Chapter 40: The Daughter’s Diary

She had barely finished speaking when a WeChat message arrived.

Where did you run off to so early, Miss? I specially asked the hotel restaurant to make you a longevity noodle soup and added lots of your favorite shrimp. I knocked at your door for ages, but you didn’t respond.

It was from Yuan Ye, accompanied by a tearful, aggrieved emoji.

Lian Youyou covered her mouth, stifling a laugh. Yuan Ye was always like a child who never grew up in front of her, forever stirring her maternal instincts.

This message made him seem like a little boy who had carefully prepared longevity noodles for his mother, only to feel wronged when she never came to receive them.

She typed a reply: Sorry, I had to go out for something. Thank you for the longevity noodles, Yuan Ye.

So, there was more than one person who remembered her birthday.

The car drove into a village. Lian Youyou glanced at the stone marker at the entrance and was stunned. “This is…”

The marker was engraved with the words “Lian Family.”

This was the village where she was born and had lived as a child.

The car stopped in front of a tile-roofed house. Outside, bamboo poles led up to a platform, tangled with gourd vines. On the other side was a small fence, behind which some vegetables were planted. The unmelted snow was dusted with a gray film, lying atop the withered stems. In the harsh winter, these plants had already died back, waiting for the warmth of spring to return to life. Beyond the gourd vines, firewood was stacked in neat, square piles, each log cut to the same length.

Lu Ming got out and took gift boxes from the trunk—presents he’d bought in advance. “Let’s go in, Youyou.”

She hesitated.

“What’s wrong, Youyou?” Lu Ming balanced all the gifts in one hand and freed his other to open her door. “Come on, let’s go see your grandparents.”

“They’re not my grandparents…” The façade crumbled, and tears streamed down her face.

They weren’t her grandparents—they were her parents…

She didn’t want to face this truth.

She couldn’t bear to face the reality that, after her death, her parents had sold the apartment she’d bought for them and returned to live in the old house.

She couldn’t bear to see her once-vigorous parents, with their black hair and hearty laughter, now aged, frail, their heads covered in silver.

She didn’t want to face this home, utterly transformed since the last time she left it.

All this tragedy was her own doing—her naivety, her stubbornness, her refusal to heed her parents’ warnings, her insistence on marrying Fan Chi.

Since coming back, she had missed her parents every day and night, but never found the courage to see them.

She was an unfilial daughter, unworthy to face them.

“Who said you could bring me here? Did you ask my permission?” she sobbed, voice breaking, and pounded her fists against Lu Ming. “Who are you to decide for me? What is this supposed to be…”

“Youyou, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Lu Ming hadn’t expected such a reaction and was at a loss. “I won’t make decisions for you again, don’t be angry…”

The family’s little dog must have sensed visitors, for its barking soon brought her mother to the door.

“Who’s there?” Her mother, Shi Xuezhen, opened the main gate and came out.

“Ah, Professor Lu! Why are you standing outside? Come in, come in!” Shi Xuezhen greeted Lu Ming warmly.

Lian Youyou was hidden behind Lu Ming; Shi Xuezhen hadn’t noticed her.

“Grandma, I brought Youyou with me today,” Lu Ming said, stepping aside and pulling Youyou from the car.

Shi Xuezhen squinted kindly, her smile gentle. “Why are you crying, Youyou? You’re a grown girl—what’s there to cry about? Did you not do well in your finals? Or…”

“Mom!”

With all her strength, Lian Youyou cried out, then dropped to her knees before Shi Xuezhen and clung to her legs.

“What is it, Youyou? Missing your mom? Come now, get up, get up!” Shi Xuezhen was bewildered by the outburst and hurried to help her up.

But Lian Youyou’s knees seemed rooted to the earth. Shi Xuezhen tried for ages but couldn’t lift her.

“Mom, mom…” Lian Youyou was a mess, sobbing so hard she could barely breathe, unable to form a coherent sentence, only calling for her mother over and over.

“What’s wrong, what’s wrong?” Her father, Lian Changsheng, was drawn by her cries.

Shi Xuezhen said helplessly to him, “Sigh, it must be around Mengmeng’s memorial day. Youyou’s missing her mother.”

Together, Lian Changsheng and Lu Ming managed to drag the nearly fainting Youyou inside.

Once through the door, she cried for a long time, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts, before finally calming down.

