She Adopted Me After My Biological Mother Passed Away - Chapter 52

Shi Xianyu: So noisy.

Chi Yeyu held her phone, her fingers flying across the screen.

“Look!” She completely forgot their previous friction, nudging Shi Shuxue’s arm and handing over the phone. “The top comment guesses it’s me.”

Shi Shuxue leaned in to look. The comment had been voted to the very top:

[Help! This drum beat feels so familiar! Is it Chi Yeyu?! I bet fifty cents! Only she can hit the rhythm so smoothly, fitting Shuxue’s bass like they’re stitched together!]

Below it was a string of agreement:

• [Waiting for a Chi Yeyu reveal!]
• [Blind guess Chi Yeyu +1]
• [Could it be Ci Cheng? Aren’t they bandmates? Ci Cheng’s drumming is also legendary!]

Comments mentioning Ci Cheng quickly rose in likes as well. Ci Cheng’s technique was indeed excellent, fine-tuned and delicate, unlike Chi Yeyu’s free spirited clarity. But because the two had performed together publicly so often, fans were deeply impressed by their partnership.

Chi Yeyu saw that comment: “What’s going on? Has this person even heard Ci Cheng drum? They must be guessing with their ears plugged.”

Shi Shuxue didn’t answer, her gaze fixed on the screen. The comment section had split into two factions: one firmly betting on Chi Yeyu because she and Shi Shuxue had been traveling together, and the other standing by Ci Cheng, citing past collaboration videos as evidence. The argument was heated.

Shi Shuxue was stunned: “What is there to even argue about?”

“I want to join the argument too,” Chi Yeyu said.

Then there were those just looking for drama:

• [Stop fighting! Let Shuxue come out and identify the person! Is it Chi Yeyu or Ci Cheng?!]
• [Is there a possibility it’s a new mysterious partner? (Dog face emoji)]
• [Regardless of who it is, I need this drummer to show their face! I’m stanning this rhythm section!]

Yu Xiu also joined the fun, leaving a comment: I know who it is, but I’m not telling. He was instantly buried under a mountain of follow-up questions.

“Aren’t you going to clarify?” Chi Yeyu tilted her head at her. “What if everyone really thinks it’s Ci Cheng?”

Shi Shuxue looked up. Under the light, Chi Yeyu’s eyelashes were long, and her lips curled into a smile, looking like a cat waiting to be fed. After a few seconds of silence, Shuxue tapped the screen and sent a reply before Chi Yeyu could read it.

The comment section went quiet for a moment before a fresh wave of replies surged.

Shi Shuxue had written: “Keep guessing.”

She didn’t admit it was Chi Yeyu, nor did she deny it was Ci Cheng.

Chi Yeyu gasped in shock: “Shuxue, you!”

“Sister Tiangua said discussion brings traffic,” Shi Shuxue said. “Look, they’re having fun guessing.”

Chi Yeyu huffed and leaned back in to watch the screen with her, muttering, “Fun my foot. Look at the one saying Ci Cheng, it’s almost at a hundred likes.”

Shi Shuxue hit the “Like” button on the comment praising the drummer’s “smooth rhythm.”

As they bickered, a new reply exploded in the comments from one of the main subjects of the debate: Ci Cheng.

She replied directly to the “It must be Ci Cheng, they’re old partners” comment. It was short but carried a sense of helpless frustration:

Stop guessing, it’s not me. The drumming style in the video is completely different from mine. Besides, I’m currently locked in at school preparing for finals; I can’t even touch a drumstick, let alone record a video abroad.

The comment section went dead for three seconds before erupting like popcorn.

• [!!! Ci Cheng herself is here! Proving her innocence!]
• [Process of elimination! If it’s not Ci Cheng, then the only one left is Chi Yeyu?!]
• [Case closed! Chi Yeyu, come out! Stop hiding behind the camera being mysterious!]
• [I knew it! Who else but Chi Yeyu could make Shuxue play accompaniment so willingly!]

Chi Yeyu said happily, “Not bad, Ci Cheng. You’re a real one for helping me clarify.”

“Now no one will guess Ci Cheng,” Shi Shuxue said.

Chi Yeyu muttered, “I have to go give Ci Cheng a like for that.”

The plane landed at W City International Airport. Clouds hung low over the runway.

It was a damp, cold early spring. Shi Shuxue pushed her suitcase ahead, wrapped in a large black coat, her wheels gliding over the polished floor. She insisted on taking both sets of luggage, piling Chi Yeyu’s suitcase onto her own. Chi Yeyu didn’t understand her reasoning but let her have her way.

