The Spirit World

Chapter 299 I am so scared...

This is a letter.

To my dear son.

Please don't be bored, my child. Sometimes I wonder why I have so much to say to you. Maybe it's because I have something to say to others that I can't express.

Or maybe, I hope that I can leave a mark in your life, to make up for the regret that I can't be by your side to grow up with you.

I am not a person without worries. No, it should be said that I am a guy full of worries.

From the time I was born until I was five years old, I don’t know if I had any worries or not, but since I was five years old, I have been plagued by one worry after another.

My first trouble came from my mother, your grandmother. To be more precise, it was my father, your grandfather.

He hoped that when I turned fifteen and became an adult, he would marry your mother, me, to a "husband" whom I had never met.

This husband, whom I had never met, became my biggest worry from the age of five to fifteen.

I studied this and that, and under the pressure from your grandmother, I was constantly preparing to become a qualified "wife".

At that time, all kinds of rules about music, chess, calligraphy, painting, etc. became troubles that I had to face throughout my childhood.

When I was too young, I didn’t know what the terms wife and husband meant, until one day my second brother, your second uncle, secretly told me that being a “husband and wife” meant being like your grandpa and grandma.

I then thought about this worry clearly. Becoming the wife of someone I had never met was truly the first real worry in my life.

I worry about this every day, but it's no use. If my future husband only likes me to please him with music, chess, calligraphy and painting, then why not hire a musician or dancer to sing and dance for him?

In that case, I wouldn't have to learn all these nonsense, and I could also enjoy the songs sung by professionals and the graceful moves of professional dancers like him.

But your grandmother was always so strict that she coughed and hit my back with a board, forcing me to stand up straight to touch the strings that would cut my fingers.

They were like knives, cutting through my entire childhood.

And your grandmother has been teaching me tirelessly that to be a qualified wife, I need to do these and these...

I don't understand, and I don't comprehend. Even now, I still feel that your grandmother doesn't really care about me.

She just wanted her position as the city lord's concubine, and didn't care about marrying her daughter to a bastard she had never met.

She was so selfish that I couldn't forgive her or understand her at such a young age.

As the city lord's concubine, she was favored and gave birth to a daughter.

She kept telling me how she regretted that her daughter was not a son, so that she could fight with the wife again.

She was weak and unlikely to have children again, nor would she ever be favored by your grandfather again. Giving birth to me had almost exhausted her luck.

So, I can bluntly assume that she placed her hopes for a miserable life that she had foreseen on me.

Sacrificing her daughter would be as easy as sacrificing a puppy.

The stricter she was, the more depressed and troubled I felt. This continued throughout my childhood. I reminded myself of this all the time and I was always holding grudges.

Because, if becoming a couple is like becoming a couple like your grandparents, it would be what I think is a nightmare in life.

In my impression, your grandpa never loved your grandma. At least, when I understood the meaning of the word love, I became more certain that there had never been love between your grandpa and grandma.

Hey.

How can I sympathize with my mother, who makes me hate and pity her?

I always worry that I will marry a man I have never met.

I am always troubled by the pain my mother brought me.

I am always worried about being a girl.

I have wondered more than once, if I were a man, would everything be different?

When your grandmother, who is loved by your grandfather, is pregnant with a boy, will everything be fine?
As I was thinking about this, I suddenly thought of a question. Your grandmother's name and surname are hard to find.

They just called her Third Madam, Third Lady, Third Lady, Third...

This makes me feel confused again...

I am afraid of what your grandmother's existence means to me. She only exists because I remember her.

One day I will no longer exist... and no one will remember her anymore.

I fled from the hometown where I was born and raised, I fled from your grandmother's expectations, and I tried to find another life for myself.

In fact, now that I think about it, I no longer know whether I succeeded or not. Maybe I have never left that land, and maybe I have never gotten rid of your grandmother's hope.

I am also afraid that I will become like your grandmother...

Until I gave birth to you.

Only then did I feel truly relieved.

Your grandmother was terrified that the daughter she gave birth to would not be able to live on her own.

She was terrified that the daughter she gave birth to would not be able to survive strongly in this cruel world.

Fearful, she was unable to take care of her husband and children.

She was terrified that the suffering this land had bestowed on her would once again happen to the children she had given birth to.

They are oppressed forever and ever.

I have to tell you a secret. As your grandmother's daughter and your grandmother's grandchild, you have the right to know this secret.

Before I gave birth to you, your father and I returned to my hometown.

I met your two uncles and I met my brother.

They told me that my escape brought a heavy yoke to my mother, and I was surprised at your grandfather's ruthlessness.

I am surprised at my own ruthlessness.

If I had always been a girl who grew up obediently, like your aunt who married far away.

Wouldn't I, when I recall your grandmother, not feel the same way I do now, with my heart hollowed out?

I hope you don't hate your mother for making your grandmother suffer.

Her body couldn't stand the torture, and the more I hated her, the more I hated myself. I had to accept the fact that I had never escaped from this land.

When your grandmother stepped on the stool that would end her life, did you ever think that she hated her daughter?

If so, what kind of person would your mother be?
I'm so afraid...that you'll hate me.

How I wish.

The time you spent with your grandmother recovering from her injuries can be relived.

Not only do I have a puppy who wants to be a horse to run around the fields with me…

Not only do I have that honest and selfless friend who gives me sincere friendship...

Not only do I have...

A mother who wants her daughter to become a successful person.

On the ridge of the field, singing her favorite song...

Just to commemorate my grandmother who passed away

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(End of this chapter)