Peaches and Plums Don’t Speak – Chapter 109

Parting Sorrow

Before leaving, Anzhi went to see Chen Muqi.

She hadn’t seen him in several years, and the moment they met, she was taken aback. Chen Muqi was only thirty-seven. In the past, he had a fair complexion and an aura of refined elegance. Now, he had transformed into a man with long hair and a beard, exuding the decadent, artistic vibe of an older gentleman.

            

Through their conversation, she learned that his wife—the Miss Xu that Anzhi had met—had left him. She had found a new lover, sued him, and even taken more than half of his net worth. Chen Muqi had suffered immense emotional, physical, and financial damage, taking a great deal of time and effort to recover. He felt he had undergone a spiritual journey of suffering, which paradoxically brought his art to a sudden breakthrough¹.

Perhaps due to his advancing age, Chen Muqi’s temperament had settled, and he began to show genuine concern for her. “It’s a five-year program. Are you planning to come back after?”

Anzhi gave a small smile. “I don’t know yet. I’ll just focus on my studies first.”

            

“Right, right. Is your money going to be enough? Dad will give you a card…” Chen Muqi was a bit at a loss. He hadn’t expected the daughter he had practically left to raise herself² to change so drastically. The young woman before him was lovely and confident, her brow relaxed and her bearing eye-catching. On top of that, she was about to attend a top-tier university. He felt a surge of parental pride—something he had never experienced before. Unsure of how to express it, his only resort was to offer money.

“There’s no need. I still haven’t spent the money you gave me before.”

“Before?” Chen Muqi pondered for a moment before a look of realization dawned on him. “That was the money I gave Yan Xi for your tuition. You never touched it?”

            

“Mn. Auntie saved it for me, invested it, and then gave it back to me. I think that amount will be more than enough.” As Anzhi spoke, she drifted off into thought, her eyes softening at the memory of Yan Xi.

“Ah, Yan Xi has been truly good to you,” Chen Muqi said.

“Yes.” Anzhi lowered her eyelashes. They were sitting in a coffee shop. Outside, the summer sun blazed fiercely, while the interior remained cool and shaded.

            

Anzhi’s gaze drifted outside carelessly, and whenever she saw a woman walk by in a white button-down shirt, she would subconsciously pause. Her chest felt entirely hollow, leaving nothing but a single name looping endlessly within it.

Chen Muqi still seemed to be digesting the news that Anzhi was heading to Harvard University. He laughed heartily, his tone filled with immense pride. “As expected of my, Chen Muqi’s, daughter!”

Anzhi stared at him in silence. Realizing his blunder belatedly, he awkwardly scratched the back of his head and asked, somewhat sheepishly, “Anzhi… if you’ll allow it, could I come visit you in the future?”

            

Anzhi let out a quiet breath and nodded.

She chatted with him for a few more minutes before standing up to say her goodbyes. She didn’t harbor any deeper feelings for Chen Muqi; just this was enough.

She thought it over for several days before finally deciding to see Tao Zhenzhen.

            

They met at dusk in the garden of Tao Zhenzhen’s residential complex. Tao Zhenzhen had originally wanted her to come up to the apartment and sit for a while, but Anzhi refused. She briefly explained that she was heading abroad to study, that she had come to say goodbye, and that she hoped Tao Zhenzhen would return to their hometown every year to pay her respects at her maternal grandfather’s grave.

Tao Zhenzhen stared blankly for a moment before saying, “Of course. I’ll go pay my respects.” She also seemed shocked by the news, her gaze holding a mix of unfamiliarity and deep sentiment. “You’re going for five years?”

“Mn.”

            

After that, she didn’t know what else to say either.

It wasn’t long after school had let out. There were many elementary students playing in the complex’s garden. As the two women stood in silence, a little boy in a school uniform came running over, his face covered in sweat. Panting slightly, he demanded, “Mom, I want ice cream.”

“Xiao Zhi, no,” Tao Zhenzhen said. Her tone was strict, but her eyes were soft. “If you eat that now, you won’t have an appetite for dinner. Drink some water instead.” She handed him the water bottle she brought with her.

            

Xiao Zhi was clearly unwilling. He pouted, but upon noticing Anzhi, he stared at her curiously. Anzhi quietly observed him in return. They didn’t share much of a resemblance.

Tao Zhenzhen glanced at Anzhi before lowering her voice to tell him, “Xiao Zhi, this is your jiejie. Say hello.”

The child didn’t act like a stranger at all. He called out a crisp greeting and then ran off to play again.

            

“That’s Xiao Zhi. He’s in second grade now.”

“Mn. Is he eight?”

Tao Zhenzhen smiled. “He’s seven and a half, but if you count his nominal age³ the way they do back home, he’s eight.”

            

Anzhi gave a faint smile. “Right. I never used to know the difference between nominal age and chronological age.”

After exchanging those few dry sentences, they couldn’t find anything else to talk about.

Anzhi stood up. “Then I’ll be going now.”

            

Tao Zhenzhen quickly stood up after her, calling out to her back, “Anzhi!”

Anzhi stopped in her tracks.

“Take… take good care of yourself.”

