Chapter 246: [My Mother] Dream of Memories
Bai Cha left the hospital.
Even though the doctor expressed that observation was still the best course of action.
Yet given that they hadn’t arrived at a definitive conclusion through discussion either, paired with the patient’s absolute insistence on leaving, after delivering all the necessary persuasion, they refrained from detaining them any further.
Mother Han brought Bai Cha back home.
Throughout the entire journey, Mother Han held Bai Cha tightly in her arms without letting go.
Bai Cha nestled in her embrace as well.
Though the train car was filled with a chaotic blend of odors and noisy clamor, Bai Cha drifted off to sleep inexplicably.
She fell into a dream.
The subject of this dream was no longer the day her father died, nor was it that staircase she could never finish climbing or descending.
It was her mother.
She couldn’t see her face clearly.
The scene in her dream was set at night inside her room, where her mother sat by the bedside telling her a story.
“In a distant northern land, there lies a kingdom of ice and snow. Covered in thick, white snow across all four seasons, it knows no spring warmth or blooming flowers, no warbling orioles or singing swallows, no dawn, and no dark night.”
Her voice sounded soft and gentle, yet proved difficult to discern clearly.
Bai Cha’s drowsy eyes failed to open.
She exerted every effort to strain her eyes open, wishing to catch a single glance of her mother.
A pair of somewhat icy hands covered her eyes.
“Sleep, baby. Good night.”
Bai Cha plunged into a deep, absolute slumber.
Upon waking up, Mother Han was already carrying her out of the train station.
Bai Cha’s mind was somewhat blank.
This was her very first time dreaming of her mother.
Throughout her entire upbringing, she had never dreamed of anything pertaining to her mother, and regarding her father, there had always been merely that single, repeating dream.
Perhaps this dream had awakened a portion of her memory fragments.
She remembered that scene now—it seemed as though such an event had indeed occurred. On that day, her mother abruptly told her a story to coax her to sleep, seemingly because she had fallen ill again.
She couldn’t recall the rest, yet she roughly remembered that story.
It was a story titled The Kingdom of Ice and Snow.
Viewed from her current perspective, this wasn’t a pure fairytale by any means.
The one who unified the kingdom was an hideous monster named Sinderk.
One day, a hermit arrived from the East, bringing with him the four seasons and sunshine.
He then located a cobbler’s household and granted their wish, but required the cobbler to perform a task: carry a flute and step outside according to his instructions.
The cobbler thereupon arrived at a tower and brought forth the dark night. Afterward, a star was born into their household, named Yelang.
Upon growing up, Yelang set out to travel the world. Yet Sinderk was incapable of enduring the four seasons and day and night, inviting a Western Witch to cover the Northern Kingdom in ice and snow once more.
The people plunged back into agony. Throughout his travels, Yelang had continuously been aiding the world.
He arrived at the tower as well, where he encountered the hermit.
The hermit informed him that if he wished for the four seasons, he had to drip his blood upon this dilapidated pagoda; if he wished to restore day and night, he had to gouge out his own eyes.
And before that, he still had to defeat the Western Witch and Sinderk.
Yelang returned home first, discovering that his mother had already passed away.
Using his flute, he brought his mother back to life, and set off on the road to save the world three days later.
He encountered a princess—the niece of Sinderk—who chose to assist Yelang.
Yelang succeeded, severing his own arm and gouging out his own eyes.
The four seasons and day and night reappeared.
The princess ascended the throne as Queen, singing praises of his achievements, admiring his handsomeness, and erecting a statue for him. Countless people regarded Yelang as the lover of their dreams.
Then decades passed, and someone encountered Yelang before this dilapidated pagoda.
Covered in filth, with graying hair and deep wrinkles across his frame, he was missing an arm and blind in both eyes.
The people mocked him, whereupon he declared that he was Yelang.
The people claimed he was insulting Yelang, hurling stones at him and destroying him alongside the pagoda behind him completely.
Thereupon the sky dimmed, and darkness descended once more.
This was clearly not a standard fairytale; the conclusion of a standard fairytale was invariably happy.
Even if the process was inherently satirical, the ending was always written as something beautiful.
Yet this story held nothing but irony.
Bai Cha had no idea why she had abruptly remembered this piece of memory, her brows knitting together unconsciously.
Her memories of her parents were essentially blurred—blurred to a degree where she couldn’t recall them even when trying deliberately in the past, with only that final segment regarding her father remaining relatively clear.
What was going on with this memory popping out of nowhere?
“What’s wrong, Ying-ying?” Mother Han noticed Bai Cha knitting her brows.
“Are you feeling unwell again?” She looked at her nervously.
Bai Cha snapped back to her senses, shaking her head.
“I was merely thinking about something. I want to go do something.”
Temporarily suppressing those thoughts deep in her heart, she needed to resolve Mother Han’s situation first.
“What is it? Tell Mom, and Mom will do it for you!” Mother Han urged hastily.
“I can’t tell Mom just yet, but I’ll indeed need Mom’s help later. You promised you’d do it for me, so whatever I ask you to do, you have to agree, alright?!”
Mother Han hesitated for a brief instant upon hearing this, yet catching sight of the expectant glint in her daughter’s eyes, she nodded her head regardless.
They boarded a small tricycle and returned home.
Upon arriving home, Mother Han set Bai Cha down on the sofa.
The sponge cake had turned a bit dry from being left open for a day. Mother Han hesitated briefly, saying, “Sit and wait a little bit for Mom.”
She stepped into the bedroom to count her money.
The money at home hadn’t been much to begin with.
Even if… she had killed them.
Yet certain portions of money were held in the bank.
On the surface, she was divorced, rendering those funds unwithdrawable.
Looking at the less-than-one-thousand yuan in her hand, Mother Han’s expression grew steadily dangerous.
She couldn’t allow her daughter to be left without money to spend!
“Mom.” Bai Cha stood at the doorway.
Startled in her heart, Mother Han retracted her expression swiftly, turning her head to look back.
“Why did you come over? Didn’t I tell you to wait a little bit for Mom?”
“Is Mom out of money?” Bai Cha asked directly, stepping over at the same time to look at the cash she hadn’t managed to hide in time.
Mother Han felt a touch embarrassed.
“Mom won’t run out of money. All of this is merely temporary—Mom will take good care of you.”
Bai Cha raised her head to look at Mother Han, her eyes crystal clear.
“Can Mom give this money to me?”
Mother Han froze, asking instinctively: “What do you need money for?”
“Didn’t I say I hope Mom will accompany me through my final stretch of time? During this stretch of time, no matter what wish I have, can Mom please grant it for me?”
“What nonsense are you spouting?! What final stretch of time!” Mother Han’s voice trembled slightly; she raised her volume several degrees, attempting to suppress the terror in her heart through it.
Bai Cha wrapped her arms gently around her directly, nuzzling against her.
“Mom, just listen to me this once, alright? Just this once.”
Mother Han’s eyes rimmed red, her trembling arms pulling her into a tight hug.
After a long while, she choked up and spoke: “Alright, Mom will listen to you this once. But after this once, you must listen to Mom!”
“Alright! It’s a deal! Mom can’t go back on her word, or I’ll really be very sad and disappointed.”
Bai Cha extended her pinky finger.
“Pinky promise!”
