Chapter 9 — The One Who Remembers Me Instead

When she left, she did not have to suffer too much pain. Mother Qin said her last words were:
“That Vong Nguyen child likes to eat cinnamon flower cakes.”
I walked all the way and then stopped, turned around and looked at the big gate of the Ky family. The red painted gate is still the same as before. The copper ring is shiny and the door steps are high. When I was seven years old, I stood outside that door. When I was fourteen years old, I also stood outside. On the day of marriage, I was still standing outside the door. We can't get in every time. Every time I turn around and leave. This time, I didn't go in either. Qi Yu stood by the carriage waiting for me, holding in his arms the little girl who had already learned to walk. As soon as she saw me, she immediately raised her arms and rushed forward, her young voice calling:
“Nguyen!”
I picked her up and hugged her.
“Let's go home.”
Te Du said. I nodded, hugged my daughter and got on the carriage. When the car curtains come down, I look at that door one more time. The two stone lions in front of the door are still the same two lions from before. They opened their mouths, coldly looking at the way people came and the way people returned. The wind blowing the funeral flag made a flapping sound, like someone was sighing. I let go of the car curtain and leaned into Qi Du's arms. The little girl was sleeping in my arms, her little hand still holding the hem of my shirt. I bowed my head and kissed her hair, smelling the faint scent of begonia flowers. The sunlight outside was beautiful and warm, shining inside, falling on the clasped hands of me and Te Du. I suddenly remembered the brocade box my great-grandmother had put in my hand many years ago. I still wear that pair of jade bracelets to this day.
20
A few days ago, Qi Yu returned from work in the south, bringing with him a box of cinnamon rolls from a long-standing shop in the south of the city. The little girl was like a sparrow, immediately rushing to compete for food. Her cheeks were puffed up, her mouth was full of crumbs. Qi Du sat next to it, looked at it and smiled, then took a piece and gave it to me:
"For you. That store has changed to a new chef. I've tasted it, the flavor hasn't changed."
I took it, took a bite. The cake is soft, spongy, sweet without being greasy. The scent of cinnamon blossoms melted between lips and teeth, just like autumn many years ago, when a small figure stood under the cinnamon tree, tiptoeing, looking longingly towards the stall. At that time, I always stood behind my mother, watching her buy cinnamon rolls and stuff them into the elder sister's hand. At that time, I always thought I didn't like to eat. I chewed a piece of cake and suddenly heard the little girl say inaudibly:
“Nang, delicious!”
I lowered my head to look at her little face covered in crumbs and couldn't help but laugh. I raised my hand to wipe the crumbs from the corner of his lips:
“Yes, it's delicious.”
Warm sunlight penetrated through the window, shining into the room. Qi Du leaned against the back of the chair and looked at me, the corners of his lips curled up, as if trying to hold back a smile. I looked at him and then burst out laughing. The events of the past are like a rain that has passed a long time ago. Now, I have my own room, my own lamp, and a warm little girl in my arms. And someone who always remembers all the things we love for us. Later, my mother asked someone to bring that white jade brooch. We opened the box and looked once, then closed it. I don't wear it. Also not returned. I just put it in the bottom of the drawer, with other items that had gathered dust a long time ago. It all stays there. And we can continue to move forward, no need turn around and look again. Run out of