“I’m sorry, Grandma. I just missed my mom and made you and Grandpa worry. I’m sorry.” She sat cross-legged on the kang, wiping away her tears.

“It’s nothing, child. If you want to cry, then cry. It’s your own mother—why shouldn’t you?” Shi Xuezhen brought out two small paper baskets she’d made from old calendar pages—one filled with roasted pumpkin seeds and peanuts, the other lined with raisins, topped with apples and tangerines. “Professor Lu, have some seeds.”

Lian Changsheng, sitting on the sofa opposite, chided, “Woman, you’re making Professor Lu just eat seeds? At least make some tea!”

“Oh, my mind these days… Professor Lu, wait a moment—tea is coming!” Shi Xuezhen bustled off to the kitchen.

“Mom… Grandma, let me help you.” Lian Youyou hopped off the kang and followed her.

The moment they entered the kitchen, a chill hit her. The living room and two bedrooms were warmed by radiators, but the kitchen, unheated, was as cold as the outdoors.

She watched as her mother’s calloused, weathered hands washed the teacups under icy tap water.

“Grandma, use some hot water, please.”

She had just fetched the thermos when Shi Xuezhen shook out the cups and said, “It’s just a few cups—no need to waste hot water. I’m done now.”

“Grandma, you and Professor Lu seem very close?” The thought had been nagging her since her grandmother greeted Lu Ming, but she’d been too busy crying to ask.

“You silly child,” Shi Xuezhen scolded gently. “Did you forget? Since high school, Professor Lu has paid all your tuition.”

What—Lu Ming had sponsored her daughter through school ever since she’d graduated from compulsory education?

So when did Lu Ming start liking her daughter? Was it when she was still so young? Did he secretly harbor feelings all along?

Or…

Could it be Lu Ming had a predilection for children?

That was a little unnerving…

Shi Xuezhen finished making tea and brought it out, pouring cups for Lian Changsheng and Lu Ming. “Professor Lu, we don’t have fancy teas here. This is the Tieguanyin your uncle brought back from a business trip last time. Have a taste.”

Uncle… wasn’t that her younger brother, Lian Kewei? He was supposed to be her brother, yet now she had to call him “uncle”—what a twist of generations!

Lu Ming took a sip and smiled. “It’s delicious. Grandma, no need to fuss—please, sit.”

“Yes, yes.” Shi Xuezhen wiped her damp hands on her apron and sat on the kang.

Lian Youyou’s gaze fell on her mother’s apron—a green one, branded with the logo of some condiment company, probably a grocery store freebie. The apron was old, its pocket torn and the edges frayed. Her mother’s arms were covered with beige corduroy sleeves, likely homemade.

Her heart ached, and she wondered—where did all her money go? After earning a fortune from her first TV drama as the female lead, she had drafted a will with a lawyer, leaving everything to her parents. Why, then, had they ended up living like this?

Her father’s hair was gray; her mother’s, though dyed, was growing white at the roots. She turned away, unable to bear more. If she kept looking, she would only start crying again.

While her father chatted with Lu Ming, she slipped into the small bedroom.

The walls were covered with certificates of merit, and a childhood portrait of her daughter hung among them.

This must be her daughter’s room.

The kang was neatly kept, the sheets smoothed flat, the excess tucked beneath the mattress without a wrinkle, the quilt stacked tidily on one side. On the other sat a stuffed bear.

The desk was piled with books; the bookcase held not only her daughter’s but also her father’s—he was a calligrapher, painter, seal carver, and an avid reader.

She opened a drawer and found several thick notebooks—diaries, each labeled with a starting and ending date.

She chose one and flipped it open:

June 8, 2017, sunny. Today was the last day of the college entrance exam. Brother Lu Ming was waiting at the gate with Grandma and Grandpa. I was so happy. He said he’s applying to be a university lecturer, but I don’t know which school. I hope it’s the one I’ll attend.

She turned a few more pages.

September 7, 2017, overcast. Today was my first day as a college freshman. When I got my schedule, I saw my advanced math teacher’s name was Lu Ming. Is it really Brother Lu Ming? Or just someone with the same name?

All my life, I’ve felt unlucky. My mother died as soon as I was born; my father started a new family with another woman, ignoring me. I really like Brother Lu Ming. If fate allows… No, even if fate allows, Brother Lu Ming is so outstanding—there’s no way he’d like me.