Chapter 23 (Part 2)

  The train had passed through the tunnel and the carriage was bright. I asked Zhou Yueyue: "Do you want to ask him for an autograph?"

  Zhou Yu thought for a moment and said, "I have a white down vest in my bag. If I ask him to sign his name on it and sell it to his fans according to market rules, how much do you think it can be sold for?"

  I think Zhou Yu is very financially savvy, but at the same time, it's really hard to estimate. He said with difficulty: "The price of a star's derivative products is like the price of a star's mistress, basically not following market rules. I think this mainly depends on how stupid the person buying this sweater is. If they're normally stupid, it might sell for one or two hundred, but if they're particularly stupid, who knows, maybe it'll sell for one or two thousand."

  Zhou Yue's eyes suddenly lit up. Two seconds later, he thought to himself: "But Cheng Jiamu is a cultured person, a man of letters, after all. There's still a difference between cultured people and artists, it can't be sold for that high a price, right?"

  I helped her get her luggage while comforting her: "In today's society, famous writers have become celebrities and famous celebrities have become writers, there's not much difference, don't worry."

  We found that sweater, turned our heads to observe Cheng Jiamu's movements, trying to find a suitable opportunity to go forward and ask him for his autograph. He still maintained the posture of looking out the window, his right hand raised to press down on his earpiece.

  I stared at Zhou Yue and said: "Girl, go up bravely."

  Zhou Yueyue said: "Okay, I'll just..." Before he could finish speaking, Cheng Jiayu suddenly turned his head around. As soon as I saw his face clearly, I pressed down on Zhou Yueyue's upper body which was itching to move.

  "What's wrong with you?"

  "Do you speak Japanese?"

  "Ah, Nana is so cute~~~~~~"

  "Is there anything normal about this?"

  "Eight Trigrams Pressing the Road."

  I patted his head and said, "You'd better not go make a fool of yourself. The person is obviously Tōmoki Naoto, and you can't even speak proper Japanese. What are you going to ask him for an autograph?"

  "Impossible!" Zhou Yue exclaimed. "Look at him, he looks exactly like the photo posted on Tianya! Everyone there said that's Cheng Jiamu."

  I waved my hand: "Some people on Tianya said that Han Han and Guo Jingming are a couple, it's better to not believe anything on Tianya, don't be too naive, who knows who might be trolling, taking a photo of Tsumiki Naoki and passing it off as Cheng Jiamu, can there really be two people in the world who look that alike, aren't they from the same country?"

  Just as he finished speaking, Fujiki Naoto, who was sitting at a distance from us five seconds ago and listening to music while enjoying the view, suddenly sat down beside Zhou Yueyue.

  Zhou Yue opened his mouth wider and I also opened my mouth wider.

  "Kong, Kong, you're so anxious."

  Tōdori Naoto didn't react.

  "Oh dad, I'm so worried."

  Tohru Fujiwara still didn't react.

  Zhou Yue said resolutely: "Do you speak English?"

  Tōdori Naoto finally showed emotion, but didn't look at Shū Yuezhi, instead grasping my right hand and quickly glancing at the black mole on his palm.

  "You want to do what?"

  Tong Wei used standard Mandarin, based on the northern dialect, to greet me with a phrase that would make Zhao Zhongxiang die of envy: "Egg tart, it's been eight years."

  Zhou Yueyue looked at me in shock, and I also looked at her in shock. Everyone was speechless for a moment, then I said: "You're not Tōmoki Naoto after all?" Zhou Yueyue also cooperated to add: "Is it really Cheng Jiayu? The Cheng Jiayu from the First House?"

  Cheng Jiamu ignored us, staring at me with a furrowed brow, his expression otherwise calm. After a while, he lowered his head to play with a matchbox and muttered: "It's been eight years, I didn't believe it, you're actually still alive. Back then, the incident was so big, the police brought the ring to us for identification, your mother fainted on the spot, your father couldn't accept that you were the victim of that dismemberment case... Stephen returned home afterwards..."

  I didn't understand what he was saying at all, Yan Lang slowly woke up, rubbed his eyes and called me: "Mom."

  I responded vaguely, and Cheng Jiayu's matchbox fell on the table with a "slap": "Your son?"

  I pushed Yan Lang: "Quickly call uncle."

