Overdo

At the dressing table we met, she wiped away crimson tears and sang "The Golden Thread." In our hearts we had pledged to wander together among falling blossoms.

I’ve always loved the lotus fragrance, the deep green willows along the Yin Bridge path. It makes one linger—hazy mist and drizzling rain, such a perfect place for two to dwell.

Epilogue

Dawn finally broke. The torrential rain that had lasted half the night gradually faded to near silence. Outside the window, a greyish corner of the sky slowly brightened, fading into peacock blue, then gradually seeping with crimson. Half the sky silently burst into magnificent sunset clouds, their dazzling colors flowing like scattered gold and flying brocade. The morning sun was a pale gold, and outside the window, trees enclosed the view, their shadows deep as water. A single ray of sunlight filtered through the sparse branches and leaves, like a timid hand reaching into the room. On the high table beneath the window sat a pot of orchids, their fragrance distant and refreshing, lingering faintly and endlessly.

I clung nervously to Mother’s arm and asked, “What happened next?”

“What happened next?” She sank back into thought, her silhouette outlined against the light like an ink-wash painting of a noble lady, her delicate profile breathtaking. I held her arm tightly, as if afraid this beauty was an illusion and that if I let go, she would vanish back into the story. Zhuo Zheng sat on the sofa on the other side, his expression equally tense. Like me, it was his first time being so close to Mother. Both our hearts were clenched.

She said, “After that, I remained unconscious. The doctors concluded I would never wake again. Your father finally lost hope and let go.”

I exclaimed angrily, “He abandoned you so easily?!”

Mother smiled, her eyes as clear and gentle as crystal. Her smile was truly mesmerizing, enough to dazzle anyone. She whispered, “I woke up over a month later. When I did, I asked for a divorce, and your father agreed. It was Madam who took charge, announcing my death to the outside world, giving me a new identity, and arranging for me to go abroad.”

I looked up at her, as all children in the world look up to their mothers. Her face held only a calm, serene glow, and my heart swelled with joy. I said, “Mother, you were right. Father will never be worthy of forgiveness.” Then I added, “Mother, you really aren’t good at lying. How could cousins share the same surname? I became suspicious as soon as you said it.”

Mother smiled and lowered her head—a habit she still retained. Zhuo Zheng recalled the inscription on the Nine-Frame Loom and asked, “Mother, what about that Fang Mulan?” Mother replied indifferently, “I don’t know. After I went abroad, I cut ties with all my friends.”

A thought suddenly occurred to me. “Mother, Father must have ulterior motives for sending someone to bring you back this time. No matter how sweet his words, don’t pay him any mind. You’re free now. He has a track record of misdeeds and is unforgivable. Besides, he has a ‘Madam.’”

Mother said, “This time, your father found your brother. That’s why he sent for me.” I made a face at Zhuo Zheng—how amusing it was that he was truly my brother. After so many years of loneliness, the sudden feeling of having a brother was truly wondrous. Mother, however, held his hand with immense relief. “That your father found you is my greatest joy. Back then…” She sighed softly, “Back then, I was utterly unwilling to part with you… Later, I heard…” Her voice still carried a sob, “Heaven took pity. Your father said it was likely the orphanage mixed up the children back then. To me, it feels like a dream.”Her tears fell warmly onto my hair as she slowly stroked my long locks. The warmth made my nose sting. "Nannan, you've grown so much... The last time I saw you was before New Year when your father took you abroad. I caught a glimpse of you from across the hotel lobby. Don't you resent me?" My tears were about to fall as I blurted out, "It was all Father's fault that made you leave me."

Mother's eyes also glistened with tears as she whispered, "I never thought this day would come. The three of us have been talking all night - aren't you tired?" I said, "I'm not tired. Mom, you must be exhausted. Get some rest, and we can talk more when you wake up." Zhuo Zheng also said, "Mom, you should rest for a while." Holding Zhuo Zheng's hand with her left and mine with her right, she gazed at us for a long time before saying, "Then you two should go to bed too."

