"Yicheng, it's in the past now. Auntie would be so proud to see how capable you are today." Xu Nianhua gently patted his shoulder. They always say, a child with a mother is a treasure, while one without is like a blade of grass.
"Nianhua."
Pei Yicheng held her hand—her soft palm carrying a faint warmth. After all these years, he was no longer that angry young boy. He took a deep breath, the haze of alcohol slowly fading. He leaned against her shoulder and continued, "I want to tell you about my past. I don't want you to hear about me from anyone else."
"Okay, I'm listening." Xu Nianhua's voice became even gentler.
Pei Yicheng paused for a moment before going on, "That day, the sky was gloomy. He'd recently been hospitalized for stomach problems. My mom worried he wouldn't eat properly, so she made lunch and brought it to him. Who would've thought—she never came back."
...
