That thought surged, turning into a long, drawn-out rain outside the window, with no end in sight… until the water flooded the potted plants in their home, until Ah Hua turned into a water buffalo. Her clothes began to grow damp.
She shouted for Jiang Ze to stop, to stop raining already.
Then—do you still want to leave Jiang Ze?
What she poured out to the sea at seventeen, the longing she could not let go of, she heard its echo at the seaside at nineteen.
Only this time, the echo was a long, unending rain, so heavy that even the quilts at home began to feel damp. When she went out to dry the quilts, she was pulled into a broad embrace. It grabbed her hand and asked her: Xiaoya, could you not go?
The little dog bumped its forehead against it.
Hey—can’t you see I’m holding the quilts?
She shoved it aside and went out to dry the quilts.
When she came back, she saw the one at home who was always as solid and reliable as a rock, omnipotent and unshakeable—her mother—sitting on the doorstep, like a huge doll forgotten by the world, head lowered, quietly gazing at the two mushrooms that had grown out of the damp flowerpot in the corner of the wall.
It thought she had left, that she was going to a place very far away from Jiang Ze, that she would never love it again. It asked whether she had come back because she had forgotten something.
—That was the first time Jiang Xiaoya saw the all-powerful Jiang Ze look so utterly lost.
She said: I forgot to bring Jiang Ze.
The older one who had been pretending to stay calm froze, almost a little overwhelmed by the favor. Everything slipped out of control—heartbeat, breathing, control itself.
It was like watching helplessly as a train, swept up by a blizzard, raced toward a broken bridge.
The train fell. What was beneath that broken bridge?
Mm, it was the quilts the little dog had dried.
They were stirred by the sea breeze, fluttering openly, giving off the scent of sunlight.
She sat down beside it and rested her head on its knee.
That distance and intimacy had already crossed the line. But it did not move, letting her lie against its knee. She extended her fingers, wanting to hook onto it. Realizing that she wanted to hold its hand, it was silent for a moment, then took the initiative to turn its hand over and clasp hers.
Jiang Xiaoya did not go to her internship this year. The rain was a large part of it; another part was that if she went again this year, she would not be able to make up the credits for her general education courses! She could no longer leave—emotionally and in reality alike, she was bound fast.
She thought of Jiang Ze when she was little. It had always, because of its concern for little her, been forced to give up one youthful ambition after another—proof that feelings are a thin chain. One that turns terrifying monsters into apron-wearing mommies.
In her previous life she had been an orphan; many experiences were already unclear, only remembering that on the road of pressing forward bravely, though there were many companions, she always felt lonely, like dandelion fluff blown apart by the wind. When she was young, she had been Jiang Ze’s kite string; when she grew up, Jiang Ze also became her kite. But that was good too—no matter how high or how far they flew, they would not be blown apart.
Their feelings were too complicated. Perhaps sixty percent family affection and forty percent love. Of course, it might also be thirty percent, fifty percent—no one could really tell how much of what. Like pepper and salt mixed together, who could possibly separate them grain by grain and count them?
If Jiang Xiaoya were asked to evaluate this special kind of feeling, it would probably be: sprinkled on steak, it tastes really good.
This was the beginning of their very delicious love.
───♡───
It had been a mother for nineteen years, yet this was the first time it was learning how to be Jiang Ze.
It felt a little unfamiliar, a little at a loss. This was a brand-new self—one that, after shedding the halo of the all-powerful mother, would feel nervous and uneasy when facing the one it loved.
It did not know what kind of Jiang Ze she liked. Playing a role had never been its strong suit; the only thing it could offer was to love her, stumbling and awkwardly.
It still nagged her—her thermal pants, her sweaters, the socks she threw around the house. One spring evening, she saw an especially beautiful sunset and immediately ran barefoot onto the balcony, reenacting Titanic, spreading her arms and shouting for Jiang Ze to hold her and jump—
His body moved faster than his mind. In a few quick steps, swift as if grabbing a broom, it hoisted the little dog back from the sea breeze on the balcony.
Jiang Xiaoya struggled and flailed in its arms: Hey! Jiang Ze, do you even understand what romance is?!
It set her down on the floor, calmly admitted that it did not understand romance, then firmly pulled woolen socks onto her feet. In any case, Jiang Xiaoya could not be missing either thermal pants or socks. But this behavior felt far too mommy-like. It squatted down in front of her, bringing its gaze level with hers, and thought for a moment.
A large hand, carrying a hint of tentative intent, gently—clumsily—landed on her fluffy hair, rubbing it ever so restrainedly—this was a signal of trying to break free from old patterns.
But the little dog looked at it and felt absolutely nothing of Jiang Ze’s plain, earnest love.
She asked: Why are you touching my head with a hand that touched socks?
She hated it!
To apologize, it brought back a huge bouquet of roses for her. As a mother, one could not give such flowers. But Jiang Ze, it seemed, could. It squeezed into the richly scented, vividly colored flower shop, its tall figure looking somewhat awkward. It bought a very large bouquet and, out of habit, wanted to write on the card: Mom loves you, Xiaoya.
Then it realized something was wrong. Cross it out, cross it out—Jiang Ze loves you, Ya.
This very large one squatted in the flower shop and thought some more, feeling a bit shy.
The youth changed it to: Love you, Ya.
The next morning, Jiang Xiaoya woke up amid the rich, sweet fragrance of flowers. One corner of the bedroom was almost submerged in a sea of roses. She scampered off to ask Jiang Ze.
Jiang Ze’s back was stiff, focused on stirring the mushroom soup in the pot, his tone deliberately casual:
Mm, I saw them on the way while buying groceries. Do you like them?
