"My dad left too suddenly. In those first few years, I was so angry with him. I couldn't believe he was gone from this world.
Do you know how close we were? Even Jiang Lai, my best friend at school, was only second best compared to him. Since we were that close, how could he just leave without a word? It was a low blow.
When I was little, he had a Phoenix bicycle with a top tube. I remember that Phoenix was yellow, with a brown leather seat, and there were two characters on the tube. When I was three or four, my dad told me they were 'Zhong-guo'—China. Those were the first characters I ever learned. Every time he lifted me onto the bar, I’d point my finger and read them out loud: 'Zhong-guo.'
The two of us would often ride that 28-inch bike to town to buy popsicles. Sometimes my mom would sit on the back rack with us. I remember the fields we passed; someone was always burning straw. I’ll never forget the scent of that smoke.
Sometimes after dinner, he’d take me for aimless rides. We’d ride along the Lianhua River, and he’d tell me stories about ghosts, about Yue Fei, and Song Jiang. If we found a good spot, we’d park the Phoenix, and he’d direct me to gather dry branches and grass. We’d start a fire and then let it die down, burying potatoes and sweet potatoes in the embers to roast. We’d go home exhilarated, our hands covered in black soot.
In the summer, while the other boys were swimming in the river, I wouldn't join them. I only went out to play with the other kids when my dad was working. We had a room at home where he did his carpentry, and I’d play beside him while he worked. He’d look up at me every now and then; sometimes he’d wink, and I’d jump for joy. Whenever he winked, he’d toss me something he’d just made—a little cat or dog, a slingshot, or a wooden handgun. That was our secret signal.
My earliest memory is picking up the wood shavings he’d just planed. They had that spicy, fresh scent of wood. I only wanted the largest, most perfect curls, and it would take me a long time to pick one I liked. Later, when I was a bit older, he gave me a small set of saws and planes and had me complete tasks for him. Sometimes it was a rectangular block, sometimes a square, sometimes a simple mortise and tenon joint. As long as I finished the task, I’d get whatever I wanted.
At first, my mom was always afraid I’d get hurt, but my dad would say: 'Even if my son pokes a hole in the sky, he’s still got his old man. What’s there to be afraid of?'
When he worked, he always kept an enamel mug by his side. That mug was older than me. My mom and I could get away with almost anything, but that cup was the one thing we didn't dare touch. It was a souvenir the government gave him when he participated in the local militia’s special training as a young man.
He had his heart set on joining the army back then, but my grandparents wouldn't allow it since he was their only son. Once, he and my Uncle Gui San tried to sneak off to enlist, but my grandfather caught up to them and dragged him back by the ear. My grandmother told him that if he went again, she wouldn't eat until he came back. After that, he behaved. But he carried that militia mug with him everywhere.
My mom said there was a year when Jinning suffered a once-in-a-century flood. Truckloads of soldiers were brought in from out of town for disaster relief. My dad said he was just going to take a look, but he didn't come back for a day and a night. My mom thought he’d been swept away, but later she found out he’d run off to help with the rescue. He ran home, his face and body covered in mud, just to tell my mom before heading back out. But when she saw him, she collapsed on the floor, and he couldn't leave again.
I remember that final morning; he turned back and smiled at me. The sunlight hit his white teeth. I remember thinking then how white his teeth were, and that when he smiled, there was a long wrinkle at the corner of his eye. I thought, *Dad is getting old.*
I don't know why, on such an ordinary morning, that one smile stayed with me so vividly. It’s like a slow-motion shot in a movie. Maybe God took pity on me, pitying the fact that our time as father and son would only last those few years, so He left me with many memories.
Actually, when he passed, he wasn't much older than I am now. Over the years, I feel like I’ve come to understand him better. He didn't just take my father away; he took a part of me with him forever. I miss him, but I also resent him. Why didn't he say a single word of goodbye? I don't even know if we'll ever meet again. I never got the chance to tell him how glad I was that he was..."
Qi Lian choked up and couldn't go on. He pulled Yu Mo tightly against his chest, clutching the only tenderness he had to fill the void left by pouring out his secrets. He had bared the most hidden corners of his heart to another, leaving him feeling as vulnerable as a naked infant.
Yu Mo reached out to hold him, but her arms were too short to wrap around his broad frame. She tried her best to pull him into her embrace, seeking to soothe the sudden ache. Her lips pressed against his burning skin as she whispered, "Were you scared back then?"
