Little Duckling - Chapter 32

Jian Xin was baffled. How had the once quiet and introverted Yan Xiaolu transformed into this venomous-tongued version of herself?

What do you mean, “Are you as loyal as a dog?”

That’s such a nasty insult!

She had initially assumed Yan Lu named her dog Xin Xin to call her a b1tch. But now it seemed that in Yan Lu’s eyes, she might not even measure up to a dog.

Dogs are more loyal than me, right? Dogs are humanity’s most loyal friends…

Then what about me? Where have I been disloyal?!

Jian Xin unconsciously began to retrace her past, desperately trying to dredge up every hazy corner of her memory to examine it closely. Where exactly have I been disloyal?

All these years, I haven’t even sought a second chance at love!

If she had to pinpoint where she had wronged Yan Lu, it might only be the youthful promises she hadn’t truly fulfilled…

Is Yan Lu fixated on those broken promises?

But who could guarantee they could keep words spoken at such a young age, when they were incapable of shouldering any real responsibility?

As Jian Xin pondered this, a sense of disappointment settled in her heart.

She thought, I was too young back then, too naive to understand the world. My family always had my back, so I thought I could just reach out and grab whatever I wanted.

But the world was slowly teaching her that life’s journey was long. Once you’ve outgrown the age where others can support you, you have to run the rest of the way alone.

As she ran, the people she once wanted to keep by her side forever gradually drifted away, vanishing silently along with those distant dreams.

Many things weren’t things she wanted to let go of, but simply couldn’t hold onto.

Forget it! What’s the point of dwelling on this? I might as well go back to sleep.

Jian Xin closed her eyes, took three deep breaths, cleared her mind of distracting thoughts, and fell asleep instantly.

She dreamed again of her junior year of college.

In the warm yellow light, she gazed at the figure hunched over a computer, typing furiously.

She wanted to say something, but as soon as she sat up in bed, white feathers sprouted from her body.

“Gah?” She tilted her head, bewildered, and walked over to the person.

The person turned around and smiled at her.

“I’ve already ordered that MIDI keyboard you’ve been wanting. It should arrive before your birthday…”

“Gah—gah-gah-gah—”

It’s not easy for you to earn money. Why buy me such an expensive gift…?

“Why aren’t you happy? Is the duck feed not to your liking again?” the person said, getting up and walking to the side. They returned with a large bag of mealworms, murmuring softly, “Here, I bought you some fresh ones.”

“Gah!” Who wants these fresh ones?!

She flapped her wings and turned to flee.

As she ran, she crashed headfirst into a pair of legs.

The impact left her dizzy and disoriented. It took her a moment to lift her head and see what she had collided with.

The lights suddenly seemed blindingly bright. She saw herself.

The “self” who was always impeccably dressed, like a little star, was gently hugging Yan Lu from behind, whispering sweetly.

“You have to come… You can’t not come…”

“Mm.”

“It’s the most important day of my life.”

“Okay.”

That day, she waited for what felt like an eternity.

The stage lights blazed so brilliantly that she felt as if she had sprouted wings, chasing the dream in her heart and touching some impossibly distant horizon.

She thought she could fly even further, but she couldn’t resist glancing down at the audience.

Again and again, she searched for a familiar figure.

He still hadn’t come…

Was she wrong to be angry?

The moment Jian Xin opened her eyes, she slowly took a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling deeply.

As she regained her senses, she couldn’t help but wonder: What right did Yan Lu have to scold her?

She wasn’t the only one who had broken a promise.

Wiping away her tears, she sat up and rubbed her temples.

Her phone showed three missed voice calls from Yan Lu, urging her to do her stretches.

Jian Xin stretched her neck and quickly replied, “Overslept. Just woke up. Doing them now.”

After sending the message, she composed herself and began her daily stretches.

Hearing the movement inside, Huang He gently pushed the door open a crack. A sliver of light from outside slipped through the gap, barely illuminating the room.

