Shen Xiangjun’s gaze paused for only a second on the silver ring on Wang Lanhua’s finger.
Inside, her emotions were already churning like a stormy sea, but not the slightest trace of them showed on her face.
It was that ring—the very one from all those years ago.
Suppressing the panic rising in her chest, she said calmly, “Since Grandma is gone, take me to her grave.”
Wang Lanhua failed to notice anything unusual. She merely assumed that a well-dressed relative from the city had come to visit, and that perhaps the family might benefit from her in the future.
With a fawning smile, she said, “All right! Auntie, sit down first. I’ll get you a bowl of water. Rest a bit before you go!”
“No need.”
Shen Xiangjun’s eyes drifted back toward the ring despite herself.
Her hand tightened unconsciously, her fingernails digging into her palm so hard that she did not even feel the pain.
Seeing how eager she was to leave, Li Dazhuang said, “Auntie, I’ll take you there right now. Grandma’s grave is on the slope to the east. It isn’t far.”
“All right.”
She pulled her gaze away, her voice so soft that no one could tell what she was thinking.
Wang Lanhua still wanted to keep her there, but Shen Xiangjun had already walked out of the courtyard.
“Fine, then. Let Dazhuang take you. I’ll stay home and cook!”
Along the way, Shen Xiangjun saw the earthen walls and thatched-roof houses lining the road, but her thoughts were entirely fixed on that silver ring.
She held back again and again. Only when they reached the top of the slope did she pretend to ask casually, “Dazhuang, that ring your wife is wearing… it looks like it’s been around for a long time, hasn’t it?”
Li Dazhuang froze for a moment.
The ring had been given to him by his grandmother on her deathbed. She had instructed him to make sure it went to Chuntao.
But once Wang Lanhua saw it, she insisted on wearing it herself.
Since Chuntao knew nothing about the ring, Li Dazhuang had simply let her have it. He had long since forgotten his grandmother’s final request.
Naturally, he could not tell Shen Xiangjun the truth. He found it embarrassing.
“Oh, that? It was left behind by my grandma. She said it had been passed down through the older generations.”
Shen Xiangjun’s heart sank. “Passed down through the older generations?”
“Yeah. Grandma never wore it herself. She only took it out near the end and passed it on to my wife.”
Shen Xiangjun’s footsteps faltered. A fleeting emotion crossed her eyes, too faint for anyone to notice.
She asked no more questions, merely murmuring, “I see,” before continuing onward.
But unease continued to build in her heart.
That child… she wondered how she had been all these years.
Memories of what had happened back then pierced her heart like steel needles.
Following behind Li Dazhuang, Shen Xiangjun fell silent.
After holding it in for a long while, she could not help asking again, “Dazhuang, I remember you had a younger sister. What was her name? She was such a lovable child when she was little.”
“Hmm.” Li Dazhuang scratched his head and turned back to look at her. “Chuntao.”
“Chuntao. What a lovely name… She’s married, I suppose?”
“Yeah, she’s married.”
“Such a fine girl. Her husband’s family must be decent.”
At those words, Li Dazhuang felt a pang of discomfort.
If not for the marriage arranged to benefit him, Chuntao could have married into a good family.
The suffering and hardships she had endured during those years could not be recounted even in three days and three nights.
Still, at least she had eventually escaped the Wang family’s pit of misery, married Zhou Zhijun, and had a son and a daughter. Her life should get better and better from here on.
He hesitated, then merely replied, “Yeah,” without saying anything more.
Shen Xiangjun assumed that Zhou Xiaowei, whom she had encountered at the village entrance, was Chuntao’s husband. He had looked prosperous enough, and the thought eased her heart somewhat.
She did not mention that she had just seen Chuntao. She only asked, “Which village did she marry into?”
Li Dazhuang did not think much of the question and answered casually, “Wangjia Village, to the north.”
Noticing that he was unwilling to say more, Shen Xiangjun grew even more suspicious.
“Does she have any children?”
“Yes. A son and a daughter.”
The two of them walked toward the cemetery, one in front and one behind. Shen Xiangjun asked questions now and then, while Li Dazhuang told her only the good parts.
