area51novel Chapter 86 Extra
Chapter 86 Extra
In short, Qingyuan and Qingque's parents recognized each other as family.
Looking at her battle-damaged face in the mirror, which was identical to Qing Que's, Qing Yuan smiled bitterly as she traversed the dimensions.
No sooner had it landed than its parents rushed up and hugged it tightly: "Sparrow, how did you get so hurt in the future!"
Qingyuan, who was forced to become the "future Qingque", was fed nourishing soup by her mother every day and was forcibly taught "one hundred self-defense moves" by her father.
One day, the real Qingque returned home, dumbfounded: "Dad, Mom, who is this?!"
Qingyuan hurriedly retreated, only to see her parents, Sparrow Dad and Sparrow Mom, standing protectively in front of her: "Sparrow, don't be silly! You've suffered so much to come back!"
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When Qingyuan woke up, the light streaming in from the window was a calm, fuzzy, warm golden hue, slanting across half the room, with tiny dust particles floating in the air. She stared at the unfamiliar ceiling, painted with simple star maps, for a long while before her groggy mind slowly began to work.
It wasn't a crowded booth backstage at a comic convention, there was no mingled smells of cosmetics and wigs, and no excited yet tired chatter from fellow enthusiasts. Beneath me was an excessively soft bed, the blankets carrying the unique, dry, and warm scent of sun-dried fabric, along with a faint, indescribable sweet fragrance, somewhat like some kind of plant sap.
She shifted slightly and immediately gasped. A familiar, dull ache spread through her body, especially in her left shoulder and waist—a lingering effect of maintaining a tense posture for an extended period while wearing heavy costumes. Her skin still seemed to retain the sticky feel of the "bruises" and "bloodstains" deliberately applied for a realistic effect, though she knew those cosmetics should have been washed off long ago when she transmigrated, was hurriedly pushed into the bathroom by the couple claiming to be her "parents," washed clean, and then dressed in this oversized, clearly young girl's soft pajamas.
The pain is real. The fatigue is real too.
The memory finally settled on the slightly damp mirror in the comic convention restroom—the girl in the mirror, her black hair disheveled and plastered to her sweaty forehead and cheeks, her eyes and mouth adorned with realistic abrasions and bruises, her left shoulder clothing deliberately torn, revealing a bloody, mangled "wound" made of special material, along with a patch of "purple" around her collarbone. A battle-damaged version of Qingque, her most satisfying cosplay, almost indistinguishable from reality. Then came a sudden, unannounced dizziness and darkness.
When she opened her eyes again, she was met with an earth-shattering embrace and a force that almost broke her bones.
"Sparrow! My sparrow! How...how did you get like this!"
The woman's trembling, tearful screams still echoed in her ears, followed by a pair of equally trembling but incredibly strong hands that pulled her slightly away from the woman's embrace, only to pull her back even tighter. The man's heavy, suppressed breaths sprayed onto the top of her head, his voice terribly hoarse: "It's good you're back...it's good you're back...don't be afraid, we're home..."
Family?
Qingyuan slowly raised her uninjured right hand and touched her face. The skin beneath her fingertips was smooth, without any trace of makeup, except for a slight tightness from genuine fatigue. She could imagine how she looked to others—her features almost identical to the girl named "Qingque," except for a lingering weariness in her eyes and brows, perhaps a pallor of lingering shock. That was enough; enough to make a pair of parents, heartbroken and devastated by the loss of their daughter, mistake her for someone else.
She became, in their eyes, a scarred "Bluebird" who had returned from some "future".
Very light, rustling footsteps came from outside the door, stopping at the entrance as if hesitating. Qingyuan immediately closed her eyes and slowed her breathing.
The door was silently pushed open a crack. Sparrow's mother cautiously peeked in halfway, her gaze lingering on the figure curled up on the bed for a long time. Confirming that she was still asleep, she sighed softly, then quietly withdrew and closed the door behind her.
"...She's still asleep. Her complexion seems a little better, but it still breaks my heart to see her like this..." Sparrow's mother's extremely low voice drifted in faintly.
"Let her sleep." The father's voice was even deeper, carrying an undeniable authority. "She's suffered so much, yet she seems to need nourishment. Has the medicine been prepared?"
