Chapter 57 - The Meaning of Rebirth
The silence between them stretched long and heavy, a stark departure from Yu Tianwu’s usual vivacity. Liu Yan, sensing the fragile state of her heart, did not rush to the shower. Instead, he remained still, allowing her to sprawl across him, her weight a grounding presence against his chest.
"Yan-ge," she whispered, her voice muffled against his shirt, "remember what you said. No matter what happens, you have to believe me."
Her long hair spilled over his shoulders like a silken veil. Liu Yan reached up, his large hand gently gathering the stray strands and tucking them back before stroking her head with a rhythmic, soothing motion. "I will," he promised softly.
When she finally pulled back to look at him, her eyes were rimmed with red and shimmering with unshed tears. She leaned in, pressing her lips to his in a lingering, vulnerable kiss. Liu Yan responded with a quiet tenderness, opening his mouth to accept her intrusion, offering her the silent sanctuary she so clearly craved.
Since that night of their partial "showdown," Yu Tianwu’s spirits had visibly improved. The shadows that had haunted her seemed to retreat, replaced by a renewed sense of purpose. She could be heard humming light melodies as she sat in her studio, the scratch of her pencil against the sketchbook marking the birth of new ideas.
The upcoming competition was not a public affair. It was organized by a legendary, eccentric genius in the art world who sought to handpick a protégé through this exclusive channel. Every participant was there by private recommendation only. To be chosen meant more than just prestige; it meant ascending to a realm of art where one’s work gained a different level of existence and value.
The theme he had set was "Reborn."
It was a concept both concrete and abstract—deceptively simple to depict, yet agonizingly difficult to master. Yu Tianwu had already discarded dozens of drafts. Each time she reached the halfway point, the spark would vanish, leaving her with a sense of inadequacy. She held the organizing artist in high esteem, and the weight of that respect made her even more critical of her own work.
*Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.*
Her phone vibrated on the table. Still biting the end of her paintbrush, she reached out and glanced at the screen. Her brow furrowed instantly.
*“5:00 PM. Come to this location.”*
It was a message from her mother.
*What now?* Yu Tianwu thought with a surge of irritation. She typed back quickly: *“Can I skip? I need to paint.”*
The reply was instantaneous and cold: *“Paint what? Can’t those things wait? Be obedient and don’t be late. Your father will be there too. He has always valued appearances, so fix yourself up before you come.”*
*“I really don’t have time,”* she tried to emphasize once more.
*“Don’t make us angry.”*
That final sentence drained the last of Yu Tianwu’s energy. The desire to argue evaporated, replaced by a hollow exhaustion. She replied with a curt *“Fine,”* and tossed the phone aside. Looking at the blank canvas before her, she realized her creative drive had been completely extinguished. After staring into the void for several minutes, she ripped the current page from her sketchbook, crumpled it into a ball, and hurled it onto the floor.
It was all useless.
***
When Li Zhenting appeared at the kindergarten gates again, the only person truly delighted was the child, Xiao Ai. She lunged toward him with a squeal of joy, wrapping her small arms around his leg.
"Big Brother! You’re back!" she cried, tilting her head back to beam at him.
Now knowing her identity, Li Zhenting no longer felt the hesitation that had plagued him before. He lifted the girl into his arms, adjusting her so she could look him in the eye comfortably. "Is your name Xiao Ai?" he asked, his voice softening.
"No, silly! My name is Zou Aizi!" she chirped.
*Aizi... Beloved child.*
The corners of Li Zhenting’s mouth twitched into a faint, bittersweet smile. "A good name."
"Hehe, thank you, Big Brother! What’s your name?"
"I’m Li Zhenting. *Zhen* as in earthquake, *Ting* as in thunder."
He tried his best to explain the characters, but the nuances of such powerful words were lost on a preschooler. Xiao Ai looked dazed for a moment before giving him another sweet grin. "Big Brother’s name sounds pretty too!"
"Thank you."
Li Zhenting felt no warmth toward the irresponsible woman who had birthed him, yet he found himself genuinely fond of this little sister. As he looked at her innocent face, a stray thought drifted through his mind: *What would a child between me and Li Zi look like? They would surely be the most precious, adorable child in the world.*
Their friendly exchange was interrupted by the arrival of the person Li Zhenting had been waiting for. Before the woman could offer an angry interrogation, he reached into his pocket and produced the bankbook and his grandmother’s final letter.
"I am Li Zhenting," he said, his voice level and devoid of warmth. "You likely know who I am. Don't be surprised."
The middle-aged woman’s face went pale, her expression shifting through a kaleidoscope of shock, guilt, and fear.
"I didn't come here to play family, rest assured," he continued. "I’m only here to tell you that Grandmother passed away recently. As her daughter, you deserved to know."
He watched as her eyes reddened, her breath hitching. The emotions swirling in her gaze were too complex for him to bother analyzing. Finally, she choked out a question: "How... how did Mom go? Where is her grave?"
"She suffered a brain hemorrhage a while back, which left her partially paralyzed. I moved her to a nursing home. Her health declined over the past year, and eventually, she couldn't hold on any longer."
Li Zhenting spoke in clinical, brief sentences. He didn't mention the terror of his younger self, the isolation of being a child caring for the elderly, or the decades of hardship he had endured alone. He simply stated the facts.
