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墨書 Inktalez
Thirty years ago...
Mu Qingchen carried a worn-out bag while his newlywed wife held an oiled paper umbrella. They emerged from the train station, with his wife tightly linking her arm with his. This couple, leaving their hometown, began their urban life in a kitchen filled with greasy smoke.
Twenty years ago...
Their son was five years old, and the small shop was thriving. The family had managed to establish themselves in the city, enduring one of the toughest times together. They took turns lighting the fire, selecting vegetables, and cooking. After a long day, when they finally wiped the sweat from their brows, they would find their son asleep on the dining table. At those moments, he would feel a pang of guilt as he cradled his son in his arms, watching his wife count a drawer full of coins stained with sweat. The happiness that surged from deep within was irreplaceable.
Yes, those were also the happiest times. He remembered how often their son would be left in the back kitchen, playing with makeshift toys made from carrots and yam eggs. As he played, he would nibble on raw lettuce and get dirt all over himself. As he grew a little older, he learned to peel garlic and sort vegetables. His favorite thing was to quietly stand behind his father while he cooked, tugging at his dad's apron until he smiled down at him. Then, with a beaming grin, their son would carefully wipe the sweat from his father's forehead. Once done, he would turn to look at his mother and exclaim loudly, "You stink! You smell like scallions!"
Ten years ago...
The First Wife had passed away, and their son had become unruly. One day he received notice that his son had skipped school. Determined to discipline him harshly, he searched for this rebellious child for a day and night without success. Finally, it dawned on him to check the cemetery; it was the third anniversary of the First Wife's death. When he rushed there, he found his son asleep against a gravestone, tears still on his face from spending the night with his deceased mother.
In that moment, Mu Qingchen hid away, slapping himself hard across the face as tears streamed down just like his son's.
It was then that he made the difficult decision to send his son abroad.
Now...
The car came to a stop; decades felt like a fleeting moment. In the blink of an eye, Mu Qingchen was already over fifty. Rubbing his tired eyes, he recalled his late First Wife—the one who had shared hardships with him but never got to grow old together. What lingered were familial ties and worries; how could one let go of the affection she left behind for her husband and son?
As memories flooded back, he reflected on his mistakes. Yes, just as Dr. Feng had said, he had missed the best time to care for his son. Perhaps the problem truly lay with him; out of guilt and difficulty in expressing himself, he had indeed grown distant from his son. As the saying goes: if a child is not taught well, it is the father's fault. His son's current state was largely his responsibility.
"I should have a good talk with him... No matter how he sees me... it doesn't matter... But he can't ruin himself like this... Yes, I should speak to him personally..."
Mu Qingchen thought to himself, and then made up his mind. He started the car and drove towards the community.
In the dreary rain, filled with self-reproach and a mix of sadness and happiness, Old Mu slowly approached Binhai City, Sichuan Road Green Garden Community. This was a property he had purchased years ago, which had appreciated more than double in value. His previous plans had been perfect; the house was ready for when his son grew up, got married, and started his own family. He believed that would fulfill his duties as a father for this lifetime.
But plans never keep up with changes. He didn't even dare to transfer the property into his son's name, fearing that this irresponsible child would quickly mortgage the house for cash and ruin everything.
Sighing, Old Mu climbed the stairs, shaking his head. The thought of his son starting a family brought back his worries. At first, he feared that his son would be led astray by that Unethical Woman, but later he realized he had worried unnecessarily. His son was even more shameless than those Unethical Women, frequently bringing home strangers and never showing any attachment.
How did life turn out like this?
As he exited the elevator, he paused. Old Mu was stirred by these troubling thoughts, feeling a surge of frustration. He tried to calm himself, afraid that if he saw his son, he would end up scolding him again—something that would solve nothing. The strained relationship between them had lasted for a long time; today, he absolutely could not let history repeat itself.
After calming himself for a while and noticing it was almost noon—about the time his son should be waking up—he approached the door and knocked. There was no response. Taking out his keys, he opened the door directly. As soon as he stepped in, a scream pierced the air. A half-naked figure on the sofa startled him—a strange woman was sitting there drinking water. She screamed at the sudden intrusion of Old Mu and wrapped herself in a blanket, shouting, "Who are you? How did you get into my house?"
