Chapter 26
Jing Ciying’s words seemed to have had an effect on Pei Songji.
He didn’t contact him again for a long time.
Jing Ciying was relieved, finally able to put the matter behind him.
Time flew by, and June approached.
His birthday was on June 1st, a beautiful day, but he hadn’t celebrated it since his parents’ death.
He wasn’t planning to celebrate this year either, but his aunt called repeatedly, insisting he come home.
He hesitated, then agreed, requesting leave from work.
As he booked his train ticket, he stared at the date, a wave of sadness washing over him.
It had been less than six months since his sister’s death, yet it felt like a lifetime ago.
Although he had lived in Lincheng for years, he didn’t feel a sense of belonging.
He missed home.
He hadn’t been back in a long time.
His aunt was delighted, offering him a room at her house, but he declined.
“Aunt, I want to stay at my own house for a few days.”
His aunt was silent for a moment, then agreed. “Alright. I’ll go over and clean it up for you.”
“Thank you, Aunt.”
“Don’t mention it.”
His hometown was a small city in northern China, accessible only by train.
Knowing his aunt would pick him up, he sent her his arrival time.
His aunt was always punctual.
He saw her waiting at the train station as soon as he exited.
“Xiaoying!” she greeted him warmly, reaching for his luggage.
“No, Aunt, I can manage,” he said quickly.
But she insisted.
“Let’s go. Your uncle is waiting downstairs in the car.”
“Where’s Ruoruo?”
“At school. She’ll be back tonight.”
They chatted as they walked towards the parking lot, where his uncle was waiting.
His uncle, a kind and gentle man, got out of the car to help with the luggage.
“Uncle,” Jing Ciying greeted him.
“Xiaoying! You’ve gotten even more handsome!”
He smiled and got into the car.
His aunt took him to her house. She had already prepared most of the dishes; they just needed to be cooked.
He offered to help, but she shooed him away, telling him to play chess with his uncle.
Knowing it was his uncle’s favorite pastime, he obliged.
His uncle wasn’t a skilled chess player, but he was passionate about it, spending his weekends watching the old men play chess by the newsstand. His skills hadn’t improved much over the years.
Jing Ciying deliberately let him win, ending the game in a draw.
His uncle was delighted. “Your skills have gotten rusty!”
“I haven’t played in a while,” Jing Ciying said with a smile.
His aunt emerged from the kitchen, carrying a dish. “He’s just letting you win. You’re terrible at chess.”
“Hey!” his uncle protested. “No personal attacks.”
“Alright, alright,” his aunt chuckled. “Go wash your hands and set the table. Xiaoying must be hungry after his long journey.”
“I’ll do it, Aunt,” Jing Ciying offered, standing up.
But she pushed him towards the bathroom. “Go wash your hands. You’re the guest. Sit down and relax.”
“Yes,” his uncle said, putting away the chessboard. “I’ll do it. I’m used to it. I’d feel lost without my daily chore.”
His aunt playfully hit him. “Stop being silly.”
Watching their interaction, Jing Ciying was reminded of his own parents, a wave of sadness washing over him. He quickly pushed the memory away, washed his hands, and sat down at the dining table.
They quickly set the table.
The last dish was a bowl of longevity noodles.
Since his birthday coincided with the anniversary of his parents’ death, he hadn’t celebrated properly since then, just eating a bowl of longevity noodles.
In recent years, he had even neglected that tradition.
He hadn’t expected his aunt to remember.
“Eat up,” she said, handing him chopsticks. “You must be hungry.”
“Yes,” his uncle said, placing some meat on his plate.
He hadn’t felt this warmth in a long time. Despite his lack of appetite, he ate heartily.
His aunt looked at him with concern. “You haven’t been eating properly, have you? Look how thin you are.”
“Don’t talk about that while he’s eating,” his uncle said, interrupting her.
She pouted but didn’t say anything, just kept filling his plate.
He ate until he was full, a rare occurrence.
His aunt was pleased. “You have to come for dinner every day while you’re here. I’ll fatten you up.”
“Okay,” he agreed readily.
After dinner, he gave them the gifts he had brought and prepared to leave.
His aunt offered to have his uncle drive him, but he declined. “It’s not far. I need the walk after that meal.”
She agreed, letting him leave.
His hometown hadn’t changed much over the years, as if frozen in time.
Despite his long absence, he easily found his way home.
He unlocked the door and stepped inside. Everything was as he remembered.
His grandfather’s reading glasses were still on the table, his grandmother’s blood pressure medication on the TV stand, the refrigerator covered in souvenir magnets his sister had collected from her travels.
The familiar surroundings felt comforting, as if they had just stepped out for a while and would be back soon.
The thought brought tears to his eyes. He tried to distract himself, but his aunt had already cleaned the apartment, even changing the bedsheets. There was nothing for him to do.
He went to the cemetery to visit his parents and grandparents.
Although they were gone, he felt their presence, which was why he hadn’t dared to return after his sister’s death, unable to face their graves.
But now, after all this time, he was finally ready.
He hesitated, then approached their graves.
They were clean and well-maintained; his aunt must have visited often. Even the photos on the tombstones were still vibrant.
Their faces, etched in stone, looked at him with kindness, but he couldn’t meet their gaze. He placed the flowers and fruits he had brought before their graves and fell silent.
After a while, he looked up, meeting their eyes for a brief moment before looking down again.
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t protect her.”
Silence. Only the sound of the wind.
“Aunt says it’s not my fault, that I did my best, but I keep thinking… if I had worked harder in college, if I had earned more money, if she hadn’t had to worry about money, if she had been able to quit her job… if I had been more attentive, if I had noticed something was wrong sooner… if I had worked harder, earned more, provided her with better medical care… maybe she would still be here.”
His voice choked with emotion.
He was almost thirty, old enough to handle anything.
But here, surrounded by the memories of his family, he felt like a child again, longing for their protection, their comfort.
But it was impossible.
He couldn’t even say the words, “I miss you. I miss you, Sis.”
He was an adult now.
He had to be strong.
He stayed at the cemetery for a long time, leaving as dusk settled.
The city lights twinkled, and night arrived.
It was Children’s Day. Children in colorful costumes performed on a stage in front of a shopping mall, their parents watching proudly, their faces beaming.
The crowd was lively, cheerful, a scene of everyday joy.
Jing Ciying walked through the crowd, his pace quick, as if trying to escape, but the memories followed him.
He and his sister had always loved Children’s Day.
Not just because of the school activities, but because it was his birthday.
His parents always came home for his birthday, and his grandparents would start preparing days in advance.
His grandfather would abandon his calligraphy practice and go to the market to buy groceries.
His grandmother would spend hours in the kitchen, frying their favorite dishes.
His parents would bring gifts, and they would all celebrate with a birthday cake.
It felt like yesterday, but it had been years.
Returning to reality from such cherished memories was painful, so he quickened his pace, trying to outrun the past.
He finally reached his apartment building, seeing a figure standing by the entrance. The area was poorly lit, so he couldn’t see clearly, just a dark silhouette.
He had grown up here and knew most of the residents.
But he had been away for so long, many faces were unfamiliar now.
He didn’t intend to greet the stranger, walking past him.
Then a familiar voice called out his name.
“Jing Ciying.”
