On the Lin family’s side, after the Mid-Autumn Festival passed, things returned to a sort of quiet, subdued calm similar to before.

Mr. Lin’s two sons had also gone back, and Lin Kexing had been taken by Mrs. Lin to stay at her maternal home for a few days. During the daytime, the only person in the house was Mrs. Lin.

Ever since Mrs. Lin had taken over the charity work, she had her own meeting room and study in the prestigious Mingmen Huafu estate.

Today, in the spacious study, there were only Mrs. Lin and Jiang Yan’s mother.

The soundproofing in this room was excellent, and Mrs. Lin had also deliberately closed the door. She sat in her large office chair, watching the expression on Jiang Yan’s mother’s face with keen interest. Of course, even now thinking back on it, she still felt a lingering chill of fear.

Was Jiang Yan’s mother’s plan workable? Of course it was.

Was the probability of success high? Very high.

Mrs. Lin didn’t even know whether she should thank Jiang Yan for having no romantic feelings toward Kexing. Thinking about it carefully — if, several years down the line, Kexing and Jiang Yan had gotten together and were determined to marry, could she have stopped them? Of course not. And once Kexing and Jiang Yan were together, she, as a mother wanting her daughter to have a better life, would she end up helping her son-in-law? Without question, she would.

“Is there anything else you want to say?” Mrs. Lin asked.

Jiang Yan’s mother shook her head.

There was nothing left to say. As the saying goes — to the victor go the spoils.

Still, there was one thing she wanted to know.

Everything had been nearly seamless — even A’Yan, her own son, had been completely unaware of her intentions. So how had Mrs. Lin found out?

While staying at the Lin household, she had been extraordinarily careful. Every word she’d said to Lin Kexing, even if it had been passed on, was impossible for anyone to fault.

So how had Mrs. Lin known?

Jiang Yan’s mother had been turning this question over in her mind since yesterday, but no matter how much she thought about it, she couldn’t find a single thread to follow.

She had suspected Jiang Ruoqiao, but quickly dismissed the idea. Jiang Ruoqiao was just a twenty-year-old university student. She didn’t know Mrs. Lin, and the two of them moved in completely different social circles, making it nearly impossible for them to have crossed paths. So it was unlikely to have been Jiang Ruoqiao who told her.

Then, was it Kexing?

Also unlikely. Kexing was drowning in pain these days, wishing with everything she had that no one outside would ever learn of this matter. Kexing would absolutely never bring it up with Mrs. Lin on her own initiative.

Then who could it have been?

Jiang Yan’s mother finally asked: “How did you find out?”

Mrs. Lin did not answer. Anyone who truly understood Jiang Yan’s mother would know that this woman was like a venomous serpent. Although she had no ties whatsoever to Jiang Ruoqiao, Jiang Ruoqiao was after all just a student, and she had come out of kindness to tell her. There was no reason to expose Jiang Ruoqiao — it would bring Mrs. Lin no benefit whatsoever. After a brief silence, Mrs. Lin finally said: “It’s true that someone noticed something was off with Kexing. Kexing had lost a dramatic amount of weight almost overnight. I was too busy with work to notice, but that doesn’t mean others couldn’t see it. My own daughter — of course I take it to heart. So I had someone look into it, and discovered that on that night, Kexing had returned to the city from the farmhouse retreat — but she hadn’t come home. That made me wary. Then I thought back to what you had said that day, about going to take care of a sick friend…”

Jiang Yan’s mother let out a short, rueful laugh. So that was where the crack had appeared.

Mrs. Lin smiled faintly: “Would you call what I did repaying hostility with kindness? Or perhaps,” she paused, “the parable of the Good Samaritan who saved a wolf?”

“Repaying hostility with kindness?” Jiang Yan’s mother savored the phrase slowly, then raised her head. “Wouldn’t ‘charity’ be the more accurate word? These past ten years must have been quite gratifying for you — gratifying to keep me underfoot, to watch me wait on you hand and foot like a servant.”

Mrs. Lin showed no anger. “Whether it came from genuine goodwill or condescending charity, regardless of whatever my true intentions were — the fact remains that you and your son lived very comfortably over these ten years, didn’t you? Comfortable enough to scheme against another person’s daughter, and to covet another family’s fortune.”

