Chapter 02
*
By evening, I served dinner and approached Shen Weilin with patience.
"Mr. Shen," I said gently, "the meal is ready."
Finally, his hardened expression softened slightly as he glanced at me.
"Today I found an old wedding photograph in the bedroom," he said with vexation. "I don’t know who keeps playing such cruel tricks, but I hope never to see something like that again."
My throat tightened. I nodded silently.
After a pause, he asked, "And what was your name again?"
For a second, hope flickered. Did he remember?
"My name is Su Lanying," I told him calmly. "I’m just the housekeeper here."
He nodded in faint approval. "I can’t find the wedding photos of me and Yulan. Have the children come by this weekend. I want them to help me look."
Again, I nodded, then excused myself to the balcony where I dialed my son.
"Haoran," I asked, "isn’t there some kind of computer technique these days that lets you put someone’s face into a photo?"
Confused, he answered, "Yes, that’s called editing. Mom, why are you asking?"
"Make one for your father. A wedding photo with him and Zhao Yulan. Bring it home this weekend."
Silence fell on the line for a long time.
At last, my son’s trembling voice broke through. "Mom, I asked a professor, and he said if Dad developed this illness so young, there’s still a chance doctors might reverse it. Please, don’t lose hope. We’ll find a way."
I gave a soft laugh, though my eyes burned. "Alright, Haoran. I trust you."
When I hung up, I lingered there for a long time before forcing myself back inside.
That night, as always, Shen Weilin sat up reading, his calm voice murmuring aloud to the rustling of newspapers. I placed tea by his hand and picked up my knitting. The steady rhythm of his reading lulled me. Before I knew it, I had fallen asleep.
And then, voices filled the air.
In my drowsy state, I heard him. He was speaking to Yulan, not to me, laughing quietly about little things abroad, details I didn’t fully understand but recognized from the joy in his voice.
Her laughter chimed in. "And look at Su Lanying, still sleeping after so long, like a little dormouse, isn’t she?"
A soft chuckle escaped him, warm, low, unmistakably tender. Then something draped over me, a blanket.
"She and Yan Ming were out catching cicadas half the night yesterday," he explained lightly.
"They must be very close," Yulan smiled. "Next time, you must let them invite me too. I’m dying of boredom."
The voices blurred with my mother’s sudden scolding tone. "Miss, forgive us this silly girl fell asleep right here."
And I heard his gentle reply: "Auntie Su, don’t wake her. Let her rest."
My heart pounded. I dared not continue pretending. Opening my eyes, I was met with the deep, warm gaze of Shen Weilin.
Darkness fell at once the power had gone out.
Someone downstairs cursed, "Not again."
Panic struck me. I knew that as a boy, he had once fallen into a deep pit and spent a full day trapped in darkness. From then on, he loathed it.
Blindly, I reached for him. "Young Master, don’t be afraid. I’m here."
The hand I found was no longer the smooth hand of our youth but rougher, threaded with age. And yet, it was real. My heart burned.
Surprisingly, Shen Weilin did not push me away.
When the lights returned, we found our eyes locking again, conflicted and wordless.
Heat rose in my cheeks; I hurriedly pulled my hand back and bent over my knitting as if nothing had happened.
After some silence, he spoke again. "Do you know Yulan well?"
I froze, lifting my head cautiously.
He looked lost, troubled. "How long have you been here? Can you tell me something about her? I can’t remember our life after marriage."
I steadied myself, weaving my words as if stitching his broken memory.
"Yulan was kind always smiling. She was warm, fearless, and one of the brightest women I’ve ever known. Her singing was beautiful. She even gave up a prestigious job overseas to return and teach children in rural villages. Many of her students went on to extraordinary lives."
Shen Weilin leaned in, listening intently, as though he could touch the ghost of her through my voice.
"You and she were childhood friends. After marriage, you loved one another deeply. You often wrote poetry for her. Together you traveled across mountains and rivers. She gave you a son and a daughter. The children were your pride."
For a long moment, he sighed. "So we were truly that happy?"
