Chapter 113

Tears overflowed from the corners of Xie Tingyu’s eyes, tracing paths down his face and soaking the pillow. No matter how many times they were wiped away, they wouldn’t stop. It felt as though a piece of his chest was missing, a sharp, searing pain radiating through him.

In his mind, he had returned to Ye Family Village.

It was February in the village; the ice and snow were melting, the mountains and rivers were beautiful, and the birdsong was crisp. The loquat trees had begun to fruit—golden, plump, and bursting with juice.

Xie Tingyu saw himself returning from town with a pound of loquats. His wife had never eaten such delicious fruit before; the moment she received them, her eyes sparkled with fragments of light. She ate them ravenously. He had frowned slightly, almost imperceptibly. Seeing this, she covered her mouth and smiled bashfully, afraid he would find her manners crude.

“Brother Yu, aren’t these the loquats from that essay, Notes of Xiangji Pavilion ?” she asked. “If I plant them into trees, we’ll have loquats to eat every year.”

He looked at the pile of golden peels on the table. Associating them with Notes of Xiangji Pavilion brought a bad omen (as the tree in the essay was planted in memory of a deceased wife).

“Why plant such a tree? It’s bad luck. Throw them away,” he said.

Xie Tingyu saw his past self heartlessly throwing away the seeds she had saved. But Ye Qingshui had cherished them, picking them back up and soaking them in lime water. When a damp spring rain finally fell, she planted them in the earth.

Her silly, stubborn, and earnest expression moved Xie Tingyu. He laughed at her simplicity. “That’s not how you plant seedlings. You won’t get loquats that way.”

But Ye Qingshui continued to wait every day for the seeds to sprout.

The seeds didn’t sprout, but Xie Tingyu’s exam results arrived. Reporters from the provincial capital and leaders from the county visited Ye Family Village one after another. At the same time, tragic news arrived from the capital: his grandfather had died after falling into water, and his grandmother had passed away shortly after from a heart attack.

Xie Tingyu stared at the telegram for a long time, lost in soul-crushing grief. The accidents were too sudden, making him suspect things weren’t as simple as they seemed. He called his friends in the capital one by one; as he listened to the results of his inquiries, his heart sank deeper and deeper.

With a heavy heart, he packed his clothes and his admission letter.

Ye Qingshui was still in the courtyard waiting for her loquat seedlings to sprout. Her innocent, happy appearance only made Xie Tingyu’s heart heavier.

She asked him, “Brother Yu, when will you be back?”

Xie Tingyu did not answer.

She walked him to the fork in the road at the village entrance to wait for the bus. It was spring; green buds were bursting from withered branches, early camellias were blooming one by one, and the dew on the grass soaked their shoes and trousers. The bus took a long time to arrive, as if purposely giving this couple facing separation enough time to say goodbye.

Ye Qingshui picked a leaf and blew a small tune with a beaming face. She played The Butterfly Lovers . To her, the empty green mountains reflected in her eyes were as clear as a scroll painting.

Finally, Xie Tingyu couldn’t help but correct her. “This song isn’t good. Don’t play it anymore.”

Instead, he played Farewell for her.

“Outside the long pavilion, along the ancient road, green grass touches the sky… The evening wind brushes the willows as the flute’s sound fades, the sun sets beyond the mountains.”

The sunset glow spread across the calm pond, and a crow perched on a branch gave a couple of hoarse caws. Ye Qingshui’s eyes were like a deep sea of stars, shining brightly. She narrowed her eyes as she listened, a simple, happy smile dancing on her lips. To her, this parting was only temporary. He was going north to study, and their lives would only get better.

But to Xie Tingyu, this separation felt like a path into the unknown, with no way to tell what awaited him.

“When will Brother Yu be back?”

Xie Tingyu didn’t know how to respond and remained silent. The sound of the bus echoed from afar, vibrating through the empty mountains. He continued to play:

“Outside the long pavilion, along the ancient road, green grass touches the sky… I ask you, when will you return from this journey? When you come, do not hesitate.”

Finally, Xie Tingyu gave his harmonica to Ye Qingshui. Looking at her expectant eyes, he made a promise: “Wait for me to come back.”

He remembered the picky eating habits she had suddenly developed recently. “Live well with Grandma and Mother in the countryside. Eat your meals on time.”

Little did he know that after this departure, there would be no return.

