After lunch the two returned to the family housing. This was the first time Zhou Yu had come back in the month since Feng Yiqun left.
Sun Jingcheng opened the door. Zhou Yu stepped inside step by step, then sat exhausted on a dining chair, beginning to look around the house bit by bit.
When she saw Feng Yiqun’s socks still hanging on the balcony, she kept breathing in and out, in and out to calm her emotions. Sun Jingcheng held her, gently patting her back, telling her to cry if she felt bad.
Zhou Yu calmed down and said, “I don’t feel bad.”
Feng Yiqun’s suicide note was light as a breeze—the opening was “To my proud daughter”; the middle rambled about family matters, nothing more than life being like grass and trees lasting one autumn, telling her to walk through this world with a compassionate heart, supporting each other with Sun Jingcheng; the ending was “farewell here, hoping to continue our mother-daughter bond in the next life.”
The entire text was so light it was as if she were going on a distant journey, instructing her to take care of the home.
Sun Jingcheng washed the kettle and boiled water, cooled a cup of tea for her, then began tidying the messy house. Feng Yiqun was someone who most valued appearances—before leaving she had cleaned the house spotlessly. It was only later that they had messed it up.
Zhou Yu held the teacup warming her hands, sitting on the sofa silently watching him wipe the table, watching him water the flowers, watching him mop the floor. The house had been without human presence for only a month, yet it had already become cold and dark, as if no one had lived there for ten or eight years.
She went to the balcony and collected the socks, put them in the drawer in the master bedroom where socks were kept, then sat on her mother’s bed for a while, looking at the slightly indented pillow, reaching out to touch it, then stroking her belly as she went to Grandma’s bedroom.
In Grandma’s bedroom were two beds—one she’d slept in before, one nursing bed. At this moment she remembered a few days ago a relative had inquired about this nursing bed, saying their family’s elderly person also needed it. She called to Sun Jingcheng, telling him to give this bed away—keeping it was useless.
Sun Jingcheng was rinsing the mop and responded, “Okay.”
Zhou Yu instructed him, “Just mop once is fine.” As she spoke Sun Jingcheng came over with the mop, and she sat on the nursing bed with her legs crossed telling him to mop.
He mopped up to her, kissed her belly that wasn’t showing yet, and Zhou Yu laughed at him, “Mop properly.”
After he went out mopping, Zhou Yu saw the boxes under the other bed. She bent down and pulled them out, taking out a stack of diaries and a pink letter. The letter was written by Sun Jingcheng’s junior classmate back then, asking her to pass it to Sun Jingcheng who was studying with Feng Yiqun.
Of course, she didn’t deliver it, and even opened it to read countless times.
If she divided her life so far into three stages: childhood, adolescence, adulthood—the one she most wanted to erase was adolescence. That was when she was most twisted, perverse, stubborn, and two-faced. It was also when she hated Feng Yiqun the most. The mother-daughter relationship was so tense that as long as Feng Yiqun said more than a few words, she would happily shout: No wonder Dad doesn’t like you!
Striking right at the vital point, Feng Yiqun would look at her and say no more. And often after saying this she would regret it to death. From her father’s passing until she left home for university, during those years she was controlled by these two extreme emotions. When unable to vent she was in pain, and after venting she was in pain from hurting both others and herself.
It was also at that time that Sun Jingcheng, growing wildly in the sunshine, became the only light in her lonely world. She began writing secret diaries every day, about Sun Jingcheng, about Feng Yiqun, about herself.
At such a young age she viciously thought, if Sun Jingcheng suddenly had his limbs amputated in a car accident, suddenly got a major illness and didn’t have long to live, would he still be so recklessly happy?
She was also fortunate that during that stage they didn’t know each other—he wouldn’t like her, because she also hated and loathed herself so much. Later her temperament gradually mellowed, which had to be credited to Feng Yiqun’s patience and careful guidance. No matter how she lost her temper, her mother would patiently wait for her to finish venting, then clean up the aftermath bit by bit.
Looking back now, how tolerant and compassionate her mother had been toward her. Although she had done unforgivable things, she would still unconditionally stand by her side.
In university she had four boyfriends one after another—gentle and considerate, obedient and accommodating, talented and brilliant, mature and steady. The gentle considerate one and the obedient one she broke up with after half a month. She didn’t like them. The mature steady one she dated for half a year—he was good in every way, but in the end it just fizzled out.
The talented brilliant one she also dated for a year, and he wasn’t bad in any aspect either, but in the end he broke up with her, saying he couldn’t see himself in her eyes.
After graduating and coming back for less than two years, her mother mentioned Sun Jingcheng, then the two met and smoothly began dating. From the first moment she saw Sun Jingcheng, she knew he hadn’t changed—his words and actions were still the same as before. She also clearly knew their personalities were very different, how unsuitable they were, but she still put effort into getting along with him.
