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墨書 Inktalez
My son and daughter-in-law anxiously searched for me, hoping I would hurry back home.
With furrowed brows, they lamented to me that without my presence, their father did nothing, leaving the house in chaos.
Their voices carried a plea, but to my ears, it sounded so hypocritical.
I responded calmly, "Haven't you always complained about me? You think I’m a burden, that I don’t work and earn money. Now that I’m not at home, isn’t this exactly what you wanted?"
My son and daughter-in-law fell silent, a hint of guilt flickering in their eyes, but it was quickly overshadowed by their selfishness.
I continued, "Your father has always been like this; you know it but choose to ignore it. You believe his wealth will eventually be yours. But the moment someone threatens your inheritance, you panic."
I had struck a nerve, and they looked down in silence. I told them that I now had a new direction in life and that they should respect my choices.
In the end, I sent them away with their tails between their legs.
As they left, they shot a fierce glare at Xiaohua, blaming her.
Xiaohua stood fearfully behind me. I walked over to her, smiled, and reassured her not to be afraid; she was my strong support.
Thanks to her today, I didn’t soften my heart. Xiaohua hugged me tightly and expressed her relief that I had remained resolute. After a lifetime of toil, I had suffered enough and deserved to live this way.
I nodded seriously, my heart filled with gratitude.
Just then, the doorbell rang again. This time, it was my old companion, leaning on a cane, tears streaming down his face as he walked in. His beard was unkempt, his hair disheveled, and he had lost a considerable amount of weight.
He approached me, tears flowing freely, grasping my hand and pleading for me to return. He said that only when I was by his side did he feel safe enough to live.
I looked at him coldly and asked, "What about your white moonlight?" He told me he had called her, but she said she didn't want to talk to him and referred to him as her backup.
With a sorrowful expression, he said he had always believed he was her one true love. They had communicated regularly, and she had never rejected him. He constantly professed his love for her and claimed he could never forget her. Every time she turned him down, he thought it was just her being coy. He had never doubted her.
As he spoke, his voice choked with emotion; he was so heartbroken that he forgot he had come to plead with me to return. He kept reminiscing about his times with Wang Nan.
He pulled out old letters we had exchanged, all written in her handwriting. He insisted that she loved him and would always love him.
I took the letters from his hands; indeed, they were in his handwriting, but the content was solely from him—there were no mutual exchanges. He was merely deceiving himself!
Desperately clutching at straws, he pointed to each letter and said, "Look at this letter; I wrote it to her, and she said she loved me. This one too—I told her I missed her, and she said she missed me even more."
I replied calmly, "Stop deceiving yourself." He froze in disbelief as he looked at me. I told him that these letters were all written by him; they were not correspondence between them. They had never communicated at all—he had been lying to himself all along.
He stood there stunned, shock and confusion filling his eyes. He asked me, "Why didn't she tell me?" I looked at him, my heart heavy with sorrow. He had been living in a web of lies of his own making, unwilling to face the reality before him.
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