Chapter 23

Zhao Pingjin stayed at the hotel for two days, and Huang Xitang didn't contact him.

When he passed by the street where her house was, he felt a strange sense of unease for some reason. He didn't dare to go in and look for her under the pretense of eating noodles again, so he could only stand across the street and watch from afar for a while. The small noodle shop was still open as usual in the morning, but Huang Xitang was nowhere to be seen. He had no choice but to leave.

On the night before he was going back to the city, he went to her house again. Thinking that he would have something serious to say to her when he picked her up the next day, he walked closer.

The door of the small shop was closed, indicating it was already closed for business. Zhao Pingjin stood there for a while and quietly walked to the door. He peeked inside and found that the door was only half-closed. Just as Zhao Pingjin was mustering up the courage to knock, he heard a faint sound coming from inside.

The sound was very faint, and the whole house was long and narrow, like a long, dark train carriage. If you weren't careful, you couldn't hear the sound inside from the door. Zhao Pingjin leaned closer to the door, his heart pounding, and immediately pushed the door open and went in.

He seemed to have faintly heard - Huang Xitang's cry.

The front hall of the house was dark, with only a lamp hanging in the corridor, creating a deep, quiet atmosphere. He lowered his footsteps and walked inside, his heart filled with anxiety, temporarily forgetting everything else.

After passing through the front hall and kitchen, he entered a small courtyard with two pomegranate trees with lush foliage. There were two rooms in the backyard, and the door of one of them was open. Looking in through the window, he could see a figure moving.

Huang Xitang's cries were coming from there. She was crying very loudly, very sadly, and very helplessly.

Zhao Pingjin walked quickly through the yard, feeling a sense of panic he had never felt before.

Xitang's mother looked at her daughter with a look of disappointment, her voice filled with anger and despair, "I would rather you be dead! Than go out and do something so shameful again!"

Xitang didn't know how long she had been crying, she only felt her throat was so choked that she could hardly breathe, "Mom, I was wrong."

The woman's voice was sharp and hoarse, mixed with hissing breaths. Zhao Pingjin couldn't hear clearly from the other side of the yard, "I told you not to associate with people like that, but you just wouldn't listen to me! How did you come back that time! How did you come back! You were lying in this yard for a whole year! You couldn't even walk! Isn't that lesson enough for you to understand? I would rather beat you to death today than have you come back like that again!"

Xitang covered her face and screamed, "Mom, I'm sorry!"

Zhao Pingjin couldn't care less about anything else. He strode across the small courtyard, and he had already seen the scene in the room - Huang Xitang was kneeling on the floor in the room, and her mother was standing by the bed, hitting her hard with a yellow ruler.

In that moment, Zhao Pingjin felt a surge of blood rush to his head, his ears rang, and a sharp pain pierced his heart.

His legs felt weak as he stepped onto the platform, and his body swayed violently.

Huang Xitang's mother was disheveled and was shouting madly, "Didn't I tell you? I would rather beat you to death than let you go out again!"

"Mom!" Xitang's tear-stained face was filled with sadness and shame. She knelt on the ground and moved two steps, hugging her mother's waist. The ruler hit her back hard, and she just whimpered, her heart breaking, but she didn't move, her head buried in the middle-aged woman's embrace, holding her tighter.

Zhao Pingjin's throat was dry, but he couldn't speak. He gritted his teeth and stumbled two steps forward, and put his arm across Xitang's shoulder.

The ruler slapped his arm with a snap.

The two women in the room, both with tears on their faces, looked up at him at the same time.

Xitang was half-broken, and when she saw him, she felt scared and panicked, "What are you doing here?"

When Xitang's mother saw him suddenly burst in, she didn't seem surprised at all. The tears in her eyes faded, and her sunken eye sockets suddenly dried up, her face becoming like a frozen river.

It was as if she had expected this to happen sooner or later.

Zhao Pingjin's voice trembled, "Auntie, please don't hit her."

Xitang's mother put down the ruler, raised her hand to gather her loose hair, and slowly sat down on the edge of the bed, tilting her head slightly, her expression proud and untouchable, "This is a family matter."

Zhao Pingjin quickly apologized, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. I'm Xitang's friend, can you... can we talk things over?"

He couldn't continue.

Because Huang Xitang's mother was looking up, slowly, slowly, examining him from head to toe, that gaze was like a flashlight, from his forehead to his eyes, to every inch of his skin, to his body, to his arms, to his feet - that beam of light carefully scanned his entire body inch by inch, the expression in her eyes, that deep-rooted anger, heartache, resentment, grief, and excitement, the woman with a delicate face but a gradually aging appearance eventually just trembled, tightly clutching her hands.

