Rebirth: Pampered by My Children and Husband

Chapter 82: Chapter 82 Lin Xu and Her Mother Look Alike

Lin Xu was in a cheerful mood as she ate the barbecue, happily swinging her little legs.

“Do you like eating skewers that much?” Ji Zeqiu murmured softly, looking at the skewers on the table.

In a daze, he realized the last time he had barbecue was actually twenty years ago.

In his memory, his mother had really liked barbecue.

Sometimes late at night, she would sneak out with his father to eat, and when they returned, he’d catch them and smell the grilled meat on her.

The next time they went to eat, they would bring back one or two skewers for him, then watch as he sweated profusely from the spiciness, laughing nonstop beside him.

There was no sense of a mother’s awareness to care for her son.

Suddenly, the memory was abruptly interrupted.

Ji Zeqiu pinched his nose bridge, annoyed. He had been inexplicably recalling things about his mother lately.

He clearly shouldn’t be thinking of those.

He shook his head, clearing all these memories from his mind.

Suddenly, a skewer was held up before his eyes.

“This is for you to eat.”

Ji Zeqiu didn’t react in time and took an absent-minded bite.

The next second, his throat felt like there was a fiery blaze burning within, the spiciness causing him intense pain, with sweat beading on his forehead.

A clear, cheerful laughter sounded beside his ear.

In that moment, he felt as if he was being pulled back into the memories he desperately wanted to forget, his chest aching as though it was being torn apart.

“How are you still unable to handle spicy food just like when you were a kid?” Lin Xu laughed as she passed him a glass of water.

Ji Zeqiu froze, “What, what did you just say?”

Lin Xu didn’t hear his question and hit her head in annoyance, “Ah, right, milk eases the spiciness, I’ll go pour you a glass.”

Ji Zeqiu stared blankly at her retreating figure.

How did she know he couldn’t eat spicy food?

Did Ji Tingyang tell her?

But…would Ji Tingyang talk to her about such things?

The more he cared, the more he noticed things he usually paid no attention to.

When she was in a good mood, Ji Zeqiu found she liked to hum tuneless little melodies.

Similar to the vague, unclear lullabies his mother used to hum to him, as he recalled.

“What song are you humming? I don’t think I’ve heard it before,” Ji Zeqiu asked casually.

“It’s not a song, I was just humming randomly,” Lin Xu replied, while watching a TV series.

“Oh…”

Ji Zeqiu glanced again at the TV series she was watching; it was an idol drama he had starred in before.

Would his mother have liked to watch idol dramas before?

He tried hard to remember but found these things had long been forgotten by him.

Ji Zeqiu had once tried hard to forget things about his mother, and now he desperately wanted to remember them.

However, so much time had passed, and many things had been wiped from his memory.

It wasn’t something he could remember simply by trying.

Ji Zeqiu returned to his bedroom and rummaged through the bookcase and drawers, trying to find something about his mother, but came up empty-handed.

He only then realized, belatedly, that for fear of being reminded of his mother again, all photos and items related to her were left behind at the villa, and he hadn’t taken a single one with him.

Just as he was hesitating whether to take a trip back to the villa, his phone suddenly received a call from Ji Tingyang.

The first thing he said was, “Is Lin Xu not at home? I called her and she didn’t pick up.”

“…” Ji Zeqiu suppressed the urge to hang up the phone, rolled his eyes at the air, and said irritably, “She’s probably out shopping and hasn’t looked at her phone, and another thing! I’m not her nanny, don’t ask me about everything.”

“Then let her stay at the villa, and I won’t ask you anymore.”

“Dream on!”

“Hanging up.” Ji Tingyang, not having obtained any useful information, was utterly bored and about to end the call.

“Wait a minute!” Ji Zeqiu quickly shouted.

“Hmm?”

“You, you…” Ji Zeqiu stammered, and just before Ji Tingyang’s patience was about to run out, he finally voiced his inner question, “Do you not think that Lin Xu resembles our mother a bit?”

“No!” Ji Tingyang answered decisively.

“Then why do you care so much about her? It can’t possibly be because you actually like her.” Ji Zeqiu asked.

“Yes, that’s right, I like her.” Ji Tingyang confirmed.

Ji Zeqiu didn’t believe him, “Are mother’s things from back then still there? I want to go back and see them.”

“After so many years, even if they’re still there, they must have yellowed and rotted by now,” Ji Tingyang offered a rare comfort, “It’s been so long since that happened, thinking about it again is meaningless, you should let go sooner.”

Ji Zeqiu clenched his phone tight, his fingertips turning white, a tumult of endless waves churning within him, seemingly ready to shatter the calm he had feigned over the years.

He had clearly forgotten about his mother’s matter, but ever since Lin Xu appeared, he would inexplicably recall the past.

Is it because he has never let go of that matter, that he sees his mother’s shadow in everything?

“Don’t think too much,” Ji Tingyang said and then hung up the phone.

Ji Zeqiu took a deep breath but still felt suffocated and pressured, his mind in utter disarray.

Perhaps because his attention was divided by this matter, Ji Zeqiu had been absent-minded recently, even messing up scenes he usually nailed in one take.

The director, face aflame with rage, wanted to scold him but didn’t dare to.

The agent hurried over to appease the director, continuously bowing and apologizing, then pulled Ji Zeqiu aside for a scolding.

“What’s up with you lately? You’ve been off your game. Could it be because of Wen Li again?” the agent asked.

It was always because of Wen Li whenever his condition was poor in the past.

So the agent had gotten used to it.

“It’s not her,” Ji Zeqiu responded in a muffled voice.

“Shen Qingtang?”

“No.”

“Then it must be Lin Xu.” The agent had pretty much guessed everyone close to him by now.

“Pretty much,” Ji Zeqiu, agitated by the thought, subconsciously reached into his pocket for a cigarette.

Realizing his pocket was empty, he remembered he was wearing a costume.

“Talk to me, what’s going on?” the agent offered him a cigarette.

Ji Zeqiu took a drag of the cigarette and drawled, “I feel Lin Xu resembles my mother in some ways.”

“Huh, and then?” the agent knew his mother had passed away long ago.

Ji Zeqiu suddenly fell silent again, wrestling with how to express his thoughts.

Then he believed she was the same person as his mother?

Clearly, his mother had died long ago, and even if she were alive, she shouldn’t look so young.

Even Ji Tingyang had said he was just overthinking, and the agent would surely think him mentally troubled.

Maybe he was indeed overthinking.

Ji Zeqiu exhaled a faint puff of smoke, as indistinct as his wavering thoughts, “It’s nothing, just suddenly missed her a bit.”

The agent knew that the “her” Ji Zeqiu meant was his mother.

“I want to go to South Mountain Cemetery,” Ji Zeqiu said.

For fear that seeing those two gravestones would bring pain again, he had not visited his parents for a long time.