Chapter 68

Wang Yun left early the next morning. Wen Zhixu accompanied Jian Shichu to get a replacement SIM card. They had lunch outside, and afterward, Jian Shichu took her to many places. There was a small path from a flower bed near Jiefangbei that led straight to Hongyadong.

The first time Wen Zhixu came, she had been at a loss standing above Hongyadong and ended up taking a taxi down. Jian Shichu had grown up in Chongqing and didn’t have much feeling for the place.

Chongqing’s nights took on more of a lively, human flavor as the New Year approached—skyscrapers like a magical metropolis mingled with the bustling street life, as if carrying another layer of meaning.

The starting point was this city, the process was someone in this city, and the endpoint was one sentence from her.

By now, she had let go of what happened back then, but Wen Zhixu still wasn’t sure about her attitude toward Wen Ru.

In these past few days, she had seen plenty of memories from Jian Shichu’s childhood, and along the way, it felt like she understood even more of the parts in Jian Shichu’s memories.

On the morning of the eighteenth, Jian Shichu sent her to the airport.

“Call me when you get there,” Jian Shichu said. “I checked the weather—Suzhou’s been about the same as Chongqing lately. Don’t catch a cold when you go out.”

Jian Shichu smoothed her hair strands, her fingers carrying a slight chill from the winter wind. Her forehead could still feel the warmth of those fingertips gliding over it.

Wen Zhixu looked at her and said, “Okay, got it. Don’t worry.”

Jian Shichu leaned down to hug her, hand resting on the back of Wen Zhixu’s head, her tone full of reluctance. “When you come back, I’ll pick you up.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not a kid.” Wen Zhixu smiled. “Make a wish—may we spend next New Year together.”

Jian Shichu smiled and said, “Sure.”

Wen Zhixu knew in her heart that as long as Wen Ru didn’t object, it would be taking the first step. This step had taken five years, and since Wen Ru hadn’t asked about it in that phone call back then, it meant she’d taken the right step.

Wen Zhixu arrived in Suzhou in the afternoon. The breakfast shop downstairs had a “Temporarily Closed for New Year” sign—the owner had gone home for the holidays, and the day after tomorrow was New Year’s Eve.

As she went upstairs, she saw Wen Ru standing on a stool pasting couplets at the door. Seeing the white hair at the back of her head in the hallway made her heart ache.

Hearing the sound of the suitcase, Wen Ru didn’t turn around. “See if it’s straight?”

Wen Zhixu walked forward. “Let me.” She set the suitcase aside and held Wen Ru’s elbow to help her down.

“It’s so cold today—why didn’t you wear more?” Wen Ru didn’t mention anything else, just gave her a glance before stepping back.

When Wen Zhixu stepped onto the stool, Wen Ru’s hand hovered uncertainly at her waist. Wen Zhixu pasted the couplet straight.

When she came down, Wen Ru steadied her.

Decorations hung on the houseplants—not many, but enough to give it a New Year feel. Wen Ru did this every year; when she was little, it was just the two of them at home for New Year.

Every time, Wen Ru would make a huge spread of dishes, the TV droning coldly with the Spring Festival Gala, and it wasn’t until the second day of the New Year that she’d take her back to Grandma’s.

Only then could Wen Zhixu play with fireworks with her cousins. She was used to this routine.

The older she got, the lonelier it felt—especially after Wen Ru retired. If she wasn’t home, the TV would be on all day.

Even with just two people at home, the coffee table was stocked with melon seeds and candies, piled full in a tea tray.

“Xiao Xu, dumplings for dinner tonight.” Wen Ru opened the fridge; the filling looked like it had been prepared long ago.

Wen Zhixu leaned down to put the unfinished melon seeds back in the tray, brushed her palms clean, and went to the kitchen to help.

Wen Ru always made two different fillings when wrapping dumplings. The one in front of Wen Zhixu was shiitake mushroom and pork. She cradled a dumpling wrapper in her palm, following Wen Ru’s lead.

“We won’t go back to clean the old house on the third day of New Year this time—your little aunt and them are going back to the old house for New Year.” Wen Ru dipped her fingers in water and moistened the edge of the wrapper.

Wen Zhixu asked, “Little Aunt isn’t spending New Year in Beijing?”

“She spent three years there—don’t know why she came back this year.” Wen Ru sighed lightly. “There’s a lantern festival tomorrow. If you’re bored at home, go have some fun.”

“It’s fine, I’m not going out—I still have deadlines to meet.” Wen Zhixu looked at her.

Wen Ru focused on her task and didn’t look up when she asked, “When’s the deadline?”

“May, after New Year.” Wen Zhixu said, “I’m planning to sign with Han Ye’s literary site. He teamed up with an editor from Jiuqu before to make a literary site combined with a small publisher. I think it’s pretty good.”

“I don’t worry about your work.” Wen Ru finished the last one and moved next to Wen Zhixu. “I’ll take over—go wash your hands clean.”

Wen Zhixu finished the one in her hand and turned to the sink to wash up. Wen Ru had never worried about her work. If she hadn’t gone into this field, with her good grades in university, she probably would have taken a civil service exam by now, living the same life as Wen Ru.

Wen Ru’s spoon clinked against the bowl rim; there wasn’t much filling left as she scraped the last bit from the bottom.

