A White Cloud (GL ABO) - Chapter 39

Xu Yiyi turned her head, her eyes sparkling brightly at Tomb Cheng.

Her cheeks flushed red.

She gripped the paintbrush tightly, her strokes on the paper showing her effort.

Tomb Cheng stroked her head, smiling softly, and asked, “Need my help?”

Xu Yiyi nodded shyly.

She loved being with her mom and her mom’s gentle, patient words.

This mom differed from the old one who sat silently, often yanking her hair and saying harsh, confusing things with an angry face.

Xu Yiyi knew from the anger they weren’t kind words.

The old mom said, “Just a picked-up kid, more pampered than your mom. Why?”

She added, “Your grandma’s senile. Just a soldier Alpha, treated like treasure.”

She sneered, “Are you really my kid? Not some bastard your mom made outside? Tsk, like a mute.”

She laughed, “What’s a real kid? Still tossed, like your mom, haha.”

Tomb Cheng held Xu Yiyi’s hand, guiding the brush to color a house on the paper.

Once Xu Yiyi got the hang of it, Tomb Cheng grabbed a sheet to draw herself.

Many in the art studio glanced at the young mother and daughter.

Tomb Cheng noticed, shifting right to block eyes on Xu Yiyi.

The sketch paper stayed clean.

The young, pretty substitute teacher, eye-catching, saw Tomb Cheng holding the pencil motionless.

She approached, saying, “A pencil’s lead can hurt if gripped too.”

Tomb Cheng looked up, loosening her grip, shaking off odd images in her mind.

She apologized, “Sorry.”

She had clutched the pencil, nearly snapping it.

The studio used pheromone filters.

Her faint, restless pheromones caught the teacher’s notice.

To avoid disturbing others, the teacher kindly warned her.

After the teacher left, Tomb Cheng touched Xu Yiyi’s bun, smiling, “Yiyi, be good. I’m fine.”

The child calmed.

Tomb Cheng found the images in her mind of a stranger.

With a hunch, she took the pencil, sketching lines on the paper.

Untrained, she drew childlike, abstract shapes to recreate the scene.

She muttered, “Seesaw, bench, and the selling auntie.”

Tomb Cheng drew the details—on the bench lay a girl with a long braid, sweating, curled small under the blazing sun, her face flushed.

She stared at the sketch, pondering where it was and who the girl was.

She met Xu Yiyi at the police station.

This wasn’t her.

Was this a victim from a mission?

Her gland injury blurred army memories.

Doctors said she had stress resistance reactions.

Tomb Cheng stared long, finding no answers.

Xu Yiyi, finishing her house, called excitedly, “Mommy.”

Tomb Cheng replied, “Hmm,” ready to pack the sketch.

She looked at Xu Yiyi’s colorful drawing—a big and small figure holding hands, heading to a house.

The steps had small circles.

Tomb Cheng asked, “What are these?”

Xu Yiyi answered, “Shells.”

Tomb Cheng didn’t ask why square concrete steps held shells.

She pointed at the vibrant house, asking, “Is this our home?”

Xu Yiyi seemed shy, or scared, sneaking a glance at Tomb Cheng, nodding softly, her voice so quiet Tomb Cheng thought she only moved her lips.

She whispered, “Yes, with Mommy’s home.”

Tomb Cheng packed her drawings carefully, treasuring them.

This was Xu Yiyi’s first gift to her.

Tomb Cheng didn’t know she’d drawn many like it, seeing it as a child’s heartfelt gesture.

On the way back, Tomb Cheng held Xu Yiyi on the bus.

The sealed, packaged sketches hung in a bag.

She chose a rear seat, encouraging Xu Yiyi, “Yiyi, want to sit alone?”

She stood in the aisle, asking.

Xu Yiyi didn’t answer but loosened her arms around Tomb Cheng’s neck slightly.

Tomb Cheng didn’t push, sitting by the window with Xu Yiyi on her lap, reassuring, “It’s okay. We’ll try next time.”

Xu Yiyi buried her head in Tomb Cheng’s neck, nodding faintly.

The bus wasn’t crowded.

Slanting sunset rays slipped through the window, casting golden light inside.

Tomb Cheng sat straight, hearing Xu Yiyi whisper behind her ear, “Mommy, can I eat…?”

Tomb Cheng didn’t catch it, smoothing Xu Yiyi’s back, saying, “Sorry, Yiyi, I zoned out.”

She apologized, gently tending to the child’s feelings, asking softly, “Can Yiyi tell me again?”

Xu Yiyi, mustering courage, spoke louder. Tomb Cheng heard clearly.

She asked, “Mommy, can I eat roasted sweet potato?”

Tomb Cheng got off early near home, recalling a sweet potato vendor by the hospital.

Holding Xu Yiyi’s hand, she navigated the crowd, protecting her from bumps.

They bought two fresh sweet potatoes outside the hospital.

The stall uncle gave them plastic spoons, cheap but thoughtful.

Tomb Cheng noticed Xu Yiyi glancing at her while eating, seeming curious or worried.

Tomb Cheng asked, “What’s wrong?” One hand held Xu Yiyi, the other carried the sketches and potatoes.

Xu Yiyi, cared for, stayed silent, letting Tomb Cheng lead her quietly.

Her behavior puzzled Tomb Cheng, unsure why Xu Yiyi acted this way.

After bathing her that night, Tomb Cheng, in wet clothes, grabbed dry ones.

Passing the living room sofa, she glimpsed the bag—a sweet potato pressed on the sketch.

She thought, “Park, sweet potato.”

Tomb Cheng realized why Xu Yiyi cared if she ate the potato that evening.

She saw the sketch.

She said, “No wonder it felt familiar. It was there.”

The sketch’s location clicked, but Tomb Cheng wondered if the girl was subconsciously Xu Yiyi.

To ease her, Tomb Cheng, before bedtime, took a bite of the potato in Xu Yiyi’s view, seeing a hint of joy on her face.

This child’s heart, as delicate as hers, remembered a single visit.

Tomb Cheng felt comforted yet worried.

As Shen Zhiqing said, Xu Yiyi’s memories centered on her. Even now, Xu Yiyi called Bread “little cat.”

Later that night, Tomb Cheng received Shen Zhiqing’s message saying Zhiman didn’t return.

Shen Zhiqing wrote, “Called. Yuan Jin answered.”

Tomb Cheng pursed her lips, staying silent.

Worried but mindful of boundaries, she knew Yuan Jin and Zhiman’s bond and wouldn’t interfere.

Seeing Tomb Cheng distracted, Shen Zhiqing asked softly, “Something happen today?”

Tomb Cheng held a water cup, glancing at the Ragdoll cat in its bed, saying, “Nothing, just tired.”

Knowing she wasn’t truthful, Shen Zhiqing didn’t press.

She pulled Tomb Cheng to sit on the bed, taking the cup and setting it aside.

Returning, she straddled Tomb Cheng’s lap, hands cupping her cheeks, avoiding her glasses, recalling last time’s rejection.

She stayed like that, doing nothing excessive.

After a while, she kissed Tomb Cheng’s lips lightly.

She offered, “Help you relax?”