It was a hot summer noon in San Francisco. At this moment, Fang Ming was reading The Return of the Condor Heroes by Jin Yong in the Chinatown library.
Fang Ming had been in San Francisco for a year and a half.97Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnnGcLG6HPq
On the day he arrived, it was Xia Yu who came to pick him up at the airport. They had not seen each other for twenty-two years since they parted ways. Yet, in the arrival hall, they immediately spotted each other. At the very least, when Fang Ming emerged from the crowd, he instantly saw a tall woman, beaming with joy, waving to him enthusiastically.
That year, Xia Yu was already nearly sixty, but she had always looked young for her age, appearing just past fifty, with a slender figure. There were traces of years at the corners of her eyes, but her gaze—the same gentle and affectionate eyes, now carrying the clarity and wisdom that only time can bring—had not changed despite everything she had experienced over twenty-two years.
The most obvious difference for Fang Ming was that Xia Yu had cut her long hair, which she had kept since childhood, into a neat, neck-length bob, adding a touch of brightness to her delicate, oval face.
Before his arrival, Fang Ming had imagined this reunion a thousand times over. On the plane, he wondered what attitude to take, what words to say. But the moment they recognized each other and walked quickly together, Fang Ming saw the look in Xia Yu’s eyes—her focused gaze told him that Xia Yu was still the Xia Yu who loved him, unchanged by time. Her appearance might have changed, but beneath it remained a gentle and kind woman’s soul.
All of Fang Ming’s anxiety from the long journey dissipated instantly.
Xia Yu softly called, “Ming,” but before she could finish, Fang Ming pulled her into a tight embrace. He lowered his head and whispered, “Yu, I am sorry.” He hugged her even closer. “…It was my fault, I have always… I am sorry.” Fang Ming felt himself fighting back tears, while Xia Yu, curiously, did not feel like crying. Instead, she felt a remarkable lightness, as if some shadow in her heart had suddenly been illuminated by sunlight.
So she held Fang Ming too, gently patting his shoulder, softly saying, “I forgave you long ago.”
They said nothing more, reluctant to part. Amid the bustling crowd, neither would ever forget this most precious moment of their lives.
After Xia Lixian graduated, he worked in finance on the East Coast, only able to fly back to San Francisco twice a year. Fang Zheng worked in Silicon Valley, returning every Sunday to spend time with his parents. To Fang Zheng, his parents were Fang Ming and Xia Yu.
The rest of the time, it was just Fang Ming and Xia Yu’s world.
After the divorce from Wang Rong, Fang Ming and Xia Yu registered their marriage at San Francisco City Hall. There was no ceremony, just their two sons and some of Xia Yu’s close friends as witnesses—friends who had watched Xia Yu struggle for years as a single mother, and who were genuinely happy for her.
After arriving in San Francisco, Xia Yu used Fang Ming’s money to open a Chinese supermarket in Chinatown. Over the years, she had expanded to five stores in San Francisco and the Bay Area. After their marriage, Fang Ming helped run the business. Having managed large enterprises before, he quickly adapted, allowing Xia Yu to fully retire and focus on home life, caring for Fang Ming. It was as if life had returned to the way it once was, except now Xia Yu also made time for community service.
On weekends like this, Fang Ming would drive Xia Yu to Chinatown for dim sum, then drop her at the community center, where she taught free English classes for new immigrants. Fang Ming would then spend time at the main store in Chinatown, and if he had free time, he would visit the San Francisco Public Library to read until Xia Yu finished work. Then they would have afternoon tea at a café before buying groceries and heading home—Fang Ming stubbornly maintaining the lifestyle of his old hometown, even in a foreign land.
As he read The Return of the Condor Heroes, Fang Ming thought: perhaps the name Wang Rong truly was unlucky. The clever, lively Huang Rong of The Legend of the Condor Heroes became, in the sequel, a petty and manipulative woman disliked by readers. Many said the author meant to reveal a harsh truth: time changes everything. No matter how spirited a woman, the grind of family and marriage will wear her down. Fang Ming used to agree, but now he saw things differently.
He felt that, as people grow, they consciously or unconsciously shape themselves to be accepted by society, often hiding their true nature. Over time, the superficial layers are worn away, revealing what lies beneath. There is a saying: “You can never truly know a person’s heart,” but time reveals all. Still, there are things time cannot erase—like Xia Yu’s devotion and sincerity to him.