The car carrying Xie Tingjue and Xie Tingyu spun out of control onto the train tracks. Just before hitting a train, Xie Tingyu grabbed the steering wheel, forcing the car to swerve and crash into a nearby house. The driver died instantly; Xie Tingyu was gravely injured.

In his final moments, he thought of his wife waiting for his return in the countryside.

Xie Tingjue held his younger brother, running and shouting like a headless fly, “Where is the hospital! Hold on, Tingyu, what should I do?” At that time, Xie Tingjue was just an honest, dull man who had recently moved from the countryside to the city; his eyes were red with panic.

Xie Tingyu told him with a faint breath that the hospital was far away. He told him not to panic, to find a public phone, and have the hospital send an ambulance. While waiting, Xie Tingyu’s blood flowed steadily. With every inch lost, he missed her more.

It’s a good thing she isn’t here, he thought. If she saw me like this, she would cry uncontrollably. She was the kind of person who would be heartbroken for a long time just because he cut his thumb.

He kept speaking. “Brother, listen… the brakes failed, there was something wrong with the driver. Only we are left in the Xie family. I won’t make it… you must live on in my place.”

Xie Tingjue roared in desperation, “Don’t you damn well say things like that!”

Xie Tingyu said, “My backpack has the letter of introduction and the admission letter. Take them… go to school.”

As he neared death, Ye Qingshui’s expectant eyes from their farewell flashed before him.

“Don’t hold her back… tell her not to wait for me. It’s best if she… remmaries. Leave the property under my name to her, the money… leave the money to her too…”

Xie Tingyu spoke a long, disjointed string of words. He repeated the word “her” so many times that even if Xie Tingjue didn’t fully understand who “she” was, he could guess.

Xie Tingyu was in too much pain to speak. His vision filled with the beautiful scenery of Ye Family Village. Before he left, the village had been filled with the scent of tea. He remembered her red nose and her lingering, reluctant gaze. Every time he returned from the city, her figure was always waiting at the end of the road. He would ride his bicycle with her on the back, heading home through the birdsong and spring light.

But this time, she wouldn’t be able to wait for him.

He thought of the two short years he spent in the countryside. Memories flashed like floating lights; these ordinary, trivial things he thought he wouldn’t remember were actually etched clearly in his mind.

If she heard the news of his death, that silly girl might be so heartbroken she’d do something drastic. In this life, Xie Tingyu would never meet someone who loved him so much again, and he… he couldn’t bear to see her sad.

Before his last breath, he struggled to say, “Keep it from her for me… After I die, bury me in Ye Family Village. She li—likes…”

Xie Tingyu’s body grew cold; his breaths became shallow and infrequent. Xie Tingjue couldn’t hear his brother’s voice anymore and lowered his ear to his mouth.

“She likes… to eat loquats. Plant one… in front of my grave.”

In his final moments, the sound of Ye Qingshui reciting her lessons echoed in his ears. She had tried to memorize Notes of Xiangji Pavilion many times but never could. Back then, when she saved the seeds to plant in the courtyard, he had complained it was bad luck.

But thinking about it now, he had always been too strict with her. What did it matter if she couldn’t memorize a text? He knew everything she didn’t. Loquat trees might be “unlucky,” but what did that hinder? If she liked them, let her plant one. Unfortunately, Xie Tingyu would never have the chance to see the seedlings in the courtyard bear fruit. He wouldn’t have the chance to sit in the courtyard with her as they grew old together.

“Plant one for me… a loquat.”

She loved loquats so much. Perhaps one day, passing by his grave, she would stop to pick one and taste it. If she didn’t come, the greedy children in the village would pick and eat them. Year after year, perhaps… one day, one would find its way to her hand.

…

Xie Tingyu returned to Ye Family Village and was buried on a warm hillside. From the high hill, he could overlook the beautiful village. He often saw Ye Qingshui so distraught she couldn’t eat.

She worked in the fields on an empty stomach. Xie Tingyu was worried beyond words, and the sapling by his grave trembled. The spring rain was soft, but the ridges in the fields were slippery. Ye Qingshui took a fall and lay by the roadside; it was a long time before anyone found her. Her trousers were gradually stained red with blood.

For the first time in his life, Xie Tingyu experienced the feeling of a heart turning cold inch by inch while simultaneously burning with anxiety. It was a hell of ice and fire.

