lin Huayan picked up a tree branch to probe the path.
The barren hillside was thick with overgrown weeds, some as tall as Zhou Chunping. A careless step could slice skin on their sharp edges.
Luckily, Lin Lao’d a and Lin Lao’er’s families had come on New Year’s Day and trampled a makeshift trail.
After paying respects to the ancestors, Lin Jiazhong’s knees were filthy from kneeling.
In previous years, they’d all just stood and bowed—no one kowtowing.
Zhou Chunping and Lin Huayan knew what was in his heart and didn’t stop him.
Only on the way down did Lin Huayan ask her father, “Dad, do you really think I’m wrong for not bending over backward for them? That I’m some sinner against the Lin family?”
“No! I’ve never thought that.”
Even feeling he owed his second brother a debt hard to repay, Lin Jiazhong never believed his daughter owed Lin Lao’er’s family a thing.
Having answered her, he gazed at the desolate fields below and sighed wistfully, “Don’t overthink it. I knelt to our ancestors not to confess sins to them, but to beg the ancestors to open their eyes. Don’t let them take our money and live carefree, ignoring justice. If they have any spirit left in heaven, they should judge right from wrong fairly, uphold what’s just, bless upright and generous descendants like my daughter—keep them safe, successful, unstoppable. That’s the bloodline worth passing on: useful to society, to the nation, not swept away and drowned by hurtling civilization, vanishing without a trace, name and all.”
“Dad.” Lin Huayan called softly again.
“Huayan, your mom’s right. My ears are too soft—that’s how they took advantage, got bolder and bolder. You’ve done nothing wrong. You owe them zilch. From now on, no more enduring if you don’t want to. No more coming back if you don’t feel like it.”
…
After seeing her parents through the sixth day of the New Year, Lin Huayan returned to her school dorm.
The next night, she took that bag of mushroom-and-pork dumplings from the dorm to her own home.
She’d given Qin Fengru’s share to her on the fifth.
On the eighth—when most workers ended their holidays and got back to the grind—students like her, with longer breaks, still had five days before classes resumed.
Teachers had to return two days early for meetings and prep.
Meaning she had just three days of true freedom.
Lin Huayan boiled dumplings for lunch.
Not many—just seven.
She’d boiled seven out of seventy, leaving sixty-three.
As she ate, she thought, If Lou Yixuan were here, how many would I boil to fill up the little kitten? Probably any number—she’d devour them all.
Finishing them, staring at the empty plate, she marveled incredulously, How can missing one person flood like a disaster?
Walking, I think of her. Watching the Spring Gala, I think. Setting off fireworks, I think. Eating dumplings, I think. Can’t sleep, I think. Even asleep, I think.
But the one I think of endlessly… in our first Spring Festival since reuniting, hadn’t sent a single message.
No, wait—she had.
New Year’s Eve, in the High School Year 1 Class 9 teacher group: just one message from Lou Yixuan—【May your families reunite in joy and bliss!】
Her heart had twisted in pain then.
Because she desperately wanted to know if the Lou Yixuan who sent that blessing had reunited with her family, if she was joyful and blissful.
A family that raised such a fresh, pure, outstanding girl—elegant, unshaken by fortune or humiliation—had to be a happy, blissful one.
The days after the New Year had all been sunny until today, when the sky shifted from clear to overcast. By afternoon, the brightness in the heavens had dimmed considerably compared to the previous days.
Lin Huayan switched on every light strip in the display case. The nearly airtight glass cabinet received a monthly inspection from her for any hint of dust—not a single speck was tolerated.
The house’s renovations had come from a design scheme by a company hired by Qin Fengru, but the design for this wall of display cases had been her one explicit demand.
Seeing the objects, thoughts turned to the person.
She had fallen into that old cliché early on, sunk deep into it, and couldn’t climb out.
The sea of flowers that Lou Yixuan had gifted her—52 paintings, 52 kinds of flowers—she loved them all.
Among them, she cherished “Gardenia” the most.
Leaves like emeralds, flowers like white snow, stamens like blazing sun.
It was so much like the girl in her heart—that flower-like maiden who was sometimes serene and graceful, sometimes coquettishly vibrant—Lou Yixuan.
She had placed this painting within easy reach, but the hand she stretched out midway retracted.
“Daughter, before you head back to school, let Mom nag you a few more times. Look at you, you’re almost forty, and it’s taken half a lifetime to meet someone you truly like. Is that easy? Don’t blame Mom for teaming up with Fengru—we both genuinely want the best for you, want you to follow your heart. But you absolutely can’t be foolish, can’t let irrelevant outsiders trip you up and leave you with lifelong regrets.”
