I Still Miss Her [Rebirth] - Chapter 8

Chapter 8: The Calluses on Her Fingers Scraped Painfully.

The door opened, and the sounds of the living room flooded in. Fang Hong was saying something, and her boisterous laughter erupted in the room, exploding in Fang Rulian’s ears.

Rulian was long used to that loud voice, so she wasn’t startled; she simply heard Fang Hong calling for Fang Zhiyi to come over and eat some fruit.

“I won’t have any, Auntie Fang. You two enjoy,” Zhiyi replied.

Fang Hong looked back at the half-open bedroom door. “You want some grapes, Fang Rulian?”

“No, I’ve already brushed my teeth.” Rulian instructed Zhiyi at the door, “Help me close the door.”

With a soft thud, the door shut.

Fang Rulian collapsed onto the bed like a deflating balloon, limbs splayed out, the back of her head burying into the soft quilt. She stared blankly at the white ceiling, her palm absentmindedly pressing against her chest.

The happiness of rebirth had come too suddenly. The luck of having her family by her side was so unexpected that she was drowning in this bliss, yet she still didn’t dare fully believe in it.

She was constantly terrified that this was all just a “Millet Dream”—a fleeting illusion before death.

Fortunately, the scent of soap and shampoo from Fang Zhiyi still lingered on her nose, and the intermittent conversation and laughter of the two adults outside acted like white noise. Fang Rulian gradually let down her guard and, without realizing it, drifted off to sleep.

When she woke up, it was pitch black. In her daze, there was a heavy, dark blue tint to the air, like seawater.

She was disoriented for a second. Before terror could seize her brain, she instinctively struggled, which caused her to feel the sharp pain in her ankle.

The pain brought Fang Rulian back to reality.

She breathed heavily, first calling out “Mom,” then looking toward the window.

The curtains weren’t drawn, and the light from the streetlamp leaked in like cold moonlight.

Using that faint light, she scooted her body toward the headboard and reached out to flip the bedside switch.

Light instantly poured down, illuminating the entire room.

At the same time, the door was pushed open. It slammed into the wall stopper with a muffled thud. Fang Hong strode to the bedside and sat down, her rough, large hand sweeping back Rulian’s bangs to press against her forehead.

“Mom…” Rulian was pressed against the headboard by her mother’s hand. “What are you doing?”

The woman’s eyes scanned the girl’s face. Once the red sleep marks on the girl’s cheeks began to fade, she stared into her daughter’s eyes. “Why did you call for me just now?”

“Um… I was a bit thirsty.” She stared at Fang Hong’s stern expression. “How did you get here so fast? What time is it? You’re not asleep?”

Fang Hong pulled a pillow behind the girl’s waist to prop her up, then turned to pour a glass of water. “It’s 1:30. I haven’t slept; I’m catching up on a drama.”

Rulian grumbled while drinking water, “You’re getting older, stop acting like a youngster staying up to binge shows. What show can’t wait until the morning?”

“What do you know?” She reached out to wipe the cold sweat from her daughter’s forehead, looking worried. “Did you have a nightmare?”

Rulian’s gaze paused, and she gave a small nod.

Fang Hong rubbed Rulian’s hair, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “The same nightmare as this afternoon?”

She remembered the light that suddenly flickered in her daughter’s eyes when she crawled out of the flower bed and saw her. She also remembered the impact of her daughter running toward her with all those scratches—it had made her nose sting with emotion.

“Accidentally falling off the balcony”—that kind of excuse could fool others, but it was far from enough to convince her mother.

Rulian had prepared an excuse, but looking into her mother’s tender, tearful eyes, the insincere words suddenly died in her throat.

“Mhm. I had a really, really bad nightmare.” She leaned forward, hugging her mother’s arm like a child and whispering, “I dreamed that you and Auntie Mu were gone, and I dreamed I did a lot of bad things.”

The woman had spent years driving and moving goods. Long-term manual labor had worn thick calluses into her palms. When those calluses touched Rulian’s fair, soft skin, they scraped her painfully.

“Dreams are always the opposite,” Fang Hong said, stroking her hair. “Your Auntie Mu and I are perfectly fine. We’re still young; we won’t just disappear.”

Rulian looked up at her and nodded gently. “Mom, can you sleep with me tonight?”

She rarely acted spoiled so formally, which made Fang Hong feel a bit unaccustomed.

Pushing her daughter’s head lightly, Fang Hong said, “Move over then. This bit of space isn’t enough for your mother to sleep.”

Rulian pulled back the covers to move inward, but in her peripheral vision, she saw Fang Hong walking out. “Mom? Where are you going?”

Fang Hong turned and nodded at the girl. “Got to handle something first.”

Rulian frowned slightly. “You’re not going to finish the drama before sleeping, are you? You always nag me to get to bed, but you stay up late yourself. You’re not setting a good example, so don’t scold me if I stay up late in the future.”

A moment later, Fang Hong returned carrying a bowl of water and three chopsticks.

When she placed the items on the bedside table, Rulian understood. Her mother suspected she had collided with something “unclean” and was going to perform a “standing chopsticks” ritual.

Originally, Rulian was a staunch atheist, but after being reborn, she couldn’t help but feel half-convinced by these things.

Her mother dipped the chopsticks in the water, then tapped them against Rulian’s forehead. She used quite a bit of strength; the pain made Rulian wince and clutch her head, backing away.

Once the ritual was over, Fang Hong returned the items to the kitchen, washed her hands, and climbed into bed.

The lights went out, but Rulian wasn’t sleepy. She stared into the darkness at the ceiling.

