PSE - 54

By evening, Xue Jing had posted a handwritten “Letter of Apology to Readers” on his Weibo account.

In black and white, Xue Jing’s statement was concise and clear. He apologized for the inappropriate wording in previous soft marketing articles, for his erroneous statements made in public, and for promoting negative values by quickly monetizing traffic. To sincerely reflect, he would no longer occupy the public eye excessively. The details of future donations related to his new book would be announced by Zhou Shuang’s studio.

However, before deactivating his Weibo account, he couldn’t help but add one last remark: he had no issues with his personal conduct, only with his blindly arrogant self-awareness. The person he broke up with four years ago was his first love, and the person he was currently dating was also his first love. In his life, he had only ever had one girlfriend.

“Schrödinger’s Cat” once sarcastically pointed out the uniqueness of human consciousness, and his shallow life experiences fully proved this point.

Xue Jing didn’t know if his apology letter had quelled the anger of netizens, but after handing over all the accounts and passwords of his social media to Zhou Shuang for handling, he suddenly felt an unprecedented sense of relief.

He hadn’t even warmed up to his new novel, yet he was already planning to complete another suspense-themed series in Suicheng this year.

The high-altitude work certificate he applied for last year had finally arrived, and he should use this advantage to delve deeper into the operational patterns of the power generation industry.

Having abandoned the dazzling “world of fame and fortune,” inspiration surged like a phoenix reborn from the ashes.

However, this relaxed mental state didn’t last long. After finishing a thousand-word outline, he habitually picked up his phone to share his creative progress with Ha Yue. Upon unlocking the screen, he saw that their conversation from an hour ago still lingered on Ha Yue inviting him to dinner at her place, and his polite refusal followed by another apology.

His spirit once again detached from his body. Xue Jing let out a groan as he collapsed onto the sofa, wishing he could roll around on the floor in frustration.

Who could understand? He had spent the whole day being clever, showering her with affection and throwing up smokescreens, all to delay and minimize her discovery of his mistakes, hoping to cushion her fall from the parallel bars.

But there was no sandpit on the ground—only a sea of knives and flames. On the way back, Ha Yue told him that she had not only watched all his interview videos long ago but had also been in the book club chat during his very first reader meet-and-greet, watching other readers live-tweet the event.

He suspected Ha Yue was deliberately bluffing him, but the evidence was undeniable. She vividly described how he was drinking a half-sugar frozen lemon coffee during that interview, detailing even how it was prepared.

Thankfully, Ha Yue fell asleep in the backseat shortly after they got on the highway due to exhaustion; otherwise, Xue Jing really wanted to jump out of the car and run away. For the rest of the journey, he had no idea how he managed to drive home. When they arrived, Ha Yue stretched lazily in the backseat, and he was so ashamed that he wished he could crawl into a hole. Without helping to unload the New Year goods, he immediately made an excuse about work and closed the gate behind him, panting heavily.

Even when Ha Yue texted him to come over for dinner with everyone, he suspected it was a prelude to breaking up with him, seeing enemies everywhere.

He only dared to furiously type “I’m sorry” to her through the screen.

But avoiding dinner didn’t mean avoiding a late-night snack. Hungry, he lay sprawled on the couch like a corpse refusing to close its eyes until 11 p.m., when Ha Yue messaged him again. This time, she didn’t bother asking for his opinion politely; she sent a voice message telling him that since he had finished writing the apology letter to readers, he should hurry up and come over for dinner.

Don’t make her ask multiple times.

When Ha Yue entered the yard in the afternoon, she noticed two air conditioner units installed on her roof. She gave Aunt Siqin a box of cherries and grapefruits, then walked around the house and found that all the old appliances had been replaced with new ones.

A 68-inch wall-mounted TV, a 735-liter multi-door refrigerator, a set of stacked washing machine and dryer—the small items went without saying. Not only that, but Zhao Chunni’s room now had an electric massage chair and a smart mattress.

She had only been away on a business trip for a week, and her home had been transformed into a seasonal appliance showroom. No need to ask—this extravagant spending spree was undoubtedly Xue Jing’s doing.

Today, both families were celebrating together. For dinner, Ha Yue helped Aunt Siqin prepare a full table of twelve dishes.

At the dinner table, Jinzi and Ha Yue lightly drank two bottles of wine Ha Yue had brought back from her trip. After distributing gifts, everyone happily cleaned up the dishes together. Once the gathering dispersed, Ha Yue, slightly tipsy, cozied up with her mother on the couch to watch the prime-time TV drama.

The old melodrama about a husband’s infidelity and a wife’s revenge had already ended, and recently Zhao Chunni had been following a hit anti-corruption drama.

In the show, characters were smashing beer bottles over each other’s heads. Suddenly, a small handful of roasted soybeans appeared in Ha Yue’s hand.

Since most Alzheimer’s patients clinically exhibit uncontrollable appetites, with severe cases even scavenging for rotten food in trash bins, after Zhao Chunni once tore a page from her coloring book and chewed it, Wu Fangtian implemented a multi-meal system to prevent such mechanical behaviors. Additionally, outside of meal times, she provided Zhao Chunni with some relatively healthy snacks.

Although the caregiver was off duty, Zhao Chunni had already developed the habit of eating at fixed times according to Wu Fangtian’s instructions. As soon as Ha Yue turned on the TV, Zhao Chunni immediately pulled out a bag of soybeans from under the coffee table, opened the package, and carefully grabbed a handful to place in her shirt pocket before resealing the bag.

Two hours of TV drama paired with a handful of soybeans. She ate each soybean slowly, and by the time she finished them, the drama had ended, and it was time for her to get a massage and go to bed.