“It’s seven o’clock. Are you eating dinner?”

“Of course I’m eating. What else would I do?” Jian Xin pressed her right leg forward, wincing in pain. “Just… let me finish this…”

“Then hurry up,” Huang He said, glancing into the room and frowning. She reached in and flipped on the light. “Sleeping in a dark room all day, skipping lunch, not even opening the curtains—it’s pitch black in here. Growing mushrooms?”

Jian Xin: “Yeah, growing mushrooms. I’ll stir-fry them when they’re ready.”

Huang He: “Be careful you don’t hallucinate.”

Jian Xin continued massaging her leg. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve been hallucinating a lot lately. A little more won’t hurt.”

Huang He shook her head and turned away.

After dinner, Jian Xin leaned on her crutch and returned to her bedroom.

She stood frozen at the doorway for a long moment, then suddenly, as if possessed, began rummaging frantically through the house.

Huang He, watching TV on the sofa, noticed Jian Xin pacing back and forth, overturning drawers and cabinets. She couldn’t help but ask, “What are you looking for?”

“Mind your own business,” Jian Xin replied absently, continuing her search.

“I can help you look.”

“No need. I’m just curious… it’s probably something useless I threw away long ago.”

“If it’s useless, why are you looking for it?”

“……” Jian Xin pursed her lips and fell silent, muttering as she continued her search.

After repeatedly squatting and standing, occasionally stretching on tiptoes to reach high places, her temporarily weakened right leg began to ache faintly. Finally, buried in the deepest corner of the storage room, she found it: the long, black keyboard case.

The keyboard was wrapped in two large plastic bags. When Jian Xin tore them open, she found it still covered in a fine layer of dust.

She remembered starting to learn music arrangement in college.

She loved not only singing but also songwriting. Both creating and performing brought her immense joy.

During her first year, she didn’t have a MIDI keyboard and had to input notes using a mouse, painstakingly adjusting velocity and rhythm one by one—a terribly inconvenient process.

Later, she bought a cheap MIDI keyboard, which made arranging music much easier. However, its small size and limited keys always felt restrictive.

Chen Yuan, her bandmate, recommended a professional-grade MIDI keyboard: sleek design, excellent feel, and every feature imaginable. The only downside was the price—over eight thousand yuan, far beyond her budget.

Then, on her third-year birthday, Yan Lu used her manuscript fees to buy it for her. Jian Xin used it for years.

But these things never last forever.

In the fifth year after Yan Lu left, it broke down.

Back then, though she no longer poured all her energy into music as she once had, she still occasionally jotted down sudden bursts of inspiration and crafted them into simple songs.

After the old MIDI keyboard broke, she bought a new one of similar price. Yet, in that instant, she seemed to lose all creative desire.

Jian Xin stared at the broken MIDI keyboard before her, suddenly recalling the year it had failed. She remembered sitting at her computer, facing the brand-new, unfamiliar keyboard, and the thought that had flashed through her mind:

How utterly dull.

The people she had cared for and the dreams she had chased had vanished, just like that old keyboard.

The brilliant life she had imagined never materialized.

Numbed by the daily grind, she wondered, What’s the point of continuing to create?

She realized that some things you believe are integral to your life can fade from passion to indifference with just a single thought.

The moment the thought crossed her mind, everything she had clung to so fiercely became utterly dull, rendered meaningless by a single, novel object and a sudden wave of unfamiliarity.

Yes, just dull.

No sadness, no reluctance.

At that time, Jian Xin couldn’t have known that years later, she would still be searching for it.

And the sadness and reluctance she had evaded then now surged over her like a tidal wave, drowning her in their intensity.

Sniffling, she crouched in the cluttered storage room she had ransacked, her legs aching so badly she could barely stand. Her tear-soaked sleeves were useless for wiping away the tears.

Hearing the commotion, Huang He walked over and stood frozen in the doorway for several seconds before silently entering the room. She helped her daughter up and patted her head.

