Chapter 55: Peaches

After that movie, time moved forward slowly and steadily.

By mid-July, Yu Zhu was already able to have relatively complex conversations in Japanese with Fujino Kaito, and their relationship had become more harmonious than at the beginning.

This afternoon, during the usual twenty-minute chit-chat period before the end of class, Fujino Kaito spoke about his two daughters with Yu Zhu.

“Junko has grown up around me, so her education and the sights she’s seen have been quite different from her older sister Kyoka. Just a few days ago, she mentioned wanting to go to Ueda City for the Takeshi Festival and carry a flag in the parade.”

“Kyoka is quieter and enjoys literature. When she was little, she even submitted works to a publisher and won awards. She’s also more sensitive than others, often crying for no apparent reason. Once Junko teased her, and Kyoka cried while chasing after her…”

It was an ordinary family story, spoken in a calm tone, yet Fujino’s face revealed the quiet pride of a father.

He spoke in Japanese, and Yu Zhu wrote back in Japanese as well: “They’re very cute.”

“Yes. But after this year’s fireworks festival, Kyoka has reached the age for marriage. Although she has never interacted with the opposite s*x, as a father, I already feel a little sentimental.”

“No parents can stay with their children forever. They will eventually experience things on their own. What parents should do is cherish the present,” Van Suhua said, walking to the window and looking at Fujino Kaito. “Sorry for interrupting, Mr. Fujino, but class has ended now.”

“My apologies, Miss Van. I got carried away and lost track of time. Then, today’s lesson ends here, Van-kun,” Fujino Kaito said, picking up his textbook, gesturing apologetically to both of them.

“Goodbye, Mr. Fujino.”

Yu Zhu watched him leave.

The afternoon sun was hotter now. Van Suhua’s long fingers lightly rested on Yu Zhu’s bandaged left hand, tapping it like piano keys.

“Xihe, shall we remove the cast and go downstairs first?”

After more than a month of recovery, Yu Zhu’s left hand, previously injured again by Xia Qingyi, had largely healed and could have the cast removed.

“Alright,” Yu Zhu replied.

Back in the room, the maid responsible for his care was waiting and said, “Miss, Master Xihe, everything is ready.”

“Then let’s begin.”

“Yes, Miss.”

Removing the cast wasn’t particularly complicated, but Van Suhua’s expression remained solemn, her eyes following the maid’s every move.

The bandages were carefully unwrapped, the sharp plaster scissors cut through the hard cast, and the gauze around his wrist was removed. Yu Zhu’s pale arm lay stiffly on the table, unable to move at first.

The maid finished and reminded, “Master Xihe, you can try gently moving your wrist first, and later do proper rehabilitation exercises. Otherwise, your left hand will become even stiffer.”

“Alright, I understand.” Van Suhua replied for Yu Zhu and added, “You may leave now.”

“Yes, Miss.” The maid left, closing the door behind her.

Van Suhua’s warm fingertips traced over Yu Zhu’s bones, gently moving his joints.

There was still an hour before dinner, so she helped him with his wrist while softly reading Snow Country.

She had already read this book once, and now read it in Japanese, slowly, and was nearing the end.

“However, thinking of Yoko staying in this inn, for some reason, Shimamura felt restrained in seeking Komako. Although Komako loved him, he felt a sense of emptiness, always seeing her love as a futile beauty…”

Afternoon sunlight filtered through the clouds, illuminating half the study.

Her soft voice read aloud, occasionally pausing, her delicate cheek pressed against his cold hand. Without dimples, her fair skin was soft like a ripe peach, so tender it seemed one could squeeze water from it.

When she pressed her face against Yu Zhu’s hand again, his clear, dark eyes silently watched her, and she paused.

“What’s wrong, Xihe? Am I reading too fast?”

“Or do you not like it this way?” she asked, sitting up.

“Then I’ll read more slowly.”

“If this passage is too awkward, then—”

Yu Zhu said nothing, causing her to fumble.

He stopped her, picked up the pen on the table, and wrote on paper, stroke by stroke.

He wrote slowly, as if a tremendous weight pressed on his hand, so heavy the pen tip trembled slightly.

Ink spread on the white page, and he paused, slowly turning the paper around.

For a moment, the wind outside seemed to stop.

Van Suhua saw the words on the paper, her face instantly paling, losing all color, like a peach crushed to pulp, frozen in place.

“Go home.”

Yu Zhu wrote: Go home.

There was no room for compromise in his eyes.

All the leisurely, carefree moments Van Suhua had enjoyed over the past six months suddenly collapsed into reality at this instant.

The things she had deliberately ignored stripped away their carefully constructed veneer, leaving her meticulously hidden chaos fully exposed.

It was like holding water in her hands—suddenly shattered by a thrown stone—abruptly waking her from a human-made dream.

“Xihe, can… we wait a little longer?”

“Your hand… hasn’t fully recovered… wait…” Van Suhua tried to regain composure.

She still could have found excuses, like before.

His body wasn’t fully healed, his hand had just been freed from the cast, and it still needed rehabilitation exercises.

Those in C City hadn’t been punished yet. They could wait until everything settled.

She could even mention Mr. Fujino, who would return to Japan in mid-August. After his lessons this month, they could return.

There were countless reasons to delay.

But looking into those eyes, she suddenly couldn’t find a single word to refuse.

The two of them sat across from each other at the table, the evening light growing denser and more enchanting, spreading a silent stillness.

After a while, Van Suhua took the paper from Yu Zhu’s hand, lifted it with a trembling smile, her voice hoarse:

“Yu Zhu.”

The paper crumpled unconsciously in her hand.

She spoke his name.

“You want to go home, so… let’s go home and see.”

She abandoned some of her delusional future plans and spoke with difficulty.

All the things that had changed, all that no longer belonged to her, were no longer excuses for her. The flaws were too many; he had already sensed some of them.

So she said: Let’s go see.

What would happen next, and how to face the chaos soon to come, she had no idea.

But seeing the uneven letters, she couldn’t say another word of refusal.

Yu Zhu’s fingertips trembled violently on the pen; his heart raced in slow realization, gasping for air, his limbs soft and powerless, as if soaked in warm water.

He wanted to say many things, but his thoughts were too chaotic to organize. Finally, he took a deep breath, suppressing his excitement, and shakily wrote on the paper.

The last stroke of the long, sharp line broke the balance of the character. He turned to another page, and as he wrote again, Van Suhua’s hand covered the paper.

“Don’t say thank you to me, Xihe.”

Yu Zhu froze, then put down the tightly held pen.

“But aren’t we supposed to go back tomorrow? Xihe, your hand has just come out of the cast. You need a few more days to recover. Once it’s healed, I’ll take you back to C City, alright?”

Yu Zhu looked at the two crumpled characters in her hand and nodded.

Whether it was a sudden decision today, or for some other reason—it no longer mattered.

Go home.

After what felt like three long years, he could go home.

Having been away from his parents for so long, what would he say upon seeing them for the first time?

He felt a little nervous, unsure of what to say.

He should be cheerful, laughing openly.

“Mom, Dad, long time no see! I’m back!”

No pain, no shadow.

Joking with them: “Your son almost got kidnapped to dig coal, luckily I still knew the way home.”

Once they laughed, he would say: “I missed you.”

I really missed you.

Don’t worry about me.

“Oh, and this year I’ll light all the sun lamps I missed before.”

“Ha ha.”

That’s how it should be.

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