Chapter 24: Chapter Twenty-Four: Lin Xiaolu

That night, the gray-black sky was as if drenched in ink, the moon's shadow hazy, the stars dim.

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

Mo Ke had fallen asleep beside the pillow without notice, her translucent wings draped over her shoulders, pink down trembling faintly, not a sound stirring.

From the floor beside the bed, faint rustling of fabric occasionally came—clearly, someone was 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 reply; Lin Xiaolu remained silent, deaf to it all.

"I'm telling you, this outfit's too tight—it feels constricting when I sleep."

But Xia Liang never cared about such things; with no one responding, she carried on: "So can I sleep naked?"

"... No."

This remark shattered any lingering night-time melancholy; Lin Xiaolu lowered her eyelids and rejected the suggestion outright.

She had refused on impulse, then realized what Xia Liang meant by "tight clothes," and felt even more irritated: "You wear my clothes, sleep in my room—where do you get all these demands? Do you think I'll let you sleep on the living room sofa?"

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

"Of course in clothes!" Lin Xiaolu gritted her teeth.

"I'm just joking—besides, it wouldn't look good if your family saw."

"You still remember this is my home?"

Mid-joke, both fell silent.

After a while, Xia Liang hugged the blanket tighter in her arms, closed her eyes:

"Hey, Xiaolu."

Having already spoken, she couldn't pretend silence anymore; Lin Xiaolu replied irritably: "What now?"

"Do you and your dad have a bad relationship?"

Xia Liang's question froze Lin Xiaolu's expression.

Facing away from Xia Liang, Lin Xiaolu pressed her face deeper into the pillow, lowering her voice further: "You noticed?"

"Mm. I felt it."

"So what? It's none of your business."

Speaking of this topic, Lin Xiaolu's voice grew hoarse: "Or are you going to lecture me too?"

"No."

Xia Liang whispered softly into the night: "I'm just curious."

"Curious about what?"

"Your dad seems to care about you—he's actually been kind to you."

"... How can you tell? Just from a few words you exchanged?"

"Not words—his attitude, his expressions."

Here, Xia Liang's tone grew serious: "You can tell whether parents truly care for their children by these small details."

At these words, another long silence fell.

Lin Xiaolu said nothing, seemingly lost in thought; Xia Liang, too, remained quiet.

After a long while, as if making a decision, Lin Xiaolu spoke: "He looks like this now?"

Xia Liang frowned slightly: "Now? Wasn't he like this before?"

"Of course not."

In the darkness, Lin Xiaolu's expression was unreadable, but her voice seemed forced from her throat, thick with unspoken rage:

"You can't understand unless you've seen it—his truly unreasonable side. That cold, heartless face chilled me to the bone."

"Since I was a child, it's always been work, work, work—overtime or social engagements. At home, he'd just scowl, as if nothing ever pleased him, as if he cared for nothing. He did the same to me: constantly signing me up for tutoring, buying me problem sets, ordering me to study harder."

"Back then, Mom always said I should understand him, forgive him. Even when she prepared a full table of dishes for holidays, and he called to say he couldn't come home, she never complained."

"Then one day, she died."

"The day before, she was perfectly fine. The next day, he suddenly told me Mom was dead—that from now on, it was just him and me. He gave no reason, no explanation. I asked him to let me see her one last time—guess what he said?"

Surprised by Lin Xiaolu's sudden question, Xia Liang hesitated slightly: "Hmm… your dad didn't agree?"

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

Lin Xiaolu let out a bitter laugh, but her face held no smile: "He casually packed away her things, casually invited a few people, casually held the funeral—as if everything had simply ended."

"Then, halfway through the memorial service, he vanished—embracing some young woman he'd just met."

"Was he really working? Did he ever truly think of Mom? I don't know—but I was afraid. I asked him why, and he avoided the question. Even when I cried in front of him, he showed no reaction—only muttered empty words like 'I'm sad too.'"

"Finally, we fought. I don't remember what we said—I only remember I told him every ounce of my anger and confusion. And he slapped me."

"What did he say? 'Do you think I'm doing all this for whom?' Something like that?"

"For whom? Not for me, surely. Not for Mom, either. Otherwise, why, just days later, was he hugging another woman at home?"

"They seemed so loving every day—but the moment she died, he changed completely. Was this what Mom meant by 'understanding him'?"

"Then I ran away from home."

These words made Xia Liang's eyes widen slightly.

As if suddenly realizing something, she turned toward Lin Xiaolu's direction—but in the pitch-black room, Lin Xiaolu still faced away.

"So I won't ask why you ran away. I know exactly what kind of situation makes someone want to leave home."

Her voice was muffled; that unnamed anger had faded at some point—though she didn't know if it was gone, or merely buried deeper.

"I stayed at my classmate's house for many days. I didn't go to school—just sat alone, quietly."

She continued recounting her past: "I don't remember which day it was, but somehow her parents contacted the school, the school told him where I was, and then he came to my door."

"That was probably the first time I saw him so wretched, his eye circles as dark as a ghost's, his beard unshaven, his hair uncombed, and he hadn't even worn the formal suit he'd worn all year; he just showed up in a tacky jacket."

"He said, 'Let's go home,' and I thought, we've already come to this point; what reason do I have to go back with you?"

"But seeing him like that, I don't know why my heart softened—pity? Or grievance? Before I knew it, I had, as if by a ghost's guidance, taken his hand."

"Since then, it's been like this: I hardly pay him any attention, and he, as if making up for something, seemed to become a 'good father,' but that's all."

She spoke until here, and as if the words she wanted to say had finally ended, dissolving some emotion, she let out a long sigh and her speech slowed down.

"That's it; it ends here."

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

Xia Liang did not answer immediately. She had loosened her grip on the quilt at some point, and seemed to have remembered something, looking somewhat 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; for a long time, the sound of even breathing came from Lin Xiaolu's bed, leaving only Xia Liang awake, lying on the mattress on the floor.

She did not fuss over the clothes that were a bit tight on her body, nor did she mind the floor mattress she and Lin Xiaolu had made together, which ultimately turned out to be quite lousy.

She seemed to say something, but only she herself could hear that sentence.

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