Chapter 52

Wen Zhixu had never felt that staying away from Suzhou was a form of escape. She had been very obedient as a child—obedient to the point that if Wen Ru told her not to eat candy, she could go a long time without touching it, no matter how much she liked that piece of candy.

The cold wind stung her eyes. After the elevator doors opened, Wen Zhixu finally recovered. She lowered her head to glance at her phone. On the screen was a message from Jian Shichu:

[I’ve arrived at the hotel. Don’t worry about me.]

She looked up ahead. The navy blue coat enveloped Wen Ru, making her look dignified and stern all over. Even if Wen Ru had come to Hangzhou, she absolutely wouldn’t set foot in the funeral home to take a look.

At this moment, it was as if Wen Zhixu suddenly understood the meaning behind Tang Yuan’s phone call that morning and the text message at noon.

She wasn’t nervous. Probably from the moment she decided to make up, she had been constantly preparing—how to confess, how to communicate, how to come out. She had run through countless drafts in her mind.

As they entered, Wen Ru took off her gloves and said to her with her back turned, “Close the door.”

Wen Zhixu reached into her coat pocket with one hand while using the other to pull the door shut behind her. It locked with a click.

Wen Ru folded her gloves neatly, her tone heavy. “Xiao Xu, when were you planning to tell me?”

“Mom, I already told you during the Mid-Autumn Festival last time.” Wen Zhixu maintained a gentle attitude as she took steps closer to Wen Ru.

She stopped behind Wen Ru. The dryness in her eyes, which had just been soothed, now stung again like it was covered in a film.

Wen Ru turned her head to look at her. “If I hadn’t come today, were you not planning to tell me that you’d gone back to the Tang Family, or about this thing I saw?”

Wen Zhixu was overwhelmed by her momentum. “I was. I planned to message you tonight that I’d arrived in Hangzhou.”

After thinking for a moment, she continued, “But Mom, how could you follow me?”

When she had entered the restaurant, she should have noticed something from the reflection in the glass door. Wen Ru must have contacted Tang Yuan ahead of time.

Wen Ru didn’t actually demand an answer. She always stood on the side of accusation and never compromised.

Cold air exhaled from her mouth as Wen Ru looked at her. “Xiao Xu, is that how you talk to me?”

The atmosphere gradually escalated. Neither side yielded, and if one didn’t compromise, the argument would go on forever.

“Mom, let’s talk properly. Sit down.” Wen Ru turned and sat on the sofa, her fingers smoothing the edges of her coat through the gaps.

Wen Zhixu sat on the adjacent sofa, as if they were really about to have a heart-to-heart talk.

Wen Ru wasn’t in a hurry. After a pause, she asked, “These past few years, I’ve never known what you wanted, and I haven’t communicated properly with you. I know you’ve been under a lot of pressure, haven’t written anything new in the last two years, and have no friends to confide in. In that regard, Mom was wrong. When you were little, I was afraid you’d be led astray, so I didn’t let you get too close to people.”

As Wen Ru said this, a shadow fell over her face. It wasn’t that Wen Zhixu had a problem with her personality; Wen Ru had always worried that she’d be led astray. Single-parent families often had a slightly stronger control desire.

“It’s all in the past. I’ve gotten used to it after all these years.” Wen Zhixu’s tone was flat. Those things seemed like mere passing clouds now, not worth mentioning.

Snapping back, she looked at Wen Zhixu. “Mom remembers you had an online friend called Peanut, right?”

“Yeah, Peanut. Later, didn’t you say people online were fake and told me not to contact her?” Wen Zhixu was having a very serious conversation with Wen Ru. By this point, her heart had calmed a bit.

As long as Wen Ru could slowly talk it out with her properly, she felt there was hope, however slim, better than an impenetrable wall.

“You were young back then, immature, without the judgment to discern things. Do you think the friendship between you and Peanut is the same as the feelings you have now?”

Wen Ru’s question was very calm. When the topic shifted here, Wen Zhixu looked at her, and the stubbornness in her breath gradually eased.

Wen Zhixu said, “It’s different. My friendship with Peanut wasn’t much, and we’ve never met face-to-face, so there are things I don’t understand about her. These two issues can’t be equated. Back then, when you said it was sexual orientation cognitive disorder, it actually wasn’t. It’s because I like her that I realized I’m different from others. Before meeting her, I always felt like something was missing from my life. I would like flowers, the sea, all things in the world—these things are indescribably beautiful, but they can’t replace her. I can’t describe this feeling; it’s like because she’s there, my life feels complete.”

When these words drilled into Wen Ru’s ears, her first reaction was not to respond. Wen Ru always restrained something in her calmness.

Silence fell between them during this exchange. The more earnest Wen Zhixu’s attitude, the more sincere her words.

“So you think you’re a lesbian, right?” A faint smile tugged at Wen Ru’s lips as her fingers threaded through her hair, pushing her short hair back. She inhaled sharply with the motion.

Wen Zhixu just hummed in affirmation.

After getting this answer, Wen Ru took her hand, the wrinkles in her palm pressing lightly against the back of Wen Zhixu’s hand.