A few seconds later, a rough palm covered her eyelids, forcing them shut. Fang Hong’s voice came from beside her: “If you don’t close your eyes and sleep, get up and mop the floors and wash the dishes.”

Rulian kept her eyes closed. “I know, I’m working on it.”

She had just woken up and thought it would be hard to fall back asleep. Yet, listening to the rhythmic—and somewhat loud—breathing of Fang Hong beside her, she soon drifted back into a daze and fell asleep.

Sleep was always good in her bedroom at home. When Rulian woke up the next day, it was nearly 10:00 AM.

She stretched with difficulty on the bed and looked down at her phone messages.

The department group chat was starting preparations for thesis defenses. The class monitor had posted the updated formatting requirements from the faculty leaders and other instructions. Rulian replied with a “Received,” yawned, and began to worry about her graduation.

So many years had passed that she had long forgotten what her thesis was even about. But it didn’t matter; everyone knew undergraduate theses were basically garbage. Forgetting it was fine; she could probably whip something out in two or three days.

What worried her was what she would do after graduation.

She was a liberal arts student at an average university with a mediocre major and zero internship experience. She was naturally lazy and had missed both the autumn and spring recruitment cycles without a single offer.

In her previous life, she hadn’t worked in her field after graduating. First, because the jobs in her field were “shitty,” and second, because in May she had followed her best friend Lu Ke into a film crew to play a “corpse.” She was lucky enough to get a close-up, was spotted by the director, and entered the entertainment industry from then on.

But now… Rulian lowered her eyes.

I’d rather die than enter the entertainment industry again!

So she had to plan for a job search. Even if she couldn’t find a permanent job immediately, finding an internship was better than nothing.

She flipped over on the bed, propping herself up with her elbows, and clicked into the school’s graduate employment info group—only to exit seconds later, cursing her “trash school” and “trash major.”

Rulian thought indignantly: If any annoying relatives’ kids take the Gaokao in the future, I’ll recommend they apply for this bullshit major.

After rolling around on the bed for a while, she decided to get up.

The swelling in her ankle had gone down significantly, and it didn’t hurt as much as yesterday. She limped toward the bedroom door. As she opened it, she immediately sensed a gaze on her.

Fang Zhiyi, who was leaning over the table doing homework, tilted her head to look at her and smiled faintly. “Sister, good morning.”

Rulian yawned. “Good morning.”

Her gaze scanned the living room before she headed toward the bathroom. Seeing Zhiyi about to stand up, she quickly said, “Keep writing. I can walk, it doesn’t hurt. Where’s my mom? Where’s your mom?”

“Auntie Fang is downstairs looking after the shop.” Sunlight pierced through the glass, casting a blinding glare on the floor that reflected in the girl’s eyes. “A colleague got married, so my mom went to the wedding banquet.”

“Oh, okay.”

Rulian went into the bathroom to freshen up.

Just as she finished brushing her teeth and washing her face, Zhiyi’s calm voice drifted in from the living room: “Auntie Fang bought breakfast; it’s in the kitchen.”

Rulian gave a shout of acknowledgment and pulled out a comb to do her hair.

The bathroom had excellent lighting; even without the lights on, it was bright and clear. The natural light made the person in the mirror look like they had porcelain skin and a glowing complexion, as if someone were holding a professional ring light for her.

Rulian had always felt her mother was a great designer who never had the chance to shine.

When the second floor was expanded, everything from the architectural structure to the interior decor, the lighting design, and the ventilation layout had been handled by Fang Hong. Every room had great light and air, the floor plan made sense, and it was bright and livable.

Rulian tilted her head, admiring her own beauty. Finally, she pumped some hair oil onto her palm and rubbed it into her ends.

Youth is great, she thought. The collagen in her face was undeniable. Rulian looked at her reflection, her mood improving, and she unconsciously began to hum a song as she walked into the kitchen.

Since Zhiyi was studying in the living room, Rulian took the steamed buns and soy milk her mother had bought to the balcony, fearing the smell would bother her.

The balcony had been cleaned up. Her succulents hadn’t been completely wiped out; a few pots remained on the shelf. The only pothos pot wasn’t broken either, though the leaves had clearly suffered a disaster—only a few pathetic ones remained hanging.

Rulian held a 0.3-second moment of silence for the plants.

The breeze on the balcony was refreshing; the 10:00 AM temperature hadn’t spiked yet.

She sat back in a bamboo chair to eat, crossing her legs as she looked at the messages Lu Ke had sent her.

Last night, Lu Ke had asked how she was. Rulian only said she had accidentally fallen off the balcony and sprained her ankle, telling her not to worry.

But now, Lu Ke was stammering as she told her that several “Aunties” (neighborhood busybodies) had visited her house last night. Somehow they had heard rumors that Fang Rulian had jumped off the balcony for love, and some even said she was pregnant and the fall was an attempted miscarriage that landed her in the hospital.

Rulian instantly flew into a rage. “Which old bastard started that rumor? I’ll tear their mouth apart!”

She instinctively glanced toward the living room after shouting. Fortunately, she hadn’t been too loud, and the girl in the living room was still focused on her homework.

The buns didn’t taste as good anymore. She gulped them down and was about to angrily call Lu Ke when something happened in the living room.

Rulian looked back into the house. Her gaze swept over several faces—all wearing fake smiles as they stared at Fang Zhiyi. It took her a moment of thought to realize who these people were.

She gave a cold laugh, her hand squeezing the soy milk cup until it crinkled loudly.

Well, this is perfect. I don’t even have to look for them; the old bastards have come to my door themselves.