Zhao Pingjin felt like his whole back had been scalded by boiling water, and it was as if he had been soaked in ice, his whole body alternating between hot and cold.

But Xitang's mother slowly calmed down, with a resigned despair, and slowly began to speak, "Since you're in, then I'll say a few words - Although Xitang didn't have a father since she was young, I raised her myself. She is like a pearl in the palm of my hand."

"Auntie, don't say that, I know..." Zhao Pingjin, who was usually well-versed in social situations, was at a loss for words at this moment. He felt a little flustered and tried to ease the atmosphere, but his words hesitated for a few seconds and were immediately stopped by her mother's gaze.

Xitang's mother resumed her normal tone, but her expression became increasingly cold, "I've always supported everything she wanted to do, but I only have one requirement for her, and that is to be an honest and upright person. A girl, if she doesn't respect herself, if she's unclear about her relationships, it will only ruin her future. If she goes down the wrong path, then I have to discipline her. This is a family matter, and it's none of your business. Please leave."

Huang Xitang didn't dare to say a word, she still knelt on the ground, her head buried deep, her tears falling like broken pearls.

But she didn't make a sound.

Zhao Pingjin's face was already pale, and now it was turning paler and paler.

Huang Xitang's palm, which was resting on her knees, was swollen from the beating, and bright red bloodstains spread out in threads.

In the early morning at the bus station.

Xitang was carrying a backpack and two boxes, slowly moving forward with the crowd.

In front of the long-distance bus station, her mother was standing in the crowd, wearing a black silk shirt with dark flowers. She was short and her hair was already turning gray.

Her mother had made her breakfast early in the morning, cut up some braised meat and put it in a food box, and then sent her to the station. When they were about to part, Xitang was about to cry again. Her mother, who had aged a lot overnight, had a particularly obvious dark yellow under her eyes. Her gentle and loving eyes looked at Xitang, and her daughter looked back at her tearfully as she walked away step by step. Her daughter had grown up to be so beautiful, but her temper was so much like hers. Her mother called out to her, "Sister."

Xitang immediately turned around and ran towards her mother. She heard her mother say softly, "I'm sorry, Mom just wants you to understand that you must never go down that path. I've suffered like that, so I'll never let my daughter make the same mistake."

This was her strong-willed mother, who had endured a lifetime, and for the first time she told her about the family's past, so implicitly and gently, yet so painfully profound.

Xitang nodded with tears in her eyes.

Her mother looked at her with a desperate gentleness, "This kind of pain will ruin your whole life."

Xitang hugged her tightly at the station.

The small bus to the city stopped frequently along the way, picking up passengers. It stopped at a fork in the road in the town, and a man got on the bus.

The tall, handsome and thin man was wearing a black shirt and dark blue jeans. He struggled to squeeze into the crowded bus from the door, and the conductor handed him a small stool, shouting loudly, "Move back, move back."

It was Zhao Pingjin.

His face was unnaturally pale. There were no more seats on the bus, so he squeezed into the aisle. A man who was so particular about hygiene was sitting in the crowded aisle with a dozen other passengers. The carriage was filled with all sorts of strange smells, and halfway through the journey, some people started vomiting and taking off their shoes, and the stench was unbearable.

When Zhao Pingjin got on the bus, he only silently confirmed Xitang was sitting in the back seat, and said nothing more, just sat down in silence.

The bus stopped at the Hangzhou passenger station, and Zhao Pingjin went to get her backpack. Xitang shook her head.

Zhao Pingjin glanced at her hand and said casually, "Let me get it."

Xitang had no choice but to give it to him.

He looked down at her. Her chin was sharper after a few days at home, and her eyes were still red and swollen. Her face was bare and listless. He silently stood beside Xitang, his arm slightly across her back, blocking the crowd from her.

Xitang quietly glanced at him and couldn't help but ask, "Are you okay? Your face looks so pale."

Her voice was muffled.

Zhao Pingjin said gently, "I'm fine."

The return train to Shanghai was a business class carriage, with comfortable lighting and a clean environment. It was quiet all around.

Zhao Pingjin got up and went to the bathroom for more than ten minutes. When he came back, the sleeves of his shirt were slightly damp, probably because he had washed his hands repeatedly. He put down the table beside his seat, turned on his work phone, put on his usual pair of black-framed glasses, and asked Xitang, "What was the name of that little mute's hotel again?"

Xitang wondered, "Why are you asking that?"

Zhao Pingjin frowned, "Tell me."

Xitang said, "Fuyuan Inn."

Zhao Pingjin said nothing more.

There were only the two of them in the entire carriage.

Zhao Pingjin ordered hot milk, bread, and coffee for her, but he didn't touch anything himself. As soon as he got on the train, he turned on his computer and started a meeting.

An hour passed quickly.