Chapter 482: Like Sister Ruqing, It

Did your dad tell you yet?

While enjoying Ying Chanxi's knee pillow, Li Luo admired the scenery before him, eating an orange segment handed over by Yan Zhusheng, and asked Ying Chanxi, "About the weekend."

"Grave-sweeping?" Ying Chanxi nodded and said, "We'll go together this year, right?"

"Yeah." Li Luo said, "Uncle Ying made it back in time, and his schedule lines up with our family's tomb-sweeping day—let's all go together. My mom will prepare everything."

"Got it." Ying Chanxi replied, then turned to Yan Zhusheng, "What are your plans for Qingming Festival, Zhusheng?"

"Huh?" Yan Zhusheng tilted his head, then shook it. "No plans."

"Then just stay home on Sunday," Li Luo said. "Xixi and I will probably head back to the countryside for dinner before returning."

"Oh, okay." Yan Zhusheng nodded obediently.

Yan Zhusheng's father passed away long ago; this was known, at least vaguely, to those close to him.

But why he had no ancestral worship plans for Qingming was less clear.

Li Luo had no habit of digging into private matters, but he harbored a faint suspicion.

Because when Yin Zhicheng had laid everything out to him, he'd mentioned a few things.

One was that when Yan Ruqing had gone to the city with Yin Zhicheng, she had cut ties with her family, emphasizing how feudal they were.

Maybe it was some arranged marriage nonsense.

Yan Ruqing was one of the rare female college students back then; once she gained exposure, she couldn't possibly accept such a loveless marriage, so she ran away with Yin Zhicheng.

By extension, Yuan Wanqing's marriage to Yan Ruqing's younger brother might have been similar.

How much affection truly existed between husband and wife was hard to say.

Especially after her husband died, she was called a harbinger of misfortune by his family, and since she gave birth to a daughter, neglect was only natural.

Once Li Luo had figured this out, he cut off Ying Chanxi's further questions, simply telling Yan Zhusheng to stay home—no need to say more.

…

After the Ningshan March ended, the Gao Er students of Fu Yi High School returned to their daily studies.

Some classmates who rarely exercised and didn't take PE seriously suffered muscle soreness for several days after returning.

But Li Luo and the other two felt nothing; due to their long-term fitness and running, a good night's sleep erased all fatigue, leaving no impact on the next morning's run.

By the weekend, Ying Chanxi accompanied Lin Xiuhong, riding in Li Guohong's car, to buy offerings and other items needed for grave-sweeping.

On Sunday, she joined Li Luo's family as they returned to Lijia Village.

In the afternoon, Yin Zhicheng arrived by car, picked up the elders from both families, then drove with Li Guohong to the cemetery.

During ancestral worship, the two families naturally paid respects separately.

But the Yin family had only moved to Yinjiang District starting with Grandpa Yin's generation, so they had no ancestors to worship—mainly, they came to honor Ying Chanxi's deceased grandmother.

As for Li Luo's family, they primarily worshipped alongside their grandparents.

Besides Li Guohong's immediate family, Li Guoru's family also came, lining up to pay respects before the Li ancestral tablets.

After the ancestral worship here concluded, Li Guoru and Li Dao drove first to take Li Luo's grandparents home.

Meanwhile, Li Guohong and his family of three went over to Yin Zhicheng's side, waiting until the Yin family finished paying respects to Ying Chanxi's grandmother, then walked together up the higher parts of the cemetery.

The cemetery they were in had been relocated two years ago; this was the new site.

Yin Zhicheng had specifically chosen a high spot for Yan Ruqing's tombstone; as the steps rose, Li Luo saw the grave of Ying Chanxi's mother.

The weather was excellent—bright sun, drifting white clouds.

Li Luo looked at the familiar yet slightly unfamiliar photo on the tombstone, then turned to look at Ying Chanxi.

Yan Ruqing had been a great beauty in her youth; Ying Chanxi's facial features resembled hers by at least seventy percent.

Especially her eyes and brows—gentle and captivating. Though Ying Chanxi was still young, a close look revealed that same unmistakable resemblance.

Li Luo's memories of Aunt Yan Ruqing had long been hazy, but thanks to his Memory Palace, he could now clearly recall his childhood recollections of her.

"When I was little, I loved coming to your house," Li Luo said softly to Ying Chanxi, staring at Yan Ruqing's photo. "Especially when I got in trouble at home and my mom chased me—I'd run to your place and hide behind Aunt Yan."

"You still remember that?" Ying Chanxi's own fading memories were reshaped by Li Luo's words; a knowing smile appeared on her face.

"I also remember Aunt Yan was strict with you. When you messed up and cried a lot, she didn't know what to do—but my mom could always calm you down," Li Luo laughed. "Back then, everyone joked that maybe we were switched at birth."

"Oh right, that happened!" Lin Xiuhong, overhearing these childhood tales, couldn't help laughing, gesturing with her hands in nostalgia. "Back then, Xixi was just this tiny thing—so adorable, crying in my arms—I'd tease her till she laughed."

