Chapter Seventy-Four: Holding It In Too Long Will Make You Sick

When Mai Xijun could no longer restrain herself and was about to rise and ask what was going on, the door to the reception room opened first.

She forced herself to suppress the surge of excitement in her heart, but when she saw who entered, her heart clenched violently. Her dark brows drew together as if by reflex, and something seemed to lodge in her throat, making it impossible to utter a single sound. The stiffness was almost unbearable.

Two officers held the visitor firmly, their vigilance heightened as they stood flanking the woman. Yet Mai Xijun could hardly believe her eyes. When she turned to Nian Yuchen for help, he merely shrugged.

He had simply found the person at her request; he knew nothing more. The woman before them was gaunt, her frail body wrapped in the faded blue uniform of the rehabilitation center. Her face was covered with cloth, as if she deliberately wished to conceal her appearance from the world.

Mai Xijun gazed into those deeply sunken eyes. She no longer possessed the fullness and allure she once did; her body, once elegant and brimming with charm, was now little more than skin and bones, frail as a skeleton. Mai Xijun could not bear the sight and turned away.

She could not imagine—if this woman before her was indeed her mother after so many years apart, then...

“Please take me back,” the woman suddenly rose, only to be restrained by those beside her.

“Behave yourself.”

The officers pressed her shoulders down harshly, her face nearly touching the table. The sight chilled Mai Xijun to the core. If this was her mother, how must she have endured all these years?

“Mom...” Mai Xijun could no longer hold back her tears; a crystal droplet broke free as she tried to move closer. The woman suddenly began to struggle like a madwoman, retreating.

“Don’t come near me. Officer, I don’t know her at all. Why have you brought me here?” she fought and raged, but her tone was pleading, begging them to take her away. Even if she must return to that cold, dark place, she did not wish to stay here, confronted by someone she longed for yet feared to meet.

Mai Xijun’s tears fell uncontrollably. “Mom, I’m Junjun, your Junjun. Don’t you recognize me?”

She took a tentative step forward, but the woman was alarmingly wary, struggling to retreat further. “I told you, I don’t know you. Don’t come any closer.”

Nian Yuchen watched the scene, feeling deeply conflicted. This woman had been addicted for quite some time. When he saw her file and compared it to her photos from years past, he could scarcely believe the difference—how could someone so vibrant have become so diminished?

Were it not for the striking resemblance between Mai Xijun’s features and those in the woman’s old photos, even he might have believed the woman truly did not know Mai Xijun. Yet it was true—this woman was Mai Xijun’s mother. All the evidence pointed to their undeniable connection. But why did she refuse to acknowledge her daughter? Nian Yuchen could not fathom it.

Mai Xijun’s repeated attempts only provoked stronger resistance; the woman’s spirit nearly collapsed, bristling like a hedgehog or a wild wolf with sharp fangs, ready to wound anyone who came near. The officers, helpless, had no choice but to force her back.

Mai Xijun sank in defeat onto the bench. She had never imagined Chen Xueming would refuse to see her. All these years, she had never blamed her mother for abandoning her. She believed there must have been some necessity, and she knew very well what that necessity was: Chen Xueming could no longer afford to raise her, or perhaps she simply no longer wished to.

In Chen Xueming’s world, Mai Xijun had always existed as a burden. Yet she was her mother, and no matter where or when, that fact could never change.

Nian Yuchen wanted to offer a few words of comfort, but opening his mouth, he found himself unable to utter a single line.

Silently, he followed behind Mai Xijun, neither speaking nor making a fuss. He called someone to drive his car away.

He did not know how long they walked, following the broad, quiet road, where the occasional leaves of the plane trees drifted down, evoking a feeling of desolation.

Nian Yuchen wondered—how long had he lived this way, without sorrow or joy? He had never been moved by the troubles of the world. His life was comfortable, never easily touched by the scene before him.

But now, as he raised his eyes and looked at the branches, half turned yellow, he felt a pang—autumn was coming, and winter could not be far behind.

Mai Xijun sat on a long bench, head bowed, gazing at her toes. Nian Yuchen stopped, watching her sit alone. Suddenly, he wanted to accompany her, even if only by sitting quietly at her side.

After a long while, he turned again to look at Mai Xijun, watching her silent, composed demeanor.

She was too beautiful—a glance and a smile could captivate countless hearts, her charm unrivaled. Yet she was born with a certain cold pride, not given to laughter, which made her smiles rare and precious, like priceless gems.

“If you want to cry, then let it out,” Nian Yuchen said gently, his voice deep and soft. “Holding back tears for too long can make you ill.”

He had never experienced the feeling of wanting to cry but having no tears, wanting to speak but lacking the words. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, his life was filled with luxury and prosperity.

He was surrounded by excellence—attending elite schools, never knowing any other kind of life. Had he not seen her work at the exhibition, which caught his eye and sparked his admiration, though he never managed to obtain it, he would have thought their paths would never cross again.

Or perhaps, even if they met, it would be only in passing, never with the scene at the banquet where he called out to her.

Mai Xijun tried to hold back, sniffing at first, then wiping her eyelids, then quietly sobbing, until finally she burst into uncontrollable tears.

If a wounded beast finds a cave, it can hide away, licking its wounds and enduring in silence. But once shown care and concern, it can no longer bear it.

If a child falls and hurts himself, he will stand up and brush off his knees if no one sees, but when someone who loves him comes, the tears will fall in great drops.

Mai Xijun was like this now—such is the weakness of human nature. Had Nian Yuchen not intervened, she might not have broken down, and he would not have gently held her in his arms, softly patting her back, resting his chin on her head, nestled in her soft hair...