I nodded, lowering my gaze. "Yes. You loved her. With every part of your soul."
"Mr. Shen," I said gently, "the meal is ready."
Finally, his hardened expression softened slightly as he glanced at me.
"Today I found an old wedding photograph in the bedroom," he said with vexation. "I don’t know who keeps playing such cruel tricks, but I hope never to see something like that again."
My throat tightened. I nodded silently.
After a pause, he asked, "And what was your name again?"
For a second, hope flickered. Did he remember?
"My name is Su Lanying," I told him calmly. "I’m just the housekeeper here."
He nodded in faint approval. "I can’t find the wedding photos of me and Yulan. Have the children come by this weekend. I want them to help me look."
Again, I nodded, then excused myself to the balcony where I dialed my son.
"Haoran," I asked, "isn’t there some kind of computer technique these days that lets you put someone’s face into a photo?"
Confused, he answered, "Yes, that’s called editing. Mom, why are you asking?"
"Make one for your father. A wedding photo with him and Zhao Yulan. Bring it home this weekend."
Silence fell on the line for a long time.
At last, my son’s trembling voice broke through. "Mom, I asked a professor, and he said if Dad developed this illness so young, there’s still a chance doctors might reverse it. Please, don’t lose hope. We’ll find a way."
I gave a soft laugh, though my eyes burned. "Alright, Haoran. I trust you."
When I hung up, I lingered there for a long time before forcing myself back inside.
That night, as always, Shen Weilin sat up reading, his calm voice murmuring aloud to the rustling of newspapers. I placed tea by his hand and picked up my knitting. The steady rhythm of his reading lulled me. Before I knew it, I had fallen asleep.
And then, voices filled the air.
In my drowsy state, I heard him. He was speaking to Yulan, not to me, laughing quietly about little things abroad, details I didn’t fully understand but recognized from the joy in his voice.
Her laughter chimed in. "And look at Su Lanying, still sleeping after so long, like a little dormouse, isn’t she?"
A soft chuckle escaped him, warm, low, unmistakably tender. Then something draped over me, a blanket.
"She and Yan Ming were out catching cicadas half the night yesterday," he explained lightly.
"They must be very close," Yulan smiled. "Next time, you must let them invite me too. I’m dying of boredom."
The voices blurred with my mother’s sudden scolding tone. "Miss, forgive us this silly girl fell asleep right here."
And I heard his gentle reply: "Auntie Su, don’t wake her. Let her rest."
My heart pounded. I dared not continue pretending. Opening my eyes, I was met with the deep, warm gaze of Shen Weilin.
Darkness fell at once the power had gone out.
Someone downstairs cursed, "Not again."
Panic struck me. I knew that as a boy, he had once fallen into a deep pit and spent a full day trapped in darkness. From then on, he loathed it.
Blindly, I reached for him. "Young Master, don’t be afraid. I’m here."
The hand I found was no longer the smooth hand of our youth but rougher, threaded with age. And yet, it was real. My heart burned.
Surprisingly, Shen Weilin did not push me away.
When the lights returned, we found our eyes locking again, conflicted and wordless.
Heat rose in my cheeks; I hurriedly pulled my hand back and bent over my knitting as if nothing had happened.
After some silence, he spoke again. "Do you know Yulan well?"
I froze, lifting my head cautiously.
He looked lost, troubled. "How long have you been here? Can you tell me something about her? I can’t remember our life after marriage."
I steadied myself, weaving my words as if stitching his broken memory.
"Yulan was kind always smiling. She was warm, fearless, and one of the brightest women I’ve ever known. Her singing was beautiful. She even gave up a prestigious job overseas to return and teach children in rural villages. Many of her students went on to extraordinary lives."
Shen Weilin leaned in, listening intently, as though he could touch the ghost of her through my voice.
"You and she were childhood friends. After marriage, you loved one another deeply. You often wrote poetry for her. Together you traveled across mountains and rivers. She gave you a son and a daughter. The children were your pride."
For a long moment, he sighed. "So we were truly that happy?"
I nodded, lowering my gaze. "Yes. You loved her. With every part of your soul."
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