Qing Lian felt as if she had been punched in the stomach with tremendous force, a blow that made her recoil and her heart pound. Surely, it was a mistake. Surely, he had misspoken. In that instant, an invisible dome of energy formed around them. The sounds of the night vanished, as if they had been detached from the world. However, she paid it no mind. All that mattered was his answer.

"As I said, mother," he kept smiling. "I will never forgive you. You're, no doubt, the worst mother in this world. After father was gone, you essentially abandoned me."

His words were like a knife slicing her heart again and again until it felt like it would crumble to dust. It hurt, it truly hurt. Yet, Qing Lian could not rebut his claim because it was true. She was indeed the worst mother in the world. Every day, she had left him on his own, hoping he would die.

"I am sorry," she successfully said.

Her son replied with a polite expression. "It's too late," he shook his head. "There are too many bad memories between you and me."

"You're right," she looked down at a single blade of grass at her feet. Unlike the others, this one was yellow and sickly. "You're right," she whispered once again as beads of tears began to fall from her eyes. "I am the worst mother in the world."

She clenched her fists and tried to remember when exactly her cruelty had begun. At first, she had truly loved him. When her little treasure smiled, she smiled too, as if the world were lighting up, making her heart content and happy. Even when her husband decided to go on a journey, she had still loved her little treasure wholeheartedly at the start. Her abandonment and cruelty toward him had come gradually. At first, it was a mere annoyance. After her husband was gone, she needed to work, but her baby's existence made it incredibly hard. But when her little treasure developed into something not resembling a baby, she became afraid, and from this irrational fear, hatred grew. She remembered the night she decided to pinch him, the next week she flicked his face as hard as she could, the next week a strong push, and the week after that a punch, until she was raining him down with cruel beatdowns. Remembering it made her stomach churn, and she looked at her palms. She was cruel, truly cruel, a monster that didn't deserve to be forgiven.

She wanted to die. The guilt, the fear, and the anxiousness inside her heart made her want to find the nearest cliff and throw herself from it, or drown herself in the nearby river. However, she could not do that. She remembered the very first time she carried her baby after a very long time. When she was talking about her husband with Liu Xing, she knew that both of them were acting, but she could not forget how nice and warm she had felt seeing her son concerned about her, even though it was not entirely sincere.

Now, she had closure about her husband. That man—that sweet, handsome, polite, and kind husband—was already dead. Her talk with the other women had opened her eyes. It was as if her mind had been clouded by fear, hatred, and every negative emotion. While she still wanted to die, she could finally see the world around her again. She wanted to be happy too. Her husband would have wanted her to live her life with a smile and happiness, and he would have been happy if his son could be happy too.

"I hate you, mother," her little baby, who had suddenly grown up and spoke with precise and polite words, said softly. "Yet, I also love you."

"I love you too, son," she whispered amidst her unstopping cries and hiccups, "and I'm really, really sorry."

"Even if you're sorry, it doesn't erase the past. I understand that your mind was almost shattered, but that was not an excuse to treat your son like that."

"I am really sorry."

"I saw a family in a situation similar to ours. It was a family of four, with one father, one mother, and two daughters. The father died in an accident, and the mother had to raise her infant daughters by herself. But this mother didn't treat her daughters cruelly. Even though they were poor, the mother hugged and sang to her daughters, and the daughters smiled and laughed with her."

"I—"

"You're a sorry excuse for a mother," he kept smiling politely, and yet, a single tear fell across his cheek. "The worst mother in the world, indeed. You're lucky I am what I am. If I were a normal baby, I would have already died. Heavens, if I were a normal baby, you would now stand as a murderer. Or perhaps you would not be standing at all. Your feeble mind must think that you have suffered enough, that you cannot deal with it, and you would probably have killed yourself."

"I am sorry," she managed to whisper, though her vision was blurry amidst her tears. "I want your forgiveness. What can I do to… to get it?" she hiccuped several times.

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"Forgiveness? I will never forgive you, so let's forget all about this. I," he looked down as he smiled and tears fell from his eyes. "I want to move on with my life. I will go. We both can pretend that nothing ever happened between us. You didn't give birth to me. This way, I can pretend that you never wronged me. In fact, from now on, I'll change my name, so Mother, Qing Lian, you too ought to do the same. Pretend that everything bad you did to me never happened. Just pretend that your husband went on his journey before you got pregnant. And now, you will live a quiet life as you wait for him. How about it?"

