Chapter 41: Visiting the Ancestral Graves

Lian Youyou set aside the diary she had just finished and found the one closest in date to her arrival in this world, turning to the final page.

October 26, 2020. Overcast turning clear. They say that when you choose a path, you must walk it to the end, even if you’re on your knees. But I’ve been crawling for so long—why can’t I see the end?

I’ve really been trying my best to fight my depression, but it feels like I’ve reached my limit. Grandma and Grandpa still don’t know about my illness. I don’t want them to find out, don’t want them to spend money on my treatment. They’ve already done so much for me.

I want to defeat this demon with my own strength!

But if I die, will anyone remember me?

Perhaps only Grandma and Grandpa.

If I die, I’ll get to see my mother. I heard she was a great beauty; I wish I could see her with my own eyes.

Mother, I used to hate you—hate you for giving birth to me and then leaving me behind. If you had to go, why didn’t you take me with you? Why leave me here to suffer?

But now I’ve grown up. I don’t hate you anymore. Thank you for sacrificing your life to bring me into this world, even though it’s not a kind place and many people have hurt me. At least I know now that I have Grandma and Grandpa who love me.

Grandma, Grandpa, if there’s a next life, I wish to be your daughter, to have more time to be filial and to accompany you both.

For now, I’ll keep fighting my depression with all I have!

The diary was light, but in Lian Youyou’s hands, it felt as heavy as a thousand pounds, so much so that she could barely breathe.

With deep sorrow, she closed the notebook.

What she owed her parents, she could still make up for. But what about the debt she owed her daughter? How could she ever repay it? Where would she begin?

Her daughter had depression, yet still strove so hard to live. She hadn’t told anyone who loved her about her illness, even though her heart was battered and in desperate need of companionship. She chose to bear it alone, unwilling to trouble those around her.

Such a strong and brave daughter, and yet Fan Chi and his kind had…

Lu Ming walked in holding two scrolls, a chill and his cool scent drifting in with him. Seeing Lian Youyou looking lost and defeated, he hurriedly set down the scrolls in his hands. “Youyou, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Lian Youyou quickly put the diary back in the drawer and slid it shut. “Just reading my diary, thinking about the past.”

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Lu Ming asked gently.

She clearly didn’t want to tell him…

“What could be wrong?” Lian Youyou forced a smile. “You know, when I fell from the stairs, I hit my head and can’t remember much from before. So I’ve been reading my old diaries… It’s brought up a lot of feelings.”

Maybe she ought to confess to Lu Ming one day. He treated her so well; she shouldn’t hide things from him.

But if she confessed that she was Lian Meng, not Lian Youyou, would Lu Ming still love her?

Lu Ming loved her daughter, Youyou. If he knew the truth, would he be angry at her for deceiving him and choose to leave her?

At this, Lian Youyou’s courage wavered once again.

She would wait a little longer. She still wanted to savor Lu Ming’s affection a while more. She hoped her daughter wouldn’t be angry—that she was stealing the love that should have belonged to her…

Was she selfish? How could she do this…

Lian Youyou noticed the scrolls Lu Ming had brought in. “Lulu, what’s that you’re holding?”

“These? You brought them from Fan Chi’s house the other day. There’s no point leaving them here. I saw that your grandparents’ walls are covered with calligraphy and paintings. We should give these to them.”

Lian Youyou’s eyes sparkled.

She hadn’t misheard—Lu Ming had said “our home.”

“Yes, these belonged to my grandfather.” Lian Youyou stroked the scrolls gently. “He was a disciple of Master Qi Baishi. These two paintings are genuine works by Master Qi. They were part of my mother’s dowry when she married—priceless treasures.”

She said “part of the dowry” because there were many other calligraphy and paintings: works by Qi Baishi, her father’s calligraphy and traditional paintings, and pieces by Zhang Daqian.

Fan Chi was a man who cared only for women and money, with no appreciation for traditional Chinese culture. Lian Meng’s father had once gifted him two new calligraphy pieces—still unmounted—telling them to have them framed and hung at home. Fan Chi lost them as soon as he got back, showing no appreciation for such treasures.

Lian Youyou turned to Lu Ming. “Next time, drive a bigger SUV or borrow a truck. Let’s go to Fan Chi’s house and bring back all my mother’s dowry.”

Shi Xuezhen pushed the door open. “Youyou, tidy up. It’s time to visit your mother’s grave.”

In Lianjia Village, the custom was to visit graves in the morning, except for the New Year’s Eve ancestor worship, which was in the afternoon.

Usually, only the first three anniversaries were observed with offerings, but even after that, Lian Changsheng and his wife still visited their daughter’s grave every year on the anniversary, though not burning as much paper money as they did in the first three years.

Lian Meng’s grave was in the most expensive cemetery in Binhai City.

