Chapter 71

The car drove straight ahead, the buildings on both sides of the road gradually blurring into the distance. Wen Zhixu didn’t turn on the navigation; she just drove forward without a destination.

Jian Shichu didn’t speak or ask questions either. After passing Songshi Branch Road, Wen Zhixu looked at the red light and stepped on the brakes, her gaze shifting to the traffic light at the intersection.

A hint of disappointment flickered in those pupils—not sorrow or sadness, but rather pity for Wen Ru.

Half an hour later, the car pulled over to the side of the road. Wen Zhixu gripped the steering wheel, her gaze still as distant as before.

Jian Shichu simply watched her without speaking, commenting, or prying, because she understood Wen Zhixu. When Wen Zhixu fell silent like this, she couldn’t be disturbed.

After a long while, Wen Zhixu finally spoke. “I always knew my mom disliked that family, but I never asked why. The year she got divorced, Grandma said it was her own fault.”

Jian Shichu listened quietly, unbuckling her seatbelt with a click that mingled with Wen Zhixu’s breathing.

Wen Zhixu wasn’t crying. The way she spoke so calmly was more for her own ears, something she should have realized ever since she last saw Feng Xi.

But back then, she hadn’t thought that deeply.

Wen Ru had never breathed a word of it to anyone, because this marriage had truly been her own choice. The year Wen Ru met Tang Yuan, Grandma had strongly opposed it.

She opposed Tang Yuan’s complicated family background and the idea of a shotgun wedding.

“So later on, even when Mom was swamped with work, she never let Grandma worry about a thing. Grandma often said that if she’d listened to her and married into an ordinary family, things wouldn’t have turned out like this.” Wen Zhixu’s voice softened at the end, squeezing out through choked sobs, her eyes reddening as if she’d already cried a river.

Jian Shichu turned sideways, brushing Wen Zhixu’s hair, her fingers trailing over her cheek. Watching those long lashes tremble, she said softly, “Xiao Xu, it was his fault. Don’t cry.”

“I don’t want to cry. I’m just… really sad.” Wen Zhixu’s lashes drooped, tears clinging to them and staining her reddened lower eyelids.

Jian Shichu stroked her back to help her breathe steadily, remaining silent as ever.

At this moment, recalling Wen Ru’s figure again brought a fresh wave of heartache to Wen Zhixu—especially when Wang Yun and Grandma had praised her for being well-mannered and sensible.

Wen Ru was a mother who truly understood responsibility; she’d raised her well.

What Wen Ru had fallen for wasn’t Tang Yuan’s family wealth or just his good looks. Perhaps it was his deliberate approach during their travels, the morning and evening greetings, or maybe even revenge against others, using her as a pawn.

Wen Zhixu was a byproduct of that war, but Wen Ru never abandoned her. She raised her properly and taught her well—everyone who saw her had nothing but praise.

With these thoughts, as she lowered her head, a few tears dripped onto the back of her hand. She didn’t say another word. Before they got home, she blocked Tang Yuan’s number.

Jian Shichu stayed with her downstairs as she mailed the package. The shop owner wrapped it inside and out with bubble wrap, then found a larger box.

The cigarettes on the counter had dwindled. Amid the ripping sounds of tape, the owner glanced up at Wen Zhixu’s reddened eyes, then at Jian Shichu.

She jerked her chin toward the back and said, “Got new flavors of candy.”

Jian Shichu looked behind the counter. The shelf now had grape flavor in transparent purple boxes. “Want some?”

“Mm.” Wen Zhixu glanced back.

Jian Shichu grabbed two boxes and paid via scan.

She opened them before they got home, peeling one as usual and feeding it to Wen Zhixu. The tangy sweetness of grapes melted in her mouth, filling her taste buds.

“I’ll cook dinner tonight,” Wen Zhixu offered proactively.

Jian Shichu smiled. “Sure, what are you planning to make?”

Wen Zhixu had cooked before, but it wasn’t great—just edible. Cooking really wasn’t her thing.

The cold air from the fridge rushed at Wen Zhixu’s face as the light flicked on. Jian Shichu stood beside her and reached for a yogurt.

Wen Zhixu turned her head. “That’s cold.”

“Who drinks it hot?” Jian Shichu shot back, already tearing open the straw.

“You can’t have iced stuff. Your period’s almost here.” As she spoke, she took the yogurt from Jian Shichu’s hand and put it back.

Jian Shichu reached for it again. “My cycle’s irregular.”

Her hand had just touched the yogurt when she felt Wen Zhixu’s unwavering gaze. Her movement slowed, and the yogurt went back into place.

“Fine, fine, no yogurt.” Jian Shichu nodded silently.

Wen Zhixu said, “If you really want it, I can heat it up in the microwave for you.”

Jian Shichu fell quiet, taking a shallow breath before asking, “Do you think I’d actually drink something like that without puking?”

After pulling out some veggies from the fridge, Wen Zhixu shut the door and sidestepped her. “I don’t think so. Why not give it a try?”

“No thanks.” Jian Shichu didn’t linger; she headed to the bathroom to shower. As she lifted her hand to tie up her hair, she hissed in a breath.

Wen Zhixu heard and glanced back. “Let me. You sit there.”

Jian Shichu’s injury was on her upper back near the shoulder blade, extending to the back of her arm. She couldn’t move that arm much while healing.