"It's simmering over low heat. I also made a soup with that long-feathered pheasant you brought back last time; it's the most nourishing..."
The footsteps faded into the distance, heading towards the kitchen.
Qingyuan opened her eyes, staring at the ceiling, a mix of emotions swirling within her. A deception. A deception built on a massive misunderstanding and the grief of her two elders. She should jump up immediately and shout to them: I'm not your daughter! My name is Qingyuan, just an ordinary student from another world who went a little overboard with her cosplay!
But then what? Watch the hope and ecstasy of their regained dreams shatter instantly, replaced by deeper despair and emptiness? She couldn't speak. At least, in the moment after experiencing that overwhelming emotional shock, she couldn't play the cruel role of shattering the illusion with her own hands.
Besides… she raised her hand and gently pressed it to her left chest. There, amidst the bewildering panic and guilt, lingered a faint, almost imperceptible, longing that she herself didn't want to delve into. The embrace was so warm, the tears so scalding, and the repeated, heart-wrenching calls of "Sparrow" were like tiny hooks, prying open a barely perceptible crack in her heart, which had long been accustomed to being alone.
She grew up in an orphanage, and all her knowledge of "parents" came from books and snippets of conversation from others. No one had ever looked at her with that kind of gaze, as if she were a fragile treasure, her whole world that had been lost and then regained.
A slight twitch suddenly came from her stomach, accompanied by a feeling of emptiness. She didn't know how long it had been since she'd eaten. Before the comic convention, she'd only hastily ate a piece of bread to look good in her outfit.
After lying there for an unknown amount of time, the door was gently pushed open again. This time, Sparrow's mother came in carrying a wooden tray with a white porcelain bowl steaming with wisps of heat on it, and a small dish of soft and delicious-looking snacks next to it.
"Sparrow? Are you awake? Mom cooked some porridge, have some first." Sparrow's mother's voice was so gentle, as if she was afraid of disturbing a dream that was easy to wake up from.
Qingyuan could no longer pretend to be asleep and slowly propped herself up to sit up. This simple movement aggravated her sore muscles, and her brows furrowed involuntarily.
"Slow down, slow down!" Sparrow's mother hurriedly placed the tray on the bedside table and reached out to help her, her fingertips quickly withdrawing as if afraid of hurting her, only offering a tentative protective touch. "Is your body still in a lot of pain? Your dad found some medicated oil last night. After you eat something, I'll rub it on you, okay?"
"No...no need." Qingyuan spoke, her voice a little dry and hoarse. She cleared her throat. "...Thank you."
"No need to thank me, Mom." Sparrow Mom's eyes instantly reddened again. She turned her face away, quickly wiped her eyes, and picked up the bowl of porridge. "Here, the temperature is just right. You've slept for almost a day, have some porridge first to warm your stomach. You'll have to wait a while for your medicine, after the meal."
The porridge was cooked until extremely soft and smooth, the rice grains almost dissolved, and it was sprinkled with finely chopped bright green vegetable leaves and shredded minced meat, its aroma filling the air. Qingyuan took the bowl and ate it in small bites. The porridge was fragrant and had a light, pleasant flavor. Sparrow's mother sat on a low stool by the bed, watching her intently, her eyes overflowing with heartache, yet she forced a smile, forming an encouraging and comforting curve.
The bowl of porridge was quickly emptied. Sparrow's mother immediately took the empty bowl and pushed the plate of snacks over: "Have some more of this, it's your favorite cloud cake, I made it specially this morning."
Qingyuan picked up a piece, put it in her mouth, and found it sweet, soft, and melt-in-your-mouth. It was indeed...delicious.
"Mom," the word slipped out of his throat with some difficulty, "I...actually..."
"Hmm? What's wrong, Sparrow? Are you feeling unwell?" Sparrow's mother immediately leaned closer anxiously.
Seeing the undisguised concern in her eyes, the words that were on the tip of her tongue were swallowed back. Qingyuan lowered her eyelashes and shook her head: "No... I'm just a little tired."
"If you're tired, lie down for a while longer, don't push yourself." Sparrow's mother tucked the blanket around her gently. "When you get better, Mom will cook for you every day. Look at you, you've lost so much weight, will the future be difficult for you?" Her voice choked again, but she forced herself to hold it back, only gently stroking Qingyuan's black hair that was loose over her shoulders with her trembling hand. "Don't be afraid, we're home now, Mom and Dad are here, we won't let you suffer anymore."
