The side story is unrelated to the main story's ending; the main story has a happy ending. (It's recommended to read it in conjunction with Jay Chou's "Rain Falls All Night" for a better experience.)
Xie Yun was not born to Xie Qingchi.
My name is Xie Yun.
He was raised at his second grandfather's house since he was a child, and was known by others as the young heir of the Xie Family.
My second grandfather's name Xie Jinghui, a very nice name, but he had a wife whose name was even more beautiful.
Call Shen Shuangjian.
When I was young, I didn't understand what it meant to have deep love, or that deep love is short-lived. I only often heard people say that my second grandfather loved his wife as much as his own life, cherishing her like a precious jewel.
However, after his wife passed away, his second grandfather was very sad. The once vibrant man gradually fell ill and became bedridden.
When my second grandfather's wife passed away, everyone in the family said that he would commit suicide to be with her.
What is a double suicide for love? And if someone dies, what should one do to be with them in death?
I was too young to understand when I was a child.
All I know is that my second grandfather didn't commit suicide for love as they said. Instead, he guarded the pear tree in the yard year after year. I heard that it was planted the year his wife died.
I once asked my second grandfather why this pear tree never blossoms, and why he was guarding a tree that never flowers or bears fruit.
My second grandfather only told me softly that his wife had only lied to him once in her life, and he was willing to be lied to.
I didn't understand, but remembering my second grandfather's words, I gradually took them to heart. Almost every day I would come and squat under the pear tree for a while, looking at this withered tree, wondering when spring would come.
After his wife passed away, my second grandfather would often sit at his desk and write. The content was obscure and difficult to understand. At that time, I could only recognize characters and couldn't understand what he was writing. I only vaguely knew that it was written for his wife.
--A letter to my wife.
When my second grandfather was writing, I often stayed with him, and when I was bored, I would glance at it a few times.
The courtyard was dimly lit and desolate, only the ink and brushstrokes brought it to life.
"My beloved is here, and seeing this letter is like seeing you in person. Twelve light-years have passed since we parted, and my longing for you remains deep."
Last night I dreamt of the past.
When my second grandfather wrote this, his wrist paused for a moment. He looked out the window at the pear tree, and in his eyes were thoughts I couldn't understand.
In a daze, I was startled to see my wife standing under the tree, a picture of tranquility and laughter, and I recalled our first meeting.
In late winter and early spring, when frost melts and snow falls, the most difficult time for people, amidst the swirling smoke, that person stands in the cold wind and sparse shadows, a single glance stunning the passage of time.
My gaze never wavers, my soul is haunted by dreams of you, hoping you will enter my dreams and dispel my longing.
When we meet again, my heart is made up. For the rest of my life, I will hold your hand and grow old with you.
In a rose garden in full bloom, a person came on the wind, their footsteps light, their hair fluttering as they spoke three short sentences to him.
When he came to his senses, he looked down and saw a few words: "True love is fleeting, a moment is worth more than a lifetime."
"My wife is so lovely; I have tried my best to win her heart, but to no avail. I am overjoyed to see her, and I am willing to make all the sacrifices for her. I only hope she will take notice."
The past is vivid in my mind. The sensitivity, pain, and inferiority I once felt now resurface, but I only feel a bittersweet taste.
"My beloved, you and I pledged our love on a snowy night. I often profess my love, and when we lie neck to neck, I softly call your childhood name, ' Zhizhi.' When Zhizhi hears this, her face flushes crimson."
Her soft, tender eyes, often glistening with tears when lost in love, and her voice, gentle and endearing, are both lovely and pitiful.
"My wife is frail and sickly, often afflicted with old ailments. My heart aches for her. I only hope that Heaven will have mercy on her and grant her a long and healthy life."
Her slender, sickly body always turned pale and lingered in bed after recovering from a serious illness, showing no signs of improvement for a long time. Each cough was like a knife twisting in her heart, causing her even greater pain.
"My wife and I have been together for twenty years. At night, we nestle under a tree, fanning ourselves and tying our hair up."
Beneath the shade of the crabapple tree, knees sway slightly, a soft coaxing voice, a tender smile, a fan rising and falling, dark hair brushing against lips, the person in her arms breathing softly, drifting off to sleep.
"In winter, we brew tea and admire the snow. My beloved, afraid of the cold, often curls up in my arms, crying sweetly."
The indoor temperature is warm as spring in winter, but the person in my arms complains of being too hot. However, after a short separation, when the temperature drops and their hands and feet slowly get cold, they curl up in my arms again and whisper that they are cold.
As time went by, my wife became frequently ill, and before long, she was bedridden, unable to eat, and swallowing medicine felt like being pricked by needles.
A person who has been pampered for many years falls seriously ill, suffering from a deep-seated ailment. Nights become unbearable, and tears often fall unconsciously as the person cries out in pain. Every time he hears this, his heart aches as if it were being torn apart.
"When my wife's breath was weak, I wanted to follow her in death, but the night was cold and the wind was chilly. She was tearful and said that she had not seen the pear blossoms in full bloom. She was unwilling and resentful."
I am left alone to wander the world, quietly waiting for the flowers to bloom.
I never imagined that one day I would end up clinging to a soft-hearted deception, guarding a pear tree that will never bloom, and living with regret until death.
"Afterwards, whenever I saw a single flower or tree in our house, I would always think of my wife."
Spring goes and autumn comes, flowers bloom in all four seasons, and my beloved often appears in my dreams, where I am comforted to see my old friend return.
This ordeal lasted for hundreds of days, the pear blossoms never bloomed, and old friends were long gone. As time went by, it seemed that even the heartache had become numb, and the passing of days and months could no longer be distinguished.
At this point, Xie Jinghui coughed lightly and slowly put down his pen. He looked at the ink stains on the paper, but could not express the depth of his love for Xie Jinghui.
I asked, "Second Grandpa, why have you stopped writing?"
Second Grandpa sighed softly and said gently, "Second Grandpa is sleepy and wants to take a nap."
I agreed and said I would not bother you any further.
The next morning, I got up to go find my second grandfather. As I passed by the courtyard, I saw that the withered tree branches had blossomed with many flowers overnight.
The flower buds were densely packed, and many flower buds had already opened into pink and white flowers, delicate and drooping from the branches.
I was overjoyed to see this and rushed into the house, wanting to tell my second grandfather about it. He had waited for so many years, urging me day and night, and finally the pear blossoms had bloomed.
When I entered the room, my second grandfather was lying on a recliner by the window. There was a newly written piece of paper on his table, the ink half-dry and the strokes uneven.
"Second Grandpa, Second Grandpa, the flowers are blooming!"
I reached out to touch his hand, only to find that it was ice-cold. I was still bewildered and startled, and could only look up at him.
My second grandfather is still handsome, his bones and flesh are still strong, his hair is half white, his eyebrows and eyes are deep, and fine lines like fish tails are curled at the corners of his eyes. He still looks good.
"Second Grandfather?"
I vaguely sensed something, my voice choked with emotion, and after I recovered from my grief, I reached out to grab the paper on the table.
That was probably the last one he wrote in that thick stack.
At that time, I couldn't understand it, and even when I was young, I still had doubts. Then one day, I saw pear blossoms blooming again, as white as falling snow, and I was suddenly awakened.
That letter was titled "Letter to My Wife".
"A pear tree stands in the courtyard; even withered trees come back to life."
This tree was planted by my wife in the year she died, and now it stands tall and spreading like a canopy.