One day in 2012, strange clouds appeared somewhere. Experts denied rumors, saying it was just abnormal weather, absolutely unrelated to earthquakes, ahem.

Then, two hours later, B City experienced a small tremor.

Wen Heng was holding a paper cup, thinking her dizziness was due to high blood pressure from researching too diligently day and night.

Then, she noticed two brown coffee drops on her hand’s tiger mouth position, unclear when they had splashed out from the cup.

She was the last to leave the research institute. Having just returned from reporting work in France that afternoon and finished organizing documents, she wanted to try her luck at picking up her son from kindergarten.

Little Yan was five this year, in the senior class, the Nth batch of students at the government kindergarten. Given that the first batch produced the likes of Yan Xi, Dayi, and Si Wan, Ah Heng was quite worried about her son’s education.

Usually, at this time, she could barely see her son. With two grandmothers, two uncles, two great-grandfathers (Old Man Yan was instantly defeated by his great-grandson’s first birthday rouge and returned from abroad), and an aunt who doubled as a sister-in-law taking turns picking him up—this child was too blessed.

Thus, little treasure was flourishing, while his birth mother and Yan Xi as the birth father could barely touch him. But since the way home passed by the kindergarten, Ah Heng decided to turn in.

When Ah Heng walked out of the research institute building, she felt the sky had darkened somewhat, phoenix trees scattered in the wind, seeming like rain was coming.

Turning around, and looking at her surroundings, something felt off.

This famous commercial street seemed vaguely more run-down.

Except for the towering trees still lush and verdant, their green is about to drip.

And behind the trees, the research institute is barely visible.

Ah Heng rubbed her eyes, looking at the street. There were few pedestrians, but had white shirts become trendy recently? Why were all the middle school-aged children wearing white shirts with blue shorts, ah, and black-beamed bicycles…

Ah Heng walked along, observing, growing increasingly suspicious.

People looked at her like she was some kind of monster.

Ah Heng looked down at herself—short-sleeved windbreaker and jeans, nothing strange, right?

When she reached the kindergarten, she broke into a cold sweat—when had it become all single-story buildings?

Earlier this year, Si Wan had just pulled sponsorship money from his pocket to help his nephew’s kindergarten build floors. The main reason was that their group of brothers had done plenty of bullying and gang robbery in their time, with no small number of incidents settled through sponsorship money with kindergarten teachers. Thinking that little Yan was Yan Xi’s son and his nephew, the power of genetics couldn’t be underestimated, so he generously provided money out of consideration for his nephew.

As Ah Heng walked through the iron gate, black clouds slowly pressed down, like dragon scales, with heavy rain imminent.

In all directions, not a soul in sight, completely deserted.

Within view were slides, rotating chairs, seesaws, balance beams, and… a swing.

She breathed a sigh of relief, walked to the swing, bent down, and gently said: “Little darling, why haven’t you gone home yet, didn’t grandmother pick you up?”

He sat on the swing, swaying back and forth, his tiny body suddenly stopping.

Raising his little head, with a watermelon-rind haircut, looking at her with a very strange expression.

Ah Heng crouched down, patted the child’s head, and smiled: “Treasure, when did you get your hair cut, did grandmother use electric clippers?”

Ah Heng had been in France for two days, constantly on the phone with Mr. Yan and Little Yan. Little Treasure had said Daddy washed my hair and got it in my eyes again auntie’s milk tea is the worst thing in the world Uncle failed at another blind date, then with tears in his eyes Mommy Mommy when are you coming back, on and on about many things, but never mentioning his hair being cut.

The child on the swing looked at her, big eyes very calm, pouting: “Are you a kidnapper, wanting to snatch me? My family is very poor, my mom abandoned me long ago…”

Ah Heng thought her son was throwing a tantrum, smiled, picked him up, and lightly coughed: “Yes yes, young Mr. Yan, I’m going to kidnap you and sell you.”

The child was curious, frowning: “You know my surname?”

Ah Heng kissed his forehead, intimately saying: “What should we do? Not surname Yan, how about taking mommy’s surname Wen?”

The child pushed her hard: “What nonsense are you talking? My mom’s surname isn’t Wen, only that tagalong Si Wan has the surname Wen.”

Ah Heng pinched the child’s nose: “How rude, even daring to casually call uncle’s name, next time you’re naughty, mommy will spank you.”

The child opened his eyes wide, struggling with all his might: “Let me go, you crazy person.”

Ah Heng held the child tight, pressing her forehead to his, muttering: “No fever, what’s wrong with this child?”

