Chapter 23: A Shared Embrace, A Renewed Understanding

Standing before the school gates, Ye Xiaoshuang felt a sense of disorientation.

She had never imagined she would be allowed to step foot here again.

After all, in the eyes of the school, she was now practically a plague, someone to be shunned at all costs.

Through the closed gates, she could see the campus lying quiet and still.

Towering pines and cypresses lined the paths, their emerald leaves swaying gently in the breeze, overlapping to form a vast, open umbrella that shielded the midday sun, casting a welcome expanse of verdant shade beneath.

Though it was a sight she had grown accustomed to, the thought that she might never return here again sent a ripple through the girl’s heart.

Perhaps sensing Ye Xiaoshuang’s mood, someone gently took her hand.

The girl turned her head, looking at her mother, who was dressed in a black uniform and appeared even more nervous than she was.

“It’s alright, Shuangshuang.”

Ye Xiaoshuang felt the tremor in that hand.

Though her mother was clearly trying to console her, Ye Xiaoshuang sensed that her mother was, in fact, seeking courage for herself by encouraging her daughter.

In just a few short days, her world had undergone a seismic shift.

Within that brief span, Ye Xiaoshuang had come to truly know her mother, her own life, and herself anew.

Her mother had always been a formidable career woman, perpetually busy and decisive in her actions.

She was rarely home, even on weekends, and Ye Xiaoshuang often overheard her speaking with others in a rather forceful tone.

Unskilled in cooking, her mother’s kitchen table was typically laden with various frozen foods and pre-packaged meals that required minimal preparation.

Ever since her parents’ divorce, her mother had remained the same.

She seemed to have an endless stream of work, toiling tirelessly, and Ye Xiaoshuang often saw her looking utterly exhausted late into the night, hunched over her laptop.

Their interactions were sparse, mostly confined to the dinner table.

Upon the pink tablecloth, meals that appeared exquisite but whose flavors had long grown tiresome were served.

Occasionally, they would discuss school matters, with her mother primarily inquiring about Ye Xiaoshuang’s academic progress or whether she needed tutoring.

Often, her mother would even take work calls at the table.

During these moments, Ye Xiaoshuang knew that her mother’s gaze rarely lingered upon her.

Her mother was not unloving; Ye Xiaoshuang understood this.

She would remember her birthday, asking days in advance what she wished for, and occasionally paid attention to what girls her age desired or liked, subsequently replacing household items accordingly.

For instance, she might swap out slippers for character-themed ones, currently popular among Ye Xiaoshuang’s classmates.

Consequently, Ye Xiaoshuang had always hoped to alleviate her mother’s burdens in her own way.

She strived to be a good child, one who caused no worries academically and was easy to manage in daily life.

She believed this was her means of reciprocating that love.

It was precisely for this reason that when she became a substitute target for bullies after helping a tormented classmate, she barely considered seeking her mother’s help.

Initially, she always believed she could resolve everything herself; as class monitor, she felt capable of handling the bullying she endured.

However, this unfounded confidence was effortlessly shattered.

It imperceptibly transformed into a pervasive shadow that clung to her.

At some point, she realized her linguistic abilities seemed impaired, making it difficult to express herself, to even utter a sound.

A different state of mind could evoke distinct emotions even when facing the same scenario.

Under such circumstances, she had lost the motivation to trust anything around her, along with any possibility of finding hope.

Facing her mother, who sat opposite her, she yearned for the first time for her mother’s gaze to linger on her, if only for a fleeting moment.

She longed for her mother to soothe the wounds within her heart, even if it was just to listen to her innermost thoughts.

Yet, this seemed impossible.

Neither her mother nor she could achieve it.

She knew her mother loved her; she knew it, she understood it, she comprehended it, but she alone… could not ‘feel’ that love.

Isolated and helpless, she found herself unable to speak.

Despite sitting so close, it felt as if a vast, immeasurable distance separated them, making her mother appear like a stranger she had never met.

Therefore, when she saw her mother push open the door and enter the Demon Supervision Department, and their gazes finally met after such a long time, it was Ye Xiaoshuang who first chose to avert her eyes.

The regret and unease within her heart surged to a peak, making her feel as though she were sitting on pins and needles.