By the time the car reached her hometown, it was nearly dark. The housekeeper was already waiting at the entrance, greeting them with a smile: “Young Mistress, Miss Chi, you’re finally back! The old lady has been very lucid these past few days, she’s been sitting by the window every day waiting for you.”

“I’ll go see her.” Shi Shuxue handed her coat to the housekeeper and hurried toward her grandmother’s bedroom.

The door was slightly ajar, and the sound of hushed talking drifted from inside. The moment Shi Shuxue pushed the door open, she froze.

Her grandmother was sitting in bed, leaning against the headboard with a camel-colored fleece blanket over her, fiddling with colorful candy wrappers in her hands. The last rays of the setting sun fell on her silvery hair, softening the wrinkles on her face.

Seeing Shi Shuxue, the old lady’s eyes lit up. She put down the candy wrappers and reached out: “Xiao Xue is back?”

Shi Shuxue’s throat tightened, her nose stinging. She rarely heard that name from her grandmother.

Before she went abroad, her grandmother couldn’t even recognize her. She would only stare blankly and repeatedly murmur “Xiao Yu.” Chi Yeyu must have spent a fortune on professional medical teams, but her grandmother’s memory was still like a hollowed-out dam, once it collapsed, it was hard to restore.

“Grandma.” Shi Shuxue walked over, sat on the edge of the bed, and took the withered hand.

Grandma’s palm was warm. She gently patted the back of Shuxue’s hand and looked at Chi Yeyu behind her, smiling. “Xiao Yu is here too? I remember you. You used to follow Xiao Yu around when you were little, and you loved the pear flower candy we made at home.”

Chi Yeyu was stunned for a moment, then leaned down, her voice soft: “Grandma, long time no see.”

“Good, good.” Grandma nodded repeatedly, her eyes clear, not looking like a late-stage Alzheimer’s patient at all. “Did you have fun on your trip? Xiao Xue, this child is always so busy with her studies, it’s rare for her to relax for a few days.”

She rambled on about little things from Shi Shuxue hiding candy as a child to the time Chi Yeyu broke her favorite celadon bowl. Those fragments of the past sounded as clear as if they had happened yesterday.

As they listened quietly, Shi Shuxue suddenly said, “Tell me about Shi Xianyu.”

Grandma laughed, looking at her and rubbing the top of her head with her dry palm. “Shi Xianyu… you’re such a big girl now, and you still won’t call her ‘Mom’?”

Shi Shuxue said bluntly, “It feels awkward. Can you tell me about her? If you don’t, I’m afraid I’ll forget her.”

Grandma let out a long, smiling sigh. “Your grandfather was a high school English teacher. He cared about his reputation more than anything and only liked children who studied well. Your aunt was four years older than your mother, she was hardworking from a young age but had a tyrannical streak. She’d steal your mother’s snacks and tear up her sheet music. If your mother ever talked back, your grandfather would scold her without even asking who was at fault.”

“Back then I was away… teaching in the Tibet area. Only your great-grandmother doted on her, secretly giving her money for music books and staying with her in the courtyard while she practiced singing. Your mother was talented, she had a beautiful voice and learned the piano quickly. When she was little, the moment her fingers touched the keys, it was like magic.”

“But her heart was always empty. She held a grudge against your grandfather and this home. Once, when she was in elementary school, she had a high fever and was semi-conscious. Your great-grandmother had taken your aunt back to their ancestral home, so no one was watching her. Only later did we find out it was the little girl next door who, fearing she’d burn up, snuck over to give her water and medicine. But that silly child thought it was your grandfather who did it when she woke up. She always insisted he must have cared for her in his heart.”

A thunderous roar went off in Shi Shuxue’s mind, turning everything into a blank slate. She almost didn’t dare hear the rest of the story.

Standing behind her, Chi Yeyu placed her left hand firmly on Shuxue’s shoulder.

“I didn’t manage the household much then, so I didn’t know about the obsession in her heart. Later, in college, she fell for a boy named A-Yuan and got pregnant with you. When your grandfather found out, he beat her in the courtyard, calling her shameless. He kicked her out and said he’d beat her every time he saw her.”

Grandma’s voice sank, tinged with a sob. “He wouldn’t even look her in the eye. He felt she had disgraced him.”

“After your grandfather passed away, I thought she would slowly get better. But the knot in her heart never untied.”

Shi Shuxue finally knew what Shi Xianyu had been searching for. All her life, she had been chasing evidence that she was loved.

“Did Shi Xianyu find out later? About the person who actually saved her?” Shi Shuxue’s voice was incredibly dry. She knew her mother must have found out, otherwise…

“Yes, she found out. And she heard it at the worst possible time. One year, her band was on the verge of breaking up, and the pressure was immense. That A-Yuan told her the truth then, he told her she had never been loved by anyone. Then came the affair, and she completely fell apart. She got sick, her hands started to shake, and she couldn’t even play the guitar anymore.”