“Where’s he planning to set it up?” Wen Ru asked.

The cold water stung Wen Zhixu’s hands. She glanced back and replied, “Chengdu—it’s close to Chongqing.”

Wen Ru didn’t speak at first, probably finishing scraping the last of the filling before saying, “So you’re planning to stay in Chongqing long-term?”

The question came out flat, her tone even without a hint of inflection. The more like this Wen Ru was, the worse Wen Zhixu felt.

She hummed in acknowledgment, then said, “I want to stay in Chongqing.”

She liked that city a lot, and she liked Jian Shichu, who had traveled all the way from there to Beihai to see her.

“Then will you come back home?” Wen Ru’s voice was low.

Her words mixed into the sound of running water. Wen Zhixu turned off the faucet, shook off the water droplets, and turned around. “I want to bring her back.”

Wen Ru was clearly stunned by that sentence. After a brief glance at Wen Zhixu, she lowered her head and stacked the two dirty bowls.

The clink of porcelain shattered the quiet. Wen Zhixu had no idea what Wen Ru was thinking at that moment, couldn’t even guess.

Wen Ru didn’t respond to that sentence, methodically placing the extra dumplings into a plastic container. No refusal, no agreement.

As Wen Zhixu was about to leave the kitchen, a voice came from behind.

Wen Ru washed the bowls and asked, “What do her parents do?”

This question—what did it mean? It seemed to mean she might get her wish this year, that Wen Ru was gradually coming to accept it during this process.

Was it because of their big fight and her leaving home, or had middle age made her afraid of loneliness? She couldn’t figure it out. Looking back every time, that figure seemed tinged with detachment and sorrow.

Wen Zhixu’s body stiffened. The water from the sink was still rushing with a ‘whoosh’—the noise drowned out the coldness in Wen Ru’s tone.

“Her mom is a director, dad is a university professor.” Wen Zhixu answered carefully, her gaze landing on Wen Ru’s face as she turned.

Wen Ru had never asked before. Asking now carried a different flavor.

Wen Ru turned off the faucet, the sound of opening the cabinet clear as she said, “If you’re not going tomorrow, then stay home and write.”

The topic of Jian Shichu ended just like that—no transition, no warning. Wen Zhixu hummed and left the kitchen.

The phone on the coffee table lit up again. She sat on the sofa, swiped it open, and saw a message from Jian Shichu—a photo.

Jian Shichu was at home; the photo was of couplets written by Grandma, elegant calligraphy flowing like clouds and water, with a scholarly air.

[Jian Shichu: Eaten yet?]

Wen Zhixu’s fingertip hovered on the screen; she’d looked at that photo several times.

[Wen Zhixu: Not yet, Mom’s boiling dumplings. You?]

Jian Shichu saw Wen Zhixu’s message while standing by the TV in the living room—the noise was too loud, so she walked to the other side.

Relatives were gathered in the living room; her family had a lot of them, and every New Year it was a crowd. The kids were a headache.

[Jian Shichu: Almost. Miss me?]

She asked bluntly, without embarrassment, but after sending it, Grandma’s voice suddenly came from behind.

Jian Shichu responded while turning to look toward the living room. All the relatives’ eyes were fixed on her.

Grandma said to Aunt beside her, “Doudou’s girlfriend is such a good girl. I have a photo—I’ll have her show you. She’s a writer.”

“Doudou, let us see.” Third Aunt chimed in with a smile; everyone seemed expectant.

Jian Shichu felt a bit embarrassed, and Grandma urged her again.

Only then did she pull out her phone. Grandma instructed, “That one—the one you took with Xiao Xu.”

“Oh, okay.” Jian Shichu flipped through her album; the two close-up selfies were too intimate, so she’d moved them to another folder.

She spun the phone in her hand and held the screen toward Third Aunt. Grandma leaned over and said, “See? So proper and sensible.”

Third Aunt smiled as she looked, relatives crowding around, nodding and praising nonstop. Grandma’s face lit up—Wen Zhixu was well-behaved, the kind of girl elders loved.

“Doudou, bringing her home for New Year next year?” Third Aunt passed the phone to the next relative; even the kids crowded in.

Jian Shichu replied, “Next year’s a next-year thing.”

She knew Wen Zhixu wasn’t ready to come out of the closet about this, and there was no rush—just like she had said before, take it slow. This lifetime was still long; they could walk it step by step.

Her phone dinged. Jian Shichu’s gaze shifted to it. The phone was still in her relative’s hand, and the little aunt huddled nearby had a stiffened expression.

The little aunt then burst out laughing. “I miss you, wife.”

With a flick of the wrist, she handed the phone to Jian Shichu. Jian Shichu’s face instantly turned awkward, her gaze sharpening as her cheeks flushed slightly.

Everyone burst into laughter. She cleared her throat to ease the embarrassment, snatched the phone, hit the lock screen, and fled the scene red-faced.

How could she have anticipated Wen Zhixu replying to her like that? She shut the bedroom door, her heart still racing. Leaning back against it, she slowly exhaled.

Wen Zhixu’s message had come too abruptly; her fingers slowed as she typed.

[Jian Shichu: That “wife” text of yours? The whole room of relatives saw it.]

[Wen Zhixu: ??? What do you mean?]

[Jian Shichu: It means you’ll have to call me that from now on.]