After the divorce, he went on a motorcycle trip, and his ex-wife and daughter were filled with regre

Behind the bar.

Shen Qinghan looked at Jiang Ye standing in front of her.

Jiang Ye was dressed in a black heavy cycling outfit, tall and imposing, with unmelted snowflakes still clinging to his shoulders. In the dim light, he looked like a god descending from the heavens, suddenly intruding into her world, a world so humble it felt like dust.

Shen Qinghan's body trembled violently, and the greasy rag in her hand fell to the ground with a "thud".

Her eyes instantly reddened, and a layer of mist quickly spread across them.

A surge of immense grievances, longing, regret, and deep-seated inferiority all rushed into my heart at that moment.

However, Shen Qinghan bit her chapped lips tightly, forcing back her tears and preventing them from falling.

Unlike before, she didn't rush to him and cry loudly, playing the victim, at the slightest injustice; nor did she, like the heroines in those idol dramas, cling to Jiang Ye's clothes and beg for his pity and forgiveness.

She knew very well that in her current state, she was not qualified to stand in front of Jiang Ye.

Shen Qinghan silently lowered her head, avoiding Jiang Ye's burning gaze.

She turned around and, with her frozen, chilblained hands, picked up a tin pot for warming wine from the stove behind her. Her hands trembled so badly that she nearly spilled the wine several times.

She took a rough ceramic wine cup and poured it full of steaming hot liquor.

Then, she held the glass of wine with both hands and slowly pushed it towards Jiang Ye.

Shen Qinghan kept his head down, his voice hoarse as if it had been rubbed on sandpaper, his tone carrying a deliberate sense of distance:

"Sir, your wine."

"It's snowing heavily outside, have some drinks to warm yourself up."

In this most humble and restrained way, with that one word, "sir," she desperately held onto the last shred of her dignity in front of Jiang Ye.

Jiang Ye stood in front of the bar, looking at the steaming glass of liquor that smelled strongly of alcohol, and then at Shen Qinghan's red hands.

He remained silent for a long time.

A thousand words were stuck in my throat, but I couldn't utter a single one.

Jiang Ye didn't say anything. He reached out, picked up the cup of scalding hot liquor, tilted his head back, and drank it all in one gulp.

The strong liquor flowed down his throat and into his stomach, like a fire burning, instantly dispelling the chill in his body, but it couldn't dispel the complex emotions in his heart.

Night fell completely, and the wind and snow outside grew stronger, with the gale howling and pounding against the tavern's wooden door.

The lumberjacks in the corner had drunk their fill, paid their bill, and staggered into the snowstorm.

The entire tavern fell silent, with only the crackling of firewood burning in the tin stove remaining.

Jiang Ye didn't leave; he walked to a table in the corner and sat down. He saw a dusty, worn-out wooden guitar in the corner, probably left behind by some passing traveler.

Jiang Ye walked over, picked up the guitar, wiped the dust off with his sleeve, and tried strumming the strings a few times. The tone was a bit muffled, but it was still playable.

He picked up his guitar and sat back down on the long bench.

Jiang Ye lowered his head, his fingers gently plucking the strings, playing a folk song with a soothing melody and a touch of melancholy.

He didn't use a microphone, but sang softly in his slightly hoarse voice. His singing was filled with感慨 about the passing years, a longing for freedom, and a sense of relief about the past.

Behind the bar.

Shen Qinghan had already tidied up the table. She moved a small stool, sat down next to the tin stove, rested her chin on her hands, and quietly watched Jiang Ye playing the piano and singing in the corner.

The firelight illuminated her weathered face.

At this moment, Shen Qinghan's eyes no longer held the scheming of the past, the fervor for money and status, or that oppressive desire for control.

She became much calmer, like a lake that had regained its tranquility after a storm.

She quietly watched Jiang Ye and listened to his singing, as if she wanted to deeply engrave the image of this man into her soul.

night.

Because of the heavy snow, the roads in the town were completely blocked, so Jiang Ye had no choice but to stay at this tavern.

There are a few simple guest rooms on the second floor of the tavern, which are usually used to accommodate passing drivers.

Jiang Ye rented a room.

The room was very simply furnished, with only a hard bed, a wooden table with peeling paint, and cold air whistling in through the cracks in the window.

Jiang Ye took off his heavy cycling clothes, sat on the edge of the bed, and lit a cigarette.

Just then, there was a soft knock on the door.

"Knock knock knock".

"The door's unlocked, come in," Jiang Ye said, exhaling a smoke ring.

The wooden door was pushed open, and Shen Qinghan walked in, carrying a red plastic thermos in her hand and a clean enamel basin tucked under her arm.

She placed the basin on the ground, unplugged the thermos, and poured in half a basin of steaming hot water.

"It's cold here. Soaking your feet before bed can help ward off the chill," Shen Qinghan said softly, her head lowered.

Jiang Ye looked at Shen Qinghan, who was squatting on the ground pouring water, and sighed inwardly at her thin back.

He could clearly feel that Shen Qinghan had indeed changed.

This change wasn't feigned; it was a genuine feeling that emanated from the very core of one's being, pieced back together after being utterly shattered by life.

"Thank you." Jiang Ye stubbed out his cigarette.

After pouring the water, Shen Qinghan stood up, but did not leave immediately.

The atmosphere in the room suddenly became somewhat subtle and ambiguous.

Outside the window, the wind and snow howled; inside, the light was dim and the air was thick with rising heat. A lone man and woman were alone in the room, and an indescribable tension hung in the air.

Shen Qinghