Chapter 146: About Joy

Chapter 146: About Joy

Stepping out of the mist, Ling Qingjue steered his own soul and successfully read Meng Shu's memory.

Joy.

He only picked the happiest moment in Meng Shu's memory.

The first thing he saw was a chaotic town market. The sky hadn't fully lightened yet, and the cold air was heavy with the smell of dew.

The streetlight was dim, flickered a couple times, and then went out.

Ling Qingjue looked at this rundown, dirty area and seriously doubted he'd misread the emotion.

This dump was actually the happiest moment of Meng Shu's life?

Footsteps gradually approached. Ling Qingjue turned around instinctively, and two figures brushed past him.

A woman and a man, one tall and one short.

Ling Qingjue lifted his foot and followed them.

The thin boy was clearly Meng Shu, about fourteen years old, as skinny as a beanpole.

He already had the beginnings of his adult features, clean and sharp. Those bright, sparkling eyes were full of light as he held onto the woman's arm, his voice very low: "Mom, how is it? Can you still walk?"

His mother let out a breath, her voice equally low: "I'm fine..."

The two of them made their way through the chaotic market, stepped over puddles, and walked all the way to the bus stop.

Ling Qingjue silently followed behind them.

So this is what fourteen-year-old Meng Shu looked like. He had looked not too bright since childhood. Strange.

He watched Meng Shu's slightly hunched back, the faded white of his jeans—everything about him screamed poverty and hardship.

In Meng Shu's memory of "joy," there was no Ling Qingjue.

It seems I really don't matter much in Meng Shu's heart, Ling Qingjue thought, a bitter, sarcastic thought.

He had gone to all this trouble to find Meng Shu, and yet Meng Shu's happiest memory had nothing to do with him at all.

He silently trailed behind Meng Shu, watching him put that woman on the bus.

At that moment, the sky was just beginning to lighten. Only a few passengers were scattered in the long-distance coach.

He saw Meng Shu pull a few crumpled bills from his chest. The parts of his arms that were visible were covered in bruises. His wrists were thin—unhealthily thin.

"Mom, there's some money left. Keep it. Once you escape, don't look back. When you get off the bus, you'll be home." The younger Meng Shu also loved to smile, his eyes curved into crescents, a few bruises on his cheek—clearly from getting beaten up.

The bus was about to depart. The driver shouted impatiently, "Hey, are you getting on or not?"

Meng Shu quickly shook his head. "No, not getting on."

He turned back to his mother, "Mom, I'll get going now."

"...Meng Shu, what about you?" His mother was even thinner than him, her hair dry and brittle, her cheeks deeply sunken.

Her face was sallow, her clouded eyes fixed on Meng Shu.

Meng Shu smiled. "It'll be fine."

He paused, then smiled even brighter: "Mom, your son can do anything. Trust me, nothing will go wrong."

Ling Qingjue watched coldly from the side.

What an idiot, he thought.

If you were truly capable of anything, you wouldn't have died so miserably.

Liar.

His mother's fingers trembled slightly. After a long moment, she said, "Meng Shu, I'll come back for you."

Meng Shu's body stiffened, then he smiled again. "Good, Mom. I'll wait for you."

The bus slowly started moving. Meng Shu stood there, waving at the window.

Only after the bus disappeared from sight did he lower his hand.

Ling Qingjue stared at him, his face blank.

Meng Shu couldn't see him. He rubbed his face, stiff from smiling, let out a breath, and a puff of white mist hung in front of his face.

He turned away and left the station.

Ling Qingjue asked, "Where are you going?"

No answer.

"Why didn't you leave with your mom?"

No answer.

Ling Qingjue went on, "You sent your mother away yourself, leaving yourself all alone—and this is your happiest moment?"

He laughed under his breath. "Are you out of your mind?"

In the face of his mockery, Meng Shu couldn't hear a single word. The teenager walked step by step into the darkness, eventually hiding under a bridge.

Ling Qingjue followed him the whole way, watching him crawl into the pitch-black space under the bridge. Around him were only scattered rocks.

Meng Shu sat there until nightfall.

But the memory wasn't over yet, which meant Meng Shu was still in his happiest state.

His face, however, showed no expression. He sat with a cold expression on the pile of stones, staring out at the bright world beyond.

So this was what Meng Shu looked like when he was alone—cold-faced.

Ling Qingjue had thought Meng Shu's only expression was a smile.

He watched Meng Shu sit there until dark. The crowd gradually dispersed, and the town fell back into dead silence.

A cold wind blew.

Ling Qingjue saw Meng Shu's ears twitch, then slowly get up from the ground, cautiously observing his surroundings. Only after confirming no one was there did he poke his head out and tiptoe out from under the bridge.

"Aren't you hungry? You haven't eaten all day." Ling Qingjue didn't know why he was so pissed. He didn't understand how such a miserable scene could become Meng Shu's happiest memory.

Meng Shu was all dusty. He had been starving all day and hadn't eaten a thing.

Without a sideways glance, he walked straight to the vegetable market.

In the dead of night, the market was left with only dirty, messy stalls and garbage strewn everywhere.

Ling Qingjue's eyelids twitched.

Meng Shu, like a cat, deftly wove through the clutter until he finally stopped in front of a trash can.

Ling Qingjue practically lunged forward on reflex, trying to block him. "Meng Shu! Have you lost your mind? You're going to eat trash? You're crazy—go back!"

But Meng Shu showed no reaction to his words. His eyes, usually so gentle, were now chillingly cold under the moonlight.

He had to survive.

He had to find his mother.

But if he showed his face, the people in this small town would grab him and drag him back. He had to escape from the demon he called his father.

For the first time, Ling Qingjue saw such a solemn, almost icy expression on Meng Shu's face.

He stood rooted to the spot involuntarily.

Meng Shu's hand passed straight through his body, then he bent down and began digging through the trash can for food.

Ling Qingjue snapped back to reality. A strange emotion fiercely tore at his reason. He tried to grab Meng Shu's arm, but his hand closed on empty air.

"Meng Shu! Don't you dare! Do you know what you're doing!" Ling Qingjue had never been this pathetic, not even at his worst. He couldn't bear to see Meng Shu go through this.

It was a very ordinary night. No one cared about a teenager digging through a trash can.

No one noticed that Meng Shu had found two dry, hard mantou (steamed buns) in the trash.

Ecstatic, he stuffed one mantou into his pocket. He walked past Ling Qingjue, a hint of a smile crossing his face.

Ling Qingjue's face twitched. He had never hated the world this much.

The moment he saw Meng Shu eating garbage just to survive, he wanted everyone to die with Meng Shu.

"Meng Shu!"

"...Don't eat that."

"I... I can't bear it."

He watched helplessly as Meng Shu walked away, his back thin and frail, happy over the two mantou he had found.

The memory ended here.

Ling Qingjue suddenly snapped back to reality, staring blankly at his own hands.

Meng Shu's first soul was still held in his hand.

Ling Qingjue's mouth twisted into a strange smile, somewhere between a cry and a laugh.

Meng Shu, the happiest moment of your life was finding two mantou in a trash can?