            

Anzhi nodded without turning around. She walked a little further down the path before looking back at Tao Zhenzhen. The woman she was supposed to call “Mom” was still very beautiful. She sat on the wooden bench in the garden, lost in thought. Perhaps, for a fleeting moment, she had been worrying about her? But it was only for a moment. As soon as her son, Xiao Zhi, ran over, her entire attention shifted back to him.

Anzhi didn’t look away, watching them for several seconds before turning around and leaving.

She couldn’t quite articulate how she felt. She could have had that kind of relationship too, but she hadn’t gotten it.

            

Yet she wasn’t envious, nor did she feel much regret.

The emotions that belonged in that space had already been given to her by someone else. They were overflowing. She was very happy.

Anzhi had chosen to meet with both of her biological parents before she left, as if to finally sever all the lingering ties in their parent-child relationship.

            

To some extent, she had to reconcile with her family of origin and bring it to a close in order to move forward properly.

From now on, she could only walk her path alone.

In the days that followed, the thesis defense, the graduation banquet, the class reunion, the graduation photos, and the visa approval all came and went. One event after another passed by smoothly and methodically.

            

At the airport, Anzhi said her goodbyes to Chen Wei and Yang Mengmeng. Yang Mengmeng’s eyes were red as she threw her arms around Anzhi and refused to let go. “Make sure you take good care of yourself out there! Be careful with everything. If there are any protests or demonstrations, don’t go joining the crowd! And don’t go washing dishes⁴ at some restaurant for a part-time job! Your hands are meant for doing experiments… sob, sob, sob…” She rambled on with her instructions like a fussy little old lady, and Anzhi smiled, agreeing to every single one.

“Keep in touch often,” Chen Wei told her.

Anzhi laughed. “You two have to take care of each other too. I’ll be waiting for an invitation to your wedding banquet.”

            

Hearing that, Yang Mengmeng started crying all over again.

Behind them, Liu Yiyi was standing alone. After comforting Yang Mengmeng, Anzhi walked over to her. Liu Yiyi rubbed the top of her head. “Your Auntie…”

Anzhi knew she was going to bring up the fact that Yan Xi hadn’t come. She nodded, saying nothing. Taking a deep breath, she spoke softly. “Second Aunt, please look after her for me.”

            

Liu Yiyi nodded. “I will. Anything else?”

Anzhi fell silent for a moment before shaking her head.

Soon, the boarding announcement echoed through the terminal. Anzhi waved goodbye to them and walked through the gates.

            

On the plane, the clouds rolled and layered across the blue sky. A hint of sunlight pierced through the cloud cover, revealing a sliver of thin, golden light.

Anzhi was clutching a small rabbit plush doll in her hands. Because of its age, it was already very worn, and the red dots on the rabbit’s face had completely faded away. She pressed down on it, and sure enough, the drum in the rabbit’s embrace began to beat out a thump-thump-thump.

Anzhi gave a small smile and gripped it tightly in her hands, her eyes glimmering with tears.

            

The airplane swept across the sky overhead, leaving behind a long, thin white trail.

Yan Xi tilted her head back, watching it pass until her neck ached, only then lowering her gaze.

One day passed, then two days, then three days. Yan Xi went to work as usual, got off work, went home, and visited the Yan Family Old Residence. She even felt as if she had become a machine, spinning along with the passage of time on her own. All her movements were merely mechanical; nothing held any meaning anymore.

            

Her chest constantly ached with a dull throb. She knew it wasn’t a physical ailment, but a psychological pain—striking for a moment, arriving in waves, silent, and entirely sudden.

When she came home and saw Anzhi’s room.

When she was on the road and saw girls of the same age.

            

When she was shopping and saw rabbit plush dolls.

The days were manageable enough, but when night fell, her insomnia took over. A neat and clutter-free bed, a fluffy quilt, a mild-scented candle, a glass of warm milk—none of it could help her fall asleep.

After taking sleeping pills, she drifted off into a haze, vaguely able to glimpse the scene from that night. She had chased after her out of the house.

            

Through the blurred, hazy streets and under the strange stares of pedestrians, she followed her intuition to that park. She found that wooden bench and saw that thin, lonely silhouette from behind.

She stood in a daze, her gaze fixed on the young girl who was sobbing in agony.

It was only a short distance. She just needed to walk over and gather her into her arms.

            

If only she had the courage to walk over. But she didn’t. She couldn’t do it. She was entirely incapable of it.

The young woman’s pure, heartfelt love and infatuation—she didn’t dare accept it.

Human morality, the massive age gap, the concerns for Anzhi’s future—countless obstacles pressed down on her chest like giant boulders. She didn’t dare move an inch. She didn’t dare cross the line any further, terrified that all her perseverance would fall short at the final hurdle.

            

Anzhi was crying.

Yan Xi stood watching her, and she was crying too.

Unable to put her mind at ease, she just kept watching her.

            

She had even been on the verge of calling someone to come pick her up.

Fortunately, she eventually stood up and went to the bus stop. Yan Xi trailed her the entire way, keeping a careful distance, right until she saw her board the bus. Only then did her body go slack, completely drained of strength.

Yan Xi jolted awake from the dream, the palms of her hands and her back drenched in cold sweat. The room was vast and empty, and she was the only one in it.

            

Her heart felt as if a massive chunk had been forcefully carved out of it. And the person wielding the knife was none other than herself.

---