Jiang Yan’s mother lowered her head and laughed. “Scheming against your daughter? Do you even understand your own daughter — do you know what kind of person she is? Surely you don’t think it was I who led your daughter into developing feelings for A’Yan? Why does your daughter hang on my every word? Have you ever asked yourself that? It’s because I know exactly what’s going on inside her head, and I tell her precisely what she wants to hear. I was not by her side that night. I did not tie her legs down. She was the one who felt her way through the dark to A’Yan’s room all on her own.”

At this point, it had become nothing more than mutual wounding.

Jiang Yan’s mother had accurately calculated that Mrs. Lin would not let this matter escalate. Mrs. Lin feared that Mr. Lin would find out, and feared even more that outsiders would learn of it.

Otherwise, once she had learned of the matter, why would she have endured in silence until now?

Those with nothing to lose have nothing to fear. Jiang Yan’s mother understood this principle well.

“Whether I actually manipulated her, or simply told her what she wanted to hear and let her draw her own wrong conclusions from it — isn’t that clear enough?” Jiang Yan’s mother laughed contemptuously. “This daughter of yours — she’s ruined.”

If she were to offer a frank assessment — setting aside family background entirely — she felt that A’Yan’s girlfriend was incomparably better than Lin Kexing in every way.

There is no mother in the world who can bear to hear someone speak of her child this way.

Mrs. Lin had been perfectly composed until now. One could only say that Jiang Yan’s mother knew precisely how to enrage her, and knew exactly how to make her miserable.

Watching Mrs. Lin’s complexion turn an ashen grey, Jiang Yan’s mother felt a surge of bitter satisfaction: Ten years! She had endured for ten whole years!

“If Wenyuan were still alive, if the Jiang family were still what it once was,” Jiang Yan’s mother continued, pressing further, “do you think I would have deigned to accept your daughter as my daughter-in-law?”

Mrs. Lin’s face was ashen — yet strangely, upon hearing these words, which should have been the most infuriating of all, the flames inside her suddenly died down. She smiled with even greater composure: “If you hadn’t brought it up, I would have forgotten about it entirely. Do you know why I took the two of you in back then? You can call it charity if you like — I prefer to think of it as sympathy. Pity.”

The two women had known each other for nearly thirty years.

Each knew the other all too well.

“Jiang Wenyuan’s cause of death was quite clear at the time — he died in a car accident.” Mrs. Lin smiled faintly. “But there’s something you may not know: where he was going when it happened.”

Jiang Yan’s mother: “What does that have to do with you? Wenyuan was simply going out to buy medicine for A’Yan!”

“And you believe that?” Mrs. Lin said. “He was on his way to take his mistress to the airport — he was heading to the terminal. Perhaps even heaven itself couldn’t stand to watch any longer, and so he was struck and killed. I honestly don’t know whether to call him contemptible, or to call you pitiable. You believed that a man who had once been completely destitute, who had one day suddenly risen to wealth and prominence, would still be faithful and devoted to you? To be honest, I don’t even understand what all your scheming and maneuvering was ever for. If you say it was for your son — was this truly what your son wanted? If it was for yourself — what could you possibly gain from it?”

Mrs. Lin now spoke with a note of genuine sorrow. “Do you remember the dreams you had when we were still in school? You may have forgotten, but I still remember. You said you wanted to be someone distinguished, a female entrepreneur — to build something of your own. And yet here you are now. For whose sake have you turned yourself into this? I know — you wanted to revive the Jiang family name. But have you thought it through clearly: is it the Jiang family of Jiang Wenyuan, or the Jiang family of your son, Jiang Yan? Even if you had simply opened a company for yourself, become the female entrepreneur you once dreamed of being, I would say that was admirable. But all of this — for the sake of the Jiang family name — that is what I find most pitiable of all.”

Jiang Yan’s mother refused to believe any of it. She struggled to compose herself, and finally laughed as well. “Everything you’re saying now is just meant to provoke me. I won’t believe a single word of it. Save your breath.”

