Chapter 110: Ilya…is she also praying?

Flora looked down at the flower in her hand, then looked up at Ilya.

Ilya had already turned and walked outside.

Flora followed.

Flora looked down at the two daisies in her hand.

The white petals looked even whiter in the sunlight, with a hint of translucency at the edges.

She gently touched one of the petals with her finger.

Soft and cool.

Ilya stopped and looked back at her.

Flora trotted to catch up.

The sunlight cast both their shadows on the ground, slanted and close together.

“Let’s go,” she said.

She walked beside Ilya, holding the two daisies in her hand.

Ilya, in turn, held Flora’s hand that held the flowers.

Flora suddenly began to think about Ilya.

‘When did she wake up this morning?’

‘How long did she sit by the window reading?’

‘What was she thinking when she poured me that glass of water?’

She didn’t know.

All she knew was that Ilya was holding her hand a little tighter than before.

Halfway down the road, Ilya looked up at the sky.

“It won’t rain,” she said softly.

Flora followed her gaze for a moment, then looked away.

“Mm,” Flora said, looking down at the flowers in her hand.

“Let’s go,” she said.

There were fewer people on the street than yesterday.

A few people passed by them, glanced, walked on, then looked back again.

Very ordinary, very normal.

Flora didn’t mind those gazes.

She just kept walking.

Once they left the town, the road turned completely into a dirt path.

The houses on both sides became fewer and fewer, replaced by woods and fields.

Flora walked very slowly.

She knew this road too well.

She had walked it countless times as a child, coming with her father to visit her grandfather’s grave, and later… to visit her father’s grave.

Right, there was no tombstone for her biological mother.

That had been her father’s decision.

Why would the living set up a tombstone?

Besides, at the time, she and Eileen knew nothing about their biological mother, so they wouldn’t have erected one anyway.

Now that she thought about it, maybe it was because he felt their biological mother was still alive.

The first time she came to visit her grandfather’s grave, she was holding Eileen’s hand.

Eileen was small back then, couldn’t walk far, and needed to be carried after a while, even though Flora herself wasn’t much older.

Now she walked this road alone, with someone else by her side.

Everything had changed.

Only that tombstone would never change.

When she reached an intersection, Flora stopped and looked to the left.

“This way,” Flora said, turning onto the side path.

Ilya followed behind.

***

After another five minutes, they reached the cemetery.

It was a gentle slope dotted with tombstones scattered here and there.

Some were newer, their stone edges still sharp.

Others were very old, worn smooth by wind and rain, but the inscriptions on them were still neat and clear.

Flora’s gaze swept over the tombstones, then fixed on the third row up the slope.

She walked over.

The tombstone was not large.

Gray stone, with characters carved on it.

She stood in front of the grave, looking down at those characters for a long time.

Kaxiu, her father’s name.

Below it were his birth and death years.

Nothing else was carved.

After all, it was just an ordinary grave.

Flora crouched down.

From her pocket, she took out two candles, then a match, and lit it.

The flame was tiny, swaying back and forth in the autumn wind.

She lit both candles and placed them in front of the tombstone.

Then she took out the two daisies and set them beside each candle.

Ilya stood nearby, saying nothing, doing nothing, just watching Flora.

But her eyes occasionally glanced at the two daisies.

Flora stood up and took a step back.

Alright.

The wind blew, lifting a few strands of her hair, letting them fall against her cheek.

The slanted light fell on her face, making the scene look full of beauty.

“Dad,” Flora said softly.

Just that one word.

Then she was silent for a long time.

There was so much she wanted to say.

She wanted to tell him Eileen was fine.

She wanted to tell him how she was now.

She wanted to tell him who this person beside her was.

She wanted to tell him so many things.

But standing here, all those words got stuck in her throat.

Not a single one came out.

Maybe it was because Ilya was standing nearby.

In the end, she only said another sentence: “I came to see you.”

Then she closed her eyes, pressed her two slender palms together, and made a gesture of prayer.

Sunlight shone over, landing on the tombstone, and on her as well.

Flora silently recited in her heart:

‘Father, how are you now? Your child has come to see you.’

‘Don’t worry about us here. We’re all doing well. We all have people who care about us. You just need to be fine over there.’

‘Even though we’re not the same anymore, we… are still that “us.”’

Flora hesitated, as if thinking about what else to say in her heart.

‘Father, you said you liked daisies. I brought you some.’

‘We’ll all be fine. You should be too. I’ll bow to you here.’

After silently reciting, Flora bowed deeply.

Then she opened her eyes, her gaze full of complexity as she looked at the tombstone before her.

She turned her head.

Ilya was right beside her, standing shoulder to shoulder, seemingly nothing special.

At that moment, Flora froze.

Ilya wasn’t looking at her.

Ilya was just standing there, her head slightly lowered, eyes closed.

Flora could tell—she was praying.

Flora had never seen Ilya pray before.

Not in the castle, not anywhere.

But now she stood here, eyes closed, eyelashes trembling gently in the sunlight, her lips moving slightly.

The movement was too small to make out what she was saying.

Flora stared at her, forgetting to look away.

The wind blew, lifting a few strands of Ilya’s hair, tangling them with Flora’s own, then separating.

After a long time—maybe ten seconds, maybe half a minute—Ilya opened her eyes.

She didn’t look at Flora.

She just looked at the tombstone.

Then she spoke.

Her voice was very soft, so soft that Flora knew she had said something, but had no idea what.

‘Why is Ilya praying? To her own biological father? What is she doing?’

She just stood there in silence, staring at the tombstone.

The expression on her face was different from usual.

It wasn’t coldness, not calmness, but something Flora couldn’t understand.

Like… something very deep, something buried underneath.

Ilya lowered her eyes, glanced at the tombstone once more, then took a step back, standing half a pace behind Flora.

Flora wanted to ask.

She wanted to ask everything.

But looking at Ilya’s face, the words reached her lips and then she swallowed them back.

Because suddenly she felt that some questions shouldn’t be asked.

Or rather, even if she asked, she wouldn’t get an answer.

After all, there was already precedent.

Flora still stood there, looking at her.

Ilya glanced at her too, but offered no explanation.