I Still Miss Her [Rebirth] - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Seventh Day

The chirping of cicadas drifted in and out, a never-ending, shrill zhi-wa zhi-wa.

Heat flowed through the air, making one feel unbearably irritable.

Fang Rulian opened her eyes as if waking from a heavy, groggy dream. Her five senses gradually sharpened.

The cicadas grew louder in her ears, and the dry heat refused to settle. In her vision, which shifted from blurry to clear, thousands of golden dust motes floated in the air. It was as if a vintage filter had been draped over her eyes; the brilliant light caused her pupils to contract sharply.

Substinctively, she turned her head away and raised a hand to shield her eyes.

The dense noise of city traffic flooded her ears, momentarily replacing the twittering cicadas. It sounded surprisingly harmonious. Fang Rulian exhaled a heavy breath, waiting a moment before lifting her eyelids again.

Her brain was still sluggish. Her eyes slowly focused, landing on a somewhat mottled ceiling.

The ceiling was moldy, with yellowish-green stains snaking across it and several patches of peeling paint.

Where am I?

Her groggy mind didn’t want to think yet, but her eyes instinctively began to forage, slowly scanning her surroundings.

A waist-high railing showed significant peeling paint, old and weathered. In the corner stood a tall stand holding a pot of pothos and several pots of succulents. The pothos was thriving, its vines nearly reaching the floor.

It seemed to be… a balcony.

Fang Rulian didn’t care for pothos. They didn’t bloom or bear fruit; their only use was being placed in new houses to absorb formaldehyde. Succulents were even worse—ugly no matter how you looked at them, with a terrifying vitality where a dropped leaf could grow a whole new cluster of “ugly things.”

Fang Hong loved raising these things.

In the past, Fang Rulian thought it was because Fang Hong was busy or due to finances—pothos and succulents were cheap and required no care. Later, when Fang Rulian made money, she made a grand, arrogant gesture and bought a trunk full of beautiful flowers for Fang Hong. But after a short while, Fang Hong lost interest.

She said she just liked raising pothos and succulents; the flowers Rulian gave her were too delicate, and she didn’t know how to look after them.

Back then, the “triumphantly returned” Fang Rulian had been sprawled lazily on the old sofa. Her gaze had constantly drifted past Fang Hong to Fang Zhiyi, who was cutting fruit on the other side. She had absentmindedly brushed Fang Hong off, saying it didn’t matter—if they died, just throw them away; she had money now, anyway.

Fang Hong couldn’t bear to throw them away after all, keeping them half-alive until she passed away. Only then did those delicate, sickly plants in the corner finally wither completely.

Fang Rulian stared blankly, lost in the memory. Thinking of Fang Hong, her face was once again covered in tears. Her breathing grew shallow; in her daze, it felt as if she were back in the ocean, water pressure crushing her, a violent tearing and burning sensation filling her throat and lungs.

She coughed a few times, her cheeks flushing red.

The painful feeling of suffocation slowly dissipated. She gasped for air as if having survived a disaster, then remembered—she seemingly had no “rest of her life” left.

She was already dead.

Her nose twitched; she could vaguely smell that salty, fishy scent of seawater.

She pursed her lips and scanned the environment once more.

Her sluggish brain began to work. Looking at the familiar setting of the balcony, she finally remembered: this seemed to be her home.

The home where Fang Hong, Mu Yunshu, and Fang Zhiyi all lived.

She pinched the hand pinned beneath her body. There was no sensation of pain, as if she were pinching someone else’s hand. It was eerie.

Her eyelids drooped in disappointment. After a long while, she finally couldn’t help but open her lips, letting out small, sobbing gasps.

Fallen leaves return to their roots; the soul returns home.

Her ghost had drifted on the sea for a long time, passing through endless mist, finally wandering back to her house.

Fang Rulian didn’t cry for long. She didn’t know how much time she had left. She turned her head, looking through the empty living room toward the front door.

Perhaps there would be a notice on the door, reminding her to go to the crematorium.

Fang Rulian climbed out of the chair. While straightening her clothes and hair, she wondered if she should put on makeup first.