It was a long time before someone found her. Their child was lost—over three months old. The baby never even had a chance to open its eyes to the world.

Before she had even recovered from her miscarriage, news of a “divorce” arrived. Dragging her broken, sickly body, she traveled alone to the capital to find her husband. Even though Xie Tingyu knew the outcome of her journey, his heart still tore with pain.

Sure enough, after she returned, she cried for many nights. She shut herself in her room for an entire spring. In the summer, she suffered a high fever that left her mind clouded, and she developed bedsores all over her body. She touched the harmonica he had left behind, dismantling it piece by piece, and burned his books one by one.

“Why… why did you deceive me like this?”

Xie Tingyu’s heart felt as if it were being shredded, burned constantly by the fires of self-reproach. He had no physical heart, yet he still felt the suffocating distress. Even his soul was in pain. How he wanted to walk over, hug her, kiss her, and tell her: “No, I love you.”

“I married you, and I told you Ялюблютебя (I love you). In my trunk, I secretly kept the paper crickets you folded, your hair ties, the hair that fell from your head every morning, every exam paper you ever wrote, a poem about you…”

Xie Tingyu had so much to say, but he never had the chance to say it again. All his belongings were thrown away by her. Everyone in the village knew she had been abandoned by that youth from the capital. The poor woman had lost her child and her health was ruined; even the idle old widowers in the village looked down on a woman like her.

In the autumn, Ye Qingshui recovered from her illness and left the village filled with gossip. She went to Yangcheng, entered a factory, and worked day and night for a meager monthly salary of twenty yuan. She lived in a dilapidated, tiny shack and ate fifty-cent fast-food meals. She often forgot to eat because she was rushing to finish work; when the abdominal pain became unbearable, she would squat down, sweating from the agony.

Xie Tingyu watched her suffer. He watched her body waste away due to the miscarriage. He watched her subconsciously reject suitors even when they appeared, unwilling to accept warmth again.

He wept.

At that moment, Xie Tingyu finally understood that he could no longer participate in her life. He understood he would always be an observer, watching her pain and helplessness while being utterly powerless. He understood that he, as a person, was the heaviest wound she carried, yet he had no chance to explain, no way to hold her, comfort her, kiss her, or cherish her.

But he never left.

He continued to watch Ye Qingshui, watching her work with strength and optimism, watching her labor desperately, watching her walk long distances to save a few cents on a meal, only to send all the saved money back to the countryside.

The impoverished Ye family finally built a concrete tile house, grand and bright. Her uncle finally found a fiancée.

Four years later, Xie Tingjue finally graduated and gradually began to support Ye Qingshui.

Ye Qingshui worked very hard. she learned culinary arts from a master and traveled across the country, drinking dew and sleeping under bridges. She earned a massive fortune but could also donate it all in the blink of an eye. The spirit overflowing from her eyes became more and more dazzling; life could no longer defeat her.

Finally, she chose to return to the village in glory to build roads and bring in electricity.

It was another year of continuous spring rain. The ten-year-old loquat tree drank the nectar of the earth, sprouted, blossomed, and bore heavy fruit. The golden fruits hung from the branches, thick-fleshed and sweet.

During the Qingming Festival, Mother Ye finished sweeping Grandma Ye’s grave, her old back so tired she could hardly straighten it. Some child remarked, “This tree has so much fruit.”

Mother Ye sat under the tree. She looked at the overgrown grave nearby and said casually, “Whose grave is this? Poor thing, the grass has grown so high.”

“Shui girl, go and sweep it.”

As the sun climbed higher, a weary Ye Qingshui sat under the tree to cool off, picking a loquat to taste. After many years, she was eating loquats again. Unlike the bag of early-ripening sour fruit she’d had back then, this was fully ripe—sweet, juicy, and refreshing. Ye Qingshui squinted her eyes as she tasted it.

After finishing the loquat, she began to sweep the grave. The weeds in front of it were waist-high. Once cleared, the tombstone beneath was solemn and grand, unlike any other in the village.

But it had no name.

When her hand touched the tombstone, the loquat tree rustled and dropped a few leaves. Beads of moisture faintly seeped from the stone.

Ye Qingshui murmured in surprise, “It looks like the tombstone is crying.”

Mother Ye, resting under the tree, remarked, “The mist in the mountains must be too heavy today. This grave hasn’t been swept in many years.” She picked a handful of loquats to eat. “The loquats are so sweet. Shui, climb up later and pick more to take back. Mother can’t climb anymore.”