The little one suddenly stiffened, his big eyes meeting Ah Heng’s at a very close distance. He said: “Hey, put me down quickly, when my grandfather comes soon, if he sees you kidnapping me, he’ll beat you to death. He’s very fierce!”

Ah Heng suddenly realized: “Ah, these are lines from your kindergarten play, right… uh, oh, I’m so scared, don’t hit me, ah… is this how we continue, treasure?”

The kindergarten was rehearsing a play these days.

Wen Heng had been paying attention, mainly because she felt her son vaguely had the same problem as his father—besides being good-looking, there wasn’t much else. So maybe he might have some talent in drama.

The little one looked at her sympathetically: “I know, you’re a crazy person.”

Ah Heng “mmm’d,” nodding: “I’ve gone crazy, Yan the Demon King.”

Her son was supposedly playing the Demon King.

Ah Heng was overjoyed, imagining herself becoming a star mom.

She carried him, walking toward the kindergarten exit.

She asked: “Little darling, what do you want to do when you grow up?”

The child struggled hard but couldn’t break free, rolled his eyes, and made a face: “Why should I tell you?”

Ah Heng smiled, saying: “When mommy was little, she wanted to eat braised pork in the future, your uncle Zai Zai wanted to run and jump like normal people, now both have come true. Come on, tell me, if you say it, it can come true.”

The child was stunned. He pondered for a while, lowered his head, pointing with his little finger, and said: “I want to build big houses. The houses I build will be prettier than everyone else’s.”

Ah Heng said: “May I ask why?”

The child spread both his little hands wide, saying: “I’ll build them very very big, this way, all the people I like can live inside.”

Ah Heng seemed lost in thought.

The little one stared at her steadily: “You’re like them too, thinking I’m strange, right?”

Ah Heng smiled: “No, if you build it, can you invite me to visit?”

The child touched her smiling face, looked for a long time, then said: “Are all moms like you?”

Ah Heng’s face couldn’t hold up, reddening, as she spoke gently: “What’s wrong, is mommy not good this way? Then what kind of mommy does little darling want?”

The child suddenly hugged her neck, speaking softly, somewhat desolately: “No, you’re good just like this. Did you lose your little darling? Let me tell you, I lost my mommy too.”

Ah Heng gently stroked the child’s softback, speaking tenderly: “I’ve always been here, don’t worry.”

The little one stayed quiet for a long time.

Ah Heng carried him forward, suddenly remembered the chocolate she bought in France, took it out, and offered it to the child.

But the child pushed away her hand: “I hate eating sweets, my grandfather says children who eat sweets are all bad children.”

Ah Heng smiled, stuffing the chocolate in his mouth: “Silly, such delicious food, when mommy was little she couldn’t even afford to buy it.”

The child licked it, then said with a straight face: “Too sweet, really unpalatable.”

He made to spit it out, but Ah Heng frowned, took the chocolate from the little one’s mouth, and chewed it, puzzled, thinking it wasn’t that sweet.

The child froze, looking at her, poking: “Crazy person, isn’t that dirty?”

Ah Heng “ah’d,” taking a while to realize he meant her taking the chocolate from his mouth, then burst out laughing: “Where were you earlier? When you were one year old, mommy fed you every day, there were plenty of times I ate your drool. You had even more drool then than now.”

The little one scratched his watermelon-rind head, face reddening, cheeks puffing up, and said: “Crazy person.”

Ah Heng pinched his face, saying: “What did you call me?”

He suddenly felt something cold in his ear, looked up, and said: “Crazy person, it’s raining.”

Ah Heng “ah’d” as summer rain came pouring down.

Raindrops fell, heavy, spreading.

Ah Heng pulled him closer to her chest, her arm shielding his little head as they ran through the rain.

The rain created mist, the path home muddy throughout.

He was enclosed in a warm embrace, feeling for the first time his smallness.

For a long time, rainwater dripped from this woman’s chin; for a very long time, raindrops fell on his face too, the scattered sound like broken jade.

The child felt very lonely, nestling deeper into the embrace, calling out softly: “Mommy.”

He cried in the rain: “Mommy, mommy, I miss you so much.”

“Mommy mommy, where are you?”

“Mommy mommy mommy, do you hate me?”

“Mommy.”

Never had there been such despair, after receiving such a gentle embrace from someone else’s mother.

The child opened his clear black and white eyes wide and fiercely bit Ah Heng.

He bit her arm as if facing an enemy.

A child just five years old.

A woman in her thirties.

He could almost taste the salty tang.

Ah Heng winced in pain, put him down, and draped her coat over both their heads. On her cheeks, raindrops had fallen.

“Treasure, what’s wrong?”

The child was very strange, with tears on his face but smiling, cheeks slightly red with two little pink circles, he said: “I want to eat McDonald’s, KFC, you’re an adult, so you have money, right?”

