Chapter 7: The Last Meeting（7）
506 Words
The café door opened. A man walked in carrying a child. The man was tall and thin, wore glasses and a light blue shirt. He looked clean and gentle, like a glass of plain water.
My daughter was asleep in his arms, her little face buried in his shoulder, revealing a short, plump arm like a segment of lotus root.
"Dad brought Nian Nian," the man said, walking to me. He bent and kissed my forehead, then handed our daughter to me.
Gu Shen watched, his expression as if he couldn't see clearly anymore.
I took my daughter. She stirred in my arms, waking slightly. Those big, round eyes moved around a few times, saw my face, and grinned.
"Mommy," she mumbled.
I held her tight, pressed her little face against my chest, then looked up at Gu Shen across the table.
"This is Nian Nian," I said, my voice steady, steadier than I expected. "Nian Nian, say hi to Uncle."
My daughter peeked out from my chest, looking at the man across from her with big, wet eyes. She tilted her head for a few seconds, then suddenly reached out her chubby little hand toward Gu Shen.
Gu Shen didn't move.
He just sat there like a statue, his gaze fixed on my daughter's face, on her eyes, her eyebrows, her mouth.
And then I saw it.
His eyes.
Those deep black eyes, like obsidian.
My daughter's eyes.
Those big, round, wet eyes, like grapes.
The same. Exactly the same.
The air in the café seemed to have been sucked out. I heard my heartbeat, thump thump thump thump, one after another, like someone pounding on a drum.
Gu Shen's gaze slowly moved from my daughter's face to mine.
He understood everything.
I felt the man beside me—the man who called me his wife, kissed my forehead, helped me carry my daughter—his hand on my shoulder. Through the thin fabric, I could feel the warmth of his palm, warm and steady, like a mountain that would never fall.
But my shoulder was still trembling.
"Uncle," my daughter called again, her little hand stubbornly reaching out toward Gu Shen.
Outside the window, the rain poured down like a deluge.
Gu Shen slowly extended his hand. His long, slender fingers gently held my daughter's tiny hand. That little hand was so small, it could only hold two of his fingers. My daughter giggled, grabbing Gu Shen's fingers and refusing to let go.
Gu Shen looked down at that little hand.
A single tear finally fell from his eye, silent, landing on that fair, delicate little hand.
My daughter froze, looking up at this unfamiliar uncle, not understanding why there were drops of water falling from this person's eyes.
I reached out and gently wiped away the tear on my daughter's hand.
Warm.
As warm as this afternoon before the downpour.
As warm as the rain on that day five years ago.
As warm as all the words that were never said in time.
- Writer