  Yan Lang called out "Uncle", but Cheng Jiayu didn't respond. Yan Lang felt his face had been slapped, and he looked out the window with a huff.

  About forty seconds later, Cheng Jiayu said: "You're still alive, and the child is born." After finishing, he picked up the matchbox and turned it around twice. Suddenly, he raised his head: "No, I didn't hear that Stephen got married. You're still alive, and you've given birth to his child... how..."

  "Huh?"

  He looked at me: "Does he suspect that the child is not his? Right?" I was confused, feeling that according to what he said, he knew me before I was sixteen years old, but the amount of information he stated was too large, leaving me speechless for a moment. I said: "Uh..."

  He smiled sorrowfully: "After you went missing, everyone was desperately searching for you. At that time, I told your father that the child in your belly is mine, and I hope to find you so that you can give birth smoothly, and we will get married immediately after graduating from university."

  My mouth is wide open in an O shape.

  "He continued: 'Later Stephen returned home and I also told him that you took my child to die in... that massacre, Stephen didn't say anything.'"

  I was still confused, he pursed his lips and stopped talking, the atmosphere suddenly became cold, Zhou Yueyue on the side looked at us with a dazed expression.

  I felt I couldn't stay silent and uttered an "ah?"

  He looked at me and said, "I just think that you like him so much, but he only sees you as a responsibility. You're such a proud person, if you could have broken up with him back then, it's because you didn't want to lose face in front of him. Even if your spirit is underground, you wouldn't want him to know that you wanted to give birth to his child." He paused and continued, "If my presence has caused misunderstandings between you two and made you unhappy, egg tart, I..."

  He didn't continue speaking, closed his eyes, and outside the window was another row of factories whizzing by, disappearing from view in an instant. Zhou Yueyue finally found her voice, trembling as she said: "What is this..."

  I coughed and looked at her innocently.

  Cheng Jiawei forced a smile, and even I, who am not good at reading people's expressions, could see that he was smiling with great difficulty. He said: "But you're also too heartless, since we're still alive, eight years without contacting me." His piercing gaze made me shiver, while I thought to myself, that's only because I didn't know there was such a person as you...

  Before I could respond, he let out a bitter laugh: "It's also true that we don't really have any relationship now. Whether or not you contact me doesn't matter."

  I said: "Actually, it's not like that..."

  He adjusted his sitting posture, lightly interrupting me: "How did you suddenly return to the country? How are Uncle and Aunt's bodies? Since you went missing, they immigrated, and I haven't seen them again either."

  My heart skipped a beat as I stared at him blankly. His smile froze: "Don't tell me you're not with them."

  I didn't say anything.

  He put away his smile and furrowed his brow: "I know you ran away from home back then, not only because of the child, but also because you couldn't accept that your uncle and aunt weren't your biological parents. But even if they aren't your biological parents, they raised you until you were eighteen years old. Do you know how devastating the news of your death would be to them?"

  My mind went blank with a loud crash, and for an instant I didn't know what to think.

  I used to imagine that my life before losing my memory must have been complicated and tortuous, but I didn't expect it to be so complicated and tortuous. The romance was a Qiong Yao-style romance, the family relationship was a Blue Life and Death Love-style family relationship. No wonder Feng Xiaogang said that life is far more profound than art. But in this situation, every word that Cheng Jiayu said seemed logical and reliable, but I didn't feel any sense of reality. Looking back, it's only been eight years, but these eight years have already become a part of my bones. The years before that, when he talked about them, already felt like listening to stories from a past life. Of course, it's also possible that in his explanation, the dramatic conflicts in those forgotten years of my life were too many and too intense, making it impossible for people to feel close and intimate, but rather like an exaggerated story.

  "I said: 'Don't worry, I've been with them all along. And I'll also marry... Stephen, I'm doing great. The past is the past, ah, by the way, I heard you got married too.'"

  He looked at me seriously for a while, estimating how much credibility my words had, but I was so upright that he couldn't help but believe me.

  He murmured a low "That's good." Two seconds of silence passed, then he seemed to remember something and said: "You haven't met my wife yet. I'll bring her out to meet you sometime.

  I nodded and said: "Ah, okay."

