Whispers Amidst Autumn's Tears 3

Cao Jinchang felt the hair on her neck like a sticky, faint warmth, triggering a sense of revulsion. The strands seemed to have a life of their own, almost animated, capable of coiling around her throat, making it difficult to swallow. She blinked rapidly, lost in contemplation of the slightly weathered whitewashed walls that held her gaze for what seemed an eternity.

A swift turn brought her eyes to the small window, its faded curtains framing a view of rain-soaked cobblestone streets left behind a few hours ago. Lightning sporadically illuminated the room, casting fleeting shadows that danced around her, evoking a sense of confinement in a vast, uncertain space. Yet, she found solace in the knowledge that her feet were firmly planted on the weathered floorboards of her new dwelling.

A single step backward brought her to the sturdy wooden bed, neatly made with a worn yet clean quilt. Her bags lay mostly untouched, except for a metallic sculpture pilfered from a storefront she used to frequent. That place, once a daily ritual, now lay forbidden—a place she wouldn't dare revisit. It stood two doors down from her former home in Cuishen, where she had resided with her elder sister. It was also where she had spent three years enveloped in a tumultuous mix of her lover's scent and an unfamiliar woman's presence. That stolen statue would be her sole reminder of that store.

Realization dawned on Cao Jinchang: negotiating a new contract with another shop and arranging deliveries for her last commissioned items lay ahead. She could sever ties with determined actions, yet the real world persisted in its grasp. Aggressively, she swiped at her hair, refocusing on her breathing—inhale, exhale. She shut her eyes, contemplating the options: drowning in the barely penetrated gloominess or attempting to discern the hidden within its murky depths.

Pushing her bags under the bed, she reclined, absorbing the somewhat musty but unidentifiable scent, which oddly comforted her. There was no overpowering wave of warm wood or suffocating musk—just clean, scentless air. Unexpectedly, laughter bubbled within her; amidst the isolation, she felt liberated, as if for the first time in four years, she could breathe freely without the weight of an oppressive sea.

"This is the first time I'm floating," she marvelled aloud, tears mingling with laughter.

Turning her back to the window, Cao Jinchang fixated on the wall, a canvas for shifting light and shadow. Idly tracing her name's characters, she pondered her identity. Borrowing Feng Zhiyan's distant relative's name, she remained known as Cao Jinchang in Cuishen. Why hadn't she sought her true self? She had drifted, carried by currents, the uncertainty of her identity more daunting than surrendering to another's guidance in the vastness that had kept her confined.

Should she explore now, discover more about herself? But how, when even someone as connected as Wu Xin hadn't helped her?

Midway through inscribing her name's second character, she froze.

"Chang'er! Urgent! Need to share something big! Found it!" Those words—where had she read them?

Rushing to retrieve her phone, her hands trembled as she navigated through apps, desperate to access QQ, Feng Zhiyan's preferred messaging app. Buried in older texts, she found a message dated just days before her death. Amidst the chaos, she had never discovered what Feng Zhiyan had found.

Resting her head on the mattress, she tried recalling. What had Feng Zhiyan stumbled upon? Frustration mounted as memories slipped in and out.

Scrolling through old messages, one caught her eye.

"Chang'er! OMG, you won't believe this—I'm totally rocking the big sister game! Remember I told you to trust me? Wu Xin? Pshh, not worthy of someone as fabulous as my lil' sis! You're gonna be blown away by my thrifting skills. I always find gems, just like you! Found a gorgeous dress, and ta-da, this amazing thing! Oh, and about that new phone case you've been eyeing? I got you covered! 🎨✨📱"

A phone case she never saw. Wiping away tears, she struggled to remember. Her grasp on those memories slipped further.

Clutching her fist, she resolved to confront Wu Xin, starting with reclaiming the silk handkerchief missing from their shared belongings. Then, she'd press for the whereabouts of Feng Zhiyan's possessions. It hinged on his eagerness to sever ties as she did. With a stretch, rain faintly drumming, she set her course.