Qingyuan felt a sudden pang of sadness and quickly lowered her head, staring at the fine patterns on the quilt.
For the next two days, Qingyuan was enveloped in an extremely unreal yet unusually soft embrace.
Sparrow's mother tried every possible way to nourish her, constantly preparing various soups and broths. When the afternoon sun was shining brightly, Sparrow's mother would help her sit on a small bamboo chair in the yard, drape a thin blanket over her, and then do some simple needlework while speaking softly to her. She mostly talked about Qingque's childhood antics—her mischievousness, her tantrums, and occasionally some everyday trivia and news from the neighborhood. Qingyuan mostly listened quietly, occasionally letting out a soft "hmm," which seemed to greatly encourage Sparrow's mother, making her speak even more enthusiastically. Her eyes always followed Qingyuan, as if she could never get enough of looking at her.
Sparrow's father, on the other hand, was much more silent. He was a tall, stern-faced man, his brows etched with the marks of years of toil, but when he looked at Qingyuan, that hard shell would melt away, revealing a clumsy softness beneath. He wasn't good at expressing himself, but his actions were direct. Qingyuan's door hinges were a little stiff, making a slight creaking sound, but by the next day it was silent. There was an uneven spot on the bluestone slab in the yard; the first time Sparrow's mother helped her across, she stumbled slightly, but the next day the stone was repaved and leveled.
On the morning of the third day, Qingyuan felt much better and tried to get up on her own, slowly walking around the room. As soon as she opened the door, she saw her father standing in the small courtyard, holding a smooth wooden stick that he had found somewhere, and making a few simple gestures. Hearing the door open, he immediately stopped and turned around.
"Awake?" Sparrow's father walked over, looked her up and down, and frowned slightly. "Why did you come out? Couldn't you have stayed in bed a little longer?"
"I feel much better, I want to move around a bit," Qingyuan said softly.
After a moment's hesitation, Sparrow's father handed over the wooden stick in his hand: "Take it."
Qingyuan accepted it blankly.
"I'll teach you a few moves." Sparrow's father stepped back, assuming a starting stance. His movements weren't flashy, even somewhat simple, but each strike exuded a clean and efficient strength. "In the future... you must have encountered something bad to end up like that. As a girl, learning some self-defense skills won't hurt you. Watch closely, the first move: if someone grabs your wrist from the front, like this..."
He gestured for Qingyuan to reach out, then slowly demonstrated how to break free and counterattack. His palms were large and rough, covered in calluses, but he controlled his strength extremely carefully when simulating a grip, afraid of hurting her.
Qingyuan studied very diligently. This wasn't the kind of dance or cosplay poses she was familiar with; it was a real technique with a practical purpose. Her father was also extremely patient in teaching her, explaining and demonstrating a simple power-generating technique repeatedly until she could barely manage to imitate it.
"No, you need to keep your waist straight, and the power should come from the ground and flow upwards, not just pull with your arms." Sometimes, when Sparrow's father gets anxious, his tone might unconsciously become a little harsher, but when he sees Qingyuan pursing her lips and looking somewhat helpless, he immediately calms down and rubs his hands, "...No rush, take your time, we can practice again tomorrow."
While he was teaching, Sparrow's mother would sit on a small stool under the eaves, picking vegetables and watching with a smile, occasionally interjecting, "Your father trained with the town's guard team when he was young, Sparrow, you should learn well." Or she would scold Sparrow's father gently, "Speak softly, Sparrow is just getting better, take it slow."
Amidst this clumsy care and careful protection, Qingyuan learned what "Qingque" should be like and slowly adapted to this unfamiliar "home." The guilt in her heart was like a heavy stone, but occasionally, when her mother smiled and put a freshly baked pastry into her mouth, or when her father clumsily corrected her movements but didn't forget to lend her a hand, that stone would be lightened by the brief warmth.
She started helping with very simple chores, such as clearing the dishes after meals or handing her mother a sewing basket. Her mother would always take it from her, saying, "You rest," but the smile in her eyes only deepened. Her father was still not very talkative, but he put food on her plate more often at the dinner table, though he still didn't show much expression, only saying, "Eat more, it'll give you strength."
