Chapter 13

The clock hands turned back one month.

After that phone call, the next day at work, my colleague in the next cubicle told me she was pregnant.

“I hope it’s a girl,” she said, her hand resting on her still-flat belly, a gentle smile on her lips. “I love daughters the most.”

“I’ve been craving oranges since I got pregnant, so we’ll call her ‘Chengzi’ (Orange) for her nickname.”

She was the most dynamic career woman in our department.

But when she spoke of her child, her expression was a serene gentleness I had never seen before.

Noticing me staring, she turned to me. “Xu Tao, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I shook my head.

That night, I had a dream. I dreamt of the time before I was born.

My mother found out she was pregnant and gently cradled her belly, just like my colleague.

She said, “Taotao, let’s call her Taotao. I’ve been craving peaches so much while pregnant with you.”

It was the love I had imagined, the love I had dreamed of.

I went to see the doctor again.

He said, “If you can’t move forward, try going back.”

Some things could no longer be cured by medication.

They had become demons that trapped my heart.

I went and bought that gold bracelet.

My mother’s birthday was in two months.

The salesclerk asked with a smile, “Would you like to write a birthday card for your mother?”

I said yes and took the pen from her.

I thought, I’ll try one more time.

Just one more time.

Now, I was not an ignorant child, and she was growing old and frail.

Perhaps we could talk.

Tragic, pitiful, hateful.

I always had hope.

Always longed for her to love me.

But there were no more chances.

In the rain that day, I answered that call.

And my fate was sealed a month in advance.

My ashes and belongings were brought home and placed in a cemetery in the suburbs.

My twin brother was also buried there.

The urn holding his ashes was very, very small.

On the day of the burial, the sky was overcast, but not a drop of rain fell.

My mother stood before my tombstone all day.

Her sorrow and regret were already beginning to show.

I thought I would feel triumphant, feel liberated.

But in reality, watching her pain, I felt only endless indifference.

All the pain and emotions of a lifetime had erupted and been spent in those few hours.

That night, after my mother returned home, she sat quietly on the sofa.

She had already retired.

Xu Ze went back to school, my father was busy at the factory, and Xu Jiao returned to her small home with Song Fei.

After this brief interlude, everyone returned to their own lives.

After a long time, my mother suddenly pulled at the corner of her lips, revealing a faint smile.

“Taotao, now, it’s just the two of us… stuck here.”