Zuo Xuejun demanded sharply, "Was he... harassing you?"
"According to your thinking, everyone would come to harass me. Maybe the only thing I attract is harassment, is that right?"
Her eyes were still red, but her expression and voice remained completely calm, as if her father came home every day and she was merely watching television with a classmate—nothing out of the ordinary. Zuo Xuejun seemed to freeze instantly, his gaze falling upon his daughter. She wore an apricot-yellow high-neck sweater and a red padded home jacket, her jet-black hair cascading over her shoulders. Her face was slightly lifted, standing tall and graceful like a slender, upright young tree. His eyes, as if struck by a strong light, reflected a sudden glint before he immediately looked away.
The room fell into utter silence. In that moment, Gao Xiang suddenly forgot his own predicament and felt a deep sympathy for this man. He himself had once realized in almost the same abrupt manner that Zuo Si'an had unknowingly grown up. That realization had been so impactful to him that he nearly lost his composure, let alone a father who had been absent for nearly two years.
Zuo Xuejun released Gao Xiang's collar and said hoarsely, "Get out."
Gao Xiang glanced at Zuo Si'an. She gave an almost imperceptible slight nod. He nodded back and left without a word.
After going downstairs, Gao Xiang got into his car. After a long while, he pulled down the sun visor and looked in the mirror. His right eye was already bruised purple. He snapped the visor back up—not because he couldn't bear to see his disheveled appearance, but because an overwhelming and unbearable self-reproach surged within him.
He had long known she was no longer a genderless child and had reminded himself to maintain proper boundaries. Yet, he had still unknowingly lost his way, crossing an invisible but crucial line.
"You really were taking advantage of a young girl," he told himself. Chen Zi Hui's constant suspicions, Liu Yaqin's sarcastic remarks before leaving, and the long-avoided thoughts of Chen Zi Yu suddenly flooded his mind. In agony, he buried his head against the steering wheel.
Gao Xiang endured the most difficult Spring Festival of his life.
Chen Zi Hui refused to return to Qinggang, so Chen Li Guo had to come to the provincial capital, while Gao Ming tactfully stayed behind. Bao Bao, having just recovered from illness, was less lively than before. Chen Zi Hui remained furious, Chen Li Guo was burdened with worries, and Gao Xiang was filled with unresolved troubles. The atmosphere at home was deeply oppressive.
On the third night of the lunar new year, after coaxing Bao Bao to bed, Gao Xiang drove out and stopped below the Zuo family's apartment. He got out of the car and looked up—the lights were still on in their window, and a faint red glow from a cigarette flickered on the balcony. Squinting, he saw Zuo Xuejun leaning against the balcony railing, smoking. A husband and father who had been away from home for two years, not staying inside the warm house to reunite with his family but standing outside in the howling wind at minus six degrees Celsius to smoke, could only mean one thing: this Spring Festival was even more unpleasant for the Zuo family.
Gao Xiang had countless worries in his heart, but he could only leave dejectedly.
After that, Gao Xiang never managed to finish watching Titanic.This renowned film, with a runtime of 194 minutes, was released in China in the spring of 1998 and achieved great commercial success. In early 1999, he walked out of Zuo Si'an's home when the film was less than halfway through.
By the spring of 2012, the director converted the film into 3D format and re-released it globally. Alongside new viewers, many people returned to watch it, reminiscing about the person who had sat beside them years ago.
Zhu Xiao Yan subtly mentioned wanting to see the film, but Gao Xiang declined, suggesting she go with someone else. He didn’t care about the film’s plot; what he wanted to relive was neither in the film nor in the cinema. He needed no trigger for his memories.
It was on the day he watched the DVD that he could no longer be certain of his feelings for Zuo Si'an.
Everything remained in his mind, as vivid and profound as ever, undimmed by time.
Chen Zi Yu's violation of Zuo Si'an, Bao Bao's conception and birth, the feelings he developed for Zuo Si'an... all these events seemed so random, yet they were intricately linked, weaving together the fates of people who were once unrelated.