Her gaze fell on the keyboard case Jian Xin had unearthed. After a brief silence, she chuckled, “Why are you crying? You didn’t even cry this hard when you got the worst grade in your class as a kid.”

Leaning against the cabinet, Jian Xin sniffled and mumbled, “My legs hurt. I want to cry. Is that so wrong?”

“Crying could solve many problems when you were little, but as you grow up, fewer people will care about your tears,” Huang He said, glancing at Jian Xin. “If you want to solve a problem, you have to take action. Just hiding in your room, overthinking things until you’re sobbing, won’t get you anywhere.”

“……”

“Your dad was always so quiet back then. Everyone said we were a mismatch—temperament, personality, education, everything. It was like I was forcing a square peg into a round hole.”

“I was so sensitive, so fragile. I constantly doubted whether he even cared about me, thinking he only agreed to be with me because I pursued him so relentlessly. I felt so wronged, I couldn’t sleep at night, and we almost broke up.” Huang He chuckled at her own story. “Xin Xin, whether you even exist in this world all came down to a single decision I made back then, you know?”

“I never knew that…”

“Exactly!”

“What happened after that?” Jian Xin asked softly, sniffing. “How did I end up here?”

“Well, your mom’s pretty amazing, of course,” Huang He said, patting Jian Xin’s shoulder. She picked up the keyboard case and gently leaned it against the door before diving into the room to start cleaning up the mess.

As she tidied, she began to ramble.

She said there were people in this world who liked to keep everything bottled up inside.

Even simple emotions like joy, anger, sorrow, or happiness felt like life-or-death matters to express.

These people might seem cold and emotionally stable on the surface, but it wasn’t that they lacked feelings. They simply lacked the skill, the desire, or, you could even say, the courage to outwardly express their inner emotions.

Sounds ridiculous, right?

But that’s just how they are—deeply insecure, convinced that nothing lasts and nothing can be relied upon.

They deliberately distance themselves from everything to protect themselves.

They refuse to open their hearts to others, all to prepare for the inevitable loss, so they won’t be completely devastated when it comes.

It’s hard to imagine that someone like this has a heart encased in a thick, impenetrable shell, its outer surface bristling with thorns.

If you could somehow crack that shell, you might discover a helpless, infant-like fool curled up inside.

But anyone without exceptional skill would never get close.

“Your father was exactly like that!” Huang He said with disdain. “Back then, his shell was like frozen sh1t in a rural outhouse—stiff, stinking, and impossible to break! I had to piece together the tiniest clues to find evidence that he actually cared about me…”

Mom, that’s a really crude analogy.

“But you see, I’ve always been stubbornly persistent, ever since I was a child. That stubbornness is what allowed me to break through your father’s wall back then, and that’s why you’re here today, understand?” Huang He straightened her back, a hint of pride hidden beneath her seemingly complaining tone. “It’s so easy for two people to miss each other. If anyone else had come along back then, he would have ended up alone, with none of the good things we have now.”

At this point, she turned to Jian Xin and made a shushing gesture. “Your dad’s not home, so don’t tell him I said any of this, okay?”

Jian Xin: “Okay…”

Huang He nodded in satisfaction and continued, “But there’s a right way to walk any path. I’m not trying to persuade you, so don’t think I am.”

“Sometimes I wonder, if I hadn’t chosen your dad, maybe I would have lived my whole life alone.”

“Actually, being alone isn’t so bad. If I’d really been on my own, my life probably wouldn’t have been worse—like right now, if you’d never been born, I wouldn’t have to be here cleaning up all this mess.”

Jian Xin opened her mouth, took a deep breath, and asked, “Huang He, I need to confirm something. Are you… trying to comfort me?”

“What else would I be doing?” Huang He retorted, turning her head. “Aren’t I just telling you that you can live your life however you want?”

Jian Xin muttered under her breath, “But weren’t you just regretting having me?”