Old Mu turned back for a moment and saw the girl with disheveled hair and pale skin. Realizing he had encountered another one of those overnight guests again, he irritably replied, "Who are you? Didn't anyone tell you this is my house?"
The girl looked confused and shouted towards the bedroom, "Xiao Mu! Xiao Mu! Who is this?"
"Ah? What’s wrong, Huan Huan…"
His son's voice came from the bedroom, followed by Mulin Shen rushing out in nothing but shorts. Seeing his father at the door made him angry as he said, "Dad, when will you learn to respect other people's privacy? You can't just barge in like that."
"I'm your dad! Shouldn't you be respecting me instead? What do you have that deserves my respect? Bringing a girl home for the night like this? Who is she? Did you pick her up at a bar?" Old Mu's anger flared.
The girl rolled her eyes while Xiao Mu seized on his father's words to retort, "Dad, you're wrong! You're completely wrong… You always stubbornly cling to your mistakes."
"Wrong?" Old Mu felt dizzy from what he heard.
"Of course, do I need to tell you? But you have to learn to respect my privacy from now on," Xiao Mu said seriously.
"Wrong? Are you discussing ideals and exploring life?" Old Mu retorted angrily.
"Heh heh, come out, Doudou." With a snap of his fingers, another head popped out from the bedroom—a girl with short hair, not just one, but a pair. Xiao Mu proudly stated, "Your mistake is that I brought back two Ruhua to enjoy some fun, not just one... Dad, if you're feeling awkward, you can avoid this."
"What? Avoid?" Old Mu was furious, his eyes blazing with anger as he shouted, "Get lost!"
In his rage, the three were startled. Seeing that Old Mu was genuinely angry, Xiao Mu awkwardly shrugged and pointed to the bedroom. The two girls hurriedly searched for their clothes amidst the chaos in the bedroom and living room. Old Mu was even more infuriated, pacing angrily on the balcony. At that moment, he had completely forgotten about calmly communicating; all he felt was a surge of anger, wishing he could grab this unfilial son and give him a good beating.
After a moment, the three hastily dressed and were about to run out when Old Mu yelled at his son, "Stop! Let them go... what kind of girls are you looking for?"
"Hey, old man, why are you cursing?" the short-haired girl snapped back.
"Exactly! We’re here to keep you company," the long-haired girl added defiantly.
"Alright, alright, maintain some decorum; don’t argue with an old man... Doudou, I’ll find you later... Huan Huan, let’s set up another date..." Xiao Mu said as he wrapped an arm around each girl and ushered them out. He was worried that this guy would slip away again. Behind him, Old Mu shouted, "Don’t run off! Come here; I need to talk to you."
Xiao Mu took a few steps but then turned back, leaning against the door. He pouted his lips and flicked a strand of dyed gray hair off his forehead. His handsome face now carried a hint of mischief as he said nonchalantly, "Dad, since you let me live here, you should give me some personal space. In foreign countries, if you dare invade someone else's space, the consequences can be severe."
"Understand this: this is our country... I spent millions sending you abroad only for you to come back with a fake diploma and learn a bit of this?" Old Mu replied angrily.
"Abrahay, how could it possibly be a fake diploma?" Xiao Mu shot back fluently in English.
"Don’t think I don’t know; that’s a diploma from a diploma mill—completely useless," Mu Qingchen shouted.
"Yeah, but even diploma mills are universities; that's an authentic diploma from a diploma mill—definitely not fake... Besides, you agreed to let me go; don’t blame me later for your confusion," Xiao Mu provoked Old Mu. The two glared at each other like sworn enemies.
"Alright, alright, now you're teaching me a lesson. Am I your father, or are you mine?" Mu Qingchen said, feeling a surge of frustration.
Xiao Mu grinned, showing no concern as he replied, "Look at what you're saying. Being a dad is so hard; why don't you take over?"
His son's disdain nearly brought tears to Mu Qingchen's eyes. His voice trembled as he spoke, "I was planning to have a serious talk with you today... Your dad has owed you from the last life. After all these years of providing for your needs and indulging in your vices, shouldn't that be settled by now? Is this how you talk to your father? Tell me... how much more do you think I owe you?"