With each word, more and more tears began to fall from his eyes. He too began hiccuping and tried to wipe the tears from his face, but there were so many they could not be stopped. And then, with an action that made Qing Lian feel so much shame, her child, her baby, began to cry, began to wail, as if he were truly saddened by his own words.

She extended her hands toward him and tried to take a step toward her crying child. In that instant, the energy that had been bothering her suddenly flew away and began to circle her baby. A gentle wind caressed him, as if the mother of this crying child was not her, but the wind itself. At the same time, a strong gust pushed her back, as if the wind was trying to convey that she was not worthy of even staying close to her baby boy.

As he cried, Qing Lian felt a deep shame filling her heart. She was indeed a horrible mother, a failure, one who perhaps had no right to even take a step closer to her son. She clenched both of her hands and bit her lip, feeling her heart being sliced into ribbons. She too wanted to cry openly; she too wanted to wail. He was not the only one who was hurt. She was hurt too, and yet, did she even deserve to cry? A horrible mother like her ought to never get close to her son. No, she had no right to even claim that he was her son. As he had said, she was a horrible mother, and she had the option to do what he wished.

To let go of her son, to pretend that he never existed, to live quietly and pretend that she was waiting for her deceased husband.

Qing Lian put her clenched hands over her left breast as tears wetted her cheeks and snot ran from her nose. It hurt, really, really hurt. The closure Liu Xing had given her about her husband, as well as the encouragement from the other women who had lost their loved ones, had given her the spirit to reconnect with her wronged son, the one she had neglected and abused. She knew she had hurt him so much, but deep down, she had thought that he would forgive her.

"Little treasure," Qing Lian whispered as she hiccuped. Her heart ached, but it must not have been as painful as her son's. "Little treasure."

How she wished she could turn back time, to fix everything that had gone wrong. Alas, there was no such thing. She had to face the consequences of her actions, and the consequence was fitting. Currently, there was no wish in her heart stronger than the desire to reconnect with her own son, but what he wished for was the opposite. If she granted his wish, then she would suffer for the rest of her life, as she deserved.

Qing Lian's legs began to lose their strength, and she hit the ground with both knees. She put both of her hands over her face and tried as hard as possible to stop crying and hiccuping. She knew what she needed to do. She just needed to say yes, let's do that, let's move on and forget about each other. However, each word was as heavy as a mountain, and she had no strength to lift them. Instead, all she could do was cry and cry and cry. An ugly cry as she knelt, covered in shame and sadness and frustration and anger all at the same time.

"Goodbye, mother," her son said as he finally stopped crying. His words were light, as if he had finally put down the burden that had been weighing on him, and she realized that it was the last time he would call her mother. "May both of us find peace," he added. Then the energy that surrounded them vanished, and he floated toward the camp. The cold wind suddenly hit her with such intensity, as if it was saying that she got what she deserved.

She continued to cry. Her feelings were mixed with so many emotions that she could not understand anything at all. Even when she heard Fang Ruxue talking with her little treasure about some kind of frantic light that looked like it was trying to signal them, even when she heard the sounds of panic from her son and the people who had encouraged them, she just continued to cry. There was nothing that truly tethered her to this world. She… she wanted to rest.

At that moment, a rustle of clothes could be heard. If she had raised her head, she would have seen a piece of a robe falling slowly through the air, rocking left and right on the air currents like a falling feather, until it finally landed on her lap. At the sudden intrusion, Qing Lian, still crying, let go of her face and looked down. It was a beautiful purple robe. The fabric glistened, the golden lines that adorned it were beautiful, and the embroidery stitched into the robe was so elegant that it distracted her from her sadness.

In a glance, Qing Lian knew that it was no ordinary robe. It looked like something that would fit perfectly on Liu Xing, both in color and style.

Qing Lian decided to touch the robe, and when she felt how soft it was, a memory from the past suddenly rushed into her mind.

It was several days after she had given birth to her son. At that time, almost every piece of fabric she and her husband had was either dirty or wet, and they had nothing to bundle their son in to protect him from the cold. In the end, her husband had pulled out his most treasured robe. It was a cultivator's robe, the color of pure white. It was soft, and she knew how precious it was, since it had been given to him by a man he considered his father. At the time, they had bundled their son in it, and she could not help but marvel at how soft that robe was.

This purple robe was perhaps as soft as that pure white one, and suddenly, her heart was filled with determination.

"I have lost my loved one once," she clutched the robe and brought it to her chest. "I will not lose my love a second time!"

She stood up, and right then and there, she resolved not to give up on her son.

At the same time she stood up, a group of twenty people finally arrived at their camp.

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