“Dalang, have you paid your respects to your parents first? Don’t give them any reason to blame Cuimei.”
“Yes, Aunt, I came from the front courtyard.”
“Was what Shilang said yesterday true?”
“No, Aunt. I grew up by your side—how could you not trust me?”
“You’re grown now, and you’ve been away for years, seen the world. I can’t be sure if you’re still the same Dalang.”
“Aunt, what must I do for you to believe me?”
“Whatever the case, if your heart is no longer with Cuimei, then divorce her. At least spare her further suffering.”
“No, Aunt, why would you think that? Let me explain later—first, I want to see Cuimei and Fang’er.”
Hmm? Who’s speaking with Second Grandmother? The voice is clear and pleasant, though I can’t see the person. Just hearing it makes me feel refreshed—it must belong to a handsome man. Dalang? Did Second Grandmother say Dalang? Does that mean this body’s father has returned? Oh, I shouldn’t think like that anymore. I’m this family’s daughter now—my father has come home. But why is Mother crying? Isn’t she happy that Father is back? Mother, you mustn’t cry anymore. If you keep crying, your eyes won’t be able to see Fang’er.
In her panic, Lin Fang’s eyes suddenly flew open. Heh, finally, I can see this refined world. Ah! Who is this lying in front of me? Why is she so unattractive? A broad face, a wide mouth, a round nose, tiny eyes, barely visible lashes, dark and dry skin, and messy, grayish-white hair like a bird’s nest—what a waste of those natural waves. The most striking feature? Her eyebrows are too close together, almost merging into one thick, dark line—the legendary “unibrow”?
Wait—sobbing? Tears? The voice is familiar. Could this… be my mother?
Lin Fang was stunned. No wonder Lin Shilang said Mother was ugly—it’s true. Though in her past life, she’d seen people even less attractive, and though the saying goes, “A child never thinks their mother ugly,” this was still beyond expectations. Over the past month, listening to Mother’s gentle murmurs and being tenderly cared for in every way, Lin Fang had imagined what her mother might look like. Even if not beautiful, at least… at least not this stark a contrast.
“Mother and daughter share one heart”—this saying couldn’t be more accurate. Li Cuimei had woken when Lin Dalang entered. Hearing her husband’s words and recalling yesterday’s events, her tears began to flow again. Just as she wept bitterly, she felt a gaze fixed on her. Opening her eyes, she saw her daughter—who had been asleep for a month—staring at her with wide, curious eyes.
“Ah! Fang’er is awake! Fang’er, you’ve opened your eyes! Fang’er, Fang’er!” Overjoyed, Li Cuimei could only repeat her daughter’s name, unsure how else to express her happiness.
Hearing Li Cuimei’s incoherent cries, the two in the main room stopped talking. Madam Tong rushed in first, followed closely by Lin Dalang. Carefully picking up Lin Fang, Madam Tong gazed at her bright eyes and gently poked her cheek. “Awake? Oh, heavens! Fang’er, you’ve finally woken! A whole month—you nearly worried your mother to death.”
Wow, Second Grandmother is so pretty! Her skin isn’t pale but has a healthy glow, her eyes crinkle when she smiles, and her long lashes look like tiny brushes. She seems younger than Mother—maybe in her thirties? Impossible, she already has three grandchildren.
“Here, Dalang, look at your daughter. You’ve been gone a month, and Fang’er never woke. Do you know how Cuimei has suffered? If you’ve truly wronged her, I won’t let you off easily.”
“Yes, Aunt. May I hold Fang’er?”
“Why ask me to hold your own daughter? Have you picked up some ridiculous rule about favoring grandsons over sons during your time away? Dump those rules now.”
“No, it’s just—”
Lin Dalang gestured awkwardly, too hesitant to take her. Madam Tong suddenly understood. “You’re afraid of hurting her because she’s so delicate?”
“Yes, yes.”
Still fumbling, Lin Dalang finally relaxed when Madam Tong laughed. “Don’t be nervous. Just hold her the way you held Wen’er and Wu’er—just be gentler.” She passed Lin Fang to him.
Wow, a real beauty! His skin is so fair, with a rounded chin, full lips, a smooth nose bridge, and dark, gleaming eyes—more black than white, with long, curved lashes. His eyebrows are neat, seemingly trimmed but naturally perfect. His forehead is high and smooth, his face the streamlined shape Lin Fang loved most—masculine yet soft. His shoulder-length hair is sleek and glossy, and his moon-white robes make him glow like moonlight. He even smells amazing—fresh and indescribably comforting. If Lin Fang weren’t a three-month-old baby, she’d probably look like a lovestruck fool.
Seeing his daughter’s wide eyes—so like his own—staring unblinkingly at him without a hint of shyness, Lin Dalang’s heart melted. Stroking her soft curls, he smiled back. “Fang’er, I’m your father. Do you remember me?” He hadn’t considered that a three-month-old wouldn’t recognize anyone.
No, of course not. Even the real Lin Fang wouldn’t know you—you left when she was two months old, and now she’s only three months. How could a baby remember your face after a month? This father is handsome, but his question is… well, kind of silly? No, I shouldn’t think that about my own father.
“Alright, you’ve traveled all night and haven’t rested. Talk with Cuimei first. I’ll take Fang’er out to feed her—she must be hungry after waking.” Madam Tong took Lin Fang and closed the door behind her.
Now that feeding was mentioned, Lin Fang realized she was starving. She’d cried her lungs out last night to distract Mother, eavesdropped shamelessly this morning, and spent so much time analyzing her parents’ appearances—no wonder she was famished.
Lin Fang couldn’t shake a strange dissonance. Her parents’ looks were like… beauty and the beast? No, handsome man and…? Oh dear, this is my mother—I shouldn’t think like that. Raised with traditional values in her past life, Lin Fang refused to use harsh words to describe her mother, but the incongruity lingered, troubling her. Yet the moment sweet goat’s milk touched her lips, her hunger pushed all else aside.
After Madam Tong left with Lin Fang, Lin Dalang sat on the bed’s edge. Li Cuimei lay facing inward, shoulders trembling. Gently gathering her messy gray curls, he turned her toward him and wiped her tears with a handkerchief—only for them to flow faster. Finally, he gave up and simply held her hand, letting her cry. Li Cuimei struggled weakly but soon stilled, her sobs gradually quieting.
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