“Alright, Mother, you wait. I’ll come as soon as I finish with these weeds,” Ye Qingshui answered with a smile.

Xie Tingyu wept.

By the grave stands a loquat tree, planted the year I died. Now, its canopy provides a vast shade.

More than ten years have passed; my wife passed by and ate from it, and she was very happy.

I, too, am very happy.

…

Peking Union Medical College Hospital.

Ye Qingshui was so anxious she was almost in tears. she kept asking the doctor: “His fingers moved, and he’s been crying. Why hasn’t he woken up yet?”

The doctor examined him for a long time but found no signs of awakening. He could only say, “I’m sorry.” The chances of a person in a vegetative state waking up were simply too low. After recording the data, the doctor sighed and left the ward.

Ye Qingshui leaned over the hospital bed and began to sob.

After a moment, there was a slight movement on the bed. Ye Qingshui raised her tear-blurred eyes and saw the man on the bed slowly propping himself up. He gave her a difficult, slight smile, his raspy voice filled with an indescribable tenderness.

“Don’t cry. It hurts my heart to see it.”

Ignoring his injuries, Xie Tingyu smiled and pulled his wife into his arms, his palms gently stroking her. This time, he could finally hold her; it was no longer an empty sensation. This embrace felt real—she was in his arms, warm, soft, flesh and blood. Where their hearts pressed together, they could feel the rhythm of each other’s lives.

He kissed his wife. “Why are you crying?”

“You’re not allowed to cry anymore, okay?”

Xie Tingyu gazed at Ye Qingshui. She had grown her hair long, her face was flushed with excitement, and her eyes were exceptionally bright. Her lips curved up naturally, her spirit full, her face showing a relief and satisfaction like never before.

As Xie Tingyu looked at her smile, his heart—which had been suffocating with pain—gradually revived and warmed. He curled his lips into a smile.

Xie Tingyu had accompanied Ye Qingshui through her entire life in that vision. He had seen her being bullied, seen her suffer every hardship, and seen her cry away a lifetime of tears. In this life, he never wanted her to shed another tear.

She might never understand that every tear she shed was a blade that shredded his heart.

Xie Tingyu hadn’t understood before—why she ran to the train station in tears that New Year; why she cried so desperately when she ran into his brother; why she said she had a surprise for him after the college entrance exam; why she wouldn’t touch loquats during her pregnancy, no matter how much she craved them.

All those things he hadn’t understood, Xie Tingyu now understood completely.

It turned out that besides this life, they had once possessed so many missed connections and regrets. They had missed Chenchen and Guangguang, missed the chance to go to university, missed their elders and loved ones, missed many days of happiness and contentment, and missed understanding each other’s love…

They missed yesterday, missed the past, missed an entire lifetime. But fortunately, after so many regrets, they still had today. Xie Tingyu felt an unparalleled sense of satisfaction as he held his wife’s hand.

“Shui’er, Ялюблютебя .”

“I love you.”

Xie Tingyu said it many times, speaking all the late confessions from their previous life, speaking the words he had repeated countless times in his heart during every night she couldn’t sleep from crying.

Ye Qingshui hadn’t even recovered from the joy of her husband waking up before being stunned by this string of confessions. She went from tears to laughter. Her cheeks gradually flushed, and she covered his mouth, telling him to stop.

“Hush! People are watching us!”

They were an old married couple with two children, yet he was saying such things; it was truly embarrassing.

But how could he stop? Xie Tingyu had finally earned the chance to pour his heart out to her. A person’s life is so short. How lucky he was to have missed her for a lifetime, yet still have the chance to continue their fate together.

Xie Tingyu kissed her thumb and said, “We will be fine from now on. I still remember I owe you a proper wedding.”

Ye Qingshui pulled his hand away and showed him his ring finger. She smiled and said, “As long as you remember. I’ve waited for you for a long time. Spring break is over; let’s not miss the summer break too.”

Xie Tingyu looked down and saw a plain ring on his finger—simple and elegant, engraved with the letters “TYQS.” The ring reflected a warm, dazzling light in the soft sunshine.

Just as well, I have also waited for you for a very long time.

In his heart, Xie Tingyu made a silent vow: This time, I will not break my promise.

Sansukini: Gosh! What a beautiful, tear-filled chapter.

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