Inside Qi Lian, a volcano erupted. The earth shattered, and flames rolled forth to consume the world. His throat felt as if it were being squeezed. After a long moment, he finally forced out the difficult words, letting the predatory fire surge out.
"I was! There were so many nights I was too scared to close my eyes. I’d check on my mom every few minutes. A few times, I watched her struggle for breath, her whole body convulsing. I was so stiff I couldn't move. I wanted to call for help, but I couldn't make a sound. It was like the most terrifying nightmare, but I couldn't wake up. Only one thought was in my head: if I couldn't save my mom, my dad would be angry with me.
I carried her on my back and ran toward town. I only remember that everything was black. It was the middle of the night with no streetlights. I’d never seen darkness like that, with only the dogs barking like crazy. Sometimes I’d step into a pit and fall with her. I’d shake with fear, wondering if she could still catch her breath. If she even twitched slightly, I’d be overjoyed and scramble back up to keep running.
Once, after we reached the hospital and she was saved, I realized I’d lost a shoe. That foot was covered in cuts, and there was blood all over the floor. They told me to give up. They didn't understand—this wasn't just my mother; she was the most important person to my father. I had to look after her for him, as long as I had a breath left in me.
Once, I went to a distant uncle’s house to borrow money. They told me that for a kid, arriving at the hospital a bit late was expected, and they’d understand if I couldn't pay for the emergency treatment. I didn't resent them for not lending the money, but they shouldn't have said that. They could never understand the bond between the three of us. I smashed every bowl on their table and left without a word. From then on, most of our relatives stayed far away from us.
My mom might not have been the best mother, but that wasn't her fault. All her life, she’d been protected too well by my grandparents and my dad. She was like a hothouse flower; if you suddenly put her in the wild, she couldn't survive. I don't blame her. My mom had an older brother who drowned in the river when he was a teenager. My grandparents prayed to every god and buddha before they finally had her. They were in their forties when she was born. Maybe because they were so old, her health was poor from childhood.
Between her health and being a late-born daughter, my grandparents held her in the palm of their hands, doting on her carefully. Gradually, her health improved, and by the time she was twenty, she was almost like a normal person. My mom was beautiful and had a wonderful singing voice. My earliest memory of her is lying beside her, listening to her sing. She knew so many songs; she never sang the same one twice when she tucked me in at night. Sometimes I’d hear her singing to my dad in their room. It was different from the songs she sang to me. I’d get jealous and demand she sing the same ones for me, and she’d actually blush.
My dad said the first time he saw her was when he was working at her neighbor’s house. He heard her singing next door every day. After a while, he felt he’d fallen in love with her and just had to see her. Once they met, it was over. He always said that the moment he saw her, he knew he was done for.
But my grandparents didn't agree. It was a bloodbath at home. Back then, our family was quite well-off, and my dad was the only boy. Most importantly, everyone knew how smart he was. He was already a master craftsman at a young age, famous far and wide. My grandmother said he could have any girl he wanted in the area. Even the daughter of a 'ten-thousand-yuan household' in the next village had her eye on him. My grandmother rejected her because her torso was too long and her legs were short like a Pekingese; she said if he married her, the Qi family would become a litter of lapdogs.
Right after that rejection, my dad said he’d set his heart on a sickly, spoiled girl. My grandmother nearly hit the ceiling. She felt she’d lost face and that my dad had been bewitched. My dad didn't argue with them. Later, he stole the household register and told them that if they didn't agree, he’d just marry into her family as a matrilocal husband. That was the only way he got her into our house."
Yu Mo let out a "pfft" and laughed. A cheerful glint danced in her eyes, her little canine teeth peeking through. Qi Lian pinched the flesh of her cheek with two fingers and gave it a gentle twist. A prominent red mark immediately appeared on her snow-white face. Regretting it instantly, he leaned down to brush the red spot with his lips.
"What happened next?" Yu Mo urged.
"My mom never knew how my grandparents felt. My dad kept the situation on his side of the family a complete secret. My mom would say, 'Make sure you explain my health to your family.' My dad would always say, 'I did, I did. They all agree.'
It wasn't until she moved in that she realized what was going on. For the first few meals, my grandmother would cook exactly four bowls of rice—none for my mother. My aunt was just a young girl then; she saw it and asked, 'Why isn't there any rice for Sister-in-law?' My grandmother said, 'Your sister-in-law isn't hungry.'
My mom had never been snubbed like that. Her face turned red, but she didn't dare speak. My dad just silently gave his rice to her. He went hungry for two meals straight. Even when my grandmother made a separate meal just for him, he wouldn't eat it. He only ate when she finally brought out five bowls."