Mrs. Lin looked at her — with something like compassion, something like resignation. “You can go and ask your son whether any of this is true. Do you think your son doesn’t know? Then why has he grown weary of mentioning his father all these years — why does he never bring him up at all? Every time you raise the subject, does his mood improve?”

Jiang Yan’s mother shook her head. “I don’t believe a single word.”

—

Jiang Yan’s mother left the Lin household.

Mrs. Lin would never feel at ease about this woman, so she had someone assigned to keep watch over her.

Jiang Yan’s mother went to find Jiang Yan, but Jiang Yan refused to see her. Eventually, she drifted back in a daze to their old hometown. A woman in her mid-forties — too proud to humble herself into looking for ordinary employment, and without enough savings to sustain herself for long. One could well imagine how difficult the road ahead would be.

Mrs. Lin knew Jiang Yan’s mother too well. Her words had indeed gotten through — Jiang Yan’s mother had taken them in, but was choosing to deceive herself rather than believe them, too afraid even to verify whether they were true.

Mrs. Lin also knew what Jiang Yan’s mother was thinking. By leaving now, she was waiting — waiting for the day when Jiang Yan would no longer be able to suppress his concern and would come looking for her. Once he found her, she could use the revelation of Jiang Wenyuan’s affair to confront him, positioning herself as the wounded, vulnerable mother who had been kept in the dark by her own son for so many years. Her son would be consumed with guilt, and she would win back his trust and affection.

After so many years, time had transformed people beyond recognition. Even the woman who had once loved Jiang Wenyuan so desperately she had nearly wished to follow him in death could, in the end, turn that devotion into a tool for manipulating her own flesh and blood.

Did she love Jiang Wenyuan? Did she love Jiang Yan? It seemed not, not really.

But if one said she loved herself — that didn’t quite seem right either.

Mrs. Lin gazed at their old graduation photograph, at the girl who had once been the most dazzling and beautiful among them all, now transformed into this.

Would Jiang Yan’s mother’s calculated retreat ultimately succeed?

Not necessarily.

Mrs. Lin looked at a photograph of her daughter and let out a long, quiet sigh. Children always grow up eventually. What lies beyond one’s control in life — besides life itself — are one’s children.

Mr. Lin knocked and came into the study. The husband and wife chatted as they usually did. Mr. Lin asked what had become of Jiang Yan’s mother — after all, she had lived in their household for ten years. He would have remembered even a regular live-in helper who had worked that long, let alone someone who had once been Mrs. Lin’s classmate and close friend from her school days.

Mrs. Lin smiled and replied: “She said she feels the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak these days. There’s also a family member back home who has fallen ill, so she wants to go back and look after them. She said she may come back when things aren’t so hectic.”

She would not be coming back.

Kexing would gradually grow accustomed to it — to a life in which that woman no longer existed.

—

Jiang Ruoqiao’s maternal grandparents were coming.

After some consideration, she chose not to book a hotel, opting instead for a short-term rental — a two-bedroom, one-living-room apartment, which was perfect. Elderly people were likely to feel uneasy staying alone in a hotel. This kind of place was better; she could stay together with them and be on hand immediately should anything come up. The apartment she had booked happened to be in the residential complex right next to the one where Lu Yicheng rented, just a few minutes’ walk away. The complex had a pleasant environment, and most importantly, it was close to her university and offered convenient transportation.

Her grandparents were arriving the next day, so Jiang Ruoqiao went over to the apartment first to check whether there were any household supplies that needed to be stocked up.

That evening, Lu Yicheng’s thesis supervisor needed to see him about something, so Jiang Ruoqiao brought Lu Siyan with her to the apartment while she got things ready, and she and Lu Yicheng had agreed that he would come directly here to pick Lu Siyan up afterward.

Jiang Ruoqiao busied herself with cheerful enthusiasm, getting everything set up.

Although they would only be staying for a few days, she still went out and bought a small saucepan. The apartment had a kitchen and seasonings, but her grandparents were used to cooking their own noodles for breakfast, and she worried they might not enjoy the local street food. Just thinking about her grandparents coming, Jiang Ruoqiao felt a mixture of anxiety and excitement — anxious because her grandmother’s health seemed to have genuinely taken a turn for the worse, and excited at the prospect of showing the two elders around and letting them enjoy themselves properly.