Perhaps feeling that Ha Yue, who was watching TV with her, might also feel hungry, Zhao Chunni’s cloudy gaze kept sliding from the TV to Ha Yue’s profile. Eventually, she scooted closer and shared some of the soybeans from her pocket with Ha Yue.

Ha Yue lowered her head, looking at the food in her hands, and felt the seat beside her sink slightly as her mother moved closer to her. 

She held the soybeans, her expression somewhat complex, and softly said, “Thank you.” Then she picked up one bean with her fingers and placed it in her mouth. 

The soybeans were freshly roasted, seasoned only with a small amount of salt, and didn’t look particularly appetizing. 

Her teeth broke through the hard texture, and after chewing for a while, the crushed beans finally released a simple, earthy flavor in her mouth, accompanied by the aroma of soy and some coarse bean pulp. Her throat swallowed a few times; it was dry and rough. Ha Yue picked up another bean and put it in her mouth. She lifted her face again, focusing her gaze on the TV screen. Under the flickering blue light, her body leaned slightly toward her mother. 

Soon, Zhao Chunni took the remaining few soybeans from her pocket and placed them into Ha Yue’s palm. 

Those beans were covered with fabric fibers left over in Zhao Chunni’s pocket, but Ha Yue acted as if she hadn’t noticed the impurities. She said “thank you” again and continued eating them one by one. 

Amidst the “crunch, crunch” sounds, the distance between the two grew smaller and smaller until Ha Yue rested her head on her mother’s shoulder. 

Her spine slumped as if her bones had been pulled out, and she leaned all her weight onto her now aging mother’s body. Ha Yue’s voice softened, as if dampened by the sound of rain coming from the speakers. She said, “Mom, you’re wrong. I’ve never hated you because of your illness.” 

“I think… I love you.” Though this love was always so heavy, unpleasant, and made her want to run away. 

“I think… you love me too.” Even though this love was always mixed with many uncontrollable emotions, like searching for treasure in a convoluted maze—it took great effort to recognize it. 

The mutual feelings of aversion from the past could not be denied, but neither could the thin thread of love. 

Ha Yue’s words received no response, as Zhao Chunni was slowly chewing the bean pulp in her mouth, thinking deeply like a snail. She was pondering when the TV she was watching had become so large. 

This question had crossed her mind many times this week and had been answered just as often. But this time, she suddenly couldn’t recall what kind of TV she used to own. The screen of her old TV was smaller, repaired many times, and had been hers since before Ha Yue was born. But what color was the casing? 

Gray? Black? Or silver? She couldn’t remember for the life of her. 

Faintly, a few green stickers flashed in her mind. The image of those stickers was unusually clear—they were the little dinosaurs that Ha Yue loved most when she was three years old. 

The scene shifted. Ha Jianguo, with his shoulder-length hair, was pumping air into her bicycle in the yard while she sat on the bed holding Ha Yue, flipping through a picture book filled with plastic stickers. Ha Yue decorated all her favorite furniture with those stickers—on the TV, on the mirror, everywhere there were fierce green dinosaurs. 

Suddenly, she felt warmth on her hand. It was Ha Yue, who had unexpectedly peeled off one of the dinosaur stickers with her tiny fingers and stuck it on her arm. Their eyes met, and Ha Yue grinned sweetly at her, her childish voice soft and endearing: “Mommy, I love you.” 

“Yueyue, Mommy loves you too.” 

The next moment, Zhao Chunni frowned, and the memories scattered again. The TV show was still playing, but she stopped pondering about the old TV. Instead, she began to rethink who the little baby that called her “Mommy” really was. 

Why did she love her? 

At 11:03 PM, Xue Jing knocked on the slightly ajar gate of Ha Yue’s house, carrying two boxes of bird’s nest. 

Busy with work, Ha Yue rarely came home these days. Precisely because it was rare, the time she spent accompanying her mother became even more precious. After finishing the TV program, she turned on the massage chair for Zhao Chunni and chatted with her. When the massage ended, she helped her wash up and tucked her into bed. 

After her mother fell asleep, Ha Yue prepared to take a bath. While running hot water, she glanced at the kitchen table and saw the dishes Aunt Siqin had set aside for Xue Jing, still wrapped in cling film. Too lazy to deliver them herself, she simply told him to come over and eat. 

When the gate was knocked, Ha Yue was puzzled. As she walked over and opened the door, seeing the items in Xue Jing’s hands, she rolled her eyes internally, knowing that this famous writer was being overly dramatic again. 

Now, almost all the valuable items in her house belonged to Xue Jing. This place was practically like his second home. 

Coming back to his own home, did he really need to knock and bring gifts? It was truly a pity that he was no longer appearing in the public eye—he should have become an actor. 

So when Xue Jing politely and subtly apologized for disturbing her and Auntie’s rest late at night, Ha Yue didn’t even respond. She simply glanced toward the main house with her eyes, signaling him to carry the bird’s nest inside. 

Xue Jing cleared his throat and closed the gate behind him. 

He was indeed familiar with this house now. When Ha Yue wasn’t around, he often came over to help, bring gifts, and occasionally freeload meals. Pretending to be unfamiliar now would be difficult, especially since he knew exactly where to put the supplements. 

In the living room, Xue Jing effortlessly placed the bird’s nest next to the protein powder Zhao Chunni had been consuming recently. 

Ha Yue had already passed by him, carrying her bathing basket. Before opening the living room door, her tone remained unchanged as she glanced back and quietly instructed him: “The food is in the kitchen. My mom’s asleep, so eat at the small table. Be quiet while eating—don’t wake her up! I worked hard to get her to sleep.”