As Lian Youyou walked toward her own grave, she asked, “I heard this cemetery is the priciest in Binhai, starting at over seventy thousand. My mother’s plot must have cost nearly a hundred thousand, right?”

Lu Ming nodded. “Fans pooled money to buy Aunt Lian Meng this spot. Twenty years ago, prices were different. Now, her grave is worth seven hundred thousand.”

Lian Youyou gasped. Just a grave—did it really need to be so expensive? Was this buying a grave or a house?

Behind the headstone stood a life-sized statue of her former self, exquisitely carved and lifelike.

To visit her own grave—it was a strange feeling.

Despite their age, her parents walked faster than she did. By the time Lian Youyou and Lu Ming arrived, Lian Changsheng and his wife had already arranged all the fruits and offerings neatly.

Lian Youyou opened the birthday cake she’d brought and placed it in front of the headstone.

“Youyou, why did you bring your birthday cake here?” Shi Xuezhen frowned. “Professor Lu bought it especially for you, and today isn’t your mother’s birthday…”

“A child’s birthday is a mother’s day of suffering,” Lian Youyou said, kneeling first. “Mother, I’ve come to see you. It’s been so many years—have you been well?”

Here lay Lian Meng—the foolish, young self from so many years ago.

Scenes from twenty-two years ago replayed before her eyes.

The night before this day, twenty-two years ago, a blizzard struck the city.

Under the assault of the storm, Binhai City was transformed into a scene from a disaster film—nothing but white as far as the eye could see.

On the morning of this day, twenty-two years ago, the snow from the night before had not stopped, heavy flakes falling straight down like rain, piling up almost to the knees.

At that time, the taxi industry was nothing like it is today. Lian Changsheng and his wife, carrying new quilts, clothes, and shoes for their soon-to-be-born granddaughter in a cloth bag, stood anxiously by the roadside, unable to find a single taxi.

The snow-covered roads were empty of cars. Eventually, a slow-moving bus crept by, but it didn’t go to the hospital where Lian Youyou was to be born.

It was on the previous night, as the blizzard began, that Lian Meng started having contractions at ten o’clock. Fan Chi, who was with her, called for the nurse on duty. The nurse said to him, “You wait outside—I need to examine the patient.”

She drew the curtain, put on disposable gloves, dabbed a bit of special ointment, and performed an external check.

Since the cervix wasn’t yet dilated enough, she didn’t do an internal exam.

“Hmm, nearly one finger dilated,” the nurse said, withdrawing her hand. “Do you have a watch or a clock?”

“Yes.”

“Start timing your contractions and the intervals between them. Have your family help you record the times. Once each contraction lasts over thirty seconds and comes about every ten minutes, or if you just can’t stand the pain anymore, call me. Understand?”

“Yes,” Lian Meng nodded.

After the nurse left, Fan Chi returned to her side, took her hand, and asked, “How is it, can you bear the pain?”

Lian Meng answered bleakly, “What if I can’t? I wish I could just have a C-section.”

“You can’t have a C-section, Xiao Meng!” Fan Chi jumped up. “How can you even think of that? My mother says C-sections are bad for the baby—you can’t have one. Besides, you’re an actress. If you get a scar on your stomach, it’ll limit the roles you can play.”

“Yes, yes, your mother is a doctor, your mother is the authority—just believe whatever she says,” Lian Meng thought, not wanting to argue with this mama’s boy.

Seeing her expression, Fan Chi sat back down and forced a smile. “Xiao Meng, it’s not that I don’t want you to have a C-section. I feel bad seeing you in pain too. But isn’t this how all women give birth? And the doctor said during the ultrasound that the baby looks like a boy—he’s the first grandson in our family’s generation, the eldest son. You know how important he is to us.”

Lian Meng closed her eyes in disgust.

So this was what all the talk was leading up to.

She and her parents didn’t care about having a boy. She just wanted a little girl, had only ever thought of girl’s names, never even considered boy’s.

Time ticked by. Her contractions grew longer and more frequent, the pain gradually becoming unbearable, cold sweat breaking out all over her body.

“It hurts, it hurts…”

Before the pain from the last contraction faded, another wave hit. Lian Meng bit her lip hard, gripping the bedsheet in her fists. Beads of sweat rolled from her smooth forehead, dripping onto the pillow.

Fan Chi called the nurse again. She came in yawning, put on gloves, examined her, and said, “Only two fingers dilated—it’s early yet. Hang on a bit longer. Go to the delivery room when you’re at eight.”

Yawning again, the nurse returned to the duty room to sleep.

“I can’t take it anymore, I can’t…” Lian Meng was never one to make a fuss, but this time the pain truly overwhelmed her. Clutching Fan Chi’s sleeve, she pleaded, “Husband, please find the doctor and ask for a C-section—I can’t stand this pain anymore…”