Chapter 24: Lin Xiaolu's Memories

That night, the grey-black sky looked as if it had been smeared with ink; the moon’s shadow was hazy, and the starlight was dim.

Lin Xiaolu lay on her side by the window, curled up, quietly gazing at the boundless night sky.

Moke had fallen asleep at the head of the bed at some point, its crystalline wings draped over its shoulders, its pink fluff trembling slightly, without a sound.

From the floor beside the bed, the faint sound of fabric rubbing against fabric could be heard from time to time, clearly someone tossing and turning, unable to sleep.

"Xiaolu, are you asleep?"

Suddenly, Xia Liang’s voice rang out in the pitch-black room.

She received no response; Lin Xiaolu said nothing, turning a deaf ear to her.

"I’m telling you, this outfit is a bit too tight; it feels restrictive when I try to sleep."

Xia Liang, however, had never cared about such things, and since no one answered, she just kept talking to herself: "So, can I sleep naked?"

"……No."

Disturbed by these words and no longer able to hold onto her quiet, melancholy mood, Lin Xiaolu drooped her eyelids and rejected Xia Liang’s proposal.

She refused offhandedly, then processed the meaning, realizing exactly what Xia Liang meant by "the clothes are tight," and immediately felt even more annoyed: "Wearing my clothes, sleeping in my room—where do you get off having so many demands? Do you want me to make you sleep on the sofa in the living room?"

"Sleep naked?" Xia Liang blinked, her cheeks flushing red.

"Of course you’re wearing clothes!" Lin Xiaolu gritted her teeth.

"I’m just joking, and besides, it wouldn't be good if your family saw."

"You still know this is my house?"

With the joke half-finished, the two fell into a momentary silence.

After a while, Xia Liang, clutching her quilt, tightened her grip on it and closed her eyes:

"I’m telling you, Xiaolu."

"What is it now?" Having already spoken, she could no longer pretend to be silent, so Lin Xiaolu could only retort to Xia Liang with irritation.

"Do you not have a good relationship with your father?"

Xia Liang’s question froze the expression on Lin Xiaolu’s face.

With her back to Xia Liang, Lin Xiaolu pressed her face closer to the inside of her pillow, forcing her voice to be even lower: "You can tell?"

"Mm, I felt it."

"I see. But that has nothing to do with you, right?"

When the topic turned to this, Lin Xiaolu’s voice became somewhat hoarse: "Or are you going to lecture me, too?"

"Not at all."

Xia Liang said softly in the night: "I’m just a little curious."

"Curious about what?"

"Your father should care about you; he’s actually quite good to you."

"……How do you judge that? Just based on a few sentences you exchanged?"

"It’s not the words, but the attitude and the expression."

At this point, Xia Liang’s tone carried a hint of seriousness: "Whether parents truly care about their children can be seen from these kinds of details."

Once these words were spoken, another long silence followed.

Lin Xiaolu said nothing, seemingly lost in thought, and Xia Liang did not speak further.

After a long time, as if she had decided something, Lin Xiaolu spoke: "He looks like that to you now?"

Xia Liang was a bit puzzled upon hearing this: "Now? Was he not like that before?"

"Of course not."

In the darkness, Lin Xiaolu’s expression was unclear, but her voice sounded as if it were being squeezed out of her throat, carrying an indescribable resentment:

"If you haven't seen it, you can't understand the parts of him that are truly unreasonable. That cold-blooded face makes one’s heart turn cold."

"It’s been like that since I was a child—work, work, work; if it wasn't overtime, it was business dinners. When he was at home, he would just keep a straight face, as if he were unhappy about everything and didn't care about anything. It was the same with me; he would only keep signing me up for tutoring classes, buying workbooks, and telling me to study hard."

"Back then, Mom would always say we should be understanding and forgiving of him. Even if she had prepared a table full of food for a holiday and he called to say he wouldn't be back to eat, she still wouldn't have a single complaint."

"Then one day, she died."

"She was perfectly fine the day before, and the next day he suddenly told me Mom was dead. From then on, it was just him and me, and he gave neither reason nor explanation. I asked him to let me see Mom one last time; guess what his answer was?"

Seemingly not expecting Lin Xiaolu to throw a question at her at this moment, Xia Liang reacted slightly: "Um... did your father not agree?"

"Hmph, he said, 'Forget her.'"

Lin Xiaolu scoffed, but there was no hint of a smile on her face: "He casually packed away her things, casually invited a few people, and casually held a funeral, as if everything had just ended like that."

"Then, he disappeared halfway through the memorial service and was found embracing some young woman from who knows where."

"Was he really working outside? Did he really care about Mom at all? I don't know, but I was very worried and very scared. When I asked him for the reason, he avoided the topic; even when I cried in front of him, he still had no reaction, only spouting nonsense about how he was very sad, too."

"In the end, I got into an argument with him. I don't even remember what we said to each other at the time, only that I really told him all my anger and confusion, and then he slapped me."

"What did he say? 'Who do you think I’m doing this for?' That was the line, right?"

"For whom? It certainly wasn't for me, and it certainly wasn't for Mom, right? Otherwise, why was he cuddling with another woman at home just a few days later?"

"They seemed so loving on the surface, but after she really passed away, he immediately changed his face. Is this what Mom meant when she said I should understand him?"

"Then I ran away from home."

This sentence made Xia Liang’s eyes widen slightly.

As if suddenly realizing something, she looked in the direction of Lin Xiaolu, but in the pitch-black room, Lin Xiaolu still had her back to her.

"So I won't ask you why you ran away from home. I know under what circumstances a person would want to run away."

Her voice was muffled; that nameless anger had faded at some point, though it was unclear if it had vanished or was just hidden deeper away.

"I stayed at a classmate’s house for many days. During that time, I didn't go to school; I just stayed by myself, quietly."

She continued to speak of her past experiences: "I don't know which day it was, but it seemed like the classmate’s parents contacted the school, the school told him where I was, and then he showed up."

"That was probably the first time I saw him look so disheveled. His dark circles were like a ghost’s, he hadn't shaved his beard, he hadn't trimmed his hair, and he wasn't wearing the formal suit he wore every single day of the year; he just came over in a tacky jacket."

"He said, 'Let’s go home.' I thought to myself, we’ve reached this point, what reason do I have to go back with you?"

"But seeing him like that, I don't know why, but my heart softened. Sympathy? Or was it grievance? By the time I came to my senses, I had already instinctively reached out and held his hand."

"Since then, it’s been like this. I don't pay much attention to him, and he seems to be trying to make up for something, acting like a 'good father,' but that’s all."

She spoke to this point, seemingly because the words she wanted to say had finally ended and some emotion had been resolved, so she let out a long breath and her speaking speed slowed down.

"That’s it, it ends here."

Lin Xiaolu closed her eyes: "Does this boring story satisfy you?"

Xia Liang did not answer immediately. She had let go of the quilt she was holding at some point, and as if remembering something, she looked a bit dazed.

After a while, she lowered her eyelids and replied softly: "Mm."

"That’s good."

Lin Xiaolu pulled the quilt up a bit, half-covering her face: "I’m going to sleep."

The room was silent. After a long time, the sound of even breathing came from Lin Xiaolu’s bed, leaving only Xia Liang awake, lying on the bedding on the floor.

She did not dwell on the clothes that were a bit tight on her, nor did she pay attention to the floor bed she had made in collaboration with Lin Xiaolu, which had turned out quite poorly.

She seemed to say something, but that sentence was only audible to herself.

Finally, in the dim midnight, Xia Liang also slowly drifted into sleep.