She had been soaking in the sea; she didn’t know if her body had been recovered. Perhaps she was currently a terrifying sight due to “bloating,” which might scare Fang Hong and Mu Yunshu. What if they couldn’t recognize her?

She looked down at her hands—they didn’t look too bad.

She entered the living room and turned a circle in front of the mirror. Fortunately, she wasn’t bloated or swollen; her face was just a bit oily. She needed to wash it.

Before washing her face, she went to open the door. Sure enough, she saw a slip of paper—but it wasn’t a notice for the crematorium; it was this month’s utility bill.

Fang Rulian washed her face and picked out her “well-behaved” outfit from the closet.

A black-and-white dress with a Peter Pan collar. This wasn’t her style, but Fang Hong liked it. She hadn’t seen Fang Hong in a long time; she hoped seeing her like this would make her happy.

She missed Fang Hong so much.

Sitting at the vanity, she quickly applied makeup. Considering that crematoriums “eat” makeup (make it look faded), she applied it heavily. Then, considering Fang Hong’s aesthetics, she added extra blush.

As she pulled a bright red lipstick from the drawer, a thought suddenly struck her: “I might not even be able to be buried in peace.”

In theory, Fang Zhiyi would give her a proper burial, but that relied on one condition: her body being found.

Fang Rulian wasn’t sure. The ocean was so big and deep; her body might have drifted across the sea to Europe or America, or sunk into the abyss.

Fang Hong and Mu Yunshu were both buried peacefully. Fang Rulian wondered if she would be able to see them… or if she was destined to wander without a resting place, keeping company with lonely ghosts.

Oh, right. I’m a lonely ghost now, too.

The thought of not seeing Fang Hong made her want to cry again. Lately, she hadn’t been able to control her emotions; the moment the thought surfaced, tears hit the vanity. Her shoulders shook with sobs, heedless of her freshly applied makeup.

The bedroom door was open. Sunlight from the living room spilled in, accompanied by the sound of cicadas and voices from the street.

“Hey, I’m going to the market to buy a fish. Ah, no guests, it’s just that Xiaoyi is coming home from school today. Students these days aren’t like before; it’s so tiring and hard for them…”

Amidst the chaotic noise, one voice was exceptionally clear and familiar.

Fang Rulian froze for half a second before launching herself from the room. With a flurry of frantic footsteps, she followed the sound to the balcony.

The heat rushed in; the sun was blinding.

Fang Rulian breathed with difficulty, her eyes locked onto a woman on the street below wearing a navy-blue dress. Her eyes rimmed with red.

The woman didn’t notice the gaze. While inserting her key into the electric scooter, she chatted with another woman: “Yunshu is still in class, she’ll be back later. Oh, I can’t talk more, I have to go now…”

Seeing the scooter start to move, tears blurred her entire vision. Fang Rulian cried out in panic: “Fang Hong!”

Her voice was hoarse and unexpectedly quiet. The woman didn’t notice; she just looked up and down the road for traffic and slowly turned the throttle.

“Mom!” Snot and tears smeared her face as Fang Rulian screamed with all her might.

Her hands gripped the balcony railing. Stepping onto the succulent stand, she used the leverage to climb onto the railing. Behind her, the stand toppled over with a series of crashes.

“Mom! Don’t go… come back!” In her blurred vision, that voice was getting further away. Fang Rulian cried and screamed, desperate to keep that person there. Without thinking—

She leaped.

…

After a muffled thud and a series of crashes, Fang Rulian nearly turned her own home into a haunted house.

On the other side.

Fang Hong felt like someone was calling her. She stopped turning the throttle and looked back uneasily—just in time to see a black shadow falling from her balcony.

Her face went pale with fright.

The good news: her home was on the second floor, and the person had fallen into a thick flower bed below.

The bad news: she ran over in a panic, and halfway there, she realized the person who almost turned her house into a crime scene looked remarkably like her daughter.

“Fang Rulian!”

“Ugh… ow…” The flower bed was too dense. It took Fang Rulian a few seconds to find her bearings and crawl out. She moved fairly quickly; the kind-hearted passersby who had stopped hadn’t even reached her yet.

She looked up.

