RITM - 34

Xie Xinqi knew that as time passed, her father felt increasingly guilty about her brother’s mother, who had died alone, and gradually began to forget about the other daughter who had died in infancy. After all, that sister had only been a baby at the time. As a result, their family grew less and less happy. In recent years, her parents were rarely home, always busy with their own affairs, and the family member she spent the most time with turned out to be her brother. Therefore, when she first entertained the idea of “what if Luo Wei were my sister,” a faint, unrealistic hope arose—if her sister could return, she might finally have the harmonious family she’d never had.

However, a few days later, the final results of the paternity test left both Xie Mao and Xie Xinqi deeply disappointed, while Luo Wei felt an immense sense of relief. The person who suffered the most was Zhou Jinru. She stood in the middle of the bustling hospital corridor, facing the wall, afraid she wouldn’t be able to maintain her usual composure. Holding the paternity test report, her fingers trembled, her eyes tightly shut, and the veins on her forehead slightly bulged—she looked utterly devastated: “I already knew. Every day I prayed to Buddha, hoping Xin Qiao would return to my life... Heaven simply refuses to give us back our daughter...”

It was still the same cold hospital, like a graveyard, and the same mother sobbing until she convulsed. Fragments of memory flew in from all directions, forming a black-and-white puzzle of events from over twenty years ago in Xie Mao’s mind. The difference was that the woman named Wu Qiaohan was no longer there, and his wife was no longer young...

Back then, following his parents’ advice, he married Zhou Jinru based on feng shui and astrology. He had once felt a flicker of attraction toward her, given that she was at the peak of her beauty. But her beauty was insecure, accompanied by a string of rumors—even whispers that she had been involved with Huang Siye, the former head of a notorious gang. She tried every possible method to prove her innocence, and though he was half-convinced, he remained certain that he shouldn’t hang all his hopes on her. Thus began his journey through countless romantic encounters, his car parked outside countless lovers’ homes.

Later, he met Wu Qiaohan. The phrase from the Book of Songs, “A harmonious marriage, like the playing of a lute and zither,” was something he had never experienced with Zhou Jinru but found with Wu Qiaohan. After she gave birth to Xie Xiuchen, he became even more determined to divorce his wife and marry her. But just at that moment, Zhou Jinru gave birth to twins—both girls. The elders weren’t pleased, but since the birth of daughters couldn’t be ignored, the divorce was temporarily postponed, and Wu Qiaohan had to endure a few more years of waiting. He had assumed that Wu Qiaohan, with her gentle nature, wasn’t in a rush for a formal title, so he didn’t discuss future plans with her. But then a horrifying tragedy struck—while the nanny was bathing the two daughters, after finishing with the elder sister, Xinqi, she moved on to the younger one, Xinqiao. The nanny picked up the same warm water kettle she had used for Xinqi and poured it over Xinqiao’s head—but the water that came out was boiling hot. Xinqiao’s hair was completely burned off, her scalp was severely damaged, and her face was unrecognizable. She was rushed to the hospital but passed away within ten minutes. At the time, Xie Mao happened to be on a business trip abroad. By the time he returned, the child’s cold body had already been sent to the morgue. And another life had been lost—their children’s lame nanny. Zhou Jinru fainted twice from grief, while the elders beat him with their canes, accusing him: “It’s all because of that wild woman you’re keeping outside! Make her pay with her life!” Upon further investigation, they discovered that the water in the kettle hadn’t been an accident—it had been secretly tampered with. The culprit was none other than the nanny, who had jumped to her death shortly after. They ordered everyone to search her room for clues and eventually found an anonymous letter. The stationery was blue, adorned with lavender patterns—he had received countless love letters written on this type of paper. The handwriting in the letter was also unmistakably familiar. After reading its contents, his mind went blank, and his face turned paler than a corpse. To this day, he still remembered what he said to Wu Qiaohan: “Were you so impatient? Did you know I’ve never abandoned the thought of marrying you?” She looked utterly bewildered, as innocent as the clear pool behind her. But he had already come to despise her completely.

He forcibly took Xie Xiuchen away and completely cut off all contact with Wu Qiaohan. But every time he faced his son, he couldn’t help but remember that malicious mother, leaving him with few moments of happiness. In the ninth year after being abandoned and losing her son, Wu Qiaohan died in a remote old house in the countryside. Her body was discovered only a week later by her family. On the day he heard the news, he inexplicably cried at home like a three-year-old child. But having grown up in luxury and always avoiding hardship, he indulged himself in that moment, refusing to delve deeper into his thoughts.

No matter what, the person who suffered the most was still Zhou Jinru. Seeing her in such pain now, Xie Mao couldn’t help but sigh and stepped forward to put his arm around her shoulder: “Enough, it’s been so many years already.”

“It’s Heaven punishing me,” Zhou Jinru said, leaning on his shoulder as tears streamed down her face once again. “It’s all my fault. I wasn’t able to have children for you earlier—it’s all my fault…”

Xie Mao felt a pang of emotion and glanced back at Luo Wei, who stood there looking lost in a fog: “Miss Luo Wei, we all like you very much. Since we’ve met under such circumstances, how about we adopt you as our goddaughter?”

“If that’s the case, it would be wonderful. Luo Wei, are you willing?” Zhou Jinru asked through her tears.