Shi Shuxue sat there, nailed to the bed by those words. Her mind was silent, devoid of images, filled only with a slow-creeping realization that spread to her limbs. She finally saw clearly the road that led Shi Xianyu to that rooftop.

Behind her was a warmth she had misattributed for decades. A man had deliberately destroyed her last pillar of support with a vicious truth. Stepping on betrayal, stepping on illness, and finally… stepping on her trembling fingers that could no longer make a sound.

Countless thoughts, like cold needles, pricked into Shi Shuxue’s temples. Shi Xianyu spent her life hoping to be loved, but in the end, she got nothing. Paternal love was a misunderstanding, romantic love was a lie, and even the music that kept her alive was taken by disease. She had trekked through a desert her whole life, only to find that beyond the mirage, there wasn’t even a single drop of water.

Shi Shuxue felt a surge of intense nausea, not physical, but a deep sickness of the soul. She hunched over, her fingers digging hard into her knees until her knuckles turned blue.

At that moment, a warm palm landed steadily on her heaving back. It was Chi Yeyu. She didn’t speak, she just slowly stroked down Shuxue’s spine, over and over. Warm and stable. No words of comfort were offered, because any words would feel shallow at this moment.

Chi Yeyu looked at Shuxue’s tense back, her eyes swirling with complex emotions, heaviness, pity, and a profound understanding. She perhaps touched the desolation of Shi Xianyu’s heart earlier than anyone, and she understood the powerlessness Shuxue was currently enduring.

After a long time, Shi Shuxue slowly straightened up. Her face was tearless, but her lips were a transparent, ghostly pale, and fine beads of sweat stood out on her nose.

She looked at her grandmother: “I’ll go see if the bird’s nest soup is ready.”

The room was deathly quiet. The light outside had turned to a dusky black. Shi Shuxue’s legs felt weak; she wobbled when she stood up and was caught by Chi Yeyu.

Just then, the housekeeper came in with the freshly stewed bird’s nest, smiling. “Look, Miss, the old lady has such a good memory lately. She even remembers things from when you were little. The doctor came yesterday and called it a miracle.”

Noticing the darkness in the room, she set the bowl down and flipped the switch. “Why were you talking in the dark? It’ll strain your eyes.”

As the light flooded the room, Shi Shuxue squinted. She nodded calmly to the housekeeper and walked out.

In the car home that night, Chi Yeyu had called for a driver. They sat in the back, and Shi Shuxue stared silently at her phone screen.

The replay count for the band’s last performance had reached a million. The duet she and Chi Yeyu uploaded last night had already surpassed ten thousand. Since the performance ended, the popularity of Shi Xianyu’s “Powder Snow Swing” had spiked again. Cover versions sat firmly at the top of the music charts.

In milk tea shops, convenience stores, and even over school loudspeakers, that clear and melancholy melody could be heard on loop. The comment sections were packed with new listeners, some saying “I want to cry the moment the intro starts, who wrote such a gentle song?” and others wondering who the original creator was, hoping to see her live.

Their band, which had been lukewarm for years, was suddenly catching fire. Performance invites flew in from across the country, and sponsorship contracts were piling up.

But Shi Xianyu would never see it. When she was alive, the band was squeezed into a tiny rehearsal space, barely scraping together travel money for gigs where the audience was sometimes only twenty people. She once smiled at Chi Yeyu, who was then just a child, and said: “When we get famous, we’ll play in big stadiums. A solo concert. The glow sticks in the crowd will look like a sea of stars.”

That dream had now come true.

Shi Shuxue’s finger slid across the soaring play counts, and the light in her eyes dimmed. The neon lights outside reflected in her pupils. She wiped her eyes, and unable to find a tissue, she reached out to Chi Yeyu.

Chi Yeyu heartrendingly wiped the tear tracks from her eyes, whispering, “Don’t cry.”

Shi Shuxue sniffled, her voice low. “Shi Xianyu’s songs are playing in every street and alley, but she can’t hear them anymore.”

“We’ll go to her grave and play them for her,” Chi Yeyu said.

Shi Shuxue asked, “Would it be too noisy for the others?”

Chi Yeyu replied, “It’s not like we’re bringing the whole band there. We’ll play it secretly and quietly. It’ll be fine.”

Shi Shuxue couldn’t help but imagine the whole band bringing their massive instruments to the cemetery like a boisterous parade. She pursed her lips. “The things you say… why are they so funny?”