Chapter 52

In the early morning, before the sky had even brightened, Ah Wan, who hadn’t slept a wink all night, dragged her exhausted body up, ready to get out of bed.

The moment she moved slightly, the little snake in her arms whimpered restlessly, clinging tightly to Ah Wan’s fingers and refusing to let go.

That was just how the little one was. No matter how much of a tantrum she threw before sleeping, once she was asleep, she would unconsciously latch onto Ah Wan and not let go.

Ah Wan leaned down and gently pressed her lips to her face. It was so soft, it made it hard to want to leave.

Yet, she still lifted the blanket and got up, tiptoeing out of the room.

Chi Li, who had fallen asleep on the sofa, was woken up. She sat up, rubbing her eyes as she looked at Ah Wan, and asked sleepily, “Elder Sister, what are you doing?”

“Making breakfast.” Ah Wan didn’t look back, walking straight toward the kitchen.

“Oh, don’t bother making any for me. I don’t eat breakfast.”

It was still early, and on top of that, they had stayed up late last night. Chi Li’s eyes simply couldn’t stay open. After mumbling this out, she grabbed the blanket, flopped back down, and fell comfortably asleep once more.

Ah Wan silently opened the refrigerator. It was stuffed full of food prepared for the little snake. On the fridge door, two cartons of milk were nestled closely together.

She had originally planned to buy more in the next couple of days. She never expected they wouldn’t be needed so soon.

Ah Wan lowered her gaze, not looking any longer, and reached out to take a piece of smoked cured meat.

This meat was from when she and the little snake had made it together during the New Year. At that time, the two of them, bundled in thick clothes, had sat in the empty space next to the courtyard smoking the meat.

Every piece Ah Wan smoked, the Little Pig Snake would wolf down immediately. In the end, after the New Year, only half a pig’s worth of meat had been successfully smoked.

Ah Wan portioned out all the remaining meat and put it into the freezer. Every night, she would take one piece out and put it in the fresh-keeping compartment so that by the next morning, it would be perfectly thawed.

There were twenty-three pieces of meat left in the freezer. It was clearly enough to last twenty-three more days.

After putting the meat in the steamer, Ah Wan leaned against the wall, took out her phone and checked the time. 5:50 AM. The sky would be bright soon.

She sighed. A wicked thought rose in her heart: If only the sky would never brighten.

Just as the phone screen was about to go dark, a figure swayed past the kitchen doorway. Ah Wan almost subconsciously chased after it, and saw the little snake standing nearby, hair loose and wearing her pajamas. She turned her head to look at Ah Wan, her expression full of grievance.

Ah Wan’s fingers, hanging at her side, twitched slightly, but she still didn’t reach out. She only lowered her voice and gently asked, “Why are you awake so early?”

The little snake gave her a deep look, didn’t say a word, turned around, and went back to the bedroom.

That little mannerism was very familiar to Ah Wan. It was what happened when she suddenly woke from sleep and didn’t find anyone beside her, so she came out looking.

The only difference was that in the past, at times like this, the little snake would melt softly into her arms for a hug. But today, she just went back to the room alone, sullenly.

Ah Wan hung her head, her eyelashes fluttering slightly. She didn’t speak, and also turned around and went back to the kitchen.

In the pot, clouds of steam billowed upward. The lid clattered, jumping up and down. The small home looked as warm and cozy as any ordinary morning.

But Ah Wan only felt terribly cold.

At seven in the morning, the three of them sat down at the dining table in silence.

A table full of meat, as if trying to clear out all the remaining stock from the fridge.

Chi Li had just been about to make a lighthearted joke, but then immediately sensed something was off. This morning was too quiet.

She could understand her elder sister being a woman of few words as always, but today, even her sister-in-law was wearing a sour face and saying nothing. This made Chi Li too scared to speak, nearly dying of pent-up frustration as she bit her chopsticks, her eyes darting back and forth between the two people opposite her, wondering if they’d had a fight.

For the first time ever, the little snake had no appetite when facing a table full of food. She held her bowl and drooped her head without a word, still in the middle of her sulk.

Ah Wan glanced at her, thought for a moment, then picked up some food and put it in her bowl, advising, “Eat more. Don’t go hungry on the road.”

“I don’t need you to look after me anymore.”

Hearing those words, the little snake reacted like a startled animal. She directly grabbed that piece of meat with her hand and threw it back into Ah Wan’s bowl. Then, holding her bowl, she stood up, dragged her chair in a half-circle, and went over to sit down right next to Chi Li.

