Chapter 2

Train to bus, bus to small truck heading up the mountain.

The road conditions got worse and worse. The vehicle jolted violently. Outside the window, the scenery gradually changed from a modern city of high-rises to endless barren mountain ranges.

A sense of displacement emerged, as if I were falling from the civilized world back into the wilderness.

I felt like I wasn't going home.

It was more like voluntarily walking into the gaping bloody maw of a giant beast.

The bus stopped at the village entrance in a cloud of dust.

A few old folks sitting under the big tree at the village entrance chatting saw me and immediately waved enthusiastically.

"Sophia, you're back! Haven't seen you in so long, you've gotten even more beautiful!"

"Your dad is so lucky to have raised such an outstanding daughter like you!"

I snapped back to reality and smiled as I responded to each of them.

Walking along the familiar dirt road, I saw our dilapidated courtyard in the distance.

My father Ryan was shirtless in the yard, chopping wood.

His back was turned to me, his spine slightly hunched from years of labor. Each swing of the axe came with heavy breathing.

Hearing footsteps, he turned around. When he saw it was me, the shock on his face lasted only an instant.

Then that wrinkled face burst into enormous joy.

"Sophia? Why did you suddenly come back? You didn't even say anything in advance!"

He dropped the axe, wiped his hands on his patched pants, and quickly walked over, wanting to take the bag from my hand.

That familiar scent of tobacco and sweat instantly enveloped me.

My nose tingled and tears almost fell.

All the fear and suspicion from the journey seemed to become somewhat ridiculous the moment I saw his delighted smile.

"Company gave us time off, so I thought I'd come back and see you." I made up a random excuse.

"It's good you're back! It's good you're back!"

My father was as happy as a child on Christmas, immediately bustling about excitedly.

He ran to the chicken coop in the backyard and grabbed our fattest chicken, processing it with clean, efficient movements.

Then he took out a bass he'd just caught that morning from the refrigerator—fresh and plump.

The dinner table was soon filled with all my favorite dishes:

Fried chicken, grilled bass, and a big plate of golden-baked mac and cheese.

"Eat more. You definitely don't eat well out there. Look, you've gotten thinner."

My father kept urging me to eat more while he himself was reluctant to eat.

The warm, fragrant aroma of the food dispelled the gloom in my heart.

I ate big mouthfuls of rice, pushing down all those terrible thoughts.

I must have gone crazy, scared out of my wits by Zachary's jinxing words.

In this barren mountain village with nothing but rocks, it was my father who bent his back to help me walk out of these mountains.

How could I doubt him?

Even if this leave cost me my perfect attendance bonus, being able to come back and spend time with my father was worth it.

At night, the mountain village was so quiet you could hear insects chirping.

I got up to use the bathroom and passed by the main hall.

By the faint moonlight streaming through the window, I noticed something new on the small table in the center of the main hall.

Before, only a blurry old wooden cross had been enshrined there.

Now, in front of the cross, on a piece of red cloth, a string of beads was solemnly placed.

The bead string gave off a peculiar, oily luster in the moonlight, as if it had been worn by someone for a long time.