Her breathing gradually steadied. Her eyelashes no longer trembled, lying peacefully. There was still a slight furrow between her brows, but it had relaxed a lot compared to before.
Ilya turned her head to look at her.
Flora was asleep.
When asleep, she looked a little younger than when awake.
The quietness that usually hid in her gaze, that seemed a bit mismatched with her age, had all sunk down now, leaving only this face, the face of a young girl, clean, with a hint of youthful roundness.
A faint trace of the smile from earlier still lingered at the corner of her mouth, so light you wouldn’t notice it if you weren’t paying attention.
Ilya looked at that face for a long time.
Then she withdrew her gaze and continued looking at the ceiling.
The hand that was holding hers didn’t move.
A long time later, Ilya said very softly, almost inaudibly to anyone but herself, “If you’re sleepy, sleep for a while.”
As her voice faded, the room grew even quieter.
Only the soft breathing sounds of two people, one asleep, one awake, leaning together in the afternoon light.
Flora groggily opened her eyes, then looked around.
“Mmm, awake.”
As she turned her head to the left, she saw Ilya sitting on the bed. Ilya wasn’t looking at Flora either, her gaze fixed on the wall ahead.
“Mother… you’ve been sitting here…”
“Hmm, awake?” Ilya turned her head to look at Flora, who was lying down, her eyes slightly open.
“Mmm, I’ve been here all along, keeping you company.” Ilya seemed to pause deliberately, emphasizing the last three words.
“Mmm, that’s nice.” Flora sat up, shook her head, shaking off the last of her grogginess.
“It’s fine, no rush, take your time.” Ilya said gently, seeing Flora sit up a bit too quickly.
After sitting for about a minute, Flora’s consciousness was completely clear.
But something seemed different. Her whole body felt much lighter and full of strength. Not a heavy kind of strength, but a very relaxed, energetic feeling.
Strange, I just took a nap. What’s going on? And my mind feels much clearer too.
Forget it, I won’t overthink it. Let’s see what time it is now.
Flora checked the time; it was a little past four. She turned her head and looked at Ilya, asking:
“Mother, is there anything we need to do now? Isn’t it four o’clock?”
“What do you think? Is there anything you need to do? I’m just here with you.” Ilya looked at Flora calmly, her tone somewhat casual.
“Mmm… doesn’t seem like there’s anything I want to do… No! I mean, I don’t know what to do now, I haven’t thought of anything…”
Flora seemed to say this a bit nervously.
“If you can’t think of anything, don’t force it. If there’s nothing you want to do, just stay here. When you think of something, then do it.”
“No need to rush, and don’t force yourself to do anything. After all, didn’t you sleep all afternoon?” Ilya stretched out her right arm, pulling Flora’s head towards her.
“Mmm, okay~” Flora also leaned against Ilya’s shoulder.
“It’s fine, think slowly, no hurry.” Ilya emphasized again. Meanwhile, her free left hand held a book, and she lowered her head to read.
Flora leaned against Ilya’s shoulder, eyes closed.
The room was very quiet. The sound of Ilya turning pages was very soft, almost inaudible, but Flora could feel the sound transmitted through her shoulder, one page, then another, very rhythmic.
The light outside the window was a bit darker than before she slept. It wasn’t dark yet, but the sun was going down, the light turning into that warm yellow color, slanting onto the opposite wall.
Flora just leaned like that, not thinking of anything, yet seemingly thinking of something.
After a while, she spoke.
“Mother.” Flora took hold of Ilya’s hand.
“Hmm.”
“I’ve thought of something.”
Ilya didn’t speak, her page-turning movement paused for a moment. She turned her head, looking naturally at Flora:
“Thought of what.”
Flora sat up very straight, like a standing pillar, her other hand supporting herself on the bed. But her fingers were curled, looking a bit nervous.
“I want to go pay respects to Father.” Flora said faintly.
When she said this, her tone was very calm. So calm it was as if she were just saying something like “I want to go for a walk on the street.”
But Ilya looked at her, not immediately responding.
Flora didn’t avoid that gaze. She just sat there, letting Ilya look. But Flora felt that the hand she was holding seemed to tighten a little.
“Tomorrow?” Ilya asked.
“Mmm. Tomorrow morning.”
Ilya nodded gently, trying to release Flora’s hand.
“We’ll buy some things after dinner to use for the memorial tomorrow.” Flora continued.
“Okay.”
Flora leaned back against Ilya’s shoulder again. The two didn’t have any extra words, just stating and confirming.
“What do we need to buy?” Ilya asked.
“For the memorial… flowers. Two flowers will do.” Flora thought for a moment.
“What kind of flowers?”
“Chrysanthemums.” Flora said, “The white kind.”
Ilya didn’t ask why chrysanthemums.
“Mmm.”
“And then…” Flora paused, “That’s all. Nothing else needed.”
“Okay.”
A few bird calls came from outside the window, then it grew quiet again.
Flora leaned there, looking at that patch of warm yellow light on the wall. The light was slowly moving, bit by bit, shrinking towards the corner.
“Mother.” After a moment of quiet, Flora spoke again.
“I’m here, what do you want to say?”
Flora hesitated for a moment before finishing this sentence.
“Do you think… Father will know I came?”
Ilya was silent for two seconds.
“He will.”
She just softly “mm”-ed, not saying anything else.
After another while, Flora sat up straight and stretched.
“Hungry.” Flora patted her stomach and said.
Ilya closed her book and looked at her.
“Then let’s go eat, get ready to go.”
“Okay.”
The two stood up, tidied their clothes a bit. Flora walked to the mirror, fiddled with her hair, confirming everything was fine.
Ilya was already waiting for her by the door.
Flora walked over and pushed the door open.
The corridor was still so quiet, only the sound of their footsteps, one step, another, on the wooden floor.
Downstairs, out the door, around the street corner. They found a shop, its sign swaying in the twilight.
The shop was quite busy, steaming with heat. The store owner was sharp-eyed; seeing them enter, she immediately came forward to greet them.
They were led to a table by the window. Flora sat down, her gaze sweeping over the shop. The customers all seemed to be townsfolk, some familiar, some not, and no one paid them any attention.
Ilya ordered two dishes, and Flora added a soup.
The food came quickly. Stewed lamb, stir-fried greens, egg drop soup.
The two ate quietly, very ordinarily.
Paid the bill, got up, left.
The whole thing took less than half an hour. Nothing extra, or anything sudden, happened.
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