Lu Siyan was full of curiosity: “Mama’s grandparents — does that mean they’re very, very old?”

Jiang Ruoqiao smiled. “Not too bad, actually. My grandfather is seventy-two this year, and my grandmother is seventy-three.”

Lu Siyan counted on his fingers. Ah — seventy-two and seventy-three! He was only five years old, so they really were incredibly, incredibly old!

“Are their heads all white?” Lu Siyan hummed a little tune to himself. “Grandpa herding ducks, beard white as snow~”

Jiang Ruoqiao: “…Not completely white, actually. And my grandparents care a lot about their appearance. Every Lunar New Year they go and dye their hair. Back in the day they were quite the handsome couple in their hometown — you only have to look at me to understand, because I look exactly like my grandmother when she was young.”

Lu Siyan asked so many questions that Jiang Ruoqiao kept answering at first, but then she noticed something was off. She set down the humidifier she had been arranging. A certain possibility came to her — and her face went instantly pale.

Siyan asking all these questions — could it mean that in that future, he had never met her grandparents?

Jiang Ruoqiao came and sat down beside Lu Siyan. In a voice that was strained, labored with difficulty, she asked: “Siyan, let Mama ask you something. Have you never met Great-Grandma and Great-Grandpa?”

Lu Siyan had a good memory. He thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No, I haven’t.”

Jiang Ruoqiao went completely still.

Her throat felt dry and parched. Her eyes began to sting.

No. That couldn’t be right.

Her grandparents were in such good health. Maybe Siyan had met them once, but couldn’t remember…

And yet she also knew that given how deeply her grandparents adored her, they would certainly have found every opportunity to see Siyan — and if they couldn’t meet in person, there would have been video calls.

Siyan’s memory wasn’t poor. So that could only mean — in his memory, there had been no such meetings.

But how many years could that even cover?

Jiang Ruoqiao lost her composure. She stood up and said she was going to wash her hands, then walked into the bathroom, closed the door, and turned on the tap.

In truth, she had known from a very young age what death meant.

She had seen her father, covered with a white cloth.

She also knew that her grandparents were seventy-two years old, and that she had been twenty-seven when she gave birth to Siyan — seven years from now.

When people reach a certain age, the cycle of birth, aging, illness, and death is no longer a distant concern.

She knew. She knew all of it. But she still could not accept it.

—

Lu Yicheng knocked and let himself in.

Lu Siyan opened the door for him. After Lu Yicheng changed his shoes, he saw Lu Siyan standing at the bathroom door with a look of desperate anxiety on his face, which puzzled him. He walked over and asked quietly: “What’s wrong — is your Mama in there?”

Lu Siyan gave a solemn nod.

“I think I did something wrong.” Lu Siyan was deeply remorseful. “I’ve never seen Mama make a face like that before!”

Lu Yicheng stood there, and all he could hear was the sound of running water from inside.

He thought for a moment, then led Lu Siyan out onto the balcony before asking: “What happened?”

Lu Siyan told him everything, word for word. “Mama asked me whether I had ever met Great-Grandma and Great-Grandpa. I said I hadn’t, and then Mama went into the bathroom.”

So that was it.

Lu Yicheng fell silent. There were chairs on the balcony and he sat down, almost instinctively reaching into his pocket for his phone. His fingers trembled slightly as he opened his photo album.

His photo album had very few pictures in it at first. It was only after Siyan came that the photographs had grown more and more numerous.

Tucked among them were a few photographs, their resolution very low and blurry.

In those photographs was an elderly person — white-haired and deeply wrinkled.

One showed the elderly woman sitting in a chair, looking at the camera with a slight stiffness. Another showed her asleep on the sofa in front of the television. And one showed her sleeping in a hospital bed.

It was the grandmother who had been his entire world for so many years.

Sometimes he felt a quiet, lingering regret — regret that he had grown up too slowly, that he hadn’t been able to give her even a day of ease and comfort. And regret that if only Siyan had come a little sooner.

If his grandmother had been able to meet Siyan, she would certainly have been overjoyed, and she would have adored him deeply.

Such a shame. A genuine, aching shame.

—