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墨書 Inktalez
The long-awaited sunlight poured down from the sky as I stood at the hotel entrance, lost in thought for a moment. I extended my hand, watching the light reflected in my palm; it was a presence that one only realizes is precious when lost, a rare freedom and hope.
Returning to the hotel, I opened my phone to check for messages. Aside from spam texts, there were no calls or useful notifications. In the days I had seemingly vanished, Wang Xu had not reached out to me, nor had my parents.
It was unusual for Wang Xu not to contact me for such a long time. Even during our most heated arguments, he would still call occasionally, though I never dared to hope it was because he still cared for me; perhaps it was just a habit.
Over the years, we had grown accustomed to each other's presence. The difference was that he was willing to let others into this routine, while I was not at all willing.
What method had Lu Ming used to achieve this? Since he promised not to worry them, it must be true. I did not doubt Lu Ming's ability to keep his word, but I feared he might go back on it.
In any case, just as I had thought during that time, I wanted to see my parents. After taking a shower and changing clothes, I took a bus home. Using my key to open the door, I realized that neither of my parents were home. I had no choice but to sit on the living room sofa and wait.
I turned on the TV and watched a boring program where people were laughing uncontrollably. I stared blankly at the screen until I heard the sound of the door opening behind me. I quickly stood up and saw my dad trying to find his keys.
“Dad.”
I called out softly.
My dad turned his head in confusion and smiled at me cheerfully. “What brings you here today? Did you happen to have a day off like me?”
I gently replied with an “Mm” while sniffing as he turned his back to me to find his keys. “Dad, where’s Mom?”
“Your mom? She went grocery shopping. I'm just heading downstairs to play with Old Zhang for a bit; we played a game of chess. Old Zhang is still being tricky, but how could your dad lose to him? Don’t you think so?”
He put away his keys and walked over step by step before sitting beside me and looking at me with a smile.
“Yes, Dad.” I dared not say much; I was afraid he might suspect something. I could only obediently follow him into the study to see his beloved Budgerigar and listen as he introduced his cherished pet.
"Look at this kid, his fur is shiny and smooth, and look at this, wow, he can really eat," my dad said, his cheeks flushed with laughter, his eyes sparkling with energy.
I felt relieved; at least they didn't know anything and didn't dare to ask my dad about the situation these past few days.
When my mom came back and saw me, she paused for a moment, then looked at my dad before asking, "Why didn't Xiao Jun say he was back? I didn't even buy any vegetables."
Every time I came home, there was a table full of dishes. I stopped my mom from going out again: "I'll just eat something casually, Mom, you don't need to go. It's tiring to go back and forth; you should take a break."
I picked up the bag of vegetables my mom was holding and took it to the kitchen. Lifting the bag, I saw a few potatoes and some carrots. As I took them out, I asked my mom without turning around, "Mom, what are we doing with these? Are we cooking today?"
My mom changed into another outfit and stood beside me. She took the potatoes I handed her and washed them in the sink: "Of course we are. I'll make you some Sour Shredded Potatoes that you love, and I'll stew some beef with the carrots for you."
I smiled widely, tilting my head to lean on her shoulder: "Mom, I haven't had your cooking in a long time. I've missed you both."
What I missed most was lying in bed, confused about when I could leave. What I looked forward to most was seeing them again and having a meal made by my mom.
Just like now, when they knew nothing at all. I wanted to bear all the pain myself and explain everything to them later—that my initial intention was out of necessity and helplessness.
Seeing me back, my dad happily took out a bottle of white liquor from the cupboard, swaying it in his hand as he leaned against the kitchen door. He subtly asked my mom if they could have a couple of drinks on this joyous occasion.
My mom continued washing and picking vegetables without changing her expression. I helped her out while occasionally glancing back at my dad. Each time, I caught him giving me a knowing look. Reluctantly, I had to speak up for him.
Since childhood, my mom couldn't resist the united front of me and my dad. As long as we played our roles of being cute without going overboard, she would quickly agree to whatever we wanted.
At that moment, my mom suddenly stopped washing vegetables, her hands still in mid-air. After exchanging glances with my dad, she finally said, "No."
They looked at each other, both with not-so-good expressions. My dad was the first to break the silence, smiling and scratching his head. "Alright, alright, no drinking, no drinking. You're just being stingy, old lady, still marking lines on the bottle. No drinking, no drinking."
My dad grumbled as he complained about my mom while putting the wine bottle back in the cupboard. In the end, he couldn't bring himself to leave immediately; he stared at the cupboard for a long time before finally closing the door.
He sighed.
