Jiang’s mother’s health was deteriorating, growing thinner, though her spirit remained good. Watching health gradually leave her body, Jing Xin could only turn away helplessly, wiping away tears from her eyes.
Jing Xin often pondered the helplessness of life. At the moment when life was about to burn out, the man who had once done everything to be with Jiang’s mother had not appeared. Jiang Xiangyang would never mention this man, despite the fact that he had given him life.
Sighing secretly, a man’s passion arrives fiercely but disappears without a trace.
Perhaps only in a fairy tale world could someone guard another for a lifetime without regret. What about her lifetime? Would she find that person and stay together forever?
After the dull professional ethics class on Thursday, Jing Xin packed her books and took a bus to the hospital. The warm afternoon sunlight streamed through the window, warming the two people by the bed. Jing Xin concentrated on peeling an apple.
Jiang’s mother, looking tired, leaned against the high-stacked pillows, tilting her head to observe the girl. Her dim eyes held a faint smile; the more she looked, the more she liked Jing Xin. She gently covered Jing Xin’s hand: “Jing Xin, stop peeling for a moment. Can Auntie ask you something?”
“Okay, Auntie, what is it? Just say it. I’ll finish peeling soon,” Jing Xin replied, not stopping her work.
After a long moment, Jing Xin stood up and walked to the window, her gaze on the flower bed outside. The colorful wildflowers bloomed cheerfully, growing carefree in the vast expanse, completely unrelated to the world’s sorrows. Yet, she knew that no one exists in isolation, and she couldn’t rashly make decisions for herself.
Finally, Jing Xin spoke softly: “Auntie, I won’t hide it from you. I do like Xiang Yang.”