He couldn’t help but feel lost.
Chapter 12: 2012, Ali, Chengdu
1
The Shiquan River originates from the glacial lake on the back of the sacred Mount Kailash, known in Tibetan as Sengge Zangbo. Its Chinese name carries a majestic tone. In this semi-arid and arid desert region with little rainfall, unlike other plateau rivers that dry up and vanish, it flows steadily for 405 kilometers within China, a precious gift from nature to the harsh living environment of the Ali region.
As it passes through Shiquanhe Town, the administrative center of the Ali Prefecture, the river slows with the terrain, meandering gently into the distance, losing the turbulent momentum it had upstream while cutting through high mountains and deep gorges.
Dusk arrives much later on the plateau than in the inland regions, usually not fully darkening until around 10 p.m. Though it was already 5 p.m., there was no sense of approaching twilight. Large clusters of white clouds gathered and dispersed in the sky, shifting positions slowly. Prayer flags fluttered in the wind on the hills outside the town, their colors bright and varied, while the undulating mountain ranges stretched into the distance, their outlines sharp as if carved.
This was a scenery Zuo Xuejun had long grown accustomed to, almost to the point of overlooking it. But at this moment, Zuo Si'an stood by the river, sunlight streaming through gaps in the clouds with clear trajectories, enveloping her in a radiant glow. Everything seemed different from usual.
He involuntarily stopped, standing about ten meters away from her. Even for as close as father and daughter, 16 years was enough to create a vast chasm between them.
Thirteen years ago, just before the Spring Festival, Zuo Xuejun, hoping to reconcile with his wife, ignored his colleagues' warnings and braved a violent snowstorm to hitch a ride on a passing truck, embarking on a risky, long journey home. Nearing his hometown, he grew apprehensive; the rich oxygen at lower altitudes stirred an inexplicable anxiety within him. He became increasingly uncertain whether he could persuade his wife to agree to a job transfer and take their daughter away from Hanjiang City.Upon stepping through the doorway and witnessing Gao Xiang kissing Zuo Si'an, he was so shocked he couldn't believe his eyes, immediately flying into a rage and striking Gao Xiang. Yet Zuo Si'an's reaction instantly plunged him into an icy river. Standing before him was a tall, indifferent young girl—neither frightened by his fury, nor embarrassed by what had just occurred, nor showing any joy at his return.
Before she turned fourteen, she had always been his sweet, clingy little daughter. All he needed to do was indulge her affectionately, never having the heart to truly anger her. Even when he abandoned his responsibility to care for her, leaving without a word for Ali, she remained attached, trekking long distances to visit him, forcing smiles, tugging at his sleeve pleading for him to come home sooner. He wasn't prepared to face this change, let alone find the words to criticize or discipline her.
When his wife returned home that evening, they shut themselves in the bedroom. There was no intimacy after their long separation, only another fierce, hushed argument. He accused her of "being irresponsible toward their daughter and letting a wolf into the house," while she retorted, "A responsible father probably wouldn't run off when his daughter needed him most."
As the argument threatened to spiral out of control, the bedroom door was pushed open. Zuo Si'an stood at the doorway, silent, her eyes hollow as she gazed at them. Only when they fell into stunned silence did she speak wearily, "Stop fighting over me. I can't bear you taking responsibility for me like this. If you want to stay in Ali," she gestured toward her mother, "or if you want a divorce, discuss it and decide yourselves. I have no objections. My only request is don't use me as an excuse."
She turned and went back to her room, refusing to communicate with them any further.
He and Yu Jia simultaneously averted their gazes, seeing the same heavy exhaustion in each other's eyes. They didn't argue after that, and eventually, on the first workday after the Spring Festival holiday, they went to finalize their divorce. He returned to Ali and, aside from a few business trips and returning to the mainland for his mother's funeral, never left the plateau again, nor did he see his daughter again.