On the evening of the fourth day, the setting sun painted the sky a brilliant orange-red. Qingyuan was slowly practicing a footwork that her father had taught her that morning in the yard, while her mother was preparing dinner in the kitchen, humming a tuneless little tune. Her father sat on the doorstep, holding a piece of wood and a carving knife, seemingly carving something, but his gaze kept falling on Qingyuan.
Everything was so peaceful it felt unreal.
Just then, the old wind chime hanging at the gate, made of seashells and bamboo strips, suddenly rang out with a crisp "ding-a-ling".
It wasn't blown by the wind.
A figure, covered in lingering dust and brimming with youthful energy, swiftly pushed open the half-closed wooden door like a nimble bird.
"Dad! Mom! I'm home! This mission is finally over, I'm exhausted! Is there anything good to eat—"
The crisp, cheerful sound, like pearls falling onto a jade plate, came to an abrupt end.
The girl standing at the gate of the courtyard had her hair tied in a neat high ponytail, a familiar, vibrant mark on her forehead, and a healthy blush on her face from hurrying along. Her eyes were wide open, her mouth slightly agape, and she was carrying a small bundle in her hand. Her gaze, like a searchlight, was fixed on "herself" in the courtyard, dressed in her old pajamas, her hair disheveled, her movements frozen in astonishment.
Time seemed to stand still at that moment.
The humming in the kitchen stopped. On the threshold, the carving knife in Sparrow's hand fell to the ground with a "clatter." In the yard, Qingyuan remained in a half-turned position, her blood seemingly rushing to her head, only to freeze into ice shards in the next moment, leaving only the sound of her heart pounding wildly in her ears.
The real Bluebird has returned.
Qingque blinked, then blinked hard, as if trying to confirm if she was just seeing things because she was too tired. Her gaze swept over Qingyuan's face and body, from those eyes that were exactly like her own but filled with panic, to that terribly familiar nightgown, to her father's rare stunned expression in the yard and her mother's suddenly pale face at the kitchen door.
"This..." She raised her finger, her fingertip trembling slightly, pointing at Qing Yuan. Her voice rose an octave, filled with an incredulous sense of absurdity, "Dad, Mom, who is this?!"
Every word was like an icicle, striking Qingyuan's eardrums and piercing the fragile, tender illusion she had just built. A wave of panic gripped her; her hands and feet turned icy, and she instinctively took a step back, her back almost hitting the bamboo rack behind her where dried vegetables were drying. Explain? Confess? Under the cold, scrutinizing gaze of this person, all words seemed pale and laughable, more like a shameless excuse. She was merely a despicable intruder, stealing warmth that wasn't hers.
She opened her mouth, but her throat felt like it was being choked, and she couldn't make a sound. All she wanted was to escape, to disappear from this suffocating scene immediately.
However, the expected, more pointed questioning or expulsion did not occur.
Almost at the same time that Qingque's voice fell, two figures moved.
The father of the sparrow, who had been sitting on the threshold as if frozen in place, suddenly stood up. He was tall and imposing, and his presence carried a heavy, undeniable sense of oppression, instantly separating Qingyuan from the sparrow at the gate. His back was ramrod straight, like a wall that had suddenly risen up.
At the kitchen doorway, the spatula in Sparrow's hand clattered to the ground. Oblivious to the commotion, she stumbled forward, not rushing to her long-absent daughter, but instead pulling Qingyuan, who was instinctively backing away, tightly behind her. Her arms trembled slightly, yet her resolve was unwavering, shielding Qingyuan completely in a protective posture.
Then, Qingyuan heard the mother sparrow's voice. That voice was no longer the gentle, tender one it usually spoke to her; instead, it carried a sharp, protective intensity, a mother beast's agitation and pain, and even trembled slightly.
"Sparrow! What are you shouting for!"
Sparrow's father spoke next, his voice lower than Sparrow's mother's, but even more resolute. Every word seemed to be forcefully pounded from his chest, carrying an undeniable force, completely different from his usual taciturn self.
"Sparrow, stop fooling around!"
