Chapter 116

Page Nine White Album

“Kǎi-Chan, your house is quite big, isn’t it?”

Lǐn Huā pushed the wheelchair through the courtyard surrounded by a fence and looked at my two-story small building, making a comment.

For a house with just two people, it was indeed spacious. Sometimes, when Zhào Zhào and Xiǎo Hǎi Táng played until they were tired, they would just fall asleep right away, which was no problem.

“Although it looks like a villa, this is actually just a high-standard farmhouse.”

Come to think of it, this was her first time visiting my house. Unfortunately, Old Dad had already returned home, so I couldn’t invite her in for some black tea.

“I’m sorry, Lǐn Huā, my dad has already come back.”

“Oh! No worries, I need to head back home to eat anyway!”

I had mentioned my father’s situation to her several times before, so she understood, and didn’t ask further.

“I’ll visit another day, today really troubled you.”

Lǐn Huā left, and I parked the wheelchair at the entrance hall, then hopped into the living room with crutches.

The lights in the living room and kitchen were on, and there were a few dishes left on the dining table. It looked like Wū Qínglán had already gone back. Old Dad was sitting alone on the living room sofa, lost in thought, even his suit still on. He was combing his slicked-back, professional-looking hair.

“Sorry, Old Dad, something came up, and I got back late.”

“Son, don’t rush to eat. Come here, I have something to tell you.”

Hearing him call me, I intended to go to the dining room but changed direction with my crutch, sitting down on the sofa.

“What’s up?”

“Actually, last night, I dreamed about Yīng… I mean, your mother.”

I was stunned for a moment, thinking he might have mistaken seeing my doppelganger as a dream. I didn’t dare speak, fearing he might realize it wasn’t just a dream.

“Though it sounds strange, I dreamed that she was taking care of you.”

Didn’t you just see me spill water? How did you imagine her taking care of me?

“Tell me, what kind of person is my mother?”

He rarely brought up my mother, but now he seemed willing to talk. I felt it was a good opportunity to learn more from him.

Old Dad seemed to agree, but as soon as he remembered that woman who deeply hurt him, he became stiff, his eyes showing only white, not black. He stuttered as he spoke, trembling and falling onto the sofa.

My mother truly was the source of my father’s illness. Just recalling her almost made him shut down. He took a few minutes to recover.

“Are you okay? If you can’t talk, it’s fine.”

If he shut down now, I wouldn’t be able to move him back to the bedroom.

“Wait here for a bit.”

Seeming to remember something, Old Dad hurried upstairs, returning with a small white album. He tossed it over, regardless if I caught it, and fled back upstairs as if escaping.

This was like a new recruit throwing a grenade for the first time.

“These are photos from our years together. You can look through them yourself!”

This white album was palm-sized, with one photo per page, yet it wasn’t fully filled.

Opening it, I almost shut down myself.

Dad always said I looked exactly like my mother, which I never believed. After all, it’s normal for children to resemble their parents.

But looking at these photos, I realized he meant it literally. The only differences were in hair length and demeanor. My mother had a small strand of hair at the back, tied into a thin braid.

Even identical twins couldn’t be this alike. Dad’s genes hadn’t shown up in me at all—could I be a clone?

Unlike me, my mother’s face exuded strength, smiling as if she could handle anything effortlessly.

My mother cooked. Dad had captured her serious expression while tasting food in the kitchen, depicting her as a newlywed wife preparing dinner for her husband.

She must be quite skilled. Generally, if one spouse cooks, the other is usually terrible at it. Dad, after years of cooking rehabilitation, could barely make edible food.

So, he and Wū Qínglán were indeed unsuitable. Putting them together, the kitchen would become a battlefield. I should find my mother back…

Another discovery in the album was that my mother was very capable.

There were pictures of her kicking a heavy bag, wielding a wooden sword against thugs, and even confronting the former queen of the village, Zhào Mā.

These photos were taken early on. They looked to be around my age, seventeen or eighteen. Calling it a conflict was more like friendly sparring. Zhào Mā’s mysterious fondness for me probably stemmed from my mother.

Due to the age difference, I took a while to recognize it was Zhào Zhào’s mom. Time was a cruel knife, turning the once fierce fighter into a middle-aged woman.

Thinking about it, over a decade had passed, and my mother had aged too.

Photos of her fishing by the river, shopping at the market, and napping on the grass revealed previously unknown information.

People from that era were conservative in thought and dress. My mother wore high-collared, long-sleeved clothes that were loose, hindering my ability to assess her figure… Don’t get the wrong idea, I just wanted to know if she looked exactly the same as me in terms of body shape.

The last photo in the album showed my mother holding a rosy baby in the hospital bed, her smile radiating genuine happiness.

Undoubtedly, that baby was me. So why did she disappear? Was there a reason? And why did my father end up like this?

After that, no new photos were taken.

Though I gained some understanding of my mother, key mysteries remained unsolved…

After eating, I carried the album upstairs and knocked on Old Dad’s door with my crutch.

“I’ve finished reading it. Where should I put the album? On the bookshelf?”

“No, keep it with you for now.”

Sitting at his computer desk, Old Dad didn’t turn around, seemingly busy with work—a usual way to avoid things.

Like an ostrich.

Returning to my room, I locked the door and placed the album on the bookshelf. I used the bookmark again.

Not because I was obsessed with the large chest, but because the bookmark was incredibly useful now that I had limited mobility.

I fetched hot water from the bathroom, undressed to just my underwear, and wiped myself with a towel. It was strange, even though it was my own body, it still made me blush. This scene was getting closer to the climax of the story.

…

“Haa! Haa! Haa!”

The rhythmic gasps belonged to a young girl.

Don’t misunderstand, it wasn’t me making those sounds.

I quietly pulled back the curtain to peek outside—the neighbor’s yard, the Zhú family.

Next to the garden lamp, a young girl in martial arts attire was practicing a stance, punching the air with each breath. Her focused expression was adorable.

I glanced at the electronic clock on the bedside table. It was 8:30 PM. A girl her age should be sleeping with a teddy bear. No wonder she was the daughter of a mafia boss; she trained in combat from a young age. Was it to survive in the underworld?

Perhaps sensing my gaze, the little girl stopped abruptly and glared in my direction. I was slow in pulling the curtain, and for a moment, our eyes met.

She was so sharp. Wouldn’t her father send someone to dig out my eyes?