"Lin Yi~" Ying Chanxi blushed slightly, embarrassed, tugging at Lin Xiuhong's arm and pouting. "Don't go into so much detail about that!"

The grave-sweeping atmosphere wasn't heavy; after all, the person was gone, and years had passed—though sentiment lingered, it mostly surfaced at other, more unexpected moments.

But Yin Zhicheng had remained silent since arriving at the grave, quietly pulling out a cloth and meticulously wiping the tombstone, even the platform in front of it.

After cleaning it, he laid newspaper on the platform, carefully arranging the offerings in order, then lit three incense sticks and two candles at the very front.

The Yin family paid respects in order of generations, then Li Luo's family stepped forward to bow as well.

Looking at Yan Ruqing's black-and-white photo on the tombstone, Li Luo silently took the three incense sticks Ying Chanxi handed him, bowed before the grave, then stepped aside.

Grandpa Yin, old and with weak legs, sat down on a nearby step to rest after paying his respects.

Li Luo and the others joined him, leaving the space before the tombstone for Yin Zhicheng and his daughter.

The two spoke quietly by the grave, roughly updating her on the past year's events.

After a while, Ying Chanxi walked over to Li Luo's group, crouched down to rest, leaving Yin Zhicheng alone by the grave.

Whatever she'd said seemed to stir deep emotion—when she returned to Li Luo's side and crouched down, her expression was noticeably downcast.

Li Luo crouched beside her, reached out, and gently stroked her head, saying nothing, simply staying quietly with her.

But Ying Chanxi turned her head toward Li Luo and whispered, "I told Mom about you just now."

"What did you say about me?" Li Luo smiled. "Did you tell her I'm in the top ten of my grade, about to overtake you?"

"Hmph." Ying Chanxi rolled her eyes. "I did mention you're top ten—but overtaking me? Not anytime soon."

"Besides, I already told you last year your grades improved."

"Mom said she always had high hopes for you—so this result isn't surprising at all."

Li Luo didn't ask where she'd heard Yan Ruqing say that—he simply followed the topic: "What else did Auntie say?"

"I told Mom about sneaking off to shoot a music video with you," Ying Chanxi whispered, "but I only mentioned the music video—Dad wouldn't catch any other meaning."

"Didn't you once say that after someone dies, they become stars in the sky, watching over their family forever?"

"So I think Mom must've understood what I meant."

"Then she told me to trust my own judgment and vision, not to hesitate or linger—just follow my heart and move forward."

"Just like how she followed Dad to the city."

As she spoke, Ying Chanxi's face grew redder, her voice quieter.

Li Luo glanced at Lin Xiuhong and the others beside him; seeing they weren't paying attention, he quietly reached out and tightly gripped Ying Chanxi's hand.

Feeling the warm strength of Li Luo's hand, Ying Chanxi's heart gradually settled; without him needing to say more, her lips already curled slightly upward, and she too gripped his palm tightly.

Two incense sticks passed in succession; Yan Zhicheng lit the third, and once this one burned out, they would leave.

Ying Chanxi stared at Yan Zhicheng, who still crouched before the tombstone, her gaze distant, and unconsciously murmured: "Dad's feelings for Mom were so deep—why did Mom leave?"

Li Luo heard this, turned to look at Ying Chanxi, saw her lips pressed tight, then glanced again at Yan Zhicheng before the tombstone—he wondered whether Yan Zhicheng had mentioned Yuan Wanqing to Yan Ruqing.

Maybe he had—but certainly not in front of Ying Chanxi.

So Li Luo paused, wanting to say something, but looked at Yan Ruqing's tombstone, then fell silent.

He'd better not meddle too much in this.

When Yan Zhicheng finally decides to reveal everything, and if Ying Chanxi's emotions seem off, he could comfort and mediate then.

When the three incense sticks finished burning, Yan Zhicheng also burned the paper money beside the grave, waited until every ember was extinguished, then stood up from the ground, whispered something to the tombstone, and walked over to Ying Chanxi.

"Let's go. Back home."

"Mm." Ying Chanxi nodded, turned back to look at the black-and-white photo on the tombstone, and softly said, "Goodbye, Mom."

In the evening, both families returned to the countryside, ate dinner, then Li Luo and Ying Chanxi followed Li Guohong back to Bihai Lanting by car.

On the other side, Yan Zhicheng, under the pretense of returning to the company, drove off alone, picked up Yuan Wanqing in the city, then came back to the cemetery.

This time, only Yan Zhicheng and Yuan Wanqing stood before Yan Ruqing's tombstone.

"Sister Ruqing, it's been a long time," Yuan Wanqing crouched before the tombstone; though outwardly a commanding, elegant celebrity, she now hugged her knees like a fragile little sister in need of comfort.

She spoke softly, recounting many things, remembering when she first came to Yan Ruqing—that turning point in fate that redirected her life as a rural girl onto an entirely different path.

"Should we visit Haiyang's grave?" After Yuan Wanqing finished speaking, Yan Zhicheng fell silent again, then asked.

Yuan Wanqing froze, memories of unpleasant moments flashing through her mind; she shook her head: "Never mind. It's all over. No need."