Ah Heng: “Ah, didn’t you say you were tired of eating that? Daddy always takes you to eat there.”

He said: “I’ve never eaten with… mommy before.”

The two words “mommy,” he said with extreme discomfort.

Ah Heng nodded, picked him up again, and said: “But, we should call your father, he’ll be worried waiting at home.”

Ah Heng took out her phone, looked at the screen, and froze.

After a long while, she looked down at the child in her arms, shock, joy, excitement, and bitterness crossing her eyes with many unclear emotions.

Her steps remained quick, and after long contemplation, she smiled. Eyes narrowing, she asked gently: “Do you like eating spare ribs now?”

The child was puzzled: “How do you know?”

“I guessed.”

Ah Heng smiled, looking at him, excessively gentle at that moment.

She carried him to a general store with swallows’ nests under the eaves to shelter from the rain, looked at the bills in her wallet, and smiled bitterly.

Looking down, on her hand was only the brilliant wedding ring.

Purple plum seal.

She thought for a moment, then carried the child to a thirty-year-old jewelry store that had been somewhat famous even twenty years ago.

She sold the ring and took the money.

He followed behind her, curiously watching this woman’s series of bewildering actions.

From what he’d seen following adults around, this person’s ring should be worth quite a bit, certainly not the low price the jewelry store was offering now.

He asked her why.

Ah Heng smiled, her eyes like black ink. She reached out, firmly holding his hand, speaking gently: “Let’s go.”

The sky cleared, the night brilliant in the watery light.

She said she didn’t know the way, and the child was curious: “Aren’t you from B City?”

Ah Heng nodded with a smile: “No, but my husband is.”

He led her through the night, walking to a fast-food restaurant full of children and parents. Grandfather didn’t like him coming to these places, and wouldn’t allow Nanny Li to bring him. But Si Wan and Dayi often told him how nice it was inside, making him curious.

So he took advantage of this somewhat crazy, somewhat silly woman who mistakenly claimed him as her son.

The child pushed the glass door but was too small to open it.

Ah Heng smiled sweetly, helping him push it open.

Inside was a small children’s playground with many children his age playing until they were sweating profusely.

Big eyes turned curiously back and forth, his grip on her hand growing tighter and tighter.

Ah Heng gazed at him, sighing softly.

He was afraid.

A sense of security, indeed, was something he’d lacked since childhood.

With the money from selling her ring, Ah Heng bought many food, and everything, and led him to sit opposite the playground.

He ate very properly, even though his eyes showed indescribable joy.

Ah Heng used a spoon to smear a sundae on his nose, watching him laugh.

He copied her but went further—besides sundae, he also used mashed potatoes, his little hands covered in food, smearing it on Ah Heng’s face.

Looking at her, proud, biting the spoon and tilting his head with a smile.

He suddenly became very talkative. The child said: “Let me tell you, Teacher Zhang at our kindergarten is so annoying, she always hits my head. Today, Niuniu stole my whistle and blew it during class, when the teacher found out, she didn’t scold Niuniu but hit my head instead. Today after school I deliberately hid in the bathroom, when she forgets me and my grandfather doesn’t see me back at the compound he’ll kill her haha.”

Ah Heng’s face darkened as she pinched his nose, how could he be so naughty?

The child puffed his cheeks: “The little auntie I liked was driven away by Teacher Zhang, now no one likes me or carries me home or reads me stories.”

Ah Heng said: “What about Si Wan and Dayi, what about them?”

The child pouted: “They were already picked up by their parents, those despicable fellows, not waiting for me, some brothers they are, won’t let them live in my house when I build it.”

Ah Heng chuckled, saying nothing.

The child blinked his eyes: “Do you like people calling you mommy, want me to call you that once?”

Ah Heng was embarrassed but still gentle: “Don’t call me that carelessly, I absolutely cannot be your mommy.”

The child lowered his head, biting his hamburger, his expression fading.

Ah Heng stroked his hair, speaking sympathetically: “Don’t take it to heart. It’s not that I don’t like you and won’t let you call me that, actually, how should I put it…”

The child looked up, smiling: “It’s okay, you’re a good person, as good as little auntie.”

The regular TV news broadcast, an unfamiliar young announcer, said there would be a small earthquake in the capital in thirty minutes, there would be no tremors, and citizens please remain calm.

Ah Heng remembered her dizziness at the research institute, seeming to understand something, looking at the child’s face before her, her expression growing increasingly complex.

Thirty minutes.

The child hadn’t noticed, watching the children playing with various toys in the small playground, his eyes constantly bright.

