Overdo - Epilogue

Epilogue

Meeting by the makeup table, we spin the tears of rouge into a golden thread song. Once, in the depths of our hearts, we promised to drift away together with the falling blossoms.

I have always loved the fragrance of the lotus and the willow-green shadows lining the bridge. May it keep people here, for in the pale mist and light rain, there is such a fine place for two to nest.

Day had finally broken. The downpour that had lasted half the night finally faded until the sound was barely audible. The corner of the sky outside the window, once a pale grey, had slowly brightened, diluted into a peacock blue, and gradually seeped through with crimson. Half the horizon bloomed silently with ten thousand ribbons of clouds, a gorgeous, swirling tapestry of splashed gold and flying silk. The morning sun was a pale, pale gold; the trees outside were thick with shade, their foliage watery and lush. Sunlight leaked through the sparse branches like a timid hand reaching into the room. On the tall stand by the window, an orchid cast a deep, refreshing fragrance that lingered persistently, as if there, yet not.

I clutched my mother’s arm nervously and asked, "What happened after that?"

"After that?" She sank back into deep thought. The backlight traced her profile like a lady in a pale ink painting; her beautiful silhouette was enough to steal one's breath away. I clung to her arm, as if afraid that this beauty were merely an illusion, and that if I let go, she would vanish back into the story once more. Zhuo was sitting on the sofa opposite, his expression just as tense. Like me, it was his first time being so close to our mother. Our hearts were both constricted.

She said, "After that, I remained in a coma for a long time. The doctors determined I would never wake up, and your father finally fell into despair—and finally let go."

I demanded angrily, "Did he give you up that easily?!"

Mother smiled, her eyes as clear and warm as crystal. She was truly beautiful when she smiled; it was dazzling. She said softly, "I didn't wake up until over a month later. After I woke, I requested a divorce, and your father agreed. The Madame took charge, announced my death to the outside world, gave me a new identity, and arranged for me to go abroad."

I looked up at her, the way all children in the world look up to their mothers. Her face held only a calm, smooth radiance, and my heart filled with joy. I said, "Mother, you were right; Father is never worth forgiving." I added, "Mother, you really aren't good at lying. How could cousins have the same surname in this world? I became suspicious as soon as you said it."

Mother smiled and lowered her head; she was still accustomed to keeping her head bowed. Zhuo remembered the inscription on the "Nine Pieces of Weaving" and asked, "Mother, what about that Fang Mulan?" Mother said with indifference, "I don't know. After I went abroad, I cut off contact with all my friends."

A thought suddenly struck me. "Mother, Father sent people to bring you back this time; he surely doesn't have good intentions. No matter how flowery his words are, don't pay any attention to him. You are free now. He has a history of misdeeds and is unforgivable. Besides, he has a 'Madame'."

Mother said, "Your father only sent for me this time because he found your brother." I made a funny face at Zhuo. It was so interesting—he really was my brother. To have a brother after all these lonely years felt truly miraculous. Mother held his hand with great gratification. "That your father could find you is the thing that makes me happiest. Back then..." She sighed softly. "Back then, I was ten thousand times unwilling to leave... and later, when I heard..." Her voice still held a sob. "Heaven has mercy. Your father said it was likely the orphanage that mixed up the children back then. It truly feels like a dream."

Her tears fell hot onto my hair. She slowly stroked my long hair, and the warmth made my nose ache. "Nan-nan, you’ve grown so big... The last time I saw you was when your father took you abroad last year; I caught a glimpse of you from across the hotel lobby. Do you blame me?" My tears were about to fall, and I blurted out, "It was all Father's fault for making you leave me."

There was also moisture in Mother's eyes. She whispered, "I never expected this day would come. The three of us have talked all night—aren't you tired?" I said, "I'm not tired. Mom, you must be exhausted. You sleep for a while, and we’ll talk more when you wake up." Zhuo also said, "Mom, get some rest." Holding Zhuo’s hand with her left and mine with her right, she gazed at us for a long time and said, "Then you go to sleep, too."

How could I possibly sleep? I tossed and turned in bed for a long time before running to knock on Zhuo’s bedroom door. Sure enough, he hadn't slept either. I asked him pitifully, "Can I come in and talk to you?" He ruffled my hair dotingly and said, "Of course." I climbed onto the sofa and sat cross-legged—a posture Father never liked to see because it was deemed improper. I had suddenly grown tired of the fastidious family upbringing of the last dozen years, so I was determined to sit this way out of sheer defiance. Zhuo’s posture remained as straight as a soldier’s, just like Father's. I hugged a cushion from the sofa, and a sense of aimless helplessness made me want to cry again. "Brother, what is to be done about Mother..." This was the first time I had called him brother. He was visibly shaken, stretched out his arms to give me a hug, and comforted me, "There will be a way. Now that Mother is back, we will certainly be able to see her often." He said many other things to comfort me. I gradually calmed down. He asked gently, "Are you hungry?" It had been over ten hours since I’d eaten, and my stomach was indeed feeling empty. I nodded, and he said, "I'll get you some snacks. You'll feel much better once you've eaten."