At the café, while paying the bill, Fang Ming glanced at the television and saw a report: a business delegation from his former hometown was visiting San Francisco this month, seeking cooperation opportunities. This was ordinary news—except the deputy head of the delegation was Wang Rong, now Madam Bai!
On TV, Wang Rong wore a pure white cheongsam and a pearl necklace—elegant, dignified. Since becoming Madam Bai, she never appeared in any color but white. Fang Ming did not look too closely, or he would have noticed her heavy makeup and the unnatural stiffness on her face.
Fang Ming frowned, a look of gravity and unease in his eyes. Lost in thought, he felt a slight pain on his arm—Xia Yu had pinched him playfully, her big eyes winking as she teased, “Hey, what are you thinking about?”
Leaving the café, Xia Yu held Fang Ming’s arm, looked up at him, and said with a mock pout, “What is it—missing your ex-wife?”
Fang Ming immediately put on a serious face. “Of course not! I wish I could forget her!”
“Do not be so tense, I was only joking!” Xia Yu smiled tenderly, but then grew serious, asking gently, “Has something happened?”
“Zheng told me that Wang Rong wants to meet him while she is here. Our son asked what I think—should he see her or not?” Fang Ming sighed.
“Ming, she is still his birth mother. If she wants to see her own son, how could you stop her?” Xia Yu replied, her tone thoughtful.
“Sigh… You do not understand. That woman never does anything unless she benefits. With her status now, what does she want from Zheng? The last time Zheng got an email from her was over half a year ago!”
They strolled through the streets at dusk, hand in hand.
Xia Yu was silent for a while before she said softly, “Maybe, in her world, Zheng is the only one she still cares about. That is why she wants to get close to her son.”
Fang Ming squeezed her hand gently. “Yu, you are always so soft-hearted. But she is not as simple as you think.”
His tone darkened. “…Actually, I have always suspected she killed Xing Jun.”
“What did you say?” Xia Yu was shocked and stared at Fang Ming.
On the way home, Fang Ming told Xia Yu about the two strange dreams he had about Xing Jun’s fall.
Their home was a detached house in the Bay Area, not large, but the upstairs balcony offered a panoramic view of the bay and Golden Gate Bridge. Fang Ming and Xia Yu sat there with hot tea, watching the sunset over the bridge.
“Ming, if you had not told me, I would never have believed anything so bizarre could happen in this world!” Xia Yu said, both astonished and chilled by Fang Ming’s story.
“I know, it was just a dream, not something to accuse anyone of. After all, it cannot be proven true or false.”97Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0b6wxO5wGQ
Fang Ming paused. “But from the time I was yelling at the door to when Wang Rong let me in, there were only the two of them inside. Only she knows what really happened.”
He took a sip of tea to steady himself. “Actually, I had already decided to divorce her. But one night, I had another dream—much scarier than before.” Fang Ming still shivered at the memory.
That night, Fang Ming was watching TV and drinking alone at home. Suddenly, he saw Xing Jun appear in the hallway leading to the bedroom. The two men exchanged a look, as if sharing a secret understanding. Xing Jun pointed toward the front door. Fang Ming looked in that direction and saw Wang Rong—whom he had not seen for months—coming in. Although she rarely returned home, Fang Ming had never changed the lock.
She poked her head in, checking to see if anyone was home. Strangely, she did not see Fang Ming or Xing Jun, and Fang Ming was not surprised by this. Wang Rong wore black sportswear and a gray cap. She went straight to the kitchen, put on gloves, took out a bottle of Fang Ming’s favorite liquor, opened it, and injected something from a syringe into the bottle. She screwed the cap back on, checked that it looked untouched, tidied up, and left quickly.
Soon after, another version of Fang Ming arrived home, took out that tampered bottle, sat on the sofa, turned on the TV, and started drinking. In the dream, Fang Ming was struck by a chill—he realized he had just drunk from that very bottle!
Before he could react, he heard the key in the door again. This time, Wang Rong entered wearing a dark blue dress, but did exactly the same thing. Then another Fang Ming came home, drank the same bottle.
Fang Ming was engulfed by terror. He wanted to scream, to run, but found he could not move or speak.
He watched this cycle repeat several times, until finally, he was able to move. He burst out the door—only to have Xing Jun suddenly appear, handing him a newspaper. Fang Ming saw only the bold headline: “Wang Rong’s Elderly Husband Dies of Sudden Heart Attack; Holy Mother Weeps Bitterly.”
Then Fang Ming woke up screaming.
After waking from this nightmare, Fang Ming quickly gathered his thoughts and made a decision. He immediately called Zheng, telling him he had decided to divorce and would be going to America within the month.