The woman seemed struck by a physical blow. She reached out, her hand trembling as she tried to grab his sleeve. "It’s my fault... I failed you both..."
"Don't," he said, stepping back to avoid her touch. His voice was like ice. "There’s no need for that. I’ve fulfilled my duty by telling you. Her grave is at the City Cemetery, Plot 349. Go if you wish."
In his arms, Xiao Ai grew restless, sensing her mother’s distress. She squirmed to get down. "Mama, why are you crying?"
Li Zhenting set the child down carefully, watching as she ran to her mother’s side. He saw the woman kneel, pulling the girl into a tight embrace, stifling her sobs to comfort the child. "It’s okay, Mama’s okay. Don't worry, Xiao Ai."
It was a picture-perfect scene of domestic warmth—a gentle mother and a sensible child.
Suddenly, Li Zhenting felt a wave of profound boredom. The resentment he had carried felt heavy and pointless. He thrust the bankbook toward her and said, "This money doesn't belong to me. Take it back. I’ve said what I needed to say. Goodbye."
He turned and walked away without looking back.
"Wait!" the woman called out behind him.
He had no desire for further communication. A familiar, restless agitation began to stir in his chest, a dark tide of emotion he didn't want to drown in. To suppress it, he forced himself to think of Li Zi—of the home they were building together. Only then did the shadows recede.
"We can talk another time. If there is a next time," he muttered to the air, his conscience preventing him from being as utterly heartless as the parents who had abandoned him.
***
Three days later, a knock sounded at the door of his old residence. Li Zhenting, still wiping sweat from a workout, opened the door to find his biological mother standing there. He was surprised, but after a moment of hesitation, he stepped aside to let her in.
"Find a place to sit. I'll get some water," he said, leaving her to her own devices while he went to change.
The woman stood in the small, cramped apartment, her eyes wandering over the remnants of a life she hadn't shared. Everywhere were traces of Li Zhenting and his grandmother. On the wall hung a single, faded merit certificate from when Li Zhenting was very young—the only one he had ever received.
She walked toward one of the bedroom doors, sensing instinctively that it belonged to her mother.
"That was Grandmother’s room," Li Zhenting’s voice came from behind her. "You can go in, but don't move anything."
Her hand shook as she reached for the handle, but she didn't push it open. Instead, she turned back to him. "I went to see her yesterday. Today... I came to find you."
"Find me?" Li Zhenting asked, perplexed. He couldn't imagine what else they had to discuss. He brought a glass of plain water and set it on the coffee table. "There’s no tea, only water. Don't mind it."
The woman stared at the glass, shaking her head. "It’s fine."
An awkward silence descended upon the room. Li Zhenting, never one for idle quiet in such tense company, broke it first. "So, why are you here?"
Seeing his softened stance, she finally began to speak. The conversation followed a predictable path; she tried to return the bankbook, insisting the money was a debt she and his father owed him. She recounted the past from her perspective—a story that mirrored the grandmother’s letter but was colored with her own self-justification.
She claimed that after having another child, she had felt deep regret. She had wanted to bring Li Zhenting to live with her, but the grandmother had refused, adamant that the boy should not be forced into a family where he didn't fully belong. The grandmother’s stubbornness had been an immovable wall.
"You are still my child," she said finally, her voice pleading. "If you’re willing... I’d like to invite you to our home for dinner tomorrow. Would you come?"
She left her contact information and the request hanging in the air. Li Zhenting didn't give her an answer, and she didn't push, eventually taking her leave.
Left alone, Li Zhenting sat on the sofa, staring at the untouched glass of water. His mind was a chaotic whirl of conflicting thoughts.
Fortunately, his phone rang—Li Zi’s daily scheduled call. The moment he heard her voice, the tension in his shoulders began to dissolve.
"Have you been eating and sleeping well today?" she asked.
"I ate, I slept, and I worked out," he replied, sounding like a child reporting to a parent.
"Good. Ting-ge is being very obedient."
"Azi..." Li Zhenting’s voice trailed off, sounding uncharacteristically low.
Li Zi caught the change in tone immediately. "What’s wrong?"
"She came over today," he said quietly. "She wants me to go to her house for dinner."
"Do you want to go?" Li Zi’s voice was a warm, soothing balm. "If you don't, you can just ignore her. We have our own home; we don't need to go to hers for a meal."
Li Zhenting let out a small huff of a laugh. "Pfft, you’re talking to me like I’m a kid."
"Well, aren't you?" she teased, though her tone remained incredibly tender.
"I don't know. I might go," he admitted.
"Then go. Don't worry too much. If she tries to bully you, I’ll come back immediately and back you up."
"If you keep using that tone, I’m hanging up!" he grumbled, though his ears were turning a bright shade of red.
"Alright, alright. I’m serious, though. Don't let yourself get hurt. You’re my precious baby, and I’ve worked hard to keep you happy. I won't let anyone else break your heart again, okay?"
Through the receiver, Li Zi’s voice was layered over the distant chatter of students—likely the end of a lecture. Yet her voice remained distinct and clear, anchoring him to the present.
"I know," he whispered, a small smile finally touching his lips.
***
