allonlinenovel Chapter 1043 Letter
Chapter 1043 Letter
Yusuke Ichijo took a deep breath to calm the jumbled thoughts in his mind.
Holding the rolled-up paper with tweezers, he walked behind his desk, sat down, took out a pair of white silk gloves from the drawer and put them on, then took out a clean sheet of white paper and laid it on the table.
Then, as if defusing a deadly bomb fuse, he used tweezers and another fine needle to very carefully, little by little, begin to pry open the tight roll of paper.
The paper was rolled tightly, with some wear on the edges, indicating that it had been secretly kept for a long time.
The paper was small, about the size of two palms, and as thin as a cicada's wing, yet it was densely covered with writing, so densely packed that it looked as if it were crawling with ants.
The handwriting was extremely small, written with a very fine pen, requiring one to concentrate and strain to decipher it.
It was written in Chinese, which Yusuke was fluent in, and it wasn't in printed font; it was a smooth handwriting with a touch of feminine elegance.
He bent down, brought the paper close, and began to examine it intently.
This appears to be a text message, or rather, a message to her husband and daughter.
Judging from the fluency of the handwriting and the tone, the writer should be Li Shouren's wife, Xiu'e, the mother of the girl named Xiaojuan, who wrote it in a relatively calm but emotionally complex state.
The letter begins with warmth and reluctance, like a mother's final blessings and instructions to her husband and daughter before embarking on an unknown and perilous journey, filled with an intense and unyielding affection.
"Shouren, my love, Xiaojuan, my precious darling: "
By the time you read this letter, I may have already gone to a very, very far place.
There might be wind in that place, but it doesn't have the warm, damp breeze that wafts along the Qinhuai River in Nanjing.
There may be light, but it's not the warm sunlight that shines through our winter windows.
Don't worry about me, Mom will try her best to be okay. You all need to be okay too, you must be okay.
Nanjing is where our roots are, it is our home.
Every inch of this land is imbued with so many of our memories, like pearls scattered in time. Stringed together, they form the most precious days of our family's life.
Shouren, do you still remember me?
That spring, the flowers bloomed beside the big willow tree by Xuanwu Lake, a pink and white expanse, like clouds falling from the sky.
We rented a small covered boat by the lake and drifted on the wind in the middle of the lake.
Little Juan was only three years old then, wearing the new little red jacket I made for her. She was lying on the edge of the boat, stretching out her chubby little hands, trying to scoop up flower petals from the water. You were so startled that you quickly pulled her into your arms. The lake water was a beautiful turquoise, reflecting the smiling faces of you and your daughter.
In summer, the lake is full of lotus flowers, and the layers of lotus leaves spread out as far as the eye can see. We hide in the shade of the lotus leaves and listen to the faint lotus picking songs coming from afar. Xiao Juan is asleep in the cabin, with fine beads of sweat on the tip of her nose. We can also see fish swimming in the middle of the lake.
On summer evenings, we loved to move our bamboo chairs and stools to the old locust tree next to the Confucius Temple, a tree that had lived for who knows how many years.
The tree canopy is like a giant green umbrella, blocking out the sun.
The neighbors gathered there, fanning themselves with palm-leaf fans and chatting about everyday matters.
Your father, Shouren, would sit in that well-worn rattan chair, telling Xiaojuan those old stories he'd told countless times, like Sun Wukong's havoc in Heaven and Nezha's battle with the Dragon King.
Xiao Juan always listened intently, her little face tilted up, her eyes sparkling, not even noticing when a mosquito bit her leg.
I went to a nearby stall and bought a bowl of chilled osmanthus-flavored sweet rice balls. We shared it, and the sweet aroma of the glutinous rice and the rich fragrance of the osmanthus still seem to linger on our lips and teeth.
You must visit Qixia Mountain in autumn.
The red leaves covering the mountains and fields, layer upon layer, stretched from the foot of the mountain all the way to the top, like a sky ablaze with fire, or like the sunset that had accidentally fallen to earth.
We walked up the stone steps, and Xiao Juan, like a happy little deer, skipped and jumped ahead, picking up the leaves she thought were the prettiest.
You always patiently followed behind her, telling her which patch was sweetgum and which was tallow tree. Reaching the mountaintop, watching the Yangtze River meander like a golden ribbon into the distance, the three of us stood there quietly, feeling all our worries vanish.
In winter, Nanjing is cold and damp. Inside the house, a heater is lit, and the orange-red flames leap and warm the whole house.