His way of comforting people was quite unique. He brewed a pot of good tea and brought over a tin of biscuits. My mood truly began to improve. The biscuit tin was on too tight to open, and just as Zhuo offered to help, I insisted on showing off. I casually grabbed his Swiss army knife and pried at it hard. With a soft "pop," the lid flew open, but the knife slipped and grazed my neck. I felt a slight loosening, and the small gold pendant on my chain fell onto the floor with a "clatter." I crouched down in annoyance to pick it up. Zhuo asked, "It’s as exquisite as the one I have; you’ve worn it since you were little, right?" I said, "It was left by Grandfather. He couldn't speak on his deathbed; he just clutched this and called me 'Jing.' Grandmother gave it to me to wear. But this is different from yours—this one is sealed. It won't open."

Zhuo suddenly gave a start. I saw it too: the pendant had cracked in the fall, revealing a tiny, bright gap with something inside. I thought for a moment and looked at Zhuo. He understood what I was considering and said, "Is that wise? We shouldn't damage a memento left by an elder." I said, "It's already broken. If I’m going to send it to a jeweler for repair anyway, we might as well see what's inside."

With a gentle prick of the knife, it popped open, and we both froze. Tucked inside the pendant was a photograph. The person in the photo was smiling quietly. Because of the passage of time, the photo had yellowed slightly, but her smile was in full bloom, and her eyes, as clear as autumn water, seemed capable of seeing into the depths of one's heart. I couldn't help but say, "She’s truly beautiful." We had many photos of Grandmother at home, always looking elegant and noble. But this woman in the old photograph had a brightness that made it impossible to breathe, like the sunlight of June—dazzling and fervent. She was from an entirely different world than Grandmother. We stared silently at this woman from the past. Zhuo placed a hand gently on my shoulder, signaling me to close the pendant. He said, "We shouldn't disturb the past." I had never imagined that there was such a chapter in Grandfather’s life. Those dusty, long-forgotten memories were surely yet another story.

After we finished our snacks, I was exhausted from having not slept all night. My brain was a mess and on the verge of a strike. My parents' story had already left me spent, and I really couldn't bring myself to imagine the secrets that had just peeked out from the tip of that iceberg. I went back to my room to sleep, and when I woke up, it was already afternoon.

Mother hadn't gotten up yet. I went downstairs, and the living room was deathly quiet. I turned my head and saw Father. He was sitting in the deepest part of the sofa, a cigarette in the ashtray already half-turned to ash. I had never seen him wear such an expression. He just stared blankly at that cigarette from afar, the look in his eyes miserable and hopeless, as if it were his own life that was burning away. He sat there motionless, looking as though he could sit there for a lifetime.

I saw Director Shi walk in and call out softly, "Sir."

Only then did Father look up. Director Shi said, "It is time for you to go."

Father hummed in response. When he turned to see me, he asked, "Is your mother asleep?" I nodded. He looked at me, and I had never seen him so gentle. He said, "Later, when she wakes up, you and Zhuo should both keep your mother company."

I thought of the many hardships Mother had endured and couldn't help but say, "I know all of that." Under normal circumstances, this intentionally provocative tone would have surely angered him, but this time, he only sighed. Just then, Zhuo came downstairs. Father never had much to say to him, only urging him to take good care of Mother. At that very moment, Zhuo suddenly cried out, "Sir!" He was still not used to changing how he addressed him. Father’s brows furrowed slightly, but then he immediately realized something; he reached up to wipe his face, only to come away with a hand covered in blood. Director Shi hurriedly helped him tilt his head back, and an attendant rushed over to hand him a tissue. Father pressed the tissue against his nose and said, "It is nothing. The weather is likely just too dry, which is why this happened."

His lapels were stained with droplets of blood. Director Shi was very uneasy and said, "Let me call for Dr. Cheng." Father replied, "You lot are only capable of making a fuss out of nothing. Is a nosebleed worth such a commotion?" He put down the tissue and said, "Look, it has already stopped."

Seeing that the bleeding had ceased, Director Shi was indeed slightly relieved. The attendant brought clothes for Father to change into. Director Shi finally couldn't help but say, "Sir, perhaps we should cancel today’s itinerary. The weather is so hot..." Father said, "With the weather so hot, everyone is waiting for me alone; how can I cancel?" He turned to me and said, "I will come over this evening. You and your brother should keep your mother company."

