Rebirth: Looking Back in a Sudden Realization - Chapter 13

Zhao Zhongyuan’s room was much simpler than the western wing, without all the fancy decorations. It had a simple carved wooden bed and a set of tea table and chairs. One wall was covered with his calligraphy and painting practice works from childhood. A wide huanghuali wood desk sat prominently, with brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones arranged neatly. Behind it, a large bookcase held numerous books, some in thread-bound editions whose pages had yellowed with age. Shao Chuyan carefully picked up one and leafed through it—it was a Thirteen Buddhist Scriptures made from bamboo xuan paper. She felt a pang of emotion. Such a book casually stored in a child’s bookshelf—Zhao Zhongyuan likely had never even looked at it.

Seeing Shao Chuyan examining the antique books, Zhao Zhongyuan smiled sheepishly. “These books were given by Dad. Some of them I can’t even understand.”

Shao Chuyan chuckled and held up the book. “Do you know what this is?”

Zhao Zhongyuan glanced at the title and grinned. “A Buddhist scripture.”

Shao Chuyan gently handed the book to him. “This book is made from bamboo xuan paper. Do you know how difficult it is to turn a single bamboo into a thread-bound book?”

Zhao Zhongyuan listened curiously.

“To make xuan paper, you must harvest young bamboo of the current year during the Xiaoman period. ‘One green, two white’ means the green strips are for rough paper, the white strips for fine xuan paper. Also, the water used must be exceptionally clear—‘the best mountains and waters under heaven, ancient and modern praise Fuchun.’ In Fuyang, they say ‘half man-made, half water.’ Each sheet of xuan paper takes over six months to make, to ensure the quality of the pulp during fermentation. A thread-bound book made from bamboo xuan paper can last at least 500 years.”

Zhao Zhongyuan was astonished, flipping through the book. “500 years? Then how old is this book?”

Shao Chuyan smiled. “It’s certainly older than your great-great-grandfather.”

Zhao Zhongyuan gently placed the book on the desk, then grinned at Shao Chuyan. “Sister, could you take a look at my latest calligraphy copy?”

He immediately pulled a scroll from the bookcase and unrolled it. It was a copy of Ouyang Xun’s Jiucheng Palace Liquan Inscription, specifically the line: ‘From military achievements to unify the realm, to civil virtue embracing distant lands.’ Shao Chuyan carefully laid the xuan paper on the desk and weighed the edges. She examined it closely: the brushwork was square and neat, the layout compact and balanced, with a sense of openness and stability. But the strokes lacked the daring, precise energy characteristic of Ouyang’s style, still carrying a trace of childishness. Zhao Zhongyuan’s characters were elongated and steady, though the stroke endings were not entirely smooth. For an eleven- or twelve-year-old boy, however, this level of regular script was far above his peers. She smiled. “Not bad! Very skilled. Did you win an award?”

Zhao Zhongyuan, caught, didn’t feel embarrassed but beamed with pride. “Yes, I got a gold prize.”

Shao Chuyan carefully rolled up the scroll and handed it back for him to place in its original position.

Suddenly, she noticed a wrinkled old drawing in the cabinet. She pulled it out—it was a “family portrait.” Four figures drawn clumsily and childishly: a tall man in blue with a beard holding the hand of a tall girl with red braids, and two other adults each holding a smaller child—one short-haired gray child, one long-haired blond child.

The awkward, childish drawing revealed Zhao Zhongyuan’s innermost feelings. Shao Chuyan’s tears fell onto the thin paper, soaking the crayon colors. She hated herself. It was her fault—selfishly monopolizing her mother and cruelly leaving Xiao Yuan so in need of family. And in the end, she had also caused harm to her mother.

Zhao Zhongyuan turned, seeing his sister’s reddened eyes, puzzled. “Sister, what’s wrong? Are you not feeling well?”

Shao Chuyan quickly waved her hand to brush away the tears and restrained her emotions. “Nothing, nothing.” She changed the topic. “Xiao Yuan, I want to discuss something with you.”

“What is it?”

“Let’s exchange information from now on. You act as a double agent—an undercover!” Shao Chuyan said mysteriously.

“What’s an undercover?” Zhao Zhongyuan asked, confused.

Shao Chuyan thought for a moment. The movie Infernal Affairs hadn’t come out yet. She laughed awkwardly. “It’s a Buddhist phrase… you wouldn’t understand. Anyway, just think of it as spying for me. You tell me about Dad’s girlfriend—what she’s like, and when he changes girlfriends. How about it?”

Zhao Zhongyuan opened his mouth in an “O,” clicking his tongue. “You women are too gossipy. I’m not a paparazzi. I don’t care if Dad changes girlfriends or clothes.”

Shao Chuyan wanted to smack his head. “Can you think straight? I’m not gossiping! Don’t you want Mom and Dad to get back together?”

Zhao Zhongyuan’s mouth opened even wider. After a pause, he shook his head. “Impossible. Even I know they have deep hatred for each other. Mom hasn’t seen Dad in ten years. How could they reconcile?”

Shao Chuyan persuaded him. “That’s why I need your help. You give me information, I come up with ideas. We’ll coordinate inside and outside to bring them together! First, we need to figure out Dad’s feelings for Mom, so we know what to do.”

“Oh, so you’re not a paparazzi, you’re a matchmaker?” Zhao Zhongyuan finally understood.

Shao Chuyan giggled mischievously and reached under his armpit. “You little brat! So, will you help me?”

Zhao Zhongyuan scratched his head, easily swayed by the playful tactic. “Okay! I’ll help.”

“Good.” Shao Chuyan retracted her hand, triumphant.

Zhao Zhongyuan leaned in, whispering, “Sister, I actually think Dad still loves Mom.”

