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Chapter 1695 Final Chapter: The Shore Crossing [39]: "How could a mother not love her child?"

...F?

Su Ming'an's eyes widened. Why was it F? The concepts of A and F are clearly the same...

and many more.

Is there a possibility of conceptual inconsistency?

……

[Hang Xin will be punished.]

……

next moment.

Before the punishment could be delivered, an even taller figure rushed into E's doorway, right behind Hang Xin.

Even though it was clearly the wrong door, she still rushed in with Hang Xin.

……

[Incorrect answer. The correct answer is F.]

(Talia) will be punished.

……

The mother did not stop her daughter from taking the risk.

Because if her daughter answers incorrectly... she will go with her, even if it leads to hell and fire.

……

"How could a mother not love her own child?" Bai Chun exclaimed in surprise.

……

This was the first time Su Ming'an had seen what the punishment checkpoint looked like in person. Perhaps because of the separation, those traveling together could see what the punished were going through.

Behind the dusty door, a virtual scene unfolds—off-white wallpaper, half-wilted green ivy, a black and white piano, and scattered sheet music and literacy stickers on the wall.

A familiar scene.

……

[Punishment Level: Piano Keys and a Ruler.]

[Rules: One player must play a simplified version of the designated piece, "Für Elise." For each mistake, the other player must use a tool to punish them. The punishment must meet the system's valid standard. If one player fails to complete the performance, or the other player fails to strictly enforce the punishment, both players die.]

……

"The punishment is scenario-based. Does this scenario have any special significance? Or is the 'source point' automatically generated based on the trial?" Nagasha raised an eyebrow.

Several players avoided looking at Su Ming'an, as they were all aware of the special significance of the situation. This scene suggested that this trip to the "Source Point" couldn't have been without the involvement of someone they knew.

Su Ming'an recognized the scene almost instantly as his own home, the only difference being the mother and child in the picture. The past pain was etched deep within him, and he subconsciously recalled memories of this scene: the relentless blows, the excruciating pain, the endless beatings and scoldings, the crushing of the child's self-esteem…

A small room, a microcosm of a family, an incurable childhood trauma.

Within the scene, Hang Xin sat on the piano bench, with Talia standing beside her, surrounded by various tools: canes, sticks, brooms…

"Mom..." Hang Xin's face was pale. She hadn't expected Talia to rush in with her. Talia had a much longer lifespan than her, so why did she have to come along? Since she was going to die anyway, why couldn't she be a fearless hero one last time?
“My love for you has nothing to do with lifespan, nor do I want to stop you from becoming a hero, otherwise I wouldn’t have let you answer the questions,” Talia said. “But you are in danger, so I have to come. Let’s begin, together.”

The clock ticked, and there was no time to hesitate any longer; Hang Xin had to start playing immediately.

Although the instructions for reading the music are marked, it is still sheet music, which is too difficult for beginners to play, and they will soon make a wrong note.

"Click." The weapon rack rotated and stopped on a slender vine.

The air suddenly became quiet, and the wall clock ticked.

Hang Xin subconsciously closed her eyes tightly, her body stiffened, waiting to be beaten, punished, and judged.

Talia raised the cane.

"Snapped."

She turned the rattan cane around and aimed the smooth end at Hang Xin's hand, striking it very lightly.

……

[The punishment is insufficient. One warning will be issued. The standard must be met next time.]

……

Hang Xin opened her eyes and saw her mother's red-rimmed eyes.

Talia's voice was a little hoarse: "I'll emphasize it next time."

Then, Hangxin made another mistake. Talia picked up her chopsticks and struck with the widest side.

"Snapped."

[Insufficient punishment. Second warning.]

"Mom, hit harder!" Hang cried out anxiously. "Hit me harder! I'm not afraid of pain! We all have to live!"

The third time, Talia struck harder, but it still showed that the force was not enough.

"Hit me, Mom." Hang Xin gritted her teeth, bracing herself for a storm of blows. "Hit me hard, that's how we survive, please..."

She didn't feel pain. A mother protects her daughter, and a daughter wants to protect her mother in return. That's how it should be.

"The note from before is here. Next time you see this little tadpole, press the black key next to it. Remember that?" Talia pointed to the piano keys, helping Hangxin analyze the musical score and memorize the key positions.

"I...I've got it!" Hang Xin nodded vigorously, trying her best to remember.

"—Did you remember? Did you remember? How could you be so stupid?" The wooden stick came crashing down with a whoosh, and the boy recoiled in pain.

"Last chance!" The stick struck again.

Hang Xin was completely focused, trying to remember her mother's instructions. The piano keys were burning hot, and her fingers were torn and bleeding, causing her great pain.

"Shh! Shh! Shh!"

The cane drew blood, the stick struck and left bloody marks; Talia's heart was bleeding. In her extreme pain, she gradually realized what kind of force could be certified—the force of a mother's jealousy of her child.

That was the same level of hardship Su Ming'an endured back then.

The force was so heavy that Talia cried out that the scene was irrational; she couldn't believe any mother would punish a child with such hatred. Her heart was breaking with grief, and each blow to her daughter felt more like a blow to herself. She wished she could be sitting on the piano bench herself, enduring double or even triple the pain, rather than see her child suffer any longer.

Yes, how could any parents treat their child like that!

Talia had never met anyone like that, nor did she believe such a person existed.

"Idiot! You can't even play such a simple scale properly! What's the point of having a brain!" The chopsticks kept hitting the boy's back hard.

"You dare to hide? I'll teach you to hide!"

"Play! If you don't play this piece well today, don't even think about eating!"

