CHAPTER 41: CHAPTER 39: FLOWER

"What a strange guy!" The girl picked up the money, complaining as she left. "So weird."

How could there be such a bizarre customer, who called her over to do nothing at all? She didn’t think she looked unattractive, but she certainly wasn’t ugly either!

She almost started questioning her life, but on second thought, at least he was nice enough, she got her money, and there was no need to stay and waste her time.

Thinking of this, the girl’s mood improved, and she happily walked away.

Once the room quieted down, Xu Xiaoyou pressed against the door.

At the same time, in the corridor, a plainly dressed, thin woman slowly walked by, passing by the freckled girl.

The woman wasn’t outstanding in any way, and with her age, her skin had become loose, making her face a target for wrinkles, the ravages of time.

She paused briefly in front of Mr. Hao’s room.

The woman hadn’t put any effort into her appearance, her eyes dull and worn.

Xu Xiaoyou watched this scene through the peephole.

She became curious about what attracted Mr. Hao to this woman, causing that old man to take such a long detour to this slum.

Not long after, the door opened, and the light cast the man’s shadow.

Seeing the sight before her, the woman’s unlit eyes widened, reflecting the candlelight. She surprisingly took a step back, then turned to leave, until Deerman reached out and grabbed her hand.

"It’s me."

The man’s steady voice echoed in the darkness.

The woman clutched and released his hand, finally turning back to give a slap, the crisp sound reverberating in the dim, empty corridor:

"Get lost!"

Xu Xiaoyou widened her eyes.

What kind of scene is this?

The usually high and mighty gangster boss now appeared somewhat forlorn, slapped across the face, yet his expression bore no trace of anger. He said little, just shook his head and opened the door:

"Ling, don’t let those outside laugh at us, come in and talk."

The woman’s chest heaved, her throat stirred, and finally, she suppressed her emotions, following Deerman into the room.

The room’s furnishings were very basic—a bed, an old fan, and clothes hanging by the window. In the dim light, a photo of a woman in a fluttering red dress shone brightly in the frame.

"Why did you come to find me?" Ling asked.

"To take you away from here," Mr. Hao said.

Ling furrowed her brows. Seeing Deerman’s neat suit, her furrowed brows gradually smoothed.

"You have money now," the woman said softly. "You’ve dressed well, with a lot of charisma."

"Yeah."

"And then?"

"I can take you away, give you a better life, much better than you’re living now. Come with me."

"So you know I’m not doing well now. Are you here to mock me? Yes, you’re wearing a suit now, like a big company’s leader, so you think you can naturally say such things in this tone. Are you offering me charity, or are you mocking me?"

The woman’s words were straightforward and monotonous, like a bowl of plain water.

"What are you talking about, Ling!" Mr. Hao stood up, his voice growing louder. "We’re old now, it’s not the age for stubbornness."

"Even if not for yourself, you should at least consider..."

Before Mr. Hao could finish, Ling smiled broadly, as if it was planned. Her lifted eyebrows perfectly covered the wrinkles on her face, her raised lips appropriately graceful, enchanting but not coquettish, yet approachable. If it were her younger years, this smile might have been stunning.

Seeing this familiar smile, Mr. Hao stood there, stunned.

Tears shimmered in the woman’s eyes:

"Yes, we’re old now, not like the stubborn age back in the day, I’m not a little girl anymore."

"Why couldn’t you come earlier? If you’d come ten years ago, I would have been furious with you, then dressed myself beautifully like a bride, and left here with you boldly."

"If you’d come five years ago, I would have scolded you a little, then held your hand like before and left everything here behind, quietly leaving with you."

"If you’d come a little earlier, even just a year ago, I would have tidied up this room and left without a complaint with you."

Outside the window, a hovercar with black paint floated by, a few distant hums reached them.

Silently, Deerman listened to the woman’s words, just as he used to, listening to her speak about yesterday, today, and tomorrow by her side.

"But now I can’t move anymore, I’m sick, very sick, maybe in a month, maybe just a few days I’ll die."

"I no longer wish to leave this place. Here, in the deepest and darkest corner where I can’t see the sunlight, I once had the most glamorous side."

"If I die here, people will remember that there was a headliner full of glory who died more than a decade ago."

"If I die in a white and clean hospital, those nurses and doctors will just think fleetingly, a flower that had long since dried has finally withered."

Every word from the woman pierced into the man’s strong chest like sharp and burning blades, melting away his dignity.

"I’m no longer Huamanlou’s Opera Star, now I’m old and ugly. Why, after all these years, would you come looking for me?"

He listened to the woman’s words, remaining silent.

The photo by the woman’s bedside deeply captivated his gaze.

The woman in the photo wore a fluttering red dress, on the set stage, attracting everyone’s gaze, every subtle expression, and gesture enchanting the men offstage.

Whenever she had a performance, the theater was always packed.

His first meeting with the woman was above the stage’s curtain.

Back then, he was just a down-and-out youth, living each day by picking up items people left behind at the theater. If he was lucky, he’d find valuable jewelry; if not, he’d go hungry, face being chased away and beaten.

Yet even in such a state, he would wait outside the theater every night, precisely on time, awaiting the woman’s performance.

Whenever he watched that vivid red figure on stage, he would think, this woman is so beautiful, if only I could marry her.

He didn’t know how unrealistic his thoughts were, nor did he know from the moment the girl first stepped onto the stage, she forever lost her youth and freedom, becoming a puppet entangled in strings, a courtesan for people to admire.

After the flower season, rotting away in the mire.

Over time, he came to know the woman, winning her favor with humor and charm. Back then, she still seemed like a little girl, pure and naive, easily deceived by sweet words.

He often told her at night how capable and wealthy he was, promising to take her away, inadvertently planting a deep impression in her heart.

Their relationship quickly heated up, and before long, they fell in love and had their first time together.

He doesn’t remember how that night began, only recalling how he was so flustered he almost wanted to escape, barely getting through it with the woman’s comfort.

He’ll never forget the gentle look in the woman’s eyes when she looked at him the next morning.

What was she thinking then? Imagining the man before her would sweep her away like a hero on a colorful cloud?

It wasn’t long before the people at Moon Store knew about their affair. As the headliner, especially such an opera star, this kind of thing was, of course, intolerable, an enormous scandal.

It was on that day he realized it was also the woman’s first time.

He was too cowardly, failing to notice the woman shared the same look in her eyes.

Watching her besieged by countless accusations, drowning in anger, as if she were a witch being burned at the stake on stage.

He committed the most cowardly act of his life.

He turned and ran away.