When they arrived, rows of tombstones greeted them from the car. In each of those graves lay people who had once lived, who left a photograph on the tombstones after their death. This enabled those still living to remember their voices and smiles.

  It was midday, and it was sweltering. Yan Qingsi could barely squint under the glare of the sun. The dandelion in her hand had scattered into individual tufts after it was plucked from the soil.

  Yan Qingsi gazed out into the overgrown graveyard. She glanced behind at You Yi, but she did not beckon him to come over.

  You Yi did not get down from the car. His hand trembled uncontrollably; a thorn lodged in his throat. He had looked for Yan Qingsi in hopes that she would give him some sliver of light in the dark, b–but……

  There was no kindness for this world to give.

  He had hired people to investigate, oh so many people. There were results on the next day that told him that the woman he had searched for so many years, had missed for so many years, was dead.

  He did not believe it then. He continued to hire investigators. They came wave after wave, and each one gave the same answer.

  That woman was dead. She had died a long time ago.

  The year the woman died was the same year he had left her.

  Yet You Yi had refused to believe. He looked for Yan Qingsi, who was her daughter. She definitely did not wish for her mother to die. She would tell him the truth.

  However, the truth was that she brought him to a graveyard.

  Yan Qingsi’s head was slightly dizzy from the blistering sun; a layer of sweat soaked her forehead, neck and back. The remaining makeup on her face dribbled down with the sweat.

  Yan Qingsi knew what You Yi was going through right now—it was a moment of being pierced with the sharp knife of reality.

  That was why she did not urge him to get down. She had tasted that pain before. It was so agonizing that it felt worse than death.

  Although she gave him time, it did not mean that he was free to escape the truth.

  “Didn’t you want the truth? This is the truth,” Yan Qingsi said coldly, “Didn’t you want to see my mother? I’ve brought you to see her. You better get down from that car.”


  You Yi’s eyes reddened as if they were going to spill blood at any moment now. “I don’t believe you,” he said, his voice so hoarse that it did not seem to belong to him. “You’re lying to me, just like the rest of them……”


  Until now, he refused to accept reality.

  It was as though he was being forced to gouge out his own heart, forced to stare at that bloodstained reality, forced to swallow that unbearable pain.

  Yan Qingsi did not blame him. “Do as you like,” she said lightly, “If you think that lying to yourself will make your days better, do it.”


  You Yi’s response was very normal. She understood that, so she was not angry.

  Yan Qingsi kicked off her heels. Blisters peppered her soles because of those heels.

  She stalked off then, her bare feet marching on the boiling heat of stone on the ground.

  In July, Luo city’s mornings were its days’ hottest. They peaked at about thirty-four or thirty-five degrees, and the ground temperature was even higher. It was like stepping on red hot coals as if your feet were being grilled.

  Yet Yan Qingsi’s expression did not betray any signs of pain, almost as if she felt nothing.

  Yan Qingsi walked, step by step until she reached the gravestone. Sweat drenched her entire head, and her clothes were so soaked that they went translucent. Her makeup was completely gone. She did not look great but little did she care.

  The grass around Nie Qiuping’s grave was neatly trimmed and the tombstone had been polished clean, evidence that someone cared for the place.