From their first kiss, their first time making love, she knew she would marry no one but him.
As for the marriage not going well, that was also within expectations, because she began to keep score. In university a roommate once asked a question—when marrying, would you choose the person you love or the person who loves you? Zhou Yu chose without hesitation the person I love. But the complete statement was: choose the person I love and turn him into someone who loves me.
At the time she said this with great confidence, but married life really wasn’t like that. People are all greedy—at first loving me three parts was enough, but living together she found five parts wasn’t enough either, then she wanted seven parts, then later at least as much as I love. By the time the scorekeeping made life unbearable, looking back suddenly, she realized at the beginning she only wanted three parts.
Their arguments were real; the uncontrolled words during arguments were real; arguing in the morning and making up in the afternoon was real; being inseparable was real; being unable to go on was also real; everything was real.
Work mistakes can be reviewed afterward to avoid repeating them next time. But in relationships it’s very difficult—some things you know shouldn’t be done, some words you clearly shouldn’t say, but to vent momentary anger, you still do them again and again.
When did she realize the change? Perhaps it was when Sun Jingcheng went to the kitchen to help her mother, and her mother would smooth things over for him, occasionally saying men, be tolerant, don’t argue with her. Then she’d casually criticize herself. At these times Sun Jingcheng would always say, it’s okay Mom, actually it’s not all Zhou Yu’s fault, I also have major faults.
Before she didn’t know what they were whispering… whispering about, until she eavesdropped a few times and discovered it was Sun Jingcheng tattling on her, while Feng Yiqun was comforting him on one hand and criticizing her on the other. The result of this was often that Sun Jingcheng ended up comforting Feng Yiqun instead, saying it’s okay Mom, I also have faults.
Perhaps it was when Feng Yiqun deliberately provoked her, saying if you don’t have the diamond drill don’t take on porcelain work; perhaps it was even earlier… After all, from beginning to end, she always wanted to live well together. Otherwise she wouldn’t have put effort into getting along with him until marriage.
……
When Sun Jingcheng finished mopping all the floors and came over, seeing the diaries piled on the bed, he asked: “What’s that?”
“Not telling you.” Zhou Yu took all the diaries to the balcony and burned them one by one in a basin. She wasn’t afraid of Sun Jingcheng seeing her private thoughts, but there were too many secrets inside, about her father, about her mother.
Sun Jingcheng went back inside to drink tea, grumbling at her, “As if I care to look.” After speaking he sat on the sofa replying to WeChat messages.
Zhou Yu sat alone on the balcony burning them. After burning them, she went back inside and handed him a pink letter. Sun Jingcheng took it, looking at her meaningfully, “A love letter?”
“You’ll know after you read it.”
Sun Jingcheng read every word. The smile on his face stopped at the signature, and he asked her, “Who is Zhao Jiahui?”
Zhou Yu calculated the days and replied, “Nineteen years ago this girl asked me to pass the letter to you.”
“Why only pass it on now?” Sun Jingcheng reacted extremely quickly.
……
“Forgot about it, just saw it while cleaning up things.” Zhou Yu said lightly, then glanced at the house and urged him, “Let’s go back.”
Sun Jingcheng didn’t pursue it either, holding her hand as they went downstairs, chatting about where the candied roasted chestnuts and frosted hawthorn were good. Zhou Yu didn’t really want to talk, only holding his arm and quietly listening to him speak.
The cold winter was coming, the counting of nine cold days was about to begin. The leaves on the roadside landscaping trees had fallen completely clean. A sanitation worker bundled up thickly held a lunch box, squatting in front of a stall selling fire-roasted flatbread, sheltering from the wind while eating.
The woman selling flatbread in the stall put a steaming hot tea egg in his lunch box. The sanitation worker didn’t know what to say, but the woman spoke first, saying the egg was crushed and couldn’t be sold, might as well eat it herself.
A young couple passed close to them, the girl chattering, “Winter should have snow to be cute, otherwise what’s the point of having winter…” As she spoke a gust of wind swept over, the two turned their backs and the four of them made eye contact with Zhou Yu and Sun Jingcheng. Unexpectedly the little girl laughed first, sweetly calling Zhou Yu pretty big sister, praising her great temperament.
Zhou Yu was inexplicably infected by her and smiled too. Sun Jingcheng helped her wrap the scarf tighter, then like a monk chanting sutras began again: daughter daughter daughter… daughter daughter daughter.
Since finding out about the pregnancy, everyone in the family hoped Zhou Yu was carrying a daughter, especially Mother Sun—she was about to be driven crazy by that gang of annoying grandsons.
Initially Zhou Yu thought this way too—best if it’s a girl—but now boy or girl was fine, as long as the baby was healthy.