How could I possibly sleep? After tossing and turning in bed for what felt like ages, I finally went to knock on Zhuo Zheng's bedroom door. As expected, he wasn't asleep either. I asked him pitifully, "Can I come in and talk with you?" He affectionately ruffled my hair and said, "Of course you can." I climbed onto the sofa and sat cross-legged - a posture Father never liked seeing because it was too improper. Suddenly feeling weary of over a decade of strict upbringing, I deliberately sat this way out of defiance. Zhuo Zheng maintained his military-straight posture, just like Father. Hugging a soft cushion from the sofa, I felt so helpless and lost that I was about to cry again. "Brother, what should we do about Mom..." It was the first time I had called him brother, and he visibly started before opening his arms for a hug. Comforting me, he said, "We'll find a way. Now that Mother has returned, we'll definitely be able to see her often." He said many more comforting words until I gradually calmed down. Then he asked gently, "Are you hungry?" Having not eaten for over ten hours, my stomach felt truly empty. When I nodded, he said, "I'll make you some snacks. After you eat, you'll feel much better."

His way of comforting people was quite unique, but he brewed a pot of excellent tea and brought out a tin of biscuits, and my mood did gradually improve. The biscuit tin was too tight to open. When Zhuo Zheng offered to help, I stubbornly insisted on doing it myself. Taking his Swiss army knife, I pried hard and heard a soft "pop" as the lid opened. But the knife slipped and lightly scratched my neck. Feeling something give way, the chain around my neck slipped off, and the small golden pendant fell to the floor with a "clink." Annoyed, I crouched to pick it up. Zhuo Zheng asked, "It's as exquisite as mine. Have you worn it since childhood?" I replied, "Grandfather left it to me. Before he passed, when he could no longer speak, he just clutched this, called me 'Jing' once, and Grandmother put this pendant on me. But this one is different from yours - it's sealed and can't be opened."

Zhuo Zheng suddenly made a surprised sound, and I saw it too - the pendant had cracked from the fall, revealing a translucent gap with something inside. After a moment's thought, I looked at Zhuo Zheng, who understood what I was considering. "Probably not a good idea to damage an old man's keepsake," he said. I argued, "It's already broken anyway, and we'll have to send it to a jeweler for repair. We might as well see what's inside."With a gentle flick of the knife tip, it opened, and we both froze in place. Inside the locket was a photograph, the person in it smiling serenely. Due to its age, the photo had yellowed slightly, yet her smile bloomed like a flower, and her clear, autumn-water-like eyes seemed to peer deep into one's soul. I couldn't help but say, "She's truly beautiful." There were many photos of Grandmother at home, always dignified and elegant. But this old photograph showed a woman with a radiance that took one's breath away, like the brilliant, fervent sunshine of June. She and Grandmother were from entirely different worlds. We quietly gazed at this woman from the past, and Zhuo Zheng gently pressed my shoulder, urging me to close the locket, saying, "We can no longer disturb her." I never imagined that in Grandfather's life, there had been such a past—those distant, hazy bygones must surely be another story altogether.

After we finished our snacks, having stayed up all night, I was utterly exhausted. My mind was a chaotic mess, verging on a shutdown. The story of my parents had already drained me completely; I simply couldn't bear to imagine yet another glimpse of the past, like the tip of an iceberg emerging. I went back to my room to sleep, and by the time I woke up, it was already afternoon.

Mother hadn't gotten up yet. I went downstairs, and the living room was silent. When I turned my head, I unexpectedly saw Father. He was sitting deep in the sofa, a cigarette on the ashtray mostly turned to ash. I had never seen such an expression on his face before—he was just staring distantly at that cigarette, his eyes filled with anguish and despair, as if what had burned away was his very life. He sat there motionless, as if he could sit like that for an eternity.