Ah Heng carried him into the small playground, watching him play enthusiastically with other children.

He often anxiously looked back, but always immediately saw this woman’s gentle smiling gaze.

She kept watching him like this, making him vaguely feel this must be what having a mother feels like, but somehow different.

A difference his small vocabulary couldn’t describe.

He walked out of the small playground, such a small child, his eyes soft and clear, asking her: “Do you want to see me dance the clapping dance? I just learned it.”

He clapped his hands: “Are you okay?”

Bending, putting hands behind his small back, raising them, clapping: I’m a good baby, can you see?

Hands-on his waist, sunflower smile, clapping again: Let’s be good friends, okay?

Clapping hands: Are you okay?

Bringing hands together, tilting head, putting them under his ear, clapping: I’m a good baby, can you see?

Hands-on his waist, sunflower smile, clapping again: Let’s be together forever, okay?

Ah Heng watched him, suddenly tears in her eyes.

She smiled, picked him up, intimately pressing her forehead to his, saying: “Okay, let’s be together forever.”

She led him out the glass door, the small child showing her affection, continuously singing the clapping song, the red light was on but he was still bouncing around.

Ah Heng reached out, and pulled him back into her arms, murmuring: “Be careful, Yan Xi.”

The child froze, saying: “Your heart… is beating very fast. But, but, how do you know my name is Yan Xi…”

Ah Heng tightened her embrace, as if unhearing, sighing: “I worry about you so much, Yan Xi, do you know?”

He nodded, saying: “I’m sorry, I know.”

Ah Heng looked at her watch, the minute hand gradually approaching, but smiled bitterly: “No, you don’t know.”

The distortion of space-time had given her this opportunity.

The person before her wasn’t her son.

But her husband.

She had realized it from the moment she saw her phone disappear and lose signal.

White shirts, black-beamed bicycles, the not-yet-prosperous commercial street, the kindergarten still in single-story buildings.

And her husband at just five years old.

The beginning of everything she hadn’t been part of.

Sadness, pain, the passage of years, the wheel marks of the mortal world had not yet rolled over him.

He hadn’t yet become Earth, become dust, become Pinocchio, become Ah Heng’s Yan Xi.

She hadn’t known that her first meeting with her husband had happened so early.

Not as a fifteen-year-old girl and seventeen-year-old boy.

Yan Xi, oh Yan Xi, the young and proud boy, had not yet drawn back the pink curtains.

The chaos of space-time is so absurd.

Now it was 1986.

A distant time before the story began.

The clock chiming the time in the distance suddenly rang out.

A slight tremor underfoot, the clock’s chime long and sustained, deafening.

But Ah Heng held little Yan Xi tight, speaking softly: “Remember clearly what I say.”

“If, three years later, you meet someone called Lu Liu, no matter how good he is, stay away from him.”

“If, twelve years later, you meet someone called Wen Heng, no matter how much you can’t bear to see her if you truly don’t like her, treat her just as a neighborhood girl.”

“She has some very clingy thoughts, if she forces you to choose, don’t pay attention, just choose the girl you fall in love with at first sight. If the girl is called Chu Yun, that’s good.”

“If not Chu Yun, that’s fine too, she just needs to be unique enough to match your unparalleled devotion.”

Yan Xi, I’ve given you these many ifs.

If, because of this, our marriage fate is broken… but, you have the right to avoid destiny and find peace and happiness.

This is the right your wife gives you.

It is with great love, it is with letting go.

The small child felt the strong tremor, but the warm weight on him suddenly lightened.

He looked up, the woman who had been holding him had vanished.

The stars in the sky still blinked.

If not for the pine fragrance still flowing in the air beside him…

Perhaps it was a dream.

Ah Heng walked into the compound again, her husband and child waiting under the banyan tree in the night.

He held their son’s hand, walking toward her.

Smiling, summer’s red flowers fall on his shoulder. His eyes bright and steady: “You’re back, baby.”

Her thirty-one-year-old husband.

Nothing had deviated at all.

Ah Heng raised her hand, the plum diamond on it gradually diffusing fragrance.

Much later, she asked: “Yan Xi, where did the purple plum seal come from?”

Yan Xi said: “Oh, a jewelry store donated it to a charity gala, heard they’d been open for twenty or thirty years.”

She hesitated: “Yan Xi, when you were little, did you meet a woman who bought you McDonald’s?”

Yan Xi smiled casually: “Perhaps. People who tricked me, I never remember clearly.”

Who still remembers, someone gently whispering in his ear, okay, let’s be together forever.

And then, vanishing without a trace.

Ah Heng nestled into his embrace, gently closing her eyes, and smiling at the corners of her lips.