But Jiang Xiaoya was no longer a child. Like all sweet girls in the world with a belly full of mischief, she asked him why it was roses, and not jasmine or carnations.
It was a little annoyed, straightened its back, trying to look bigger and more ferocious. Without saying a word, it placed the creamy mushroom soup in front of her and fell silent.
The smug little dog completely ignored the gigantic creature beside her that was trying hard to amplify its presence through silence. Like a butterfly, she happily flitted around the house, humming to herself, poking her head out from the left to look at it. When her head was pressed down, she popped out from the right. She insisted on standing on tiptoe to see what expression it had right now.
It felt that it had completely lost all parental authority.
But now it was Jiang Ze, and could only helplessly watch the little dog grin smugly and laugh at it.
Hmph.
Jiang Xiaoya found a very beautiful necklace under her pillow! It looked a bit familiar to her—like those dazzling necklaces displayed on TV, auctioned off for sky-high prices, with fiery brilliance, costing 2.8 million!
Jiang Xiaoya worried that Daya had spent all the family assets it had saved up from killing water ghosts to buy this. She ran to tell it that if it was really too expensive, it could be returned. For one thing, the money earned from killing water ghosts did not come from the wind; for another, Daya’s money would all be Xiaoya’s in the future anyway. She felt a bit distressed that the inheritance she would receive had shrunk.
It was puzzled: Still need to spend money?
Jiang Xiaoya: ……
Jiang Xiaoya said that Jiang Daya would get caught sooner or later.
It nodded indifferently: Mm, I’ll just wait for Xiaoya to come save Jiang Ze’s life.
However, for someone who had escorted a batch of gemstones to the neighboring city and encountered a terrifying swamp monster along the way, calling the police was probably not an option.
It continued to bring back more flowers. Mostly wild roses; whenever it saw gemstones or beautiful dresses, it would stop. It had no sense of aesthetics, thinking that the most beautiful things in the world were flowers and little dogs.
Anything like little flowers or little dogs, it brought home.
In fact, this was no different from when it had been a mother before. The swamp monster studied human love and watched more emotional programs. It discovered that love meant giving flowers and gifts to one’s partner, splitting money in half with her, putting houses and cars in the other person’s name—but everything Jiang Daya had already belonged to Jiang Xiaoya.
Not being half-hearted, being reliable, helping with housework—that was already considered peerless love.
But all of that was something most mothers could give.
So it understood that the love of a human male was not even one ten-thousandth of a mother’s.
It found that human standards were so low that it could not tolerate another person existing in the world, loving Jiang Xiaoya in such a crude, slapdash way. Just as it would not allow her to wear shoes that hurt her feet or eat expired food.
Spring was almost over. Like a little dog general capturing a city, she cleared her throat at the dining table and solemnly announced: Jiang Ze, you love me.
She looked like a general formally declaring victory in a war.
It froze, turned its back to her, fingers curling up.
She repeated it again: Jiang Ze, you love me.
It lowered its head and looked at her helplessly, but did not admit it. She clung to it, and it still refused to say it. The little dog ran out angrily to catch some air, but as soon as she opened the door, she saw a rainbow appear over the sea.
She turned around. The swamp monster calmly turned its head as well and began pretending to study the wings of the seagulls outside the window.
It’s not that I am loving you.
It’s the whale spouting water, it’s the dark clouds giving birth to a rainbow.
It’s the sea and the lakes speaking—not me.
───♡───
Being a mother meant suppressing desire and love; rational tolerance outweighed everything. When it was a mother, it often expressed love openly and honestly, without feeling it was hard to say—how natural and justified that was.
But love was not like that. Love was not justified by nature; it was a matter of chance.
This was its first time being Jiang Ze. And becoming Jiang Ze meant exposing the sense of losing control it felt when facing her. To admit that Jiang Ze loved her was to admit its own vulnerability.
Admitting vulnerability in front of a lover was, of course, nothing at all—
But please have some pity on this monster that had been a parent for nineteen years. In the role of a mother, it was omnipotent. Even if the sky fell, it still had to tell the child that everything was fine, go back and sleep.
Yet for it to suddenly confess to her: I am not the omnipotent mother—I am clumsy, jealous, and fragile in love.
That was far too difficult.
The older one always needed to save a bit of face. Carrying a kind of awkward, restrained pride.
And Jiang Xiaoya could understand it.
Xiao Chan’s mother was like this too. Before coming to Haisha City, Auntie said she wasn’t afraid of water at all. After arriving in Haisha City, when Xiao Chan asked her whether she wanted a swim ring, Auntie insisted that she was such a grown person—how could she need that? And then, in water barely one meter deep, she clung to her daughter with both hands and feet, screaming loud enough to shake the sky.
Mm, parents all have little flaws like that.
Their situation was so complicated that, besides being himself, Jiang Ze was still Jiang Xiaoya’s omnipotent parent. Jiang Xiaoya felt that if Jiang Daya were to admit this, it would definitely not happen until the chickens had pecked all the grain away and the fire had burned through the lock.
But just like what was said before, life was still very long.
The little dog was very optimistic. She was nineteen this year, in the prime of youth. If Jiang Ze wanted to preserve parental dignity and only admit it at thirty, that was fine too. Over this long stretch of time, she could simply be like a carefree butterfly, fluttering through the garden of life—see one, love one; meet a pair, then love a pair.
The world was so vast. When the day came that Jiang Ze was willing to set down the burden and speak his heart honestly, she would then consider whether to show great mercy and accept this belated confession.
Thinking of this, the little one smiled—cheerfully, generously.