"Legally speaking... you still owe me a substantial inheritance," Xiao Mu said thoughtfully, his tone serious.
Old Mu was so enraged that he collapsed onto the sofa, his face pale and breathing rapid. Just as he picked up the fruit plate, unable to contain his anger any longer, he hurled it across the room. Xiao Mu quickly turned and dashed out, shutting the door behind him.
The sound of the fruit plate shattering echoed as Old Mu roared, "Get lost! Don't let me see you again!"
As usual, their argument ended with Mulin Shen slipping away and Mu Qingchen fuming. Based on past experiences, Mu Qingchen knew that this troublesome son would likely seek refuge with his friends for a few days, waiting for him to cool off before sneaking back in—or worse, trying to find money before he calmed down and pinning it all on him as the father.
What could Mu Qingchen do? He understood that when the time came, he would have to let it go and smile bitterly. Dr. Feng said he didn't understand his son's psychology, but did this son ever comprehend the struggles of being a father?
It was an unsolvable dilemma. Mu Qingchen stood up silently, tidied the sofa, and swept up the broken fruit plate while sighing heavily. Feeling disheartened, he meticulously cleaned the living room. When he opened the study door, he paused for a moment as warmth surged from deep within him. This was the room he had specially designed for his son—a space created through years of hard work transitioning from Master to Boss. He had once discussed with his first wife about providing their child with a good environment so that he wouldn't have to endure the hardships of their generation.
Yet today, why did Mu Qingchen feel even more miserable?
"At least this kid still has some conscience."
Mu Qingchen thought quietly as he looked at the spotless room. The bookshelf was neatly organized, and on the desk lay a photo of their family of three. He sat down gently and caressed the frame, noticing how well-maintained it was; despite its age, it shone brightly.
He suddenly felt a wave of loneliness wash over him. This was an unresolved emotional knot; his son was to him what a mother is to her child—something that could never return to how it once was.
Setting down the frame without a word, he felt a heaviness in his heart. Perhaps this carefully arranged room had backfired, only increasing his son's resentment towards him. He softly closed the door behind him and prepared to leave, his mind in turmoil as he recalled Dr. Feng's proposed plan. But how could any father bear to impose such a cruel scheme on their child?
"No, absolutely not..." he murmured to himself. He thought that if he did that, even First Wife would never forgive him. He gently stepped out of the tidy room and sat down on the sofa, lost in the memories of past happiness and the current embarrassment. He couldn't quite articulate why, but every time it came to father and son, it always ended up like this.
As he pondered, his gaze inadvertently fell to the floor beneath the coffee table, where a small bag peeked out. His thoughts snapped back to reality as he recalled his greatest fear. He took a deep breath, trying to identify the scent in the room that he had overlooked—a series of faint fragrances. Then, in a fit of madness, he kicked the coffee table aside and saw a small sealed bag along with a crystal-clear pipe.
!
He stared in shock, suddenly Understood why no one answered the door earlier; why that girl on the sofa seemed a bit high; and why his son, who usually couldn't be bothered to talk to him, had said so much today... Everything was meant to cover up this thing, to make him furious and storm out.
There was so much—at least ten grams. Old Mu trembled as he held it, his legs feeling weak as he rushed to the bathroom. He tossed it into the sink, lit it, and waited for the thick smoke to rise and burn away. Mechanically, he turned on the faucet to wash it all away. Then he slumped onto the bathroom floor like all his strength had been drained from him, staring blankly ahead without moving.
After a long time, he finally managed to get up. He paced back and forth in the room repeatedly, slapping his forehead over and over again. Eventually, he sat down in the study and looked at First Wife's kind and loving face. He could no longer find a reason to compromise with himself, just like when he had resolutely decided to send his underage son abroad years ago, wanting him to leave this place of sorrow.
He caressed the photo and murmured, "Shufen, don't blame me for being heartless. I would rather he hate me for a lifetime than let him ruin his own life."
He took out his phone and searched for Dr. Feng Changxiang's number. After dialing it, he spoke softly:
"Dr. Feng, I'm entrusting you with my son's matter; I agree. No matter what method you use or where you send him."
He discussed things with Dr. Feng over the phone while gently placing the frame back down.
His hand trembled as he did so, just like his heart trembled when he made this decision...
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