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Blood mixed with wine flowed down my mother's forehead. She collapsed on the ground, her eyes filled with confusion. My father stood beside her, punching and kicking her. I cried out and rushed over, trying to stop him, but he kicked me away. To protect me, my mother endured even more beatings. I will never forget that winter night when my mother leaned against the wall, covered in blood, yet smiled at me and said, "Don't be afraid, Ahui. Mommy will always protect you."
Later, my father repeated his old tricks. He got drunk and barged into the house. My mother was facing away from him, sewing a winter coat for me. He yanked her hair and smashed a wine bottle in front of her. Instinctively, she raised her arm to shield herself from the flying glass shards. No longer submissive as before, she stood up and fought him for the bottle. In the struggle, she seized the bottle and smashed it on the ground. With a sharp sound, she grabbed a kitchen knife nearby and pointed it at my father. He was startled and took a few steps back before fleeing through the door.
From that day on, my father rarely came home. Later, I learned that he had run away after getting into debt with loan sharks. That year, I was seven years old, and my mother was thirty-four. By the time I turned twelve, my father had not returned. Throughout those long years, my mother worked odd jobs while continuing her studies. She obtained her bachelor's degree through self-study and earned her accountant qualification certificate.
Life gradually improved.
I entered high school and then college.
In my sophomore year, my mother married a middle-aged man from Neighboring County who had lost his wife.
The man had a son who was two years younger than me.
I heard that his son suffered from cerebral palsy and had the intelligence of a five-year-old.
I met that boy; he was tall and strong, but his intelligence was sadly low.
The boy liked to cling to my mother, and every time he saw me, he would drool and call me "sister."
I felt quite uncomfortable about it.
After my mother married that man, she moved to Neighboring County with him.
I rarely went back to see her; during holidays, I would only call to check in.
Actually, I missed her a lot, but I never told her "I miss you."
My mother felt the same way.
Her longing for me was all hidden in the details.
On my birthday, she would call me, laughing as she said, "Ahui has grown another year; she's a big girl now."
On New Year's Eve, she would text me: "Ahui, come home for a meal."
She never said "I miss you," nor did she say "Come back to see me."
Just like at this moment, her voice choked with emotion, she only asked me, "Are you coming home for the New Year this year?"
Endless bitterness and dullness surged in my heart.
A week later, I finished handling my work handover and resignation procedures.
I sent my last message to Sun Yunfei:
"I am going back home to get married; please don't contact me anymore."
With that, I completely bid farewell to the past thirty years.
I returned to my hometown.
My mother bought a house with a yard in Urban Village. I built a flower bed in the small yard, spending my days tending to the flowers and grass, living a very leisurely life. Seeing me like this, my mother couldn't help but feel uneasy. She noticed that something was off with me but didn't ask directly; she only hinted, "Ahui, do you remember Ma Boliang?"
I paused for a moment, then looked up at her and asked, "What about him?" Ma Boliang was my childhood sweetheart. My mother said, "He is working in the county now. A while ago, he ran into your Aunt Chen on the street and heard that you had resigned. He wants to ask you out for a walk and a meal."
My mother carefully observed my expression: "If you don't want to go out, I can help you decline." I remained silent for a few seconds before asking, "When?" My mother was slightly taken aback but quickly replied, "Tomorrow evening." I nodded and said, "Okay."
My mother showed a look of joy: "Then... should I head back?" She stood up to leave, but as she reached the door, she seemed to remember something. She turned back to look at me, her gaze filled with concern: "Ahui, you've lost a lot of weight recently." I smiled lightly and said, "It's fine; I'll gain it back." My mother hesitated to say more and finally just sighed.
The next evening, I met Ma Boliang at a café. He ordered my favorite Four Seasons Spring Macchiato. I took a small sip, and my lips were instantly enveloped by the rich taste of chocolate.
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