Thick, strangely shaped frost flowers covered the windows, and Xiao Juan always liked to draw on them with her fingers.
I was busy in the kitchen, kneading glutinous rice flour, filling it with sesame and red bean paste, and cooking a big pot of hot, soft and chewy glutinous rice balls.
We sat around the small dining table, the steam rising from the bowls, making our faces feel hot.
Xiao Juan eats very quickly and often burns her tongue with the scalding hot filling. She blows on it frantically, looking both adorable and pitiful.
Shouren, how I wish that these peaceful, mundane yet down-to-earth happy days could flow on like the Qinhuai River, endlessly, until Xiaojuan grows up, until we are old and gray.
My expectations for Xiaojuan are actually quite simple.
I don't ask her to be rich or powerful, I only wish her a peaceful and happy life.
I hope she can grow up smoothly and have the opportunity to go to that modern school near the Drum Tower, the one with two big pine trees at the entrance, to study hard, learn to read and write, understand principles, and become a knowledgeable and insightful girl, instead of being like her mother, spending her whole life around the stove.
When she gets older, I hope she can meet someone who truly treats her well, someone with a gentle temperament and who knows how to care for others.
You two can work together to set up a decent home in Xinjiekou. It doesn't need to be big, but it should be clean and bright. It would be best if you could plant a crabapple or pomegranate tree in the yard.
Then, she and her beloved had children and lived out their lives peacefully.
This is the best future a mother can imagine.
But, Shouren, the world has changed.
If... I mean if, one day, Nanjing is no longer peaceful, filled with the sounds of gunfire, or some unexpected calamity befalls you, you must, you absolutely must remember to protect yourselves.
In some places, it might come in handy in times of crisis.
In the south of the city, at the foot of the old city wall on the east side of Zhonghua Gate, in a place overgrown with weeds, there is an air-raid shelter dug in the early years. The entrance is half buried by collapsed soil and rocks, making it very hidden, but the space inside is quite large. When I was a child, I took Xiaojuan there to collect firewood.
About three miles east of Xiaguan Wharf in the north of the city, there is a large, dense reed marsh by the river. In spring and summer, the reeds can grow to more than a person's height, forming a natural barrier. There is an abandoned fisherman's hut in the middle. Although it is dilapidated, it can barely provide shelter from the wind and rain, and it is especially easy to hide in during the summer.
On the southern slope of Purple Mountain, not on the main road, turn left from behind the observatory dormitory. There is a moss-covered gravel path that winds its way up. After walking for about the time it takes to burn an incense stick, you will see a cave hidden by vines. The entrance is very small, but the inside is a hidden world. Very few people know about it. It was discovered by your father when he took me to collect herbs.
Also, inside Zhonghua Gate, near the Qinhuai River wharf, walk along the alley of 'Renhe Lane' all the way to the very end, there is a family surnamed Zhou. The wooden door is painted black, and there are two small stone blocks at the door. The head of the family, Brother Zhou, is a carpenter. He is a kind and honest person. When we first moved here, they helped us a lot. They are trustworthy.
In addition, on the west side of Yuhuatai, near Andemen, there is an old man who sells Yuhua stones at his stall all year round. Everyone calls him "Old Man Stone". He has a dark complexion and a face full of wrinkles, like an old walnut. He is an honest man with a kind heart. Sometimes when people pass by and ask for a bowl of water, he will always give it to them.
Sigh, look at me, I've been rambling on and on about so many places.
In fact, these places are all treasures of our Nanjing city. Each place holds the stories of our ordinary people, the chance to survive, and the warmth and coldness of human relationships.
Shouren, you're a decisive person, and you know more than I do.
I'm writing this down in the hope that, in case... in case something unexpected happens, these fragmented memories, like stars in the night sky, even if they're just a tiny glimmer, can point you in the right direction, or rather, leave you with something to remember me by.
Shouren, my husband, no matter what, please, please take good care of our Xiaojuan.
She is my life, and also your root.
Xiao Juan, my darling, you must be obedient, strong, eat well, and grow up well.
No matter what happens in the future, even if the sky falls, you two, father and daughter, must support each other, grit your teeth, and live on.
Live well.
Perhaps... perhaps one day, after all the storms have passed, after the sky has completely cleared, and the sun shines warmly again on the bluestone path in front of our shop, we... perhaps we can meet again under the sycamore tree in the backyard, where it will be covered in small purple flowers in spring.
"I will love you forever and ever. Xiu'e."