"—Cry? You still have the nerve to cry? Your playing sounds like a ghost screaming, you've completely disgraced me!"

"Cough..." Hang Xin coughed up a mouthful of blood, her vision began to blur, and she could no longer see the sheet music. Her bloodied and mangled fingertips fell continuously. The music was intermittent, mixed with painful moans.

Talia's tears had long since dried, but her daughter's warm blood slid down her cheeks, her eyes bloodshot.

No, if this continues, my daughter will definitely die.

“I will protect you… I will think of a way…” Suddenly, Talia aimed in a direction, as if she had made up her mind, and murmured.

--"Mother……"

Finally, the woman stopped the blood-stained vines and walked to the piano, placing her hands on the soundboard.

The boy seemed to freeze, his hands still resting on the black and white keys, his eyes flickering, everything before him seemed to move in slow motion as he watched the woman slowly press the keys down onto his fingers...

"Shh!"

With all her might, Talia lunged at the tool rack and drew a short blade!
A flash of cold light!

*Pfft!*

The dull thud of a sharp blade slicing into flesh was terrifying.

A calloused hand flew through the air, spun for a moment, and then fell to the ground, splattering blood everywhere, which startled Hang Xin.

Talia cut off her own hand.

She knew that if the fighting continued, Hang Xin would lose the strength to play the piano, and the piece would never be finished. There must be another way to break the deadlock. For example, to incapacitate herself, the judge.

In an instant, the knife fell, and blood gushed out like a fountain, covering the keyboard.

--"boom!!!!"

—Like a heavy, pitch-black curtain, the piano panels were lowered.

—The creaking sound of the piano board crushing into his hand bones was chilling and clearly audible. If the boy hadn't pulled his hand away at the last moment, who knows what terrible fate awaited him. Even so, his hand still burned with pain, and blood slowly seeped out, as if it had been broken off.

The vines danced in the air, spun for a moment, and fell to the ground, leaving a trail of blood like a winter plum blossom.

The images in my memory seem to be stained with the blood of dusk, thick, dim, and dull, like a layer of wet sunset color tightly covering my face, so thick that it's almost suffocating.

Su Ming'an gazed at the distant sea of ​​stars, the stars inlaid on the black velvet curtain. After looking at it for a long time, it seemed as if everything about himself was gradually becoming nothingness.

Finally, Hang Xin finished playing the piece with difficulty. Talia had already collapsed and fallen unconscious due to excessive blood loss, with blood flowing from her severed limb.

"Mom...it's okay...it's okay...let's...go home..." Hang Xin was filled with regret. She carried Talia on her back.

If she had known her mother was coming in, she would never... she would never have stepped through the door. She was just like a child, wanting to prove to the whole world that her mother was right, that she was a good child to be proud of. She never thought of making her mother suffer!

"Go home...go home..."

Carrying her unconscious mother on her back, all thoughts of being a "hero" or a "savior" seemed to vanish in an instant; none of it mattered anymore. All she wanted was to go home. She longed to go home, not to the family that everyone mocked, but to her little home with her mother.

Suddenly, a strange, sweet fragrance abruptly entered Hang Xin's nostrils.

Sweet and lingering.

...Is it red bean paste?

The red bean paste smells so good... it seems to be coming from the main hall.

But why is this sweet aroma mixed with a strong bloody smell, so cloyingly sweet that it's nauseating, as if what's being boiled isn't red beans, but gushing blood?

It's as if the mere smell of it causes my stomach to spasm involuntarily.

"Whoohoo-"

Hang Xin suddenly smelled a burnt smell mixed with a sweet smell.

She rushed out of the room, only to find that a raging fire had broken out somewhere, seemingly determined to kill them. Flames greedily licked at the off-white wallpaper, spreading rapidly, igniting the curtains, and devouring the furniture. Thick smoke billowed up, instantly obscuring their view.

"I clearly finished playing, how could this be...!"

Hang Xin didn't recognize the layout of the house, and instinctively she carried her mother on her back and fled. Blood clung together, turning them both into blood-soaked figures.

The flames had blocked the doorway, and the thick smoke made her cough violently. The weight on her back and the pain all over her body made her stagger with every step, and her whole body ached as if it were about to explode.

The floor began to heat up, and sparks and debris fell from the ceiling amidst the crackling sounds of burning.

Suddenly, in the hall, she saw a bowl of steaming red bean paste, scarlet and thick, like a bowl of congealed blood—a boy's phantom stood there, holding the bowl, silently watching her.

The boy looked at them supporting each other, then at the bloodstains scattered on the piano, and murmured:
"Oh, I see."

He seemed to understand something and nodded to himself.

"...So that's how it can be."

His lifeless eyes gazed at them silently, as if he were seeing a certain way that was supposed to be presented.

Hang Xin noticed that the boy's palms were even more terrifying than hers, covered with dense marks left by chopsticks. Many wounds healed and reopened, reopened and new ones appeared. His back was bare, and even the fair skin under his trouser legs was tinged with purplish-blue.

There is no time.

Carrying Talia on her back, Hang Xin, her bare feet stained with blood, stepped across the scorching floor, over the thick pool of blood beside her mother's severed arm, past the little boy, and stumbled toward the door.

As she passed the boy, she heard a naive, bewildered, and confused question.

There was not a trace of jealousy or malice in that voice, only the purest doubt.

"Then, can you tell me?"

"Are the two kinds of love from your mother and my mother both love?"

The light and shadow of blood and fire danced on the boy's face as he held a bowl of scarlet "red bean paste," his eyes as pure as the first snow.

His scars were shocking, a mix of old and new, like a story similar to, yet completely different from, that of Hang Xin.