Zheng was shocked but delighted, happily making arrangements for Fang Ming’s arrival in San Francisco. Zheng knew his father had suffered for years, but as a son, he did not know how to intervene and did not want to hurt his proud father’s dignity. Now that his father had finally let go, Zheng’s voice was bright with relief and joy.
After all, he was grown up, had a good job in San Francisco, and could care for his father. Besides, Fang Ming still owned a house in their old city; selling it would fetch a decent sum. Even without his mother, a comfortable life was not a problem.
As Zheng prepared for his father’s new life, he was surprised to learn that he would not be alone. When Zheng told Xia Lixian the good news, Xia Lixian revealed everything and told him that they were half-brothers.
“I have already told your father…my father. You can ask him yourself. If you do not believe me, we can do a paternity test when you arrive,” said Xia Lixian with a laugh.
Zheng was annoyed. “Do you think this is a joke? You have always been sensible. Would I doubt my father?”
So the two brothers prepared for their father’s new life abroad. When Fang Ming arrived, they agreed that only Xia Yu would pick him up at the airport.
Back to the present: the weather was perfect, the sunset turning the sea golden. Yet, Fang Ming and Xia Yu were too preoccupied to enjoy the magical moment, as Fang Ming had just finished recounting his surreal and terrifying dream.
Xia Yu listened quietly, gripping her teacup with trembling fingers. Her fear was even greater than Fang Ming’s, for to her, this was not just a dream, but a possible reality.
In other words, Wang Rong might really have been willing to eliminate Fang Ming to marry Bai Shikun—and to do so in a way that left her completely free, both legally and morally. It seemed like a warning, perhaps a message from the deceased Xing Jun.
Xia Yu thought: if Fang Ming had not had this dream, and if it had come true, she might have read the news in the Chinese newspaper’s entertainment section and never seen him again. She dared not think further.
Back then, when she left home pregnant, abandoned by Fang Ming, she had known—through media reports—about his ups and downs: his wealth after marriage, subsequent business failure, Wang Rong’s affair, Xing Jun’s fall, and, finally, his decline.
Xia Yu sighed, but felt at peace—such is the impermanence and cost of life. Yet she knew if she ever saw news of Fang Ming’s sudden death, she would never recover from such a loss.
After a long silence, Xia Yu finally asked, “So… Ming, do you plan to prevent Zheng from seeing her?”
Fang Ming sighed deeply. “Zheng is grown. Let him decide for himself…” He reached out and held Xia Yu’s hand tightly. “For me, in the days left, only you matter most.”
Fang Ming was filled with gratitude. Fate had taken him on a long, winding journey, but ultimately brought him back to the woman who had always loved him, allowing him to rediscover love and be loved, and to atone for the regrets of his past.
Xia Yu said nothing. She simply walked over and embraced the man she loved most, burying herself in his arms, silent.
The nightmare had made Xia Yu realize that the happiness she held now had almost slipped away. The man who held her hand each day and slept beside her each night could have been lost forever just half a year ago.
It was this sudden realization that made Xia Yu feel as though she had survived a great ordeal. Fang Ming understood, too—his whole life’s fulfillment or regret depended on fate’s mercy.
So Fang Ming wrapped his arms around Xia Yu, stroked her hair, and whispered in her ear, “Yu, I love you.”
Xia Yu was stunned.
She did not say, “I love you too,” but instead wept silently. It was the first time she had cried since their reunion, for she remembered that since the age of seventeen, from the time she was with Fang Ming until their separation, this proud man had never once spoken those words to her.
So she cried even harder. Fang Ming said nothing more, only held her tighter.
In the twilight of life, the two lovers who had endured so much embraced each other in silence for a long, long time.
And behind the Golden Gate Bridge, the setting sun finally slipped below the horizon, leaving the sky awash with rose-colored clouds.
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End of Chapter Eight
This story is purely fictional. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. The author merely explores the relationship between female destiny and faith. It is not directed at any real individual. Please take note.
Copyright Notice:
The Biography of Wang Rong: The Making of the Earthly Holy Mother Persona97Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJECzVz2GCR
Chapter Eight: Truth in a Dream97Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCwzgCWAZNW
Original work by Jing Xixian (Vampire L). All rights reserved. No part may be reproduced, adapted, reposted, translated, or used commercially in any form without written permission from the author.97Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvjIHJpljqh
© Jing Xixian (Vampire L), All rights reserved.
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