Rebirth: My Mother, My Hero

Starlit Memories

As the first bulb at the top of the iron-framed stall flickered to life, the glow cascaded downward, illuminating each stall in succession. In mere seconds, the iron dragon transformed into a river of stars. Above, neon signs from the stores on either side stood in orderly rows, shimmering and blinking—a galaxy set against a bustling urban backdrop.

It felt like stepping into one of those vibrant, fantastical worlds from an anime.

Mia Lin walked into the heart of this scene, and memories began to stir within her.

Chunxi Road at this time was more than just two malls; there were also branded stores like Daphne and Baleno. Yet, the people of Chengdu had an innate love for the everyday, the mundane joys of life. They preferred night markets to the polished storefronts of shopping malls, thriving amidst the hum of crowded stalls and street vendors.

In the year 2000, even the popularity of Wangfujing and the Pacific Department Store relied heavily on Chunxi's night market!

Mia recalled that her family’s stall was near the end of the street, beneath a billboard advertising Samsung cameras, selling an old Chengdu specialty—*mao jiezifen*, spicy vermicelli.

She hadn't yet reached the Xinhua Bookstore in the middle of the street when the aroma of her family’s vermicelli reached her, wafting through the air. The sharp, spicy fragrance tickled her senses, easing the nausea brought on by the traffic and drawing her forward.

She quickened her pace, her heart soaring.

But as soon as she saw, from afar, her youthful mother—suddenly, she faltered. Her heart, swelling with nostalgia, hesitated.

Helen Chung, at thirty-three, wore her hair short, neat, and practical. Her face bore no trace of the wear that time would later carve into her. Without any makeup, she looked fresh, carefree, and happy.

She was smiling as she made change for a customer.

This was not the mother Mia remembered.

The mother she remembered dressed fashionably for work. Every day, dealing with different kinds of people, she made sure to look her best. Long permed hair, bold eyeshadow, semi-permanent brows, and lips always painted in red.

Yet beneath that polished makeup, Mia always remembered the unmistakable fatigue.

How deceptive memory can be.

Mia never realized that before the family’s fortunes had risen, her mother had been so effortlessly relaxed and graceful.

When did her mother begin dressing like that? Mia thought back. It must have been around the time she graduated from primary school, right when her parents began to fight.

In her adolescence, Mia couldn’t understand, but now, in an instant, she knew.

It was when her husband's eyes began to wander that her mother tried to change herself—tried to prove that she was no less than the other woman.

A sharp pang of sorrow pierced Mia’s heart. She no longer hesitated. She ran towards her mother, her footsteps light, like wings carrying her forward.

She threw her arms around her, not caring about the busy stall, not caring about the customers.

“Mom! I’ve missed you so much!”

She missed her mother—missed the version of her untouched by sorrow, missed Helen Chung, who was still vibrant, still herself.

The noisy street bustled around them; swaying lightbulbs cast a soft, flickering glow over Helen Chung’s face, frozen in surprise.

There was a dazed look in her eyes—she clearly hadn’t expected her daughter to be so affectionate, so suddenly.

“Boss lady, is that really your daughter? She’s already this big? How come we’ve never seen her before?”

A customer’s teasing voice brought the mother and daughter back to the present.

Helen Chung smiled, patting her daughter’s head. “She used to live in the countryside with my mom. She’s a good student, so we just transferred her to the city this year.”

“That’s right; children need to be with their parents to be close.”

After the customer left, Helen Chung bent down, resting her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. Her voice was soft as she asked, “Mia, why did you run all the way here? Did Grandma scold you again?”

Food stalls at the night market stayed open late, often until dawn. The Lin family’s *mao jiezifen* was popular, not only with customers but also with the other vendors who worked into the night. They were usually among the last to pack up.

Her parents had given Mia's grandmother money for her meals, and every day, Mia was supposed to eat at her grandmother's.

It was precisely because her parents were so busy at night that Mia, after coming here once at the beginning of the school term, had never dared to come back—her father had scolded her so harshly.

To be honest, even in her thirties, Mia still found herself a little afraid of her father’s angry voice.

“I just bought some snacks and wanted to come share them with you.” She lifted the two bags of treats, her eyes darting around in search of her father.

This ingrained fear brought a pang of pain to Helen Chung's heart.

She held her daughter close, setting aside the business for a moment. She brought out a small stool, helping her daughter sit down.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Helen kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “Let me make us two bowls of vermicelli, and we’ll have them for dinner. We can eat and share the snacks you brought. How does that sound?”

“Huh?” Mia was stunned.

In her previous life, her parents had been exactly the kind often mentioned online—the “joy-killing parents.” She had come with snacks prepared to be scolded, ready to endure her father’s harsh words.

She’d even planned how to argue back, how to cry and plead with her mother. She’d thought of exactly how to force her mother to taste the *san he ni* she had brought, regardless of her mother’s protests.

But her father wasn’t here, and her mother—her mother kissed her, called her “sweetheart,” and showed nothing but warmth?

In her thirty-three years of life, she had never heard her mother call her “sweetheart.”

Mia looked at her mother in disbelief. “Mom, I didn’t go to Grandma’s, and I ran over here, disrupting your business. Aren’t you mad? Aren’t you going to scold me?”

But she saw Helen’s eyes redden, her gaze filled with even deeper tenderness.

Helen shook her head, her voice even softer than before. “Of course not. Mia came because she cared about me, brought me something delicious. I’m too happy to be angry.”

She stroked her daughter’s hair and even apologized, “I’m sorry, Mia. Your dad and I have been too harsh before. If you don’t like going to Grandma’s, then you don’t have to go anymore.”