My dad's behavior made me both angry and amused. It wasn't until my mom sighed beside me that I shifted my attention to her, wanting to help my dad get a little advantage.
"Mom, Dad is quite busy with work every day; it's not easy for him. Let him drink a little to lighten up. Just a bit; don't stop him from drinking. With his long history of drinking, it's not something he can just quit."
My mom pursed her lips, ignoring both my dad and me as she cut onions with her hands submerged in a basin of water. I wanted to reach out and help her, but she spoke up to stop me: "No need. You go keep your dad company in the living room; I'll handle this here. You go rest."
I figured my mom didn't want me to help because she was worried about tiring me out. What mother doesn't care for her daughter? I understood that. After spending a little more time with her, I turned around and noticed my dad was missing from the living room. I put down the knife and went to find him in the study. He was facing away from me, tossing fish food into the bathtub.
The fish were swishing their tails, gathering around the food.
"Zhuang Jun, come here."
My dad didn't turn around but knew it was me who came in.
I responded with an "uh-huh" and walked over to stand beside him, watching him feed the fish as he elongated his words while explaining: "You see, these fish can't be fed randomly. Sometimes if you feed them too much, they'll get bloated. If you feed them too little, they'll go hungry. So everything has to be according to their needs; you have to make sure they are full."
"If you don't know how to start feeding them, just learn slowly; you'll eventually get the hang of it."
"Then Dad," I paused for a moment before continuing, "what if you never learn? Sometimes you really don't understand; you've never seen this kind of fish before. It's your first time feeding them, and even after a long time, you still can't figure it out. What if these fish don't follow any pattern when eating? What then?"
I once thought that feeding fish was just a matter of time; as long as I had enough time and put in the effort, how could I possibly fail? Many families keep fish, so why couldn't I do it well?
Why was I the only one who couldn't?
Later, I realized that perhaps this particular fish wasn't meant for me to keep. It might be better suited to live in rivers or seas rather than in my small fish tank at home.
“Zhuang Jun, life is unpredictable. You are a smart child and know what to do. If you can't take care of this one, then let it go.”
I finally understood that they had at least made some concessions regarding my marriage. My dad was letting me make my own decisions. He said he believed in me. Since childhood, I had been allowed to decide my own matters, like my university and my marriage. My parents would offer suggestions but never interfere, granting me power and freedom.
I didn't know what had caused my parents' change in attitude, but since they had loosened their grip, it truly relieved some of the pressure I felt.
It seemed that this trip was indeed worthwhile.
The meal was enough to make me happy. I even playfully linked arms with my mom and promised to visit often. My dad laughed heartily while my mom cooperated slightly. Just like before, my home remained unchanged.
It still provided me with laughter and warmth, allowing me to relax and lean on them.
After dinner, when I said I was leaving and would come back to see them in a couple of days, just as I reached the door, my mom called out to me. I turned back to see her mysterious gaze as she stood up and said, “There’s something you should take back with you.”
After saying that, she walked toward the kitchen. I stood at the door waiting, guessing that she wanted me to take some of her pickled vegetables or something similar. Little did I know that when she came out of the kitchen, she was holding a white clay pot and approached me with both hands extended.
“Take this back with you.”
I looked down and noticed the white clay pot in her hands; it was somewhat old and had black marks around the bottom. To outsiders, it might seem like an ordinary pot that had been used for quite some time, but for me, it held a different significance.
“Zhuang Jun.” My dad stood in the living room, calling out to me from a distance: “Child, your mom and I are here. We respect any decision you make.”
His voice lacked its usual cheerfulness, and he looked at me with a heavy expression, as if he wanted to say something but held back in the end.
My mom stood in front of me, holding a white clay pot. Once I took it from her, the tension on her face eased considerably.
“Your room has been tidied up for you, and a new mattress is ready. The furniture is a bit old, but when your dad has time, we can go help you pick out some new pieces that you like.”
I nodded and stepped out of the house, holding the clay pot. I walked slowly down the stairs, and it was only when I reached the corner that I heard the sound of the door closing. At that moment, I could barely hold myself up and nearly collapsed onto the ground.
This clay pot was originally given by Miao Miao from Wang Nan’s house to Deng Xiaomei.
It should have remained at Deng Xiaomei’s place, yet it inexplicably appeared in my home. Did they know everything!?
I had planned to keep things hidden until after the divorce, but now that an incident had occurred, did they find out something? Who told them? Was it Lu Ming?
Yes, it must be him!
Without a doubt, I placed the clay pot on the ground and called Lu Ming. He had interfered with my life to such an extent that everything was completely thrown into chaos. What exactly did he want?
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