In a tone full of earnest concern, she said, “I know society has many definitions for sexual orientation. Xiao Xu, have you thought more deeply about your own? Or let me ask it this way: sometimes, we might feel troubled by society’s expectations of gender and sexual orientation. You might think you won’t have those feelings, but you have to know that the other person is also a girl.”

Wen Zhixu didn’t quite understand, and her brows furrowed unconsciously.

“You think Mom is against homosexuality, so she won’t talk properly with you. Xiao Xu, when you were little, Mom taught you about responsibility. I don’t even expect you to get married. You’re both girls, so you can’t be too selfish.”

“Society usually has traditional expectations for women’s and men’s sexual orientations, behaviors, and roles—like women marrying the opposite sex and forming traditional families. You both live in this kind of social environment. How can you guarantee that when your feelings don’t align with these traditional expectations, you won’t feel psychological distress? Have you thought about these issues?”

Wen Ru leaned closer as she asked, her gaze like a black hole, her softened tone gradually drawing Wen Zhixu’s eyes.

Wen Zhixu said, “I haven’t thought about it. I won’t feel distressed because of these. Traditional concepts don’t mean our lives have to follow them.”

Wen Ru’s throat moved as she continued in her unhurried manner, “This distress comes from society’s stereotypes about gender and sexual orientation, causing inner conflict when accepting one’s true feelings.”

“You think your true feelings aren’t a momentary impulse, but when you’ve been together for a few years and you’re both not young anymore, if you then develop this conflicting psychology, it would be irresponsible to her. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Wen Zhixu didn’t speak, lost in thought without knowing what exactly she was thinking. Wen Ru’s words were flawless.

The air conditioning blew in, and sweat formed in Wen Zhixu’s palms.

Wen Ru’s voice sounded again. “Which gender do you feel you can more easily form deep emotional connections with? Between you and her, do you want to take care of her?”

Wen Zhixu slowly met Wen Ru’s gaze. Her mind went straight to the point; this question didn’t require thought.

“I want to take care of her. I worry a lot when she’s hurt.”

Wen Ru continued, “Then you have a sense of commonality with the opposite sex that you haven’t noticed.”

“You know, sometimes, with the help of professional psychologists, we can better understand ourselves. You can’t use your own cognitive barriers to ruin someone else’s life. She might be a lesbian, but you’re not.”

Wen Zhixu’s heart jolted, like it had been fiercely struck by something sharp halfway through, or like it was sealed in icy layers, every inch of skin burning.

She started crying without realizing it while breathing.

Hot tears rolled scorching down her cheeks. Why was she crying? She didn’t know—or should she be crying?

The words were so familiar, as if the next second would bring heartbreak at the ends of the earth. Wen Zhixu’s hands clenched tighter. No one understood her better than Wen Ru.

“Understand” was truly terrifying. She could effortlessly strike at one’s weaknesses without effort, turning them into a marionette.

The air froze at that moment. Wen Zhixu stared at Wen Ru without a word, feeling so miserable she couldn’t utter one, like being trapped in a maze with no way out, a white wall blocking her mind.

Her eyelids covered the tears, her chest heaving more uncomfortably with each breath. At this moment, Wen Ru reached out to wipe her tears.

Her fingertip rested on her cheek as she slowly said, “Xiao Xu, Mom hopes you can better understand yourself. I’ve heard of a very good psychologist who might help you sort out your thoughts. I think seeing a professional psychologist is a great choice.”

“Mom.” Wen Zhixu kept her head down, her voice trembling as she called out.

This call was very soft, yet it felt terribly heavy. Her thoughts were addicted to certain words, making their relationship go against her wishes.

Wen Zhixu took a deep breath and said, “Why do you always use this way of ‘understanding’ me to hurt me?”

Her eyelashes trembled, shedding broken pearls onto Wen Ru’s nail plate—like banana leaves struck down by rain, the misty fog forcing the corners of her eyes into a tidal crimson.

The desperately suppressed sobs made Wen Ru’s knuckles twitch, her eyes shifting in expression as well.

“From the moment I realized you were always trying to make me think there was something wrong with me, I’ve been finding all sorts of excuses to absolve you.” Wen Zhixu’s voice choked, her throat clogged, delaying the words that followed.

Wen Zhixu slowly withdrew her hand, her vision growing blurrier and blurrier: “That year, you said the same thing. You said I couldn’t bear it and it would hurt her, you said my cognitive issues were disrespecting my feelings for her—what was I supposed to do?”

“I’ve tried to love someone and I can’t even manage that. I… I’m such a failure. These past few years… I’ve just kept thinking, if I had any sense at all, if I tried just a little harder, just a little, would things have been any different?” Wen Zhixu sobbed uncontrollably, holding back her tears until her wrists shook.

Wen Ru lightly closed her eyes to steady her breathing. When Wen Zhixu stood, she rose as well, her tone turning urgent: “Xiao Xu, let me tell you…”

Wen Zhixu whirled around abruptly, cutting her off: “Mom, I don’t want to hear it. Don’t say another word.” Without the slightest hesitation, Wen Zhixu headed for the door.

After that trailing tone fell, she didn’t dare continue. This quarrel, hardly lively at all, felt like years of pent-up resentment finally spilling out.

How had she gotten through these years? She’d forgotten. The sparkling droplets from those rippling eyes had all fallen onto the back of her hand—she’d endured it all somehow, and there was no point looking back now.