"Your dad was so sweet," Yu Mo whispered.
"I really wish you could have met him. You would have liked him. Even though he’s been gone all these years, I always feel like he’s still here. Whenever I face something, I think about what he’d want me to do. There was only one thing I used to look down on—like Qi Shuai’s dad, acting all sappy and sentimental over a woman. Who knew? It was just a matter of time. Essentially, my father and I are the same. I thought my dad was a genetic mutation in the Qi family to be such a romantic, but who knew a mutation could be inherited?"
He laughed, his chest vibrating against Yu Mo’s ear and making it itch. She tried to pull away slightly. Qi Lian’s large hand pressed against the back of her head, pulling her back to his chest.
"You're so bossy, Qi Lian."
"Is this your first day knowing me? In bed, I have the final say. Everything else is up to you." He spoke with a roguish air, his expression turning slightly flirtatious, melting away his usual coldness. His eyes held a boyish eagerness, like the teenager in his stories. He coaxed, "Little Bud, what are you going to call me? Let me hear it!"
Yu Mo burrowed further into his arms. "I won't."
Qi Lian first gripped her neck to pull her out of his embrace, then pinched her cheeks with two fingers, his tone unreadable as he repeated her words: "You won't?"
His other hand moved down, wandering mischievously. He asked in a dangerous tone, "Then who am I? What am I doing? Do you just let anyone touch you here?"
His tone made her face flush. Yu Mo tried to hide but couldn't escape. He stared unblinkingly into her eyes. Her face burned. "You're bullying me!" she protested.
"That's right. When I see you, I can't help but want to bully you ruthlessly. I’ve held back so much my teeth ache. I didn't even know I was this twisted. What do you think I should do? If you ever let anyone else touch you here, I’ll do things more twisted than you can imagine."
Yu Mo knit her elegant brows in discomfort and asked defiantly, "And what about you?"
"Me?" Qi Lian thought for a moment. "I won't. As long as you still want me, I’m yours for life. I told you, I’ve placed the remaining half of my life in your hands. I wouldn't dare. I could even carve your name on it."
Yu Mo’s eyes widened. *What a twisted idea.*
Seeing her staring like a startled quail, Qi Lian couldn't hold back any longer. He tilted her small face toward him and swallowed her breath. They were like two young animals who had just learned the joy of play-fighting—you nip my back, I bite your leg. Back and forth they went, yet neither was willing to truly bite, instead grazing with their teeth, their hearts full of joy and adoration.
Outside the window, the sun was at its zenith, and the cicadas shrieked with all their might.
"Little Bud, you're my precious treasure, you know that? I like you ten thousand times more than that little Republic-era stool you love. I wouldn't trade you for any amount of money. No matter where I go, I’m taking this little stool with me. Even when I die, I’m taking this little stool."
This time, it was Yu Mo’s turn to laugh. Her shoulders shook, and she couldn't stop, feeling as light as if she were floating to the ceiling.
Qi Lian’s eyes were also full of laughter. He gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and said softly, "My dad built a three-story house. Back then, there wasn't a more grand building in the area; the facade even used marble. My dad told me he was building a nest to attract a phoenix. They’d live on the first floor, and we’d live on the second. The second floor is about two hundred square meters. I’ll decorate it however you want. If you can describe it, I’ll figure out how to make it, even if it doesn't exist in all of China. Wang Dejiang’s skills are just amateur hour; your man is the best craftsman in Jinning."
Yu Mo’s face ached from laughing. Hearing this, she giggled even harder, feeling like a silly girl.
Seeing her laugh like that, Qi Lian wanted to tease her again. "The family at the entrance to our village has a big German Shepherd named Black General. He lunges at strangers; when he stands up, his paws can reach your shoulders. He likes girls like you best. One bite could go right through your shoulder."
Yu Mo finally stopped laughing. She looked at Qi Lian and said unhappily, "Then I won't go to your house. Am I stupid? If I can't win, can't I at least hide?"
"Not go?" Qi Lian toyed with her earlobe. "A wife follows her husband. That’s your home; where else would you go? Don't be silly. What are you afraid of with your man there? If he dares touch a hair on your head, I’ll tear him apart with my bare hands! Don't be scared, I’m just teasing. He and I are best friends. I’ll take you to feed him meat a couple of times, and he’ll accept you."
***
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Echoes of Lotus District | Chapter 47 | Carving Your Name | Novela.app | Novela.app