At that moment, Zuo Si'an seemed to sense something, snapping back to the present. In the bright sunlight, she appeared young, her expression serene, strangely unfamiliar, yet undeniably connected to him in some way.
He walked over. "You're not wearing enough."
She smiled. "The sun is quite warm."
"Be careful with sun protection. The UV rays are strong."
"Mm, I know. Aunt Shi told me you once had high-altitude heart disease. How is your health now?"
"That was years ago. My condition wasn't serious—just insufficient myocardial blood supply. As long as I rest regularly, it's not a problem."
"That illness is still related to high altitude. Even from a health perspective, wouldn't it be better to live back on the mainland?"
Zuo Xuejun laughed. "I'm used to this place now. I'd feel uncomfortable on the plains. If nothing else, where on the mainland has completely unpolluted air and river water like here?"
Zuo Si'an turned to look at the Shiquan River. The water was clear, showing a deep blue close to that of the sea. "Last time I came, it was already night, and I left the next day. I've always wanted to see what this river looks like."“You last came here at the end of April that year, when the river had just begun to thaw. In about half a month, Shiquanhe Town will enter winter, and the river will start freezing again.”
“The climate in the city where I live is somewhat similar to Hanjiang—distinct four seasons, hot summers, cold winters, with high humidity.”
“Why did you decide to study medicine?”
She seemed reluctant to answer, and he immediately noticed his daughter’s evasion, quickly adding, “Medicine is a great field. I just remembered how terrified you were of injections as a child—I never imagined you’d become a doctor.”
She thought to herself, it wasn’t just injections she feared; at one point, her dread of hospitals had bordered on pathological. But she had no intention of explaining her life to her father and merely smiled faintly. “Dad, everyone has their own reasons for choosing where to stay. Sometimes it can’t be explained, nor does it need to be. But you and Aunt Shi are married, and you have a child together. It’s best to communicate well and respect each other’s thoughts.”
Zuo Xuejun’s sun-darkened face turned slightly pale, his facial muscles twitching slightly, clearly struggling to control his emotions as he stared blankly at her. In the past, Zuo Si’an had been deeply pained by her father’s avoidance of looking at her; now, she found it equally unbearable to endure such a heavy, sorrowful gaze and almost wanted to turn and walk away.
Suppressing the impulse, she forced a smile. “I don’t want to interfere in your marital affairs either. Let’s talk about something else, like your current interest in Ngari folklore research.”
“Xiao An, you don’t need to worry about upsetting my heart. My health isn’t that fragile.”
“That’s good. I came this time simply to see you. I’m doing well in my life, and I hope you can live well too. It’s as simple as that.”
“After you left, I sat alone on the craft street for a long time. Gao Xiang was right—you made such an effort to visit me, and I didn’t behave much better than I did 15 years ago. No wonder you got angry and walked away.”
She shook her head, speaking objectively. “I wouldn’t say I was angry. It’s normal to struggle finding topics after being apart for so long.”
“God knows how much I wanted to talk properly with you, to understand your life. But at first, I didn’t dare open my mouth—it felt like I had no right to ask anything. I once thought I’d never see you again, and that your yearly phone call just to say hello was the greatest mercy you could show me. When I learned you were coming to see me, I…” Zuo Xuejun’s voice choked, and he quickly turned his head away, waiting for his emotions to settle before continuing, “I don’t deserve your kindness. When you needed me most, I wasn’t by your side. I know it’s too late for any excuses. I just want you to know—I didn’t choose to Aid Tibet for my own career prospects, as your mother claimed back then.”
“My mother was quite fair. She never spoke ill of you in front of me. She only said that as a civil servant, such matters were no secret in official circles. Even if you were transferred back to the provincial capital, you’d face a lot of gossip and immense pressure, unlike her work in a research institution, where the environment is much simpler.”Oh dear, if you find 52 Book Library great, remember to bookmark the URL https:https://www.52shuku.net/ or recommend it to friends~ Please (>.<) Portal: Ranking List | Book Finding Guide | Green Shirt Luo Tuo
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