“I told you to study hard back then, but you wouldn’t listen, would you? Look at your reading comprehension now—it’s like you’re not even my child,” Huang He said, glancing at Jian Xin with an indifferent smile. “When have I ever regretted having you? Even if you make a mess of things, as long as I can clean it up, I’d want to do it for you for the rest of my life.”

“I can clean up after myself,” Jian Xin said, trying to help, but Huang He stopped her with a gesture.

“Just hold onto your things and go rest. Getting your injury healed quickly is the best way you can help me.”

“Okay…” Jian Xin replied, hugging the large keyboard bag with one arm and slowly hobbling back to the bedroom with her crutch.

She wiped the dust off the bag with a tissue, then cleaned it thoroughly with a damp cloth before laying it flat on the bed. Unzipping the bag, she gazed at the old keyboard lying quietly inside, lost in thought.

Why did we separate so suddenly back then? And why are we reunited now, just as unexpectedly?

Even if she and Yan Lu could never return to what they once were, did that mean they couldn’t have a future together again?

She could still feel something lingering between them, something that tugged at her heart…

Such a deep connection couldn’t be severed with a simple “it’s in the past” or “it’s faded.”

Unless… they never met again in this lifetime. If that were the case, perhaps she could have lived out her days without a second thought.

But they had reunited.

Not only had they reunited, but that Duck kept dragging her to Yan Lu’s house for no good reason, forcing her to hear things she shouldn’t have heard and see things she shouldn’t have seen. This made it impossible for her to let go of her lingering feelings, and every night she was plagued by endless strange dreams.

Perhaps all of this was trying to tell her something.

The people and events they had missed, the unresolved problems and contradictions that stood between her and Yan Lu—perhaps they all deserved a proper resolution.

Not this vague, ambiguous state where everything was dismissed with a casual “it’s in the past,” leaving the story unfinished.

She couldn’t keep lying to herself.

She still… didn’t want to lose that person.

Even if they had already drifted apart, she would seize any chance, no matter how small, to find her again.

By the time Jian Xin had composed herself, the wastebasket beside her bed was overflowing with crumpled, damp tissues.

She took a photo of the MIDI keyboard in front of her and, after a moment’s hesitation, sent it to Yan Lu.

 Picked Up a Heart:  Cleaning out the storage room today and found this.

 Picked Up a Heart:  Feeling nostalgic. I thought it had been broken for ages, but it’s still here.

 Yan Lu Er Qi:  Have you tried getting it fixed?

 Picked Up a Heart:  Nope.

 Yan Lu Er Qi:  If only some functions are broken, you might be able to get it repaired.

 Yan Lu Er Qi:  If not, you could sell it on Xianyu for parts. Someone might need them.

Jian Xin unconsciously bit her lower lip.

 Picked Up a Heart:  You gave me this. I don’t need to sell it for cash.

 Yan Lu Er Qi:  Oh, I didn’t recognize it.

 Picked Up a Heart:  Famous people forget things easily, I get it.

 Picked Up a Heart:  Laughing emojis

 Picked Up a Heart:  Just feeling nostalgic, nothing more.

Jian Xin stared at the conversation, feeling a bit awkward.

After some thought, she searched online for movies premiering during the Spring Festival. She spent over twenty minutes skimming trailers for each film.

Then, taking a deep breath, she opened Yan Lu’s private chat again.

 Picked Up a Heart:  There’s an animated movie coming out this Spring Festival that I’ve been wanting to see, but I can’t find anyone to go with. It feels a bit weird going alone during the holidays.

Picked Up a Heart: Trailer Link

Picked Up a Heart: Have you heard of this movie?

Yan Lu Er Qi: I’ve seen it mentioned.

Picked Up a Heart: Are you interested? Want to catch it when I get back to Jin City?

After a long wait, Yan Lu finally replied.

Yan Lu Er Qi: It’s alright, I guess. We can watch it.

