Chapter 72

Zhao Hongxia sat on the balcony, holding a faded photograph, gazing at the sea outside.

The sea off Binhai and Cien belonged to the same stretch of water, with no difference at all—yet in her eyes, she saw distinctions.

Although Binhai and Cien were neighboring towns, she had not set foot in Binhai for nearly forty years.

Forty years ago, she was not yet Zhao Hongxia; she was Lu Hongxia.

That was the happiest time of her childhood—her father was a sailor who often brought home rare gifts, making her the envy of her friends.

But later, her father insisted on divorcing her mother; she followed her mother through hardship, and the pampered girl once sheltered in her parents’ arms learned to grow up in just a few months.

A ship’s horn blared across the sea, snapping Zhao Hongxia out of her daze.

She pulled her gaze from the sea and looked down at the faded photograph in her hand.

In the photo, a man held a little girl in his arms, while a woman with her hair pinned up leaned close beside them.

Clearly, it was a family of three, all smiling with happiness.

The man and woman in the photo wore simple clothes, but the little girl in his arms was dressed in bright, colorful attire, her face seemingly painted with makeup—though the photo was too old and faded to make out clearly.

“I really didn’t want to come. So much time has passed,” Zhao Hongxia whispered.

At that moment, a thin, middle-aged man stepped out from inside the house.

He said: “But you came anyway. Since you made the decision, don’t regret it.”

He was Zhao Hongxia’s husband, Sun Mahayana, and also Lu Guanchang’s son-in-law.

Zhao Hongxia did not continue speaking, but asked: “Who do you think wrote that letter?”

“Probably your father?” Sun Mahayana replied.

“Then why arrange to meet us at a hotel?” Zhao Hongxia asked, puzzled and slightly angry.

After all these years, was he still refusing to let her into his home?

Sun Mahayana patted her shoulder and sat down beside her; he didn’t know how to comfort her.

“If he hasn’t shown up by two o’clock tomorrow afternoon, we’ll check out and return to Cien,” Zhao Hongxia said.

Sun Mahayana nodded. “But didn’t you tell Mom about this?”

“Tell her what? She’s living perfectly fine now—no need to upset her.”

“Do you think Mom still hasn’t forgotten your father?” Sun Mahayana asked quietly.

“Don’t talk nonsense. Mom’s been married to Second Uncle for years—they’re happy. How could she still… still have feelings for him?”

“I’m not talking nonsense. If Mom truly hated your father, how could this photo still be preserved so well after all these years?”

Sun Mahayana reached out and took the photograph from Zhao Hongxia’s hand.

Aside from fading and yellowing with age, the photo’s edges showed not a single crease or tear.

Zhao Hongxia fell silent.

In truth, whether in Binhai or Cien, the air near the sea was always damp.

The bedding and pillows at home always felt damp, never truly dry—many friends from the north found this unbearable.

That was why many old photographs were hard to preserve.

Yet the photo in her hand remained so well-preserved—it was clearly cared for with great intention.

“How did he find our address? And why contact us now?” Sun Mahayana asked.

“Who knows? But I suppose he’s old now and wants someone to take care of him,” Zhao Hongxia replied with sarcasm.

Sun Mahayana actually thought the same—and he didn’t support this trip to Binhai.

But Zhao Hongxia had always been the dominant one at home; everything was decided by her. When she wanted to come, Sun Mahayana barely dared to persuade her, so he could only go along and see what would happen.

Sun Mahayana didn’t speak, but Zhao Hongxia seemed to understand his thoughts.

She glanced at him and said: “Don’t worry—I just want to see him once, ask him why he was so cruel to abandon us. Expecting me to care for him in his old age? That’s impossible.”

Zhao Hongxia spoke with absolute resolve, yet Sun Mahayana didn’t believe she’d truly abandon him.

After so many years as husband and wife, he knew her better than anyone—she was the classic type: sharp tongue, soft heart.

After speaking, Zhao Hongxia took the photo back from Sun Mahayana, placed it on her lap, and used her fingers to smooth out nonexistent wrinkles along the edges.

All these years had passed; everyone else had let go—only Zhao Hongxia had not.

Some say childhood wounds take a lifetime to heal—and that’s no lie.

If Zhao Hongxia’s parents hadn’t divorced, if she’d grown up happily, she might not have remembered her childhood so vividly.

But the family’s collapse, the pain her father caused—made her childhood memories unbearably sharp, as if every detail remained clear even after all these years.

Sun Mahayana suddenly spoke from beside her.

“The kids are all grown up.”

Zhao Hongxia’s hands paused.

They had one son and one daughter, both married; their eldest daughter already had children, and their younger son had only recently married and had none yet.

“Shall we go back this afternoon?”

Sun Mahayana’s words seemed to strike a deep chord in Zhao Hongxia.

Thinking of her mother, her children, she suddenly found her own behavior absurd.

But at that moment, Sun Mahayana shook his head, no longer agreeing with her.

“Even if we don’t see him, let’s stay a few more days in Binhai, walk around, take a look—Binhai is far more beautiful than our Cien.”

Both were coastal cities, but as a tourist destination, Binhai’s infrastructure was far superior to Cien’s, and far more prosperous.

Zhao Hongxia opened her mouth to speak, but Sun Mahayana cut her off: “If you truly didn’t care, you’d have nothing to fear.”

Zhao Hongxia nodded, realizing her husband had a point.

After all these years, she was a grandmother now—why cling to so much?

At that moment, a breeze blew in from outside, swirling across the balcony, bringing a touch of coolness.

Sun Mahayana rose and gazed at the distant sea; thick clouds had gathered over the water.

“Think it’s going to rain?”

August in Binhai brought heavy rains, but they came fast and left quickly—often, the sun shone even as it rained.

“A rainstorm would be good—it’ll cool things down. This weather is too hot.”

Zhao Hongxia spoke these words, yet she too rose, preparing to return indoors.

Though the balcony had sea breeze, it was still not as cool as the air-conditioned room.

Sun Mahayana turned to go inside too—when suddenly, a figure slowly appeared before them.

The figure did not appear suddenly, but emerged gradually, becoming solid from faint to clear.

Zhao Hongxia stepped back in fright, while Sun Mahayana rushed forward and grabbed her hand.

Feeling warmth on her hand, she seemed to regain composure and immediately stepped right, her fuller figure positioning her squarely in front of the slender Sun Mahayana.

“Xiao Xia, don’t be afraid…”