Shen Wangshu's hand suddenly trembled. Her eyes widened, her lips quivering as she called out again, "Mom..."
Shen Wangshu was alone in the room.
I had seen that woman disappear with my own eyes.
She had vanished while Shen Wangshu was touching the photograph.
My gaze fell on the photo album.
Shen Wangshu suddenly lowered her head and looked at the hand resting on the album.
She screamed and hurled the album away.
It hit the floor. Then, as if pricked by a needle, she rushed over and picked it up. Kneeling on the ground, she began flipping through it.
The last few pages were completely empty. There should have been plenty more photos.
The pictures from the birthday banquet were gone.
So were the photos Shen Wangshu had taken every day to document her mother's life.
Shen Wangshu cried out without thinking, and tears spilled from her eyes.
"Shu, what's wrong?"
A man's voice sounded behind her.
Shen Wangshu turned and saw her father.
The man came out of the bedroom, his face full of surprise and concern. When he saw the album in Shen Wangshu's hands, he sighed. "Shu, your mother lived to a ripe old age. She had a good life. Don't be so sad..."
Shen Wangshu's eyes widened, her tears falling onto the album. "No, no... That's not it! That's not it!!"
She had killed her mother.
Shen Wangshu's hand shook, and memories flooded her mind.
She remembered the class reunion, and the farewell dinner they'd had at graduation. They had taken a group photo outside the restaurant, and after she got the picture, she had spent a long time running her fingers over Yu Zihao's image.
Shen Wangshu was struck by a wave of dizziness.
I had suspected as much before, and now my suspicion