The first friendly meeting between both sets of parents ended, and Cheng Zhirang sent them back.

The sky had already darkened, and the streetlights shimmered like glowworms.

Mu Qiu and Cheng Zhirang both wore masks. But not long after leaving the Half Mountain Villa District, Mu Qiu sensed the flash of a camera.

She furrowed her brow and turned to look at Cheng Zhirang.

He gave her a reassuring look and whispered, "Don’t worry."

It’s just routine; ever since the show started airing, many paparazzi have been intent on tracking him.

But he didn’t have any earth-shattering secrets; most of what they captured were worthless snippets of daily life. Both sides of the car windows had one-way film, making it impossible to photograph the people in the backseat.

Besides, even if they did capture something, it wouldn’t matter. It’s just his normal life, and meeting parents after getting into a relationship isn’t something that needs to be hidden.

Since he said not to worry, Mu Qiu didn’t say anything more.

After dropping them off, Cheng Zhirang didn’t linger but switched cars, driving away the one from the small villa’s backyard, leaving the one he just drove there in the courtyard.

This could create some smokescreen for the paparazzi waiting outside.

Mu Qiu worried that her parents might feel unhappy with his actions, but unexpectedly, they were quite understanding. When they got back to the living room and talked about Cheng Zhirang again, they were full of praise.

One word, good; two words, not bad; one sentence, this young man is very good, very outstanding.

While eating, Mu Zhi drank some alcohol with Mr. Cheng, and then praised Cheng Zhirang back and forth with just these two sentences.

Even compared to how they used to praise Zhou Jilin, it was no less.

Cheng Zhirang is someone who effortlessly earns others’ trust and praise, tsk.

Mu Qiu muttered in her heart, took off her high heels, poured them each a glass of water, placed it in front of them, and then sat obediently in front of them.

Starting a long-overdue "post-dinner inquiry."

Are Cheng family’s parents quite prestigious? Is the Cheng family’s upbringing good? Is Cheng Zhirang’s family background quite solid? Is Cheng Zhirang usually good to you...?

And so on, a series of questions. If this were like the blind date she imagined before, this would now be like a matchmaker and a mother asking the family’s blossom girl if she’s satisfied with the son of the neighboring village’s head on the blind date.

Too strange.

So even if she had a high evaluation of both Cheng Zhirang and his parents, she answered each question after much careful consideration.

Then they came to a final conclusion — "Xiao Cheng is really great."

If there was another sentence, it might be — worth entrusting for life, dear daughter.

Mu Qiu felt uneasy with her own speculation and quickly extricated herself from the late-night heart-to-heart, running up the stairs with a clattering sound.

"It’s late, Mom and Dad, hurry and get to sleep."

After a good night’s sleep, everything would be normal.

Wednesday is the transitional point of the week, the first two days are for the hard-working, and the last two are for enduring until the holiday.

Usually, this is the day Mu Qiu most likes to stay in bed without any desire to write. But today is her parents’ last day here, so she was called up early and forced to accept her mom’s version of wonton feeding.

Then she took them around the neighborhood to every place where they could shop, stocking up the house with a lot of food.

They even bought two more pots.

Yuan Chun rambled on, organizing the purchases in the living room while insisting that Mu Qiu listen.

"This is pre-made, put it in the fridge, and just microwave it when you want to eat it."

"These are the ingredients for steamed pork, and this is vinegar sauce. When you don’t have an appetite, you can blanch some vegetables and dip them in this to eat..."

"This clay pot doesn’t overflow easily. If you want to make porridge or soup, just throw the prepared ingredients in..."

Mu Qiu: "...Mom, I’m just too lazy to do it, not that I don’t know how."

These words sounded more like instructing a dull child.

Yuan Chun didn’t lecture her like before and, while unpacking the vacuum-sealed sausages, said, "When you lived at home, whether still in school or graduated, we always treated you like a young sapling that needed guidance, thinking about educating you in every aspect.

But now that you’re living far away on your own, I realize that you’re an adult who can sustain herself."

She stopped there and didn’t continue. The living room was quiet, with Mu Qiu crouched among a pile of shopping bags, her chin resting on her knees, eyes lowered, and not saying a word.

After a while, Yuan Chun spoke again, "Yesterday, Xiao Cheng said that when you fell ill and fainted, if they hadn’t happened to see the crack in the door you’d opened, you would have been lying there undiscovered, and when they took you to the hospital, no one was there to keep you company, yet you didn’t shed a single tear.

We always hoped that you would grow up quickly and become the good child we wished for, but learning that you have unknowingly already become like this, we feel that there were too many urgings back then. It should have been slower.

Qiuqiu, your mom knows you resist the arrangements we made for you and wants to walk a different path. In the past, we thought that path was too unstable, as parents only want your life to be peaceful and steady. But luckily you made it through and did so well, we have no reason to stop you anymore.

You’ve grown up, and mom has never realized this so clearly."

By this point, her voice had become intermittent, with long pauses leading to more choking sounds.

Mu Qiu, still in her crouched position with her head resting on her knees, was only left with the gentle sound of her sobbing and breathing, and the silent tears hitting the floor in front of her, gradually forming a small damp patch.

She felt a little breathless, and even opening her mouth for more breathing wasn’t enough; she didn’t even need to blink, as tears slid down her eyelashes, too weak to bear the load, trembling as they fell.

A moment later, she stood up, walked over, and before the dizziness could kick in, embraced Yuan Chun.

She neither called out to her nor said much.

Yuan Chun’s hand patted her back twice, just like comforting her to sleep as a child, and then she suddenly broke down, with tears she had just managed to contain starting to fall again.

Honestly, if she herself were a mother, she would also want her child to be as excellent as possible, walking ahead of all their peers on a path she arranged, receiving others’ praise and admiration.

Also honestly, anyone who is someone’s child wants to walk their favorite path, not necessarily filled with flowers and applause, but joyously and contently traversing it.

Who is at fault? No one is at fault.

It’s just that one wants to escort the whole way, while the other longs to leave the harbor as soon as possible.

————

There is an essay by Long Yingtai called "Watching," mentioning a short, refined piece: I gradually, gradually realized that the so-called father-daughter, mother-son relationship merely means that your fate with him in this life is to keep witnessing his back gradually receding. You stand at one end of the path, watching him vanish at the path’s turning point, and he silently tells you with his back: Do not follow.

Each time I read it again, I still feel a sense of bewilderment and overwhelming melancholy.