Picked Up a Heart: Then it’s a date!

Picked Up a Heart: I’ll treat you to dinner afterward!

Yan Lu Er Qi: Okay.

Jian Xin pursed her lips, gazing at the chat history. She murmured softly, “It’s a date, then. This time, no one’s backing out…”

There are people in this world who keep everything bottled up inside.

She thought Yan Lu was one of them.

On the surface, Yan Lu seemed as calm as still water, but deep within her heart, countless hidden currents must have been swirling.

When Yan Lu suddenly left years ago, so silently and without a word, who could know if a silent tsunami had raged within her heart, unseen by anyone?

Now that the storm had finally subsided, perhaps it was time for a fresh start.

Jian Xin couldn’t help but think that someone had to take the initiative. If she had been the one who was wrong all those years ago, then she would be the one to make the first move, to try taking a few more steps forward…

Regardless of the outcome, trying was better than doing nothing at all.

Even if they ultimately discovered they weren’t compatible, at least she would have tried. Then, she wouldn’t lie awake at night, tossing and turning, haunted by lingering regrets.

With this thought, Jian Xin suddenly felt a wave of relief wash over her.

It was as if she had been wanting to make this decision for a long time…

Clutching her phone, she collapsed onto the bed.

The old MIDI keyboard beside her cramped her movements, but she simply opened the Little Band Group chat and changed her nickname.

Invincible Happy Duck: I have an announcement!

Invincible Happy Duck: Where is everyone?

Invincible Happy Duck: @all

Lanlan’s Sleepy: Cat peeking

Stubborn Dead Duck: Let the show begin.

Just a Little More Gu: I can’t help but widen my little eyes

Invincible Happy Duck: So, here’s the thing!

Invincible Happy Duck: After days of pondering, mulling, and racking my brain, I’ve realized something serious and unavoidable!

Invincible Happy Duck: I don’t think I’ve truly let go of my ex!

Invincible Happy Duck: So I’ve decided—I’m going to try to win her back!

Invincible Happy Duck: I invited her to see a movie after the New Year, and she said yes!

Jian Xin typed out a long message in one breath. Perhaps finally getting her feelings off her chest, she felt instantly lighter.

Invincible Happy Duck: Okay, I’m done!

Invincible Happy Duck: Does anyone have anything to say?

Lanlan’s Sleepy: Uninformed gossipers

Just a Little More Gu: Watching the drama unfold

Stubborn Dead Duck: Oh!

Wow, really? These three are so indifferent!

Invincible Happy Duck: If you don’t understand, just ask! Aren’t you even a little surprised?

Lanlan’s Sleepy: My melon seeds fell out of shock

Stubborn Dead Duck: Wow, so surprising! I totally didn’t see that coming!

Invincible Happy Duck: Hesitates, then stops typing

Stubborn Dead Duck: So why are you announcing something everyone already knows?

Invincible Happy Duck: I only decided today, okay?

Stubborn Dead Duck: Still being stubborn? Everyone already knew! Why are you only deciding today?

Lanlan’s Sleepy: Exactly! Exactly!

Just a Little More Gu: Nods

Invincible Happy Duck: Hesitates, wanting to speak but stopping

Stubborn Dead Duck: Sweetie, you’re not a rabbit or a horse.

Lanlan’s Sleepy: You’re just a stubborn little duck!

Just a Little More Gu: Ducks can eat the grass right next to their nests, and they can also eat the grass they left behind.

Invincible Happy Duck: Hesitates again, wanting to speak but stopping

Stubborn Dead Duck: Friendly reminder: Little ducks don’t have teeth. For your physical and mental well-being, if you find the grass you left behind too tough to chew, try eating some gravel to help with digestion!

Lanlan’s Sleepy: Go, Duck! You can do it!

Just a Little More Gu: You can do it!

Jian Xin: “……”

Oh, thank you so much for the warm and thoughtful reminder! It’s so healthy and wholesome!