She had so desperately wanted to be a daughter who caused her mother no worry, but this time… she had utterly ruined everything.

What would her mother think of her?

Would she scold her with the same forceful tone she used at work, or would she simply stare with a silent, disappointed gaze?

Ye Xiaoshuang dared not contemplate it, dared not confirm it.

She could only lower her head, watching her hands tremble slightly on her lap.

After waking, she had yearned to cry, and upon seeing her mother, this feeling surged to its absolute peak.

Yet, she absolutely could not allow herself to do so.

No matter how she would later encourage herself to recover, at this moment, she felt like a failed daughter.

The very next moment, as these thoughts consumed her, she was enveloped in an embrace.

A pair of arms wrapped around her, and long strands of hair brushed against her neck, carrying the faint, pleasant scent of perfume.

Simultaneously, she heard crying – not her own, but her mother’s.

Her vision instantly blurred, and tears welled from her eyes, tracing an unbroken stream down her cheeks.

She, too, began to weep.

The sorrow she had suppressed deep within her heart, the grief she had intended to swallow alone, now poured out, manifesting as tears before her mother.

She could not see her mother’s expression, but judging by their similar cries, their faces were likely mirror images: vulnerable, embarrassed, and a tangle of unspeakable, complex emotions.

The arms holding her tightened with a fierce grip, as if her mother feared she might vanish the next instant.

Her mother’s words came out in ragged, broken fragments, almost unintelligible, yet Ye Xiaoshuang knew precisely what those sounds yearned to convey.

Ye Xiaoshuang had never witnessed such a vulnerable side of her mother.

Her mother’s sobs were louder than her own, like a child wailing heartbrokenly after being wronged, utterly devoid of her usual formidable career woman demeanor.

But precisely because of this, amidst that undignified weeping, she felt a long-lost love.

How long had it been since she and her mother had shared such intimate closeness?

It was… impossible to recall.

Their emotions intertwined and amplified, prolonging their shared weeping.

They cried until their eyes ached, until their breathing grew ragged, until their throats were hoarse, until the arms embracing her could no longer exert any strength.

Finally, the body that had almost collapsed onto her stirred.

Her mother’s soft, long hair was pulled back from Ye Xiaoshuang’s face, revealing a young woman’s tear-streaked countenance.

Their eyes met, each observing the other’s close, embarrassing, tear-stained face.

This was the first time they had shared their vulnerabilities with each other, and the first time they truly recognized each other’s weaknesses.

Her mother’s tear-stained face was not pretty; her cheeks were blotchy from crying, like a smudged cat.

On this face, Ye Xiaoshuang could find none of the composure and steadiness she associated with her mother.

Instead, there was only hesitation, bewilderment, and such profound vulnerability.

This image was seared into Ye Xiaoshuang’s eyes, deeply etched into her heart.

Her mother was not tall; even in high heels, she wasn’t much taller than Ye Xiaoshuang herself.

Her mother had married her father not long after starting university and quickly gave birth to her.

Thus, even though Ye Xiaoshuang was nearing high school, her mother still looked remarkably young.

Her mother typically wore a black uniform with elegant, subtle makeup, yet her household items—slippers, water cups, bedsheets—always embraced a distinctly cute style, even cuter than Ye Xiaoshuang’s own preferences.

She had always known these things, yet why had she only now truly remembered them?

The answer to this question, both mother and daughter found reflected in each other’s eyes.

Indeed, at some unknown point, they had ceased to face each other with their true selves, as they were doing now.

In each other’s minds, they had always been a mature, steady mother and a compliant, worry-free daughter.

They desired to love each other, and to be loved in return, but they had misunderstood the method.

They had hidden their vulnerabilities and imperfections deep within their hearts, never truly observing or knowing one another.

All this time, what they had seen in the other was merely a shadow of their own imagination—a partial truth, yet far from the whole reality.

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

“Shuangshuang, I’m sorry.”

In that tender atmosphere, their apologies poured out simultaneously.

They blinked in unison, then realized once more how truly aligned their hearts had always been.

But… being of one heart did not mean they should cease to talk, to communicate.

Humans, those foolish creatures who yearn to master reason yet are enslaved by emotion, need to feel.

