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墨書 Inktalez
Cheng Qiuyi found Cheng Boming at the prison gate.
The little chubby boy had curled himself into a ball, squatting under a tree not far from the prison entrance, hidden beneath withered yellow grass, making it hard to spot him unless one looked closely.
Cheng Qiuyi lightly kicked him with her toes. "Come back to school with me, stop playing dead."
Cheng Boming lifted his head from his arms, his eyes red and glistening with tears as he sobbed intermittently. "Today... is... my mom's birthday..." He looked at Cheng Qiuyi like a young beast suddenly deprived of shelter, someone she could easily crush underfoot.
But Cheng Qiuyi simply kicked him again. "Today is also Tuesday; you should be at school."
"Cheng Qiuyi, if it weren't for you, my mom wouldn't... wouldn't be locked up..." Cheng Boming hated Cheng Qiuyi deeply, yet she was his only support. He felt both fear and resentment towards her, bumping against her calf in frustration. "It's all your fault, Cheng Qiuyi, all your fault."
Cheng Qiuyi applied a bit more force with her knee, sending him sprawling on the ground. "Your mom was only sentenced to five years; my mom has been dead for ten years. Be grateful."
The prison walls were tall, and the sun sank behind the heavy concrete barrier, taking even the last remnants of light with it. The entire sky was left with a dim deep blue.
A gust of wind blew, causing Cheng Boming's face to tremble slightly. He shook his shoulders and looked at Cheng Qiuyi, who stood straight as an arrow, almost blending in with the old tree beside her.
"Cheng Boming, congratulations on becoming an orphan too."
She laughed disdainfully and glared at Cheng Boming. "Thanks to your mom, I've been an orphan for ten years already."
Cheng Qiuyi had often thought that if it weren't for Cheng Tianhong's reckless actions, her mother might not have passed away so early. She was so young back then, practically crushed by Cheng Tianhong and the Cheng Family.
Orphan.
These two words left Cheng Boming momentarily dazed; it was a term he had always been reluctant to face. Cheng Qiuyi spoke it casually, as if commenting on the pleasant weather.
"I used to be with my mom every year on her birthday; this year I can't be with her." Cheng Boming tugged at Cheng Qiuyi's pant leg as he stood up and pulled out a flattened box from his pocket. "My mom loves Osmanthus Cake; I saved up money by doing homework for my classmates to buy her this Osmanthus Cake, but she can't eat it now."
The box of pastries was exquisitely packaged, with a deep red base that exuded elegance and quality. One could only imagine how many assignments Cheng Boming had completed to afford such a box of Osmanthus Cake.
Cheng Qiuyi replied indifferently, "My mom loves tea; she hasn't been able to drink it for ten years."
Cheng Boming silently took a piece of the still-intact Osmanthus Cake and cruelly broke half of it off to hand to Cheng Qiuyi while taking a big bite out of the other half himself.
Cheng Qiuyi glanced at Cheng Boming's dirty fingers, thought for a moment, and took the piece of cake. She pinched a bit and put it in her mouth; the Osmanthus Cake was too sweet and greasy, not to her taste.
"Cheng Qiuyi, do you miss your mother?" Cheng Boming asked with his mouth full of Osmanthus Cake, his words muffled.
"Not for many years."
In the past, she often thought of her mother, but every time she did, what came to mind was either the woman who taught her to read and write before she turned five or the dried-up corpse lying on the white sheets. Cheng Qiuyi couldn't remember what her mother looked like later on.
Cheng Qiuyi handed the remaining Osmanthus Cake back to Cheng Boming. "Do you want to see Cheng Tianhong?"
Cheng Boming suddenly stopped chewing. He swallowed hard, looked up at Cheng Qiuyi, and said, "They all say my dad is dead. I don't believe it. Cheng Qiuyi, my dad is still alive, right?"
Cheng Boming was still alive, but it was hardly different from being dead. How many people in this world remembered him? Everyone thought he was dead; only he remained immersed in the illusion of the Cheng Family's prosperity.
"He’s not dead yet, but he will be soon. You should prepare yourself."
This man had once embraced life fully, enjoying all the pleasures a man could have. Who would have thought he would end up so desolate in his later years?
It wasn't entirely desolate; at least this cowardly man had woven a beautiful dream for himself.
Cheng Boming sniffed and stumbled after Cheng Qiuyi, chattering away as he asked her, "Cheng Qiuyi, is what they say true?"
"They say my mom stole your dad away. Is it true?"
He looked up at Cheng Qiuyi with hope, wishing she would give him a negative answer. His mother was such a good woman; she would hold him in her arms to lull him to sleep, teach him nursery rhymes, and make so many delicious dishes. How could she possibly be a bad woman?
Bad women were like Cheng Qiuyi—always fierce no matter when, ready to hit him at any moment, calling him "little fatty" or "stinky boy."
But his mother had also used a knife to hurt someone. Although Cheng Boming was domineering, he understood good and evil. That day, when that glaring knife was thrust toward Cheng Qiuyi and Liu Shuhan's blood pooled on the floor, Cheng Boming was so scared that his legs felt like they were stuck in mud; he almost thought Liu Shuhan would die right then.
Shen Wenqin was so ruthless, leaving no room for mercy; she really wanted Cheng Qiuyi dead. Was someone like that a good person?
Cheng Qiuyi wasn't entirely a bad person either; she had saved him when he was being bullied, standing tall as she knocked down the boy who had tormented him for so long.
Cheng Boming had never seen such a cool woman.
His mother had always been gentle; even when scolding him, her tone was soft. He used to think all women were like Shen Wenqin—gentle as water—but Cheng Qiuyi was not like water; she was like an iron plate, unyielding and unapproachable.
He hoped that Cheng Qiuyi would say no, but Cheng Qiuyi said yes.
There were no extra explanations, no other feelings of anger, just a simple "yes." Cheng Boming could find no loophole to refute.
The prison was located in a remote suburb, almost like a rural area, two hours away from Cheng Boming's school and even farther from the hospital in the city center. By the time Cheng Qiuyi brought Cheng Boming to Cheng Tianhong's bedside, it was already nine o'clock in the evening. Cheng Boming felt a surge of fear as he stood before the thin wooden door, taking two steps back and swallowing hard as he pleaded with Cheng Qiuyi, "Master, can you... can you go in with me?"
So, Cheng Qiuyi opened the door and walked in first.
The ward was filled with a strange smell. Cheng Tianhong lay on the hospital bed, bald with even his eyebrows gone, large patches of age spots on his face, and his sagging cheeks hanging by his mouth. A man in his fifties looked like he was in his seventies or eighties.
Cheng Boming stared wide-eyed at Cheng Tianhong and trembled in fear, "Is this... is this my dad?"
How could his father, who was once so spirited, possibly be this terrifying old man before him?
Cheng Tianhong turned his head and saw them, filled with joy. "Boming? Why are you here?"
Cheng Boming hesitated as he stepped forward. "I... I came to see you..."
"Good, good. Dad knows you've always been a filial child." Cheng Tianhong said with relief. "I knew Qiuyi had a tough exterior but a soft heart. Boming, when I'm not around anymore, you need to listen to your sister; she will take good care of you. You two are blood-related siblings, understand?"
Cheng Qiuyi stood at a distance, looking down at her phone, too lazy to pay attention to Cheng Tianhong.
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