Chi Li’s pupils instantly dilated. She looked at Ah Wan across from her, shocked and at a loss, and whispered, “Elder Sister, I…”

It wasn’t her who told sister-in-law to sit over here! Today’s matter had nothing to do with her! It was so early, her own soul hadn’t even woken up yet.

Ah Wan looked at the little snake in silence for a moment before finally retracting her gaze and lowering her head. Her tone was flat. “It’s fine. Just eat.”

Seeing the two spouses in a sulking match, Chi Li didn’t dare breathe too loudly, much less eat. Besides, at this early hour, her soul was still asleep, and she didn’t want to eat anyway. She simply found an excuse to slip away.

“I’m going to call my girlfriend, see where she is right now.”

“Mm.”

Ah Wan responded casually, seeming not to care. But taking advantage of the moment Chi Li stood up, she couldn’t help stealing a glance at the little snake across from her.

The little one tilted her head away, refusing to look at her, not giving the slightest response.

Not long after breakfast, Chi Li got a message saying her girlfriend would arrive at the foot of the mountain in about an hour.

Ah Wan went back to the room to see the little snake and found her taking things out of her schoolbag. The instant their eyes met, all the surrounding sounds seemed to freeze, and only a ‘ding’ echoed back and forth in her mind.

“You…” Ah Wan had just started to speak when Chi Li’s voice came from behind. “Sister-in-law, are you all packed? We can get ready to head down the mountain.”

“Mm!”

The familiar voice rang out, but it was laced with anger.

Ah Wan stepped forward, reluctantly reaching out her hand. But the little snake, clutching her schoolbag, brushed past her and walked out.

“Sister-in-law, bring whatever you want. She drove here, there’s plenty of space in the car,” Chi Li chattered beside the little snake. “If you don’t want to bring anything, that’s fine too. We can just buy things once we get there…”

Ah Wan’s heart gave two violent lurches. She immediately turned and rushed out, just in time to see the little snake coming out of the kitchen, covering her schoolbag protectively.

The two collided at the doorway. There was no avoiding it. The little snake glanced at her, gave a forceful “Hmph!”, furrowed her brows, and stomped her foot, meaning for her to move aside.

But Ah Wan now pretended not to understand. With a fascinated look in her eyes, she reached out and smoothed the stray hairs beside the little snake’s ear. When she withdrew her hand, it was as if by magic, she was holding a small, delicate pink orchid hair clip between her fingers.

“Let me put it on you.”

Ah Wan’s tone was calm, carrying no sense of request. With a touch of firmness, she pinned the orchid into her hair.

“Take care of yourself. Stay close to Chi Li. Don’t wander off.”

Having said this, Ah Wan stepped aside to let her pass.

The little snake, still clutching her schoolbag, stole a glance at her. Not hearing the words she wanted to hear, she walked away in a huff.

In her jet-black hair, the exquisite, delicate pink orchid was pinned. It trembled with every step she took, looking exceptionally charming and cute.

Ah Wan followed her out involuntarily. Chi Li, dragging a suitcase, stood at the courtyard gate, looking somewhat worried. “Elder Sister, why don’t you come with us? Then you and sister-in-law can come back together later.”

The little snake, holding her small schoolbag, never looked back. She was incredibly stubborn.

She’d had this stubborn look from the very start. It had never changed.

Ah Wan stared at her departing figure for a long time before replying, somewhat desolately: “No, you two go.”

After speaking, her voice weakened a few more degrees. She murmured to herself: “She should probably…”

“Forget it. It’s nothing. You should get going.”

As her words fell, Ah Wan said no more. She turned and left directly, only offering her back.

The chance to choose, the opportunity, had been given. The little one should make her own choice.

The little snake suddenly looked back, watching Ah Wan’s figure disappear around the corner of the door, her eye rims reddening slightly.

Chi Li saw it. Sympathetically, she asked, “Sister-in-law, did you and my elder sister have a fight?”

“No.” The little snake lowered her head, rubbed her eyes against her schoolbag, secretly wiping away her tears, then lifted her head and walked forward.

Chi Li hurriedly chased after her, calling out, “Sister-in-law, wait for me! My elder sister, she’s just like that sometimes. She doesn’t talk much. Don’t be mad at her…”

Ah Wan went back inside and circled the room, slowly walking to the living room. The little snake’s favorite throw pillow was still on the sofa. The remote control was carelessly tossed into the crevice of the sofa cushions, the kind you always had to carefully pry out with your fingers. She’d mentioned it many times, but the habit never changed.

