Chapter 738: The Road Back Is Hard (Part 2)

"Anna..."

Just as in her memories of Leon, after calling out the girl's name, Emma felt all her exhaustion vanish like a receding tide, and the heavy burden pressing down on her shoulders suddenly lifted.

But in its place came not genuine joy or delight, but a lingering ache of regret and shame.

"I lost my job..."

After mumbling those words dejectedly, Emma—or rather, the former Leon—looked utterly crestfallen and explained:

"I didn't slack off, but I could still only carry about half what others could. The foreman only paid me for half a month's work and told me not to come to the docks tomorrow. I..."

"You've done well enough."

The dim yellow oil lamp and the girl's soft footsteps drew near, and after a warm embrace, a voice devoid of any blame whispered in Emma's ear:

"Brother, it's not your fault. I know you've done your best. I saved dinner for you—come inside, eat, and rest well..."

"I..."

"Senior Emma?"

The puzzled whisper beside her ear and the warmth in her palm pulled Emma out of this memory that wasn't her own.

After shaking her head slightly in confusion, she looked at Leon, whose eyes held mild curiosity, and apologized:

"I'm sorry—I just... uh... I think I saw your past memories."

Looking down at the faintly glowing white bricks beneath her feet, Emma whispered:

"If I'm right, when two people step on the same brick, the one who steps later seems to see the memories of the one who stepped first."

"Leon, if you're uncomfortable with it, I could..."

"It's fine. Look."

Recalling how he'd once lost his dockwork job, secretly found a corner to weep, and then been comforted gently by Anna, Leon gave a slightly embarrassed smile.

"There's nothing too shameful in my memories. And if you hadn't saved Anna back in the hospital, these memories would've... well... anyway, if seeing them helps you cross the Black-and-White Bridge, I don't mind."

"Thank you..."

Holding Leon's warm, strong hand, Emma felt his open, fervent emotion warm her from her palm all the way to her heart. Her hand no longer felt cold, and a faint flush returned to her pale face.

After confirming she was ready, Leon, one foot still outside the bridge, clenched his fist, then lifted his other foot and fully stepped onto the Black-and-White Bridge.

The white brick—also a brick of happiness.

And with Leon's promise, Emma gathered her courage once more and stepped fully onto the bridge with both feet.

"Big brother!"

This time, before Emma appeared was Leon's younger brother—plump-faced, adorable, but always solemn, like a miniature adult. At this moment, Emma—or rather, the memory of Leon—stood beside a wall, staring blankly at a nail. Beside him, William, head tilted up, asked with grave seriousness:

"Big brother, are you sick?"

Was Leon sick this time?

Hearing his brother's question, Emma froze slightly.

That didn't make sense—Leon stepped on a white brick; this should've been a happy memory.

The memory of Leon seemed to share Emma's confusion; after a slight shiver, he frowned and said:

"No, I've just been tired lately, but I don't feel unwell."

"Don't lie to me!"

William studied Leon carefully, then glanced down at himself, shivered slightly, and frowned with stern seriousness:

"If you're not sick, why's it swollen so..."

"Cough! Cough cough! Cough cough cough!"

Leon burst into the loudest coughing fit of his life, forcibly jolting Emma out of her memory—only to realize the bridge had also captured the memory of him and his brother "letting water" by the wall. Flushed with embarrassment, he said to the dazed Emma:

"Uh... I just thought—while I don't mind sharing my memories with you, Senior, some situations are... well... unusual. So... could I filter the content first, then you step on?"

Through their still-clasped hands, Emma felt the sheer, toe-curling embarrassment surging through Leon's heart. She snapped back to awareness and understood exactly what scene she'd just witnessed.

Recalling the strange yet unnervingly real sensation, Emma's fair face flushed crimson, even her delicate earlobes turning pink, and she quickly turned her head away.

"O-Okay..."

"..."

Damn it! I knew my luck was too good—two white bricks in a row. Turns out it was a trap!

Swearing under his breath about his rotten luck, Leon took a deep breath and stepped forward for the third time.

White brick. Still a white brick.

This time, Melanie appeared. Though mischievous and trouble-prone, she was often a warm little blanket.

The happy memory tied to her: he'd gotten soaked in a freezing rain while selling newspapers, developed a high fever the next day, Anna went out to buy medicine, and Melanie, with William, raided several crow nests to gather eggs to help him recover.

Hmm... up to this point, it was still fine. But the following week, his house was viciously attacked by an enraged flock of crows—every door, windowsill, everywhere splattered with half-dried droppings.

When he finally recovered and took out a shovel to clean, the gray-white dried droppings had piled up over two fingers thick—he had to hammer them first to break them loose, and spent three or four days scraping them off.

All he could say was... this little blanket was warm enough when it worked—but when it leaked, it leaked badly.

After watching this warm yet absurdly ridiculous memory, Leon sighed helplessly, then squeezed Emma's hand firmly, signaling there was nothing to hide—she could step forward.

But despite Leon squeezing her hand several times, Emma remained motionless behind him, silent. A wave of grief, nearly overflowing, surged through their clasped hands and crashed into Leon's heart.

"Emma, my daughter..."

With grief so sharp it felt like splitting his heart in two, Leon felt his ears throb slightly. A trembling voice—filled with sorrow, faint resentment, yet overflowing with worry and reluctance—drifted into his eardrums:

"Six years... have you been well?"

(End of Chapter)