Whether subtly or overtly, humanity needs to recognize one another through feeling, and in doing so, rediscover themselves.

Thinking thus, Ye Xiaoshuang wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes, cleared her throat, and began to speak.

“Mom, I… I have so much I want to tell you.”

Before her, her mother took her hand, nodding with a smile.

“Of course, Shuangshuang, it’s no problem at all.

Mom’s right here, and I’ll listen to whatever you have to say.

However, Mom also has a request.”

“What is it, Mom?”

“After listening to Shuangshuang, Mom… actually has a lot she’s wanted to tell you too.”

As she spoke, she turned, drew two tissues from the box on the table, and gently wiped the tears from Ye Xiaoshuang’s face.

“Mom…”

“Hm?”

“I’m afraid… I might start crying again later…”

The response was another embrace.

This time, Ye Xiaoshuang rested her head on her mother’s shoulder, one hand gently stroking her back.

“It’s alright, it’s really alright.

It’s okay to cry.

Mom might cry again later too, and that’s perfectly fine.”

“Shuangshuang, Mom is right here.”

****

That night, Ye Xiaoshuang and her mother spoke at great length.

One had recently been transformed into a Corroded (TL Note: A being whose body and mind are corrupted by negative emotions or external forces, often leading to monstrous transformations and loss of self-control.), leaving her utterly exhausted, while the other had just hurried away from overtime, her steps unsteady from fatigue.

Yet, despite their physical weariness, they spoke volumes to each other that night.

Until dawn broke.

Until the sounds of weeping finally ceased in that room.

Until smiles once more graced their faces.

Many people are taught from childhood that “crying solves nothing”.

From a certain perspective, this statement holds some truth: crying does not improve life, nor does it resolve immediate problems.

In some contexts, denying the value of tears might even seem like a perfectly valid form of release or complaint.

However, this statement remains unreasonable.

It propagates a logic and an ideology: that “any emotional expression must yield a tangible outcome”.

If crying fails to produce the desired effect, then it is deemed useless.

Once this logic is accepted, one gradually adopts a suppressive attitude towards their own emotions.

Individuals who suppress their feelings eventually lose the ability to perceive and process emotions, transforming into people who are either numb or prone to violent expressions.

After all, the impact of emotions themselves is typically indirect.

They rarely lead directly to a precise outcome and can sometimes even produce adverse effects.

To overly fixate on such uncertain results signifies approaching emotions from a utilitarian perspective.

Among many close friends, mutual trust and reliance are built upon understanding and accepting each other’s vulnerabilities.

It is precisely by witnessing each other’s wounds that they are able to embrace more deeply, to soothe the pains that the other cannot heal alone, offering opportunities for emotional expression, and thereby fostering the possibility of even greater closeness.

Looking back now, Ye Xiaoshuang realized that she and her mother hadn’t deliberately discussed many topics related to their current situation that night.

While those issues were undoubtedly important, rationality alone could not provide them with the answers.

Instead, through continuous self-disclosure and dialogue, they felt each other’s presence.

They used emotion as a guiding light on their path and reason as the steady footsteps they took, ultimately reaching the destination they sought.

This was a method she had never attempted before.

Through that night, she re-embraced her own emotional nature, and in doing so, re-embraced herself, her mother, and their shared life.

Indeed, crying didn’t appear beautiful: eyes ached, throats felt dry and sore, and it wasted a lot of tissues.

But…

When the first ray of sunlight streamed into the room, Ye Xiaoshuang realized her heart was filled with an unprecedented sense of contentment.

She hadn’t felt this secure in a long time.

This inner strength was the final cornerstone leading to the future, and now, she possessed it.

Her vision once again broadened, her breathing no longer heavy, and colors flowed anew in the world before her eyes.

Standing by the window, Ye Xiaoshuang watched as the morning sun ushered in another day.

She turned to look at her mother, who had fallen asleep on the sofa from sheer exhaustion.

Her mother’s steady breathing filled the air, and her face bore a peaceful expression in sleep.

In this moment of mental relaxation, a wave of weariness washed over Ye Xiaoshuang’s own consciousness.

Quietly, she sat beside her mother, gently leaning her body against hers, and slowly closed her eyes.

“Good morning, Mom.”