Her mom was running toward her at a hundred-meter sprint pace—though her expression wasn’t great. She was baring her teeth with red eyes, looking like she wanted to eat her alive.

Fang Rulian steadied her dizzy head, brushed the leaves off her clothes, and quickly confirmed she looked decent enough. She looked up and gave Fang Hong a soft smile.

Opening her arms and stepping forward, she engaged in a mutual sprint toward her mother.

To be able to see Fang Hong again after death—at this moment, Fang Rulian was so happy her tears wouldn’t stop falling.

The grass was fresh, and the spring day felt long.

Like a lead weight, Fang Rulian crashed headlong into the woman’s arms. Before she could even feel her mother’s warmth or scent, her eyes rolled back, and she fainted.

…

It wasn’t until she woke up in the hospital, the smell of disinfectant stinging her nose, that she saw the doctor looking at her worriedly and Fang Hong standing by the bed with a dark face. Fang Rulian finally figured out the situation—

She hadn’t returned home as a ghost.

Her ankle throbbed.

Jumping from the second floor into a flower bed, Fang Rulian was lucky; aside from minor scratches, she had only sprained her right foot.

The doctor asked some simple questions. Fang Rulian answered while peeking at Fang Hong, trying her best not to look like a psychiatric patient.

Fortunately, it worked. All three people in the room breathed a sigh of relief.

After the doctor left.

“Fang Rulian, you’ve really got some nerve, don’t you?” Now that the girl was safe and conscious, Fang Hong stood at the head of the bed with her hands on her hips, starting her interrogation. “Are you so bored with life that you’re looking for a way to die? Fang Rulian.”

Hearing Fang Hong use her full name, Fang Rulian knew things were bad. She lowered her head and acted obedient, her voice timid as she tried to evoke motherly love: “Mom…”

Fang Hong snorted coldly, getting even angrier looking at Fang Rulian’s face, which was as white as a paper person. “Don’t call me ‘Mom.’ You are my ‘Mom’ (boss).”

She reached out and poked the girl’s face, her temper rising. “These huge lips! This heavy blush! What on earth are you doing, Fang Rulian!”

Fang Rulian looked up, suddenly remembering she still had her heavy “crematorium makeup” on. “You don’t like it?”

It looked so energetic. When she was in elementary school, Fang Hong loved doing her makeup just like this.

Like it? It looked like a—Fang Hong refrained from using certain taboo words on her own daughter. She irritably pulled a tissue from her bag and threw it at Fang Rulian’s face. “Wipe it off!”

“Oh, okay.” Fang Rulian complied obediently, but then changed her mind at the last second, acting shamelessly: “Mom… my foot is sprained. You help me wipe it.”

There was no logical connection between those two things, but Fang Hong didn’t notice. She huffed with “fierce-on-the-outside-soft-on-the-inside” energy, got a cup of water from the dispenser, and used it to remove the makeup from Rulian’s face.

As her fingertips pressed the wet tissue against the girl’s foundation-covered face, Fang Hong mocked, “Fang Rulian, it’s a pity you didn’t become a house painter.”

The girl on the bed was quiet, surprisingly not snapping back like usual. Fang Hong found it strange. She looked up, her gaze unexpectedly colliding with a pair of reddened eyes.

“Why are you about to cry…” Fang Hong’s scalp tingled. Perhaps because mother and daughter shared the same blood and emotions, her voice softened. “What’s wrong? I thought you said it didn’t hurt? Is it too painful? I’ll go call the doctor and see if they can—”

Before Fang Hong could finish, Fang Rulian threw herself into her mother’s arms. Her low, sobbing voice was filled with obvious relief and joy: “Mom…”

Fang Rulian buried herself in the woman’s embrace. The scent unique to her mother surrounded her, and a tangible sense of security surged from the hug. Fang Rulian’s nose felt sour; she happily muffled several calls of “Mom.”

How could she not be happy?

She could no longer smell the salty seawater. She had been reborn, returning to the spring of eight years ago.

Right now, she was only twenty-two, a student about to graduate. Fang Hong and Mu Yunshu were still alive.

She hadn’t entered the entertainment industry yet.

And she hadn’t yet begun her “shameless elder sister” seduction of Fang Zhiyi.