  After that, the two of them didn't say a word. Cheng Jiayu furrowed his brow and sank into deep thought, as if he had entered a state of being in a world without people. Zhou Yue took out the sweater several times, only to silently put it back again. He showed no intention of returning to his own seat, and I couldn't speak with Zhou Yue, so we could only communicate through eye contact.

  "What's going on here?" Zhou Yue asked with a look in her eyes.

  I replied with a glance: "Nothing, nothing, I'll explain it to you after he leaves."

  Yan Lang rummaged through his pocket and pulled out a deck of poker cards, sniffled his nose and said: "Let's play some poker."

  Zhou Yue struggled to push away Yan Lang's poker cards, glanced at Cheng Jiamu with a slanted eye, and pretended to be upright, saying: "Playing cards is too low-level fun, let's talk about life, human nature, and so on."

  Yan Lang didn't even lift his head: "These days everyone talks about strangers, who talks about life? It's better to talk about human nature, first talk about people and then talk about sex."

  Zhou Yue pointed at Yan Lang and couldn't speak for half a day.

  I looked at Yan Lang and felt a chill run down my spine, enduring for half a day before asking: "Who taught you?"

  "Dad."

  I said: "You're always calling him 'godfather', can't you just call him 'dad' too?"

  Yan Lang said impatiently, "It's just a form of address."

  Cheng Jiamu glanced at him and said lightly: "This personality is quite like Stephen's."

  Cheng Jiawei got off at a small station halfway and exchanged phone numbers with me before getting off.

  Zhou Yueyue said: "Song Song, you were just talking about those things from your past, right? Did you figure it all out?"

  I stared blankly at the top of the train and shook my head: "How could I possibly understand? I only half understood what he said, it's possible that he even mistook me for someone else."

  Zhou Yue pointed at me in surprise: "Then you're still pretending to be that egg tart, saying how good things are going and that you'll get married to...to what's-his-name?"

  Outside the window, a withered tree of unknown name had a tattered kite hanging from it. I watched as the old tree receded into the distance. After a brief moment of collecting my thoughts, I expressed my opinion: "This way, he won't come to disturb my life again. Even if I were that egg tart, no one would come to disturb my life. My mother and I have finally settled down peacefully; we can't take any more upheaval."

  Zhou Yue took the poker cards from Yan Lang's hand and looked at me for a while: "Sometimes I really don't understand you."

  Yan Lang snorted: "You don't understand many things." Then he turned his head and asked me: "Mom, what are we playing? Running fast or staring blankly?"

  "I thought: 'Just run fast then.'"

  I understand why Zhou Yueyue can't understand me. First, she's not someone who has lost her memory, so she can't empathize with me. Second, she's not a logical person and isn't suited for research. I used to be like other patients with amnesia, having an obsessive desire to recover my memories. I couldn't rest until I figured out who I was. But at the same time, I had a fear and unease about the lost memories themselves. People are always uneasy about the unknown. In the past, my obsession was greater than my unease, but now it's the other way around. And with Qin Mo's arrival, I'm becoming more and more uneasy. Now, I don't even want to think about the past anymore. Life is finally going smoothly, and God has been treating me well lately, so I should just enjoy the sweetness for now. Even if I were to remember my past, it shouldn't be now. Besides, I couldn't recall anything anyway - that's all part of God's plan. I think I'll just go with the flow... forget it.

  The train arrived at the terminal station. After settling down, I called Qin Mo to report my safety. He was doing something and his voice was very low. He asked me about the temperature in the countryside and whether there were heating facilities in the temporary accommodation. I talked to him about what I saw on the road and mentioned that Cheng Jiayu from Qianfeng's family was in the same carriage as us, and Zhou Yueyue had been planning to get someone to sign his down jacket, but she didn't succeed even after everyone got off the train.

  Qin Mo said: "Cheng Jiamu?"

  I said: "Really? He looks just like Fujiwara Naohito, I was startled. Do you know him?"

  Qin Mo said in a low voice: "I don't know." He also said: "Wear more clothes, and see if I have time to come over the day after tomorrow."

  The author has something to say: The Two Lives Flower will stop updating here, and there are probably still about 25,000 words left, striving to submit the manuscript by the end of the month...

  Thank you all for your unwavering support and care over the past six months. I'll try to finish writing as soon as possible so that the book can be released earlier, so everyone doesn't have to wait too long. Well, farewell for now. At least I've made it clear who Yan Lang's father is during this hiatus...