Wen Zhixu ran her fingers through her hair like a comb, slowly gathering it behind. “Ponytail or bun?”

“Either’s fine.” Jian Shichu turned back, pulling Wen Zhixu in front of her and having her sit on her lap.

“How am I supposed to tie your hair like this?”

Jian Shichu wrapped an arm around her waist, tilting her head up to look at her, raising her brows without a word.

Wen Zhixu had no choice but to lean in and hug her, tilting her own head as her hands smoothed the hair behind Jian Shichu’s ears, looping the hair tie around the ponytail.

On the final loop, the doorbell rang.

Express deliveries usually arrived around six in the evening, but it was just past five now—this was same-city flash delivery.

“What’s this?” Jian Shichu watched Wen Zhixu carry in the box, wanting to help but lacking the strength.

Wen Zhixu set the box in the entryway and tore it open, handing over scissors.

It was addressed to Wen Zhixu. She sliced open the tape, revealing prepped vegetables sealed in bags—the kind you could find at a market too.

Each one was labeled with cooking instructions. Wen Zhixu looked at Jian Shichu. “From Aunt Wang?”

“Dunno. I’ll check.” Jian Shichu went for her phone.

Wen Zhixu kept digging. There was a pack of corn with ham. Staring at the handwriting on the label, before Jian Shichu could dial, she suddenly called out, “Wait.”

“Hm?” Jian Shichu frowned slightly at her.

Wen Zhixu gripped the plastic tighter; it crinkled loudly in the quiet space, her breathing slowing.

Wen Zhixu glanced at the box. “Mom came to find me.”

—

Wen Ru had come looking for Wen Zhixu, but Wen Zhixu couldn’t guess why. Times had changed; things were different now.

Ever since learning about Tang Yuan, Wen Zhixu felt even more sympathy for Wen Ru and could find excuses for her past actions.

If Wen Zhixu left Suzhou, Wen Ru would be left all alone. Ever since she’d stopped remarrying all those years ago, it was destined—her later years would have nothing but Wen Zhixu.

When they arrived at the hotel, Wen Zhixu hesitated outside the door for a long time. Jian Shichu hadn’t come with her. Before she could knock, the hotel door opened.

No AC was on inside. Wen Ru glanced at her. “Come in.”

As Wen Zhixu stepped inside, Wen Ru closed the door behind her. The air felt stuffy. Wen Zhixu spoke mildly, turning to ask, “Mom, why didn’t you call me if you were coming?”

“How’s her injury?” Wen Ru asked.

At this point, Wen Zhixu knew Wen Ru had been in town for days, just staying out of sight. Was she here to see her, or take her back?

Wen Zhixu sat down and replied, “The doctor said it’s not serious.”

She wouldn’t argue with Wen Ru anymore—not since learning about Tang Yuan. That year, Wen Ru could have abandoned her, but she hadn’t.

This secret had been buried for so many years, even until Grandma passed without knowing.

Wen Zhixu didn’t bring it up. She didn’t want to rip open old wounds in front of Wen Ru; after all, that chapter was something Wen Ru still couldn’t let go of.

“I came to see you,” Wen Ru said. “Nothing much going on at home. Just traveling around.”

Wen Zhixu looked at her. “Mom, do you want to take me back to Suzhou?”

She’d been afraid to ask, but she did anyway. If that was Wen Ru’s purpose now, what would she do?

After a long pause, Wen Ru asked, “Do you want to go? If you do, I’ll wait for you to say goodbye to her.”

Their conversation was calm, nothing like the fierce arguments before. Since that last time, it seemed Wen Ru had figured something out, but she still couldn’t bridge that gap.

When Wen Zhixu left the hotel, she called Jian Shichu. Jian Shichu wasn’t home; she’d gone to Nanbin Road, under that big bridge she’d visited for the first time.

It was as if memories had been installed there—the beginning was here, so the end should be too.

It was as if Jian Shichu could understand the helplessness within, as well as the direction of the story, so Jian Shichu chose to come once again under the Qiansimen Bridge.

Wen Zhixu had said here that the bridge was very strange—one person looking at it felt regret, while two people looking at it felt romance.

When Jian Shichu stood here, she could truly feel what regret was, and how precious romance truly was.

—-

—-

(Continuing from Chapter 1, first paragraph)

Because she had told the driver they were in a hurry, she couldn’t take in the view along Nanbin Road’s embankment. Even after passing by many times, she still preferred that sensation of gazing into the distance from inside the car.

When she got out of the car, she was still shaken but carried a sense of anxiety.

The driver grinned and said, “Made it in time, right? Under my escort, no one’s ever been late.” There was pride in his trailing tone.

“Made it.” Wen Zhixu’s voice was quick yet trembling—she had been scared pretty badly.

As she stepped out of the car door, her legs nearly buckled. Sunlight poured down from the west, shining onto that bridge as birds wheeled in a circle along the beam of light.

Wen Zhixu quickened her steps toward the underside. Many people were visiting here for the first time, their expressions just like Wen Zhixu’s when she had first come here.

Jian Shichu stood calmly over there. When she glanced back, her eyes met Wen Zhixu’s exactly. She showed no abnormality, gazing slowly with dust, flowers, and moonlight separating them.

Just one step away lay the smoke and fire of the city streets.