“Auntie…” Fu Xiaotang quickly supported her. Song’s mother’s words about understanding a mother’s suffering deeply touched Fu Xiaotang’s softest heartstrings. Moreover, her reluctance to visit Song Li was not because she didn’t love him, but precisely because she did. “Auntie, don’t do this. I’ll go. I’ll go see him.”
Volume Two: The Dancer, Chapter Eighty-One: Calling for Song Li
Song Li lay silently on the hospital bed, gazing upwards. Fu Xiaotang approached slowly, almost cautiously, watching the flickering lines on the bedside machines, which occasionally emitted a soft beep. The humidifier released swirling mist, giving her a dreamlike feeling, almost as if she were back to the years when she cared for Aunt Min. She sat down in the chair, her eyes never leaving the person on the bed. His face was waxen, his eyes tightly shut; to the uninformed, he might seem like a corpse. Fu Xiaotang felt her eyes moisten. It felt like an eternity, or perhaps another lifetime, since she last looked at him undisturbed: waking up in the morning, watching the person beside her in the first light of dawn, tracing his handsome eyebrows, straight nose, and resolute lips with her fingers, getting lost in her gaze every time. She couldn’t understand why she was so enamored with this man.
She had often wished time could stand still so she could tell herself quietly that this man belonged to her, completely. Fu Xiaotang was momentarily lost in thought, a slight smile playing on her lips, then she slowly reached out, touching his face. “Song Li,” she murmured softly, as if in a dream, “I’ve touched you again. This feels so good. I thought I’d never have this chance again.”
“Song Li, I really don’t know how things got to this point between us.”
