"I’m used to celebrating the Solar Calendar New Year; the old lunar New Year doesn’t hold much aning for . Typically, during your lunar New Year period, I’m spending that ti traveling," Pello continued to explain, "I’ve been in Z country for quite a few years, but I’ve never been to Bianjing before."
Well, that reason seed plausible enough; Su Ziceng grudgingly accepted it, "Haven’t you ever gone back ho to visit?" Su Ziceng rarely heard Pello talk about his family; he was always alone.
"My father died six years after Ye Taina passed away," after hearing this, Su Ziceng burned her tongue and kept blowing on it; she seed to have blundered again.
According to the news Su Ziceng had, outsiders only ntioned that Mussen disappeared mysteriously after Ye Taina vanished and had never reappeared in public. That arrogant Frenchman had actually died. Holding Red Love in her hand, which still shimred with the transparent luster of its gems, Su Ziceng seed to hear the wails of Red Love.
Pello spoke without any inflection in his voice, his eyes shifting between black and blue under the soft lighting, reflecting an unusual sense of emotion.
Turns out Pello was an orphan, "No wonder you travel around during the New Year," Su Ziceng chose her words carefully; she had so complaints about herself. If it were the more socially adept Wen Maixue, she would never be so impolite.
"My uncle is still in France," Pello explained, he wasn’t an orphan in the absolute sense, "They have a sole son, my cousin. My uncle inherited my father’s title."
Su Ziceng didn’t know much about the hereditary system of European titles, but according to the rule of primogeniture, wasn’t Pello supposed to inherit Mussen’s title? She wondered whether she could voice these questions. Holding her cup, Su Ziceng hesitated.
"However, my uncle and cousin have always thought that I died." Pello spoke as if narrating a distant tale, not of his own, but soone else’s story.
The snow outside, swirling and whirling, brought Pello and Su Ziceng back to more than a decade ago.
After Ye Taina left, Mussen lost all interest in running the family business, including the mineral resources in Africa and the rising jewelry industry; he handed it all over to his brother Olson.
Every day, Mussen would drink himself into a stupor; the only ti he was sober, he would sit in Pello’s room, staring at his beloved son, whose toys were scattered all over the floor. Pello gradually grew up, and his smile and hair color began to resemble Ye Taina more and more, incessantly reminding of the beautiful shadow that had disappeared forever.
"My father would rather believe that Ye Taina had left with soone than accept that she had left this world," Pello reached up to comb his hair with his fingers at this point. The roots of his hair had hints of brown; his brows furrowed, he looked sowhat dejected.
Su Ziceng unconsciously moved closer, searching his face, and after looking carefully, she realized that Pello bore a strong resemblance to Ye Taina, especially around the corners of his mouth, which naturally turned upwards even when not smiling.
"My father, I killed him with my own hands," Pello stated, attempting to keep his back straight.
Su Ziceng was stunned, staring at the man before her; the deep lines between his brows grew deeper, a pain that had been buried for years, always hidden. Her hand involuntarily reached out, wanting to smooth away those lines.
"Alcohol had eroded my father’s brain like dry cheese full of holes. Without being numbed by dication, he would keep drinking, then moaning all day long." The relentless pain and wailing could wear down even the coarsest human nerves to exhaustion.
"While he was still lucid, he requested to be treated in Holland, the only country in the world where euthanasia is legal. I think that was a reminder, for and for himself. His lucid monts beca scarcer, and ultimately, he fell into a deep sleep, his consciousness engulfed by alcohol, his organs failing, never to wake again. Three years later, I disconnected his oxygen tube." Pello would always rember that day; after pulling out the tube, Mussen gasped for air, his throat making a bubbling sound like that of a gas valve being cut off.
"I heard the sound of oxygen growing thinner in his throat, his hands turning purple and swollen on the white bedsheets from lack of oxygen, but he didn’t struggle. At the mont he stopped breathing, he had a smile on his lips, as if... he had seen Ye Taina." That year, Pello had just turned twelve. Su Ziceng could no longer see Pello’s eyes; he closed them, his lips pressed together, his shoulders drawn tight.
Today, his mind was also clouded by alcohol, no longer lucid, which was why he spoke to Su Ziceng, an outsider, about the past he had never ntioned to anyone before.
At twelve, what was Su Ziceng doing? She no longer rembers; she might have been wearing a princess dress, following behind Hang Yishao, or perhaps brawling with Chang Chi. Neither scenario would be like Pello’s.
Having just experienced the pain of losing his father, Pello could only be shut away in a large house on the outskirts of Paris. Initially, there would be people comforting him, but gradually, those people disappeared.
In the empty house filled with the scent of death, Pello scread countless tis, waking up screaming from his dreams, toys scattered around the room, the man who walked unsteadily but insisted on picking up his toys would never appear again.
Pello, sitting in front of Su Ziceng, stretched out his right hand, his veins popping, these hands had snuffed out Mussen’s life.
Soft hands reached over and grasped Pello’s hands tightly; Su Ziceng’s grip might not have been strong, but it was warm enough. (To be continued. If you like this work, you are welco to co to Qidian (qidian) to vote for monthly tickets and recomndation tickets, your support is my greatest motivation.)
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