Ah Wan bent over and meticulously pried the remote control out, bit by bit. She held it in her hand and looked at it for a while, only to feel that once the remote control was out, her heart seemed to have emptied along with it. So she stuffed it back exactly the way it had been before.

In the very same spot, even the same orientation. The naked eye could barely tell the difference.

But Ah Wan’s heart was not filled.

She frowned irritably, swept a hand through her bangs, and turned to leave this area that made her so uncomfortable. But suddenly, she stopped beside the dining table—

The two chairs that had always been pushed together, side by side, were separated today.

Ah Wan’s expression darkened. Without the slightest hesitation, she walked over, picked up the little snake’s chair, and slowly placed it next to her own. Only when the two chairs were pressed tightly together did she feel a bit more at ease.

She patted the back of the chair lightly twice, as if soothing a household pet. A hint of a smile finally reached Ah Wan’s eyes, and then she turned and went back to the bedroom.

The rich scent unique to the little snake hadn’t yet dissipated. The blanket on the bed was casually tossed, looking somewhat messy.

Ah Wan closed the door and window, washed up, changed her clothes, and walked out, getting directly into bed.

Her thin back arched, curling herself into a tiny, tight ball. Wrapped in the blanket, covering her mouth and nose, she greedily yet cautiously sniffed the little snake’s scent.

She didn’t even dare to breathe heavily. She could only minimize her own presence, hoping this way, she could preserve the traces of the little snake in this room just a little longer.

The daylight gradually dimmed, turning overcast. The room, originally filled with sunlight, slowly became pitch black.

Alone, Ah Wan lay in the bed meant for two, dreaming an old dream known as memory.

The next morning, she woke before the sun.

Out of habit, she moved her arm, only to find the familiar aching numbness was gone. Nor was that warm little ball of a creature nestled in her embrace.

Lying on her back in bed, Ah Wan stared at the ceiling in a daze for a long time. After a lengthy sigh, she finally got up and began cleaning the house in silence.

She gathered up all the clothes in the wardrobe that didn’t belong to her and put them away. The electric blanket was also put back; it wouldn’t be needed anymore. All the toiletries in the bedroom were packed up and placed inside the cabinet, leaving only her own.

The remote control was pried out from the sofa cushions. The extra chair by the dining table was put into the storage room.

After all this was done, the house hadn’t undergone a massive transformation, but looking around, at least there were no longer any items that clearly belonged to a certain someone.

Other than the addition of a sofa and a television, the home seemed no different than before.

Ah Wan made a satisfied circle of the room, then went to the kitchen to prepare a meal.

So what if she’d left? She still had to eat. No matter what, one must eat properly.

Ah Wan tied up her hair and put on her apron. She walked to the refrigerator, reached out to open it, and took out two eggs and a tomato, planning to make scrambled eggs with tomatoes.

But just as she was about to close the refrigerator door, her heart gave two abrupt, jarring thumps.

The two cartons of milk on the fridge door—

Were gone.

Ah Wan’s heart instantly plummeted into an abyss. The feeling of weightlessness made her hands and feet ice-cold.

Why?

Even though the house had been cleaned spotlessly, with no trace of the little snake’s life left visible, sadness was now beginning to occupy every corner.

Ah Wan quietly lay in the courtyard, staring blankly at the scattering of stars in the night sky, escaping from going back inside.

The house was too small. The longing would suffocate her, leave her breathless. But the spacious courtyard allowed everything to scatter on the wind.

Ah Wan blinked lazily. The stars in the sky suddenly began to blur, bit by bit piecing together into that familiar face.

She was taken aback, her eyes widening in disbelief. The speed of her heartbeat began to match the twinkling rhythm of the stars.

Out of control, the flower vines on the courtyard wall began to change wildly, growing at a terrifying speed, building bridges toward the roof ridge. In the blink of an eye, they had crawled over this entire Mid-Mountain Cabin, firmly wrapping Ah Wan inside.

In an instant, everything was desolation.

At the break of dawn, from within the courtyard wrapped almost airtight, dull heartbeat sounds suddenly rang out, one after another. Slow, yet powerful, beating rhythmically.

The very next second, the flower vines at the courtyard gate were violently torn open from the inside, a wide path brutally cleaved out.

Ah Wan, her face full of dark ferocity, the birthmark at the corner of her eye red as if dripping blood, strode forward with an empty bag slung over her shoulder, never once looking back.