In a realm between reality and fantasy, she saw a young man standing on a lush green adow, his smile bold and flamboyant, yet she couldn’t make out his face.
What was happening to her?
She was on the street, where did this adow co from? And the young man?
In the audio-video store, nostalgic hits were playing, it was the the song from "A Chinese Ghost Story."
Had she watched this movie before? She couldn’t rember... Yet why was this song so familiar?
Atra Blanc walked on in a daze, the song in her ears t with the music deep in her mory, overlapping, rging into one...
Life is, a dream and a passion,
Vaguely in the dream, vaguely there are tears,
Where to go, to seek the direction of my heart...
On the human road, happy young man,
The road is rugged, rugged with no sunlight,
In the dust, how many directions for happiness,
A wispy dreamlike rainstorm,
The road follows people blindly...
...
Unknowingly, tears were streaming down her face, she could walk no further.
Standing dumbly in place, listening to that song on a constant loop, once, twice, three tis...
Her son grasped her hands tightly, shouting "Mom" with effort, yet Atra was unaware, as though completely isolated from the world, trapped in another nightmare.
...
When consciousness returned, she was lying on a hospital bed, slightly turning her eyes, she saw her young son sleeping soundly beside the bed.
How did she end up in the hospital?
She had no mory of it.
Softly getting up, she walked to the partially open door of the room, seeing Clyde Sumrs talking to the doctor outside.
He wore a light pinstripe shirt, his suit draped over his arm, intently listening to the doctor’s explanation.
"... So progressive mory impairnt, when she was brought in, she said she couldn’t rember the way ho or her own na. Although her mory gradually returned after being prompted, this situation should alert the family. It’s best to observe her for a while after returning ho; if the symptoms worsen, it could later cause cognitive dysfunction..."
Atra was slightly stunned.
Was the doctor talking about her?... Would she forget the way ho?
Everything that happened felt too strange, Atra was muddled and confused.
Later, Clyde Sumrs handled the discharge formalities for her, silently picked up the sleeping child, walked out of the hospital, and placed him in the car.
Atra and the child sat in the backseat, Clyde occupied the passenger seat, perhaps fearing to wake the child, he softly instructed the driver, made a detour to buy so supplents, then drove back ho.
The drive was wordless.
...
After returning ho, Clyde Sumrs went to Janelle Roberts’ room.
Gently knocking on the door, he then pushed it open and saw Janelle Roberts sitting at the vanity, preparing to remove her makeup before bed.
Her makeup was half removed, the thick foundation was wiped off, revealing her original skin tone, contrasting with the heavy black eyeliner not entirely cleaned, looking quite unsettling in the mirror.
"Where’s the paternity test report?" Clyde asked.
Janelle Roberts’ hand paused in motion, then resud, continuing to wipe her face bit by bit.
"Thrown away." She said, "I wanted to catch her handle, but didn’t expect her to be the old master’s child, so boring."
Upon hearing this, Clyde’s expression remained as usual, he turned to leave.
Janelle called after him, fixating on his face: "Why do you ask about this?"
"Nothing, just asking." He replied blandly and walked out of the room.
Listening to the gradually distant footsteps, resentnt burned in Janelle’s chest, intolerable, she suddenly swung her arm, sweeping the costics onto the floor!
Glass bottles shattered, soaking the expensive carpet.
"Atra Blanc!" She stared at the mirror, gritting the na through clenched teeth, "... Atra Blanc, Atra Blanc!"
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