Suddenly being so warmly embraced by two strangers as their goddaughter overwhelmed Luo Wei. So, Xie Mao omitted the part about Wu Qiaohan’s scheme and recounted to Luo Wei the story of how they had lost Xin Qiao. As Luo Wei hesitated, he asked, “You look about the same age as Xinqi. When is your birthday?”

“It’s June…”

Before she could finish, Zhou Jinru suddenly grabbed Xie Mao’s collar, gasping for air: “No, Xie Mao, I… I suddenly feel an intense headache…”

“What’s wrong? Why do you have a headache?” Xie Mao immediately turned his attention back to his wife.

Zhou Jinru’s face turned deathly pale, and after swaying twice, she fainted. He quickly caught her limp body and began calling out for doctors and nurses. Luo Wei hurried to fetch a doctor for him. After thanking her, he busied himself with getting his wife into the ward and didn’t come out again. Luo Wei waited for a long time, intending to leave, but then she received a call from home. She walked over to the corridor window to answer the phone, and soon after, she saw Xie Xinqi rushing toward her. Xie Xinqi nodded at her and entered the room to see her mother. The doctor removed the stethoscope and explained to her that Mrs. Xie had merely experienced a bout of anemia, compounded by emotional stress and lack of rest, which caused her to faint. There was no serious issue. A nurse was administering an IV drip to Zhou Jinru, while Xie Mao attended to her nearby, though he too seemed unwell, behaving more like a polite visitor than a concerned husband. Zhou Jinru lay on the bed, staring at the approaching young woman, and reached out her hand: “Xin Qiao… Xin Qiao…”

Her feet felt as if weighed down by lead, unable to move. Xie Xinqi stared at her mother intently. Hearing the name “Xin Qiao” again, she felt a sharp ache from the bridge of her nose to the corner of her eyes. Her eyes reddened, but she didn’t cry. Her name was Xinqi, yet throughout her life, her mother had called her “Xin Qiao” far more often than “Xinqi.” She had never received a hug from her parents, never had an equal conversation with them. No matter how excellent her academic achievements were, they always acted indifferent. They were constantly embroiled in cold wars, arguments, or busy with work. All they ever thought about was assets and gross profit margins. Before seeing her classmates’ parents, she had always assumed that all parents were like this. Without parental companionship, she spent much of her childhood painting at home, amassing hundreds of high-quality oil paintings by a young age. The first time she won an award for an oil painting in elementary school, she timidly told her parents, only for them to discuss the monetary value of the painting. There was no encouragement, nothing at all. Disappointed, she slumped her shoulders, though not entirely surprised. Only Xie Xiuchen patted her head and said, “It’s absolutely beautiful. My little sister will surely become a world-famous painter one day.”

She had always understood that asking her parents for a hug was far more extravagant than asking for a Lamborghini. Hearing her mother still muttering the name “Xin Qiao,” she forced a bitter smile, placed the fruit she had just bought downstairs—without even receiving change—on the bedside table, exchanged a few words with her father about her mother’s condition, and then got up to leave the ward. Luo Wei was still on the phone in the corridor, standing in almost the same spot, rolling her eyes repeatedly: “Alright, alright, I’ll eat on time… I haven’t stayed up late, really! My voice sounds perfectly normal! Brother Xiong, why don’t you believe me? Stop scolding me!”

At this, Xie Xinqi grew curious—she hadn’t been inside for more than twenty minutes, maybe fifteen, and Luo Wei had been on the phone this whole time? Brother Xiong—was he her boyfriend? But soon after, she heard Luo Wei teasingly say, “So what if I call you Brother? You’re still a handsome guy! Alright, alright, I won’t talk to you anymore. Let Sister Xia take the call.” After waiting a bit, Luo Wei burst into childish laughter: “It’s not me teasing Dad—it’s because he’s too serious… Ah, Mom, I can’t handle this anymore! Are you going to start lecturing me too?”

Hearing this, Xie Xinqi froze. What? Luo Wei addressed her parents as Sister Xia and Brother Xiong? Could children really address their parents like that? She watched Luo Wei lean against the glass window, seemingly oblivious to whether the hospital harbored viruses, looking utterly exhausted and exasperated: “I’m eating, I’m sleeping, I can cook! What? No, absolutely not. I hate carrots the most, hahaha! Besides, we’re not even in the same city right now, so you can’t threaten me anymore, hahaha… Ahhh, don’t hang up, Your Majesty! Let your humble servant explain! It’s all because Your Majesty’s cooking is so good that now everything else tastes bland to me. If I have to eat carrots, they must be prepared by Your Majesty herself for me to enjoy them… I’m not being sly, every word is true! I’ve learned from you and Brother Xiong’s culinary skills and cooked for my friends. They said even the Manchu-Han Imperial Feast couldn’t compare!”

So, Luo Wei’s parents could cook? Thinking about her own solitary meals of gourmet cuisine at home, Xie Xinqi furrowed her brow slightly and told herself that there was nothing enviable about someone like Luo Wei. A girl from an ordinary family couldn’t even afford a housekeeper, forcing her parents to cook themselves. Perhaps the whole family crowded into a small kitchen, bustling about aimlessly—a life she wouldn’t want to live. Yet, glancing back at her mother’s ward, her mood sank even lower, uncontrollably so. And the glass window became a mirror, faintly reflecting Luo Wei’s silhouette. However, Luo Wei’s radiant smile was so similar to her own expressionless face, yet so profoundly different…