“Those two days back home, you heard your dad’s stance. Both your dad and I support you, stand by your side. Like twenty-something years ago, trust us, okay? Trust that we won’t send you back to the old place, trust that we’ll protect the person you like just like we protect you.”
“Lin Huayan, you’re a department head at school—how come when it comes to feelings, you turn timid and hesitant? Listen to Mom: be bold, don’t fear anything. Do what you want to do. With Mom and Dad backing you up! We’re not so old yet that we can’t walk or hold things up. But if you keep dragging your feet… hmph, when you come to my grave later, you’ll kneel.”*
Recalling her mother’s earnest repeated instructions, Lin Huayan felt both warmed and anxious at heart.
She pondered for a long time before messaging Lou Yixuan: 【Are you free before school starts? I’d like to invite you over for dinner at home.】
The dumplings her mother had specially made for Lou Yixuan—she had to let her taste them.
Then they could talk about their future “them.”
A few seconds after sending, she edited another: 【Or we can eat out. Those twelve restaurants you sent me before—we haven’t tried any. We can pick one.】
She had anticipated that Lou Yixuan wouldn’t reply right away, so she waited patiently.
But she waited and waited—until nightfall, until the wind rose, until the rain fell, until her warm heart grew cold—and still, not a single word from Lou Yixuan.
Amid the rumbling thunder of winter, fierce winds hurled heavy rain against the windows, and each second of waiting stretched endlessly in the relentless downpour.
In the bedroom, the warm yellow lamplight cast a cozy glow, yet it only accentuated the boundless loneliness.
At two in the morning, Lin Huayan finally turned off the light.
Sleepless, she illuminated her phone screen for the umpteenth time, but the WeChat chat still held only the two messages she had sent that afternoon, undisturbed by any reply from Lou Yixuan.
She lay awake until dawn, drinking cup after cup of plain boiled water on an empty stomach.
At nine, she dug out the phone number and dialed, only to hear the automated voice: “Sorry, the number you have dialed is temporarily unavailable. Please try again later…”
Temporarily unavailable.
Bad signal?
What kind of place would have bad signal?
Had it started yesterday, or been bad even before that?
Could it be that Lou Yixuan had blocked her, hence the message…
No, that wasn’t right.
Qin Fengru had blocked her before—both WeChat and calls. A WeChat block prevented messages from sending successfully, and a phone block didn’t give “unavailable.”
At this thought, Lin Huayan grew uneasy.
So she called Du Heming: “Teacher Du, have you been in touch with Yixuan lately?”
“Huh? No, just a call before the New Year. We exchanged New Year’s greetings on the first day of the lunar new year, then nothing. What’s up?”
“Teachers report back to school the day after tomorrow for prep. I need the teaching plan for color studies from her, but her phone’s not connecting.”
“Not connecting? Maybe bad signal. What about WeChat? If she sees it, she’ll reply.”
“I sent WeChat yesterday—no reply.”
“…”
“Teacher Du, could you try calling her for me?”
“…Oh, sure, sure, Teacher Lin. I’ll try in a bit.”
“Mm. If you get through, please pass on a message for me. Thanks.”
She had waited nearly a day and night for Lou Yixuan’s reply—now who knew how long for Du Heming’s.
She hoped for a response before nightfall.
Du Heming’s or Lou Yixuan’s—either would do.
As long as she knew Lou Yixuan was okay.
As long as Lou Yixuan was okay, being blocked, ignored, or brushed off didn’t matter.
Midday approached, and Lin Huayan couldn’t wait any longer. She called Class 9’s professional homeroom teacher, Teacher Liu.
She used the same excuse as with Du Heming.
From Teacher Liu, she learned—Teacher Lou had taken leave for personal matters, hadn’t specified what or when she’d return, but it was for the two weeks of post-holiday weekend classes. She should still teach Class 9’s lessons. Anyway, no notice from Haifan about changes to Tianmu Middle School Art Class’s color studies teacher. The semester’s color studies teaching plan you want—she sent it to me before leave. I’ll forward it to you.
Business concluded, gains meager.
What she most wanted to know—where Lou Yixuan was—remained unanswered, so her heart stayed unsettled.
As time ticked by, Lin Huayan grew increasingly restless.
She even looked up the business number for Youjian Little Tavern online. If Du Heming couldn’t reach her too, then Xu Yaning was her last option.
Though she already had… suspicions about Lou Yixuan’s whereabouts.
At one in the afternoon, Du Heming called back.
“Teacher Lin…”
“Mm, go ahead.”
“Lou… she’s gone back to Australia.”
