Another Year of Apricot Leaves Turning Yellow

Autumn arrived, and the ginkgo trees at Jingzhou University turned golden once again.

Lou Mengling's life had become simple yet fulfilling. She had returned to the Fine Arts College as a lecturer.

The twenty-year gap in her career had not dulled her talent; instead, it had deepened her understanding of art and life, like aged wine.

Her classes were popular.

She was no longer the gloomy "Madam Lu," trapped in the confines of a wealthy household.

She had become Lou Mengling again—the confident, elegant woman who shone brightly before her canvas.

While rediscovering herself, Lou Mengling cautiously tried to reconnect with her daughter.

Though she and Lu Ruoxi were on the same campus, she maintained a respectful distance.

She never disrupted Lu Ruoxi’s studies or experiments.

Instead, she timed her days carefully, waiting on Lu Ruoxi’s evening walk back to the dormitory with a thermal lunchbox in hand.

"Ruoxi, I just made some soup. Take it back with you."

"Ruoxi, I made sweet and sour pork ribs today—your favorite."

"Ruoxi, don’t overwork yourself. Take care of your health."

Her words were few. Each time, she simply handed over the lunchbox, offered a few gentle reminders, and then left.

Like any ordinary mother caring for her daughter.

At first, Lu Ruoxi resisted.

She would decline politely but distantly.

"Thank you, but I’ll eat at the cafeteria."

Lou Mengling never insisted. She would smile and say,

"That’s alright. I’ll eat it myself then."

And the next day, she would be there again.

Rain or shine.

Gradually, Lu Ruoxi stopped refusing.

She would silently accept the ever-warm lunchbox.

Then, in a low voice, she would say, "Thank you."

Later, she began adding another sentence after taking the lunchbox:

"You should rest early too."

This slow, tentative closeness—like a snail inching forward—

Lou Mengling persisted for an entire year.

In the most clumsy yet sincere way, she chipped away at the iceberg in her daughter’s heart.

She knew that beneath that ice lay eighteen years of hurt and resentment.

She didn’t expect instant forgiveness.

She just wanted her daughter to know—

That in this world, there was someone who loved her, awkwardly but earnestly.

……

That day, Su Yang’s mother came from Anhe County to visit him.

She also brought news for Lu Ruoxi—news about her adoptive mother, Zhang Cuilan.

"That woman…" Su Yang’s mother sighed.

"After your brother gave her that money, she sold the old house and bought a new apartment in town."

"She never remarried, never worked. Just spends her days playing mahjong and shopping."

"Living quite comfortably, I’d say."

Lu Ruoxi listened quietly.

"Has she tried contacting you?" Su’s mother asked cautiously.

"No," Lu Ruoxi shook her head.

"That’s good, that’s good," Su’s mother exhaled in relief.

"But…" She hesitated before continuing.

"Ruoxi, did you… call her once before?"

Lu Ruoxi’s eyes flickered slightly.

It was shortly after she first arrived in Jingzhou, when she received the first allowance from Lu Chenyuan.

After much hesitation, she had dialed that familiar number.

She didn’t know what she wanted to say—or even why she was doing it.

Maybe she just wanted closure.

But no one answered.

"I ran into her later and asked about it," Su’s mother said.

"She said she saw the caller ID—a Jingzhou number. She knew it was you."

"But she didn’t dare answer."

"She said she didn’t have the face to talk to you. That you were the person she’d wronged most in her life."

"She called herself a scoundrel, a rotten person—unworthy of being your mother."

"Taking money from your brother weighed on her conscience. So she decided never to bother you again."

Su’s mother relayed these words exactly as she had heard them.

Lu Ruoxi fell silent for a long time after listening.

She didn’t cry. There was no outburst of emotion.

But in her clear eyes, something was finally laid to rest.

"I see. Thank you, Auntie," she said.

From that day on, she never thought about that so-called "home" in Anhe County again.

That place filled with curses, arguments, and endless labor.

Zhang Cuilan, too, was sealed away in the deepest corner of her memory.

Like a book she had closed—one she would never read again.

The past was finally, truly, behind her.

……

Night fell, and the city lights shimmered.

Lu Ruoxi finished her experiments for the day and stepped out of the lab building.

The late autumn breeze carried a chill.

She tightened her trench coat and walked toward the dormitory.

When she reached the familiar ginkgo grove near the building, she paused.

Under the streetlight stood a familiar figure, holding a thermal lunchbox.

The light stretched her shadow long and thin—

Making her seem frailer than usual.

It was Lou Mengling.

The moment she saw Lu Ruoxi, a tender smile bloomed on her face.

She hurried forward.

"Ruoxi, I made chicken soup today. Take it back while it’s still hot."

She extended the lunchbox toward her.

Lu Ruoxi didn’t take it.

Instead, she quietly studied the woman before her.

The fine wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. The silver strands that had crept into her hair unnoticed.

She thought of what Su’s mother had said.

She thought of Zhang Cuilan.

One had given birth to her but never raised her.

The other had raised her but never loved her.

And now, this woman—clumsy, cautious—was trying to make up for eighteen years of absence.

Suddenly, Lu Ruoxi felt weary.

But also, strangely, at peace.

Lou Mengling’s smile faltered when she didn’t take the lunchbox.

A flicker of unease and disappointment crossed her eyes.

"If you don’t like it, I can make something else tomorrow—"

"Mom."

The word was soft, but it struck Lou Mengling like thunder.

Her entire body froze.

She stared at Lu Ruoxi, wondering if she had misheard.

Did she just—call me…?

"I can’t finish it alone."

Lu Ruoxi’s gaze didn’t waver—clear, steady.

Looking straight at Lou Mengling, she spoke deliberately:

"Come in. Let’s eat together."

Lou Mengling’s mind went blank.

All sound, all sight, faded away in that instant.

The only thing left in her world was her daughter’s voice, echoing again and again:

Come in. Let’s eat together.

Tears surged without warning.

She pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to stifle the sobs.

But the overwhelming joy—mixed with years of sorrow and longing—was impossible to contain.

She was like a traveler who had wandered too long in darkness.

Finally, she saw light.

Finally, a door had opened—for her.

She nodded frantically, unable to speak.

Seeing her like this, a corner of the icy fortress in Lu Ruoxi’s heart melted at last.

She reached out and, for the first time, took the warm, heavy lunchbox from Lou Mengling’s trembling hands.

"Let’s go," she said.

Then, he turned and walked into the lit-up residential building.

Lou Mengling wiped away her tears and hurried after him.

Her steps were lighter than ever, as if a lifelong burden had been lifted from her shoulders.

That autumn night.

In the faculty housing of Jingzhou University, a single lamp remained lit for a long time.

Beneath its glow sat a steaming bowl of chicken soup.

And a new beginning—one that had been eighteen years in the making.