“Really? How do you know?” Shao Chuyan perked up.

“He’s gotten drunk a few times and cried, calling ‘Yin’er don’t go, Yan Yan don’t go,’ which even made Aunt Xu cry.”

“Is Dad going to marry Aunt Xu?” Shao Chuyan hurriedly asked, even though she remembered that in her past life he never remarried.

Xiao Yuan shook his head. “No way.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I told Dad I don’t like Aunt Xu, she treats me badly. So Dad definitely won’t marry her.” He smiled slyly, his almond-shaped eyes narrowed.

Shao Chuyan’s heart ached. Xiao Yuan’s heart was truly only for her and Mom. She would never let him grow up lonely again, and she would protect him from harm. No more tragedies like being kidnapped at 22! She tried to control her emotions as tears threatened to fall. Seeing a Go board by the window, she suggested, “Come on, Xiao Yuan, let’s play a game.”

Zhao Zhongyuan had been playing Go since he was six and was already quite skilled. They played eagerly, with Shao Chuyan, though a beginner, using her intelligence to counter him. They had so much fun that they didn’t notice Zhao Longhua quietly observing from the nearby recliner.

In a real aristocratic family, emphasis was placed on character and skill development. Wealthy parents invested heavily in their children’s education to prepare them for future responsibilities. Zhao Longhua, a traditionalist, valued calligraphy and painting as foundational for self-cultivation, and also Go. To him, Go symbolized strategic thinking—calculating consequences, anticipating moves. Though his son was too young to fully grasp it, he intended to cultivate this mindset early. Unexpectedly, Shao Chuyan mastered these strategies effortlessly.

Seeing the white stones on the upper right nearly trapped, Shao Chuyan quickly executed a maneuver on the black stones in the lower left, prompting Xiao Yuan to respond. She laughed, letting the white stones free, and triumphantly said, “This move is called ‘Rescue Zhao by Encircling Wei!’” Xiao Yuan pouted. “You’ve used almost all the Thirty-Six Strategies. This game will end in a tie!”

“Haha, Xiao Yuan should learn from his sister!” Zhao Longhua clapped. “Though her basic Go skills are weaker, her thinking is sharper. Even though Xiao Yuan’s skill is higher, it’s hard to win!”

Xiao Yuan pouted in frustration.

Shao Chuyan’s chubby little face flushed shyly.

Zhao Longhua took their hands. “Come on, let’s have dinner.”

After enjoying a lavish meal prepared by a high-paid private chef, Zhao Longhua and Zhao Zhongyuan escorted Shao Chuyan back to the hotel. As the car stopped at the entrance, she half-jokingly asked Zhao Longhua, “Dad, aren’t you coming up?”

He looked surprised, a grateful and relieved smile on his face, resembling Shao Chuyan almost exactly, but shook his head. “Next time. Rest early, and give your mother my regards.”

Shao Chuyan went upstairs to find Shao Yin’er watching TV. The evening movie slot was showing Red-Clad Heroines, starring Xu Fanyi, who had visited them a few days ago.

“Mom, why are you watching this woman’s movie?” Shao Chuyan asked, sitting beside her.

“Children should be polite. That’s Aunt Xu,” Shao Yin’er said without taking her eyes off the screen.

“Oh, is it good?” Shao Chuyan asked.

“Yes, very touching,” Shao Yin’er replied. On screen, Xu Fanyi’s character, Xiao Lian, was embracing the handsome male lead after overcoming hardships.

Shao Chuyan was slightly puzzled by her mother’s perspective on love. At 25, though she had never been in a relationship, she had observed others in love. Yet Mom’s attitude was confusing. If she loved Dad, why couldn’t she forgive him? She had even refused his request for remarriage. She had always thought Mom didn’t love Dad—until Mom had collapsed by his corpse, crying that she loved him.

Perhaps her lack of romantic experience and low emotional intelligence prevented her from understanding. In that era, a woman like her, reserved and cold, was often labeled “pretentious” behind her back.

A popular saying went: “Easy to love, hard to live with.” Shao Chuyan acknowledged she was difficult. She had tried dating a few suitors, but none lasted past the third meeting. She thought perhaps her parents’ failed marriage had left her with poor psychological conditioning—or perhaps the Matchmaker God had forgotten her, giving all her romantic luck to Zhao Zhongyuan, who by eighteen already faced a pregnant young girlfriend, driving him to New York for two months, eventually resolved by Dad with money.

Suddenly, she remembered the most important thing.

“Mom, how about we celebrate Xiao Yuan’s birthday a day early?” Shao Chuyan proposed, filtering out Zhao Longhua’s requests.

“Really?” Shao Yin’er could hardly believe it.

“Yes. I’ve discussed it with Dad. He agreed. On the actual birthday, we won’t participate. What do you think?”

Shao Yin’er, not concerned about such details, was delighted just to celebrate Xiao Yuan’s birthday. She paced excitedly around the room, murmuring to herself, a childlike smile lighting her gentle, elegant face.

“Yan Yan, how about we take Xiao Yuan for a family photo that day?” Shao Yin’er suggested. She realized it had been a long time since they had a photo together.

“Good idea. Let’s take him,” Shao Chuyan agreed with a smile.

“Oh, I also bought him a new phone as a birthday gift. Do you think he’ll like it?” Shao Yin’er asked anxiously.

“Of course! He’ll be very happy,” Shao Chuyan nodded.

“I’ll decorate the place properly. I heard Kaiting is good at etiquette, so we’ll invite them. And the business cards… I received them today… where are they?” Shao Yin’er muttered while searching.

Shao Chuyan watched her mother, who hadn’t been this happy in a long time, and felt deep gratitude to heaven for giving her a chance to redo everything.