I agreed. Not long after Father left, Mother came downstairs. She hadn't slept well either, but upon seeing Zhuo and me, she revealed a gentle smile and sat down to have afternoon tea with us. I clung to Mother like taffy, talking to her incessantly, and she listened with a constant smile.

Father's familiar voice rang out from the television, with familiar buildings visible behind him. Mother watched Father’s figure on the screen from afar, and Zhuo turned his head to look as well. I laughed and made a witty remark: "In such hot weather, Mr. Murong still has to stand under the scorching sun to deliver a speech..." Before I could finish, I saw Father’s body sway on the screen, and he suddenly lunged forward. His arms knocked against several microphones, producing a sharp, piercing screech. Only then did the people at the scene gasp in shock—I was so stunned I even forgot to gasp, watching helplessly as the scene on the television screen descended into chaos. The people from the aide's office rushed forward, the camera lens was blocked by countless backs, and nothing could be heard through the noisy clamor. The television signal was cut off, a flash of static appeared, followed immediately by a silent, encroaching darkness—a darkness so profound it felt capable of swallowing everything, a terror to the highest degree.

After Father's incident, Mother nearly fainted, and I was at a complete loss. Fortunately, Zhuo was very calm—at least much calmer than I was. In that instant, his steadfast expression gave Mother and me great encouragement. He made a prompt decision to call the aide's office, demanding that we go to the hospital.

When we saw Father, he seemed completely unharmed, resting calmly against his hospital bed. The private ward was spacious and bright, looking like a standard luxury apartment. Were it not for the faint scent of medicine in the air, it would have been hard to imagine this was a hospital room. Mother stood beside me; she radiated a faint, pleasant fragrance—not perfume, nor floral, neither orchid nor musk—a lingering scent that obscured the smell of the medicine. When she drew near, I clearly saw the look on Father’s face, as if a sky that had been overcast for a long time had suddenly cleared.

Father turned his head to ask me, "Why have you all come?" His tone was almost reproachful. "You must have frightened your mother."

The doctor said that he needed surgery immediately.

I was very worried; it was not without risk, as I could tell from the expression of the people outside who were acting as if facing a great enemy. Father had things he wanted to say to them, so I accompanied Mother to the lounge with Zhuo. After a long while, he sent someone to call us in.

I thought he wanted to give us some private instructions, but to my surprise, Minister Lei and Mr. Huo were also in the room. We walked in and stood quietly before Father's bed. Father gestured toward us with his finger and said, "Nan-nan has been naughty since she was little, but fortunately, you have always been willing to treat her as your own daughter, so I am very much at ease." He paused and added, "I entrust Zhuo to you."

Both of them were shocked and immediately stood up. Mr. Huo exclaimed, "Sir."

Father said, "He has not been by my side since he was young, and inevitably, he has lacked discipline. I only hope you will look upon him as you would your own sons and teach him well on my behalf."

Minister Lei said, "Sir is overthinking this—how could we ever be worthy of such a task."

Father sighed softly and said, "Actually, I only hope he can be like an ordinary person, do the things he wants to do, and spend his life in peace and happiness." He turned his head to look at us, his gaze doting and gentle, as if we were all still very small children. I finally understood that in his heart, he was profoundly, utterly tired.

When everyone else had left and he was wearily closing his eyes to rest, Mother arrived. Her footsteps were extremely light, yet Father opened his eyes the moment she entered, as if he possessed a sixth sense. He gazed at Mother and smiled, and Mother smiled back.

Mother’s smile was like a luminous pearl; the whole room seemed to suddenly brighten. Father said softly, "I am sorry." Mother’s eyes grew misty, shimmering with welling tears, and she said, "I understand."

They had each spoken only three words, yet it was as if they had exchanged a thousand messages. Their eyes met, and in their gazes, there was only a sense of gratified serenity. Father’s smile gradually grew warmer, shining like brilliant sunlight. He reached out his hand, and Mother gently placed hers into his palm.

They held hands and looked at one another just like that, as if they intended to gaze upon each other until the end of time.

I turned my head back, and Zhuo was looking at me too. He walked over quietly and tugged at me. "Let’s go." Before I could say anything else, he had already half-pushed and half-pulled me out, closing the door to the ward on his way. I rolled my eyes at him and glared. He tapped me on the nose. "Don't you think we’re in the way here?"

He led me along the corridor toward the exit. It was very hot, and the setting sun shone in through the glass, branding its warmth onto our bodies. Outside the window, one could see two children laughing and playing on a swing set in the distance. They were children, after all; even while ill in the hospital, they could be this happy. Above their heads, the sky was such a deep blue, as clear as jade and as if it might drip with water. The mid-air was filled with gorgeous sunset clouds, gradually turning crimson, then orange, then purple, and as they descended, they became a shimmering, vermilion-grey gold…