Chapter 14

The next day, my mother woke up early and went to the market.

Because she often bought seafood, the stall owner enthusiastically promoted his wares as soon as she arrived, saying the shrimp today were large and fresh.

“I guarantee your daughter will love them.”

My mother said blankly, “My daughter is allergic to seafood.”

The stall owner gave her a strange look but said nothing, turning to serve other customers.

My mother, carrying a bamboo basket, wandered among the vegetable stalls.

She picked up a carrot, then put it down.

She picked up a green pepper, then put it down.

Her actions were so strange.

That the stall owner tactfully suggested, “What dish are you planning to make? I can recommend something.”

I watched her stand there, struggling to remember, her eyes filled with confusion.

Suddenly, I understood.

She didn’t know what I liked to eat.

Growing up, I never had the privilege of ordering dishes like Xu Jiao, nor was I a picky eater like Xu Ze.

I had no choice. I always ate whatever she cooked.

Finally, the stall owner took a small bamboo basket from the cabinet below and pushed it towards my mother.

“Fresh wild wood ear mushrooms from Zhoucheng, just arrived today. Want to buy some to cook with meat?”

Zhoucheng.

Wood ear mushrooms.

These two words must have been like a sharp knife piercing her nerves. My mother clutched a small handful of mushrooms, suddenly bent over, and tears streamed down her face.

“Taotao.”

“Taotao.”

She had called me by this intimate name to my face only a handful of times.

But now that I was dead, how could I hear it?

She bought nothing and returned home with an empty bamboo basket.

After sitting in a daze for a while, she got up and called Xu Jiao.

Her tone was cold. “You gave up the piano after half a year. If you still want it, I’ll have someone send it to your place. If not, I’ll have the junk collectors take it away.”

Xu Jiao suddenly burst into tears.

She sobbed, “Mother, what are you doing? Just because I’m married, does that mean I’m no longer a daughter of this family, that I don’t deserve to have a room here?”

“Your bedroom will be kept for you,” my mother said expressionlessly. “I’m clearing out Xu Tao’s room.”

Xu Jiao fell silent.

One cannot predict the future.

The call I made to her before I died, the one she declined, didn’t make her responsible for my death.

But it made her position in this family very delicate.

My mother acted quickly.

The piano room was emptied the next morning.

She wandered through the furniture market, trying to find a bed and wardrobe identical to the ones that had been thrown away.

But in the end, she couldn’t find exact matches.

She took my clothes, reeking of a musty smell, from the storeroom, spread them out one by one, and hung them in the wardrobe.

There weren’t many.

Besides, they were all from my school days. Even if I were alive, I wouldn’t be able to wear them.

Then she went out, found a craftsman at a jewelry store, had the bracelet repaired as best as possible, and wore it on her wrist.

My memorial photo was placed in the room. The first thing my mother did every morning was to go in and wipe it clean.

I didn’t understand what she was trying to do.

Was it compensation?

Or was she trying to ease her own conscience?

When I was alive, I had desperately craved her love.

Even a little bit would have been enough.

But to receive it only after death.

I floated around the room in a state of agitation, wanting to sweep the books off the shelf, to rip the new bedsheets and covers off the bed and throw them away.

To point at her and scream hurtful things, just as we had done in countless arguments before.

Stop your pretense, Mother.

Fabricating the illusion of loving me to alleviate your own guilt.

Have you started to believe it yourself?

But I couldn’t say it.

And even if I could, she wouldn’t hear me.

For the first time, I realized how cruel it was to exist as a soul.

When would I be able to dissipate and be reincarnated?

Or would I be forever trapped in this state, in this home that was not mine?

Watching their happy lives with cold detachment.

Fortunately, an answer came soon.