He paused, his gaze sharp as lightning, sweeping over his biological daughter at the doorway, her face a mask of astonishment and even a hint of grievance, before finally settling on his "future daughter," pale-faced and bewildered, nestled behind his wife. A complex mix of emotions churned in his eyes—heartache, resolve, and a deeper, more profound sorrow, as if he had grasped some cruel truth. His throat tightened; his next words were not only addressed to the girl at the doorway, but also seemed like a heavy declaration to some unseen fate that had inflicted such harm:
"This is...this is how much suffering you've endured to return!"
After he finished speaking, the small courtyard fell into a deathly silence.
The wind chimes stopped ringing, and the light of the setting sun seemed to freeze, casting long and short shadows of silent confrontation between the three people.
Qingyuan, shielded by her parents, froze completely. She couldn't see her parents' expressions, only the cold, yet firm, fingertips gripping her wrist; she could feel the taut, rock-like strength emanating from her father's broad back. Their words, like thunderclaps or the most absurd lines of drama, exploded in her ears, leaving her dizzy.
What are they... saying?
They recognized their real daughter, yet they still chose to... protect the imposter?
Accusing the real Bluebird... "Stop messing around?"
Qingque stood at the door, her expression slowly shifting from shock and absurdity to a deeper bewilderment and hurt. She looked at her parents, who were guarding another "self" as if facing a formidable enemy. She saw the unfamiliar sternness in her father's eyes and the excitement and protectiveness on her mother's face that she had never seen before. The light in those usually bright eyes dimmed little by little, replaced by immense confusion and a trace of barely perceptible panic.
"Dad? Mom?" Her voice trailed off, uncertain. She looked at her parents, then tried to see the blurry figure behind them. "What...what are you talking about? What future me? I...I am Qingque! I've completed my mission and returned! Look closely!"
She wanted to take a step forward.
"Don't move!" Sparrow's father growled, his voice low but carrying an unprecedented sense of intimidation. He even slightly raised his arm, not as an attack, but as a clear refusal to approach and a demarcation of boundaries.
Tears streamed down Sparrow's mother's face without warning. She didn't wipe them away, but instead pressed herself closer to Qingyuan behind her, as if she were a precious, fragile treasure she had lost and then found again. Speaking to her daughter at the door, her voice choked with emotion yet unusually clear, she said, "Sparrow... Mom knows you can't accept it right now. Mom... Mom is confused too! But look at her, look at her injuries, look at the fear in her eyes... She is you, she's come back from a place that has suffered so much! Please let her calm down, okay? I'm begging you, please don't frighten her..."
Qingque was completely stunned, rooted to the spot by the genuine, heart-wrenching pain in her mother's tears and words, a pain that seemed to be a rift between her and her two daughters. She looked again at the "future" version of herself behind her parents.
This time, through the gap between her parents' shoulders, she met a pair of eyes.
In those eyes, exactly like hers, there was no smugness, no cunning, none of the emotions she expected from an imposter. Only a bottomless fear, helplessness, profound guilt, and… a trace of fragile dependence, like a drowning person grasping at a piece of driftwood, which she herself hadn't even noticed. That gaze was so complex, so real, so real that Qingque's heart skipped a beat, and all the questions and anger she had prepared suddenly stuck in her throat, unable to be uttered.
The sun had finally sunk below the horizon, its last rays reluctantly disappearing. The light in the courtyard quickly dimmed, dusk settled, and a cool evening breeze blew in, brushing against everyone's face.
A stalemate, silence. Only the faint, suppressed sobs of Sparrow Mother drifted in the wind.
Standing behind Sparrow Mother, Qingyuan was tightly enveloped by that unconditional, even somewhat blind, protection. That heavy warmth now felt like a branding iron, searing her very soul. The deception had reached the point where it should be exposed, where blood should be spilled. But the very wall of guilt she had built was reinforced by the very person she had deceived, shielding her from the first and most direct blow.
Should she be grateful? She only felt a deeper sense of suffocation and guilt.
The real Qingque stood there, blocked at the door by her parents, looking at everything with eyes that seemed to regard her as a stranger, even with a hint of hostility and pain.
Her "parents" are using their entire being to protect a lie that they dare not even show their faces.
What is this all about?
As dusk deepened, the courtyard remained unlit, and the silhouettes of the four figures gradually blurred in the gloom, with only their breathing clearly audible. A more chaotic and painful storm was quietly brewing in this silent confrontation.
Nobody knows what to do next.