He did not mention a single word about the suffering Chuntao had endured.
Shen Xiangjun could tell that he was hiding something.
As she knelt before Grandma Shen’s grave, everything that had happened more than twenty years ago came rushing back. Her heart turned sour and bitter, and her eyes reddened.
Heartache, guilt, fear, conflict, and helplessness twisted together until she could hardly breathe.
She said nothing more about the ring or Chuntao.
Seeing that she looked unwell, Li Dazhuang assumed she was grieving over Grandma Shen’s death and comforted her in a low voice. “Auntie, Grandma had been sick for decades. Winter was always the hardest for her. In the end, passing away was probably a kind of relief.”
Shen Xiangjun slowly lifted her head, her expression already calm again.
“Your grandma was widowed young. She had suffered enough in this life.”
By the time they returned from the grave, Wang Lanhua had already finished cooking.
Shen Xiangjun did not stay for the meal. She got on her bicycle and left.
Wang Lanhua had been eager to curry favor with this respectable relative, only to have her leave without even eating a meal.
The moment Shen Xiangjun was gone, her face fell, and resentment filled her heart.
“Li Dazhuang, what does your aunt do for a living? Why is she so high and mighty that she wouldn’t even stay for a meal?”
Li Dazhuang was puzzled too. He had never heard his grandmother mention having such a relative.
“I don’t know.”
“You went to the grave with her and didn’t ask?”
Li Dazhuang truly had not asked. It had never even occurred to him.
“No. We aren’t close. Why ask pointless questions?”
“Your Li family is poor enough as it is, yet you have a relative like that. If only Grandma were still alive.”
Wang Lanhua sighed. “If she were alive, we might have gotten something out of this connection. Now that she’s dead, your aunt wouldn’t even eat our food. She clearly looks down on us because we’re poor!”
Li Dazhuang frowned. “We never had anything to do with her. Even if Grandma were alive, we wouldn’t have gotten anything out of it.”
Shen Xiangjun rode away from Li Family Village, her fingers cold around the handlebars and her heart clenched in an iron grip.
That silver ring…
It was the one he had given her all those years ago, the one she had later left with Grandma Shen.
She had told Grandma Shen that one day, she must give it to that poor child. At least then, the girl would have a keepsake—a small reminder of where she came from.
But now it was on Li Dazhuang’s wife’s finger.
Shen Xiangjun had not dared ask about it, nor could she.
That shameful secret from the past could only be buried deep inside her.
More than twenty years had passed. In the city, she had married, built a life, and become the respectable Shen Xiangjun everyone else saw.
Only she knew that the softest corner of her heart had always concealed an excruciating pain.
This was the first time she had returned in all these years.
A month earlier, she had suddenly dreamed a strange dream—and after that, she could no longer hold herself back.
She had to come back and take a look.
To see how that child was doing.
At the village entrance, she had run into Chuntao.
Those eyes, those features, that voice, that manner—they were exactly like Shen Xiangjun’s when she had been young.
At that moment, Shen Xiangjun had nearly burst into tears.
She was certain. This was the child she had thought of day and night.
But she could not acknowledge her now.
All she could do was circle around the subject and glean bits of information from Li Dazhuang: Chuntao had married into Wangjia Village and had a son and a daughter.
It sounded as though she was living a good life, but Shen Xiangjun had clearly seen the evasiveness in Li Dazhuang’s eyes.
How much suffering had this child endured over the years?
She knew nothing.
This time, she had returned without telling anyone.
She had taken a bus to the county town, bought a bicycle, then ridden another bus to Qingshan Street before cycling straight to Li Family Village.
Her parents had disowned her long ago, and she had never intended to go back to them. She only wanted to see her child once.
As fate would have it, she had met the girl named Chuntao in Li Family Village.
The daughter she had fought to bring into this world, yet could never acknowledge as her own.
Now that she had seen her, it was time to leave.
They would never meet again.
She rode her bicycle over the uneven dirt road. The wheels kicked up a trail of dust that stung her eyes.
The lush green fields slipped steadily into the distance. Shen Xiangjun’s tears slid silently down, pooling at her collarbone before trickling into her chest, cold enough to pierce her to the bone.
