Ten Thousand Soul Banner: Deceased, do you have any unfulfilled wishes?-Chapter 1000 - 996: Love Always Remains

The night deepens, the prairie wind gradually calms, the bonfire weakens, leaving only scattered sparks flickering in the darkness.

Lin Zifeng lies in the tent, exhaustion washes over him, and he soon falls into a deep sleep.

Then he dreams a dream, aware that he is dreaming.

His mind is clear, yet he is drawn into the whirlpool of memories, unable to escape, unwilling to escape.

He returns to the red brick house where he spent over ten years of his childhood.

The pomegranate tree in the yard is lush with branches and leaves, blooming with fiery red flowers, as sunlight filters through the gaps and casts mottled shadows on the ground.

There he stands in the yard, still a seven or eight-year-old boy, wearing a faded short sleeve, clutching a stick in his hand, waving it about haphazardly.

"Da Bao, have you eaten?"

A familiar, hoarse voice comes from outside the yard. Lin Zifeng looks up and sees his mother carrying a hoe, walking in from outside.

The June sun is fierce; droplets of sweat gather densely on his mother’s forehead, sliding down her cheeks, carving uneven traces in the dusty face, like abstract art.

Her coarse fabric clothes, soaked in sweat, cling tightly to her back, outlining a thin silhouette.

"Mom."

Lin Zifeng instinctively calls out, his voice still childishly tender.

His mother walks up to him, sets down the hoe, wipes her face with her sleeve, revealing a sun-darkened face but with extraordinarily gentle eyes: "Have you cooked lunch yet?"

Lin Zifeng lowers his head and shakes it, too absorbed in play, the thought of cooking had long drifted from his mind.

He thought his mother would nag as usual, or even frown and scold him, but she merely sighed softly, without a trace of blame, and with tired steps went into the kitchen.

Soon, the sound of pots and pans clinking and the crackling of burning wood emanates from the kitchen.

Standing at the door, Lin Zifeng watches his mother’s busy silhouette, and a sudden bittersweet feeling rises in his heart,

In the dream, he does not understand that every day his mother descends into the fields before dawn, returns under the blazing sun at noon, already exhausted, yet still forces herself to cook for him.

Just as Lin Zifeng considers going in to help, the surrounding scenery abruptly changes, becoming the summer of his thirteenth year.

That day, he lied to his mother, secretly skipping class, running off with a few friends to the county town a dozen miles away.

Not until darkness falls does he reluctantly return home, only to see his mother standing under the pomegranate tree, her face dark as storm clouds.

"Where have you been?"

His mother’s voice is icy, layered with suppressed anger.

"I... I went to a classmate’s house to do homework." He says, guilty.

"Liar!" His mother suddenly raises her hand, delivering a slap to his face.

The crisp sound echoes through the yard, the sting instantly spreads.

Before he can react, his mother grabs a bamboo switch from the corner and starts striking him.

The bamboo, with a whistling wind, lands again and again on his arms, his back, his legs, pain driving him to grimace, tears rushing forth.

"For lying! For skipping school! For not learning well!" His mother cries and beats, her voice full of disappointment and anguish.

"I struggled to support you in school, wanted you to succeed, how can you be so immature!"

As a child, he only felt wronged and angry.

He stiffens his neck, fiercely holds back his tears, furiously hates his mother.

Hates her sternness, hates her lack of empathy, hates that she is never as gentle as other mothers.

Yet now, standing in the dream, watching his mother swing the bamboo, seeing her tears trickle from the corners of her eyes, he suddenly smiles.

He doesn’t flinch, nor does he resent, instead, he calmly accepts the strokes of the bamboo.

The pain is so real, yet no longer makes him feel wronged; rather, it feels like a warm current awakening buried memories deep within.

He remembers clearly, that night, after beating him, his mother quietly cried in the kitchen for a long time.

In the middle of the night, his mother sneaks into his room, holding ointment, carefully applying it to his wounds, tenderly as if handling a rare treasure.

At that moment, he pretends to sleep, but his heart is a whirlpool of emotions, just those complex feelings are deeply obscured by youthful rebellion and stubbornness.

"Mom..."

Lin Zifeng murmurs, tears slide down his cheeks, soaking the sleeping bag in the tent.

"You remember that moment, huh, Mom thought you forgot. Sorry, I shouldn’t have hit you then..."

At this moment, his mother’s voice suddenly sounds in his ear.

Startled, Lin Zifeng opens his eyes, only to find his mother somehow appearing in the tent, smiling at him.

"Mom, how did you... how did you...?" Lin Zifeng stutters, confusion filling his gaze.

But his mother doesn’t explain, just smiles and says: "These past two months, you’ve worked hard, you don’t have to torment yourself like this. I’ve never blamed you, as long as you’re well, I’m content..."

"Mom~"

Countless words choke in his throat, not a single word emerges.

"From now on, alone, learn to take care of yourself, cherish your body, look at you now, so unkempt, easily falling ill, better to return, don’t roam outside..."

"Find a proper job, I hope to see you married with children, don’t do foolish things for me..."

"And, Mom never blamed you, you’re part of me, how can I blame you..."

"Bodhisattvas are not meant for worshiping, it suffices to have them in your heart..."

...

Listening to his mother’s rambling words, Lin Zifeng gradually calms down, realizing that he still remains in the dream.

Because outside the small space of the tent, it remains hazy.

"I’ve said so much, have you remembered?"

"Yeah, I’ve remembered." Lin Zifeng nods emphatically.

"Then be obedient, return home at dawn, find work, don’t waste away..."

"Alright."

...

Whatever his mother says, Lin Zifeng complies entirely, making his mother momentarily lose the inclination to continue speaking.

Seeing her son smile as he stares at her, she returns his smile.

"Da Bao."

"Yeah."

"Remember, you aren’t without home, without mother, I’m... I’m always here, right beside you, you’re not alone..." Her voice chokes slightly.

"Yeah, I know, Mom." Lin Zifeng opens his arms and embraces her.

Surprised, his mother hesitates, for Da Xia people’s love is reserved, rarely so directly expressed.

But she quickly responds, lightly patting Lin Zifeng’s back.

"Mom." 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

"Yeah~"

"Thank you." Lin Zifeng’s voice chokes.

"Thank me for what?"

"Thank you for being my mother."

...

Lin Zifeng slowly opens his eyes, eyes red, tear stains still lingering on his face.

He sits up, unzips the tent door, gazes at the vast array of stars stretching across the sky, with a smile on his lips.

Dream scenes still linger vividly in his mind: his mother’s voice, smile, tears, all so real.

He knows that his mother has never truly left him.

Her love has long seeped into his bones, accompanying him as he moves forward.