Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
Yin Mo felt like a puppet, guided by Beautiful Scholar Lili and Yaxuan, experiencing a luxury that now belonged to him.
After taking it all in, Yin Mo still couldn't process everything. An eight-year-old child's heart simply couldn't accept such a stark contrast to reality.
The beauty came too suddenly; naturally, he couldn't believe it in an instant.
When pie falls from the sky, one must look up; what if someone upstairs carelessly throws down some trash?
In his heart, Yin Mo didn't have many thoughts about timing; he simply found it hard to accept. The richest person he had ever seen was probably Grandpa Zhao's son, who drove his shiny luxury car around town with his wife and children.
If he knew that the once dirt-poor boy could own a luxury car that he would never be able to buy even after a lifetime of hard work, the blow would be incredibly cruel.
Flower Snow Moon was somewhat displeased with Situ Yu's presumptuousness and worried about Yin Mo. However, Jufeng remained unconcerned.
"He has been studying at the Sage Academy; his foundation is solid. If he can't resist these temptations, then he doesn't deserve to be my son," Jufeng said.
Chuyang scoffed from the side, pouring cold water on the situation. "Is it really something to be proud of being your child? You can't even accompany him. Any random father off the street would show more responsibility than you do."
Jufeng could see that many people harbored resentment towards him. His most beloved daughter was the loyal girl from the Northwest, who was no less deserving of his attention.
Moreover, he knew that the two women he would face next were the ones he had wronged the most.
But before dealing with all of that, he first needed to take Yin Mo to meet his biological mother.
The autumn wind howled mournfully, as it always did, especially on such desolate hills.
Still on the hillside, Jufeng first took Yin Mo to pay respects to his grandfather, allowing him to acknowledge his ancestry. Only then did he lead him to honor his mother.
As those who had come to remember departed one by one, soon only Jufeng and his son remained on the hillside.
The photo on the tombstone remained clear and bright. Jufeng was familiar with this place; he visited every year, allowing himself to indulge in memories of the past.
Today was different, as it was the first time he brought Yin Mo along, and Romain's emotions were somewhat altered.
Yin Mo gazed at the photo on the tombstone, feeling an inexplicable sense of familiarity. This feeling surged from deep within, flowing through his limbs and embedding itself in his bones.
Jufeng was silent, and naturally, Yin Mo knelt down.
In silence, he bowed three times, each motion crisp and clear.
"Your mother was betrayed by your father's enemies when she was giving birth to you. In her final moments, she managed to bring you into this world, but she herself..."
Eight years had passed, and Romain had been forcing himself not to revisit the tragic events of that time, believing that by not thinking about them, he could forget. Yet now, all those images flooded back into his mind, and he realized how difficult it still was for him to face them.
Yin Mo lifted his head to look at his father, who was choked with emotion. His lips pressed together tightly, he remained silent. Yet inside, he had so much he wanted to say—words of comfort and expressions of his own grievances.
But in the face of his mother's memory, he found himself at a loss for words.
"It was my failure to protect your mother. I am sorry for her and even more so for you."
Since he could remember, this might have been the most heartfelt thing Jufeng had ever said to Yin Mo. Yin Mo fought back tears and shook his head vigorously.
He believed that the greatest sorrow from his mother's tragedy fell upon his father. These eight years had not revealed how Romain had endured; although they could imagine it, how could imagination compare to reality?
However, Yin Mo had seen it; he understood. He knew how much Romain struggled internally when he locked himself away in dark rooms.
The pain that couldn't be expressed was even more heartbreaking. From an early age, Yin Mo grasped this truth because he experienced it himself. What did academic struggles matter? The torment of inner pain was far more severe.
Once upon a time, Yin Mo thought he should blame his father. When he heard that Romain intended to take him to visit his mother’s grave, he still felt that blaming his father was justified.
Why? Why couldn't he protect his own wife? Why did an innocent child have to face the cruel world alone, without a mother from birth? Why, after eight years, had he never told me any of this?
But when he finally heard his father say the words "I'm sorry," he understood that these three words were enough to make up for everything.
Because ultimately, the one who should be asking why was the man standing beside him.
Yin Mo gazed at the photo on the gravestone, lost in thought, wanting to etch his mother's image deep into his heart, a memory that even the fiercest storm could not wash away.
In his eyes, there was only his mother; he believed she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Her hands must have been soft and warm; her voice must have been gentle and pleasant. When lying in her embrace at night, he surely would never have had nightmares.
Everything about his mother was so wonderful, yet sadly, he could no longer experience it.
Autumn days were often rainy, with unpredictable weather. Suddenly, a gust of wind blew through, followed by rain.
Jufeng's hand reached through the curtain of rain and extended toward Yin Mo. In his hand was a piece of jewelry.
A key-shaped ornament.
"This was left to your mother by your grandmother; your mother intended to pass it on to your future wife."
Yin Mo took the key and felt the raindrops on his face, which effectively concealed his tears.
His mother must have loved him very much. Even though they were in different worlds, she would surely miss him just as he missed her deeply.
Yin Mo quietly put the key-shaped ornament around his neck, holding it tightly in his palm.
I do have a mother, Yin Mo thought to himself, and then suddenly smiled.
But not long after smiling, his delicate brows fell into a frown, and his expression turned profoundly sorrowful.
Today is my birthday, a day of suffering for my mother, and also her memorial day.
What a sad reality this is.
If possible, Mother, I will work hard, spending twice as much time studying and practicing. I only wish to see you, even if just for a moment.
But this is not a wish; it is an impossible dream.
The rain suddenly intensified.
Jufeng knelt down, holding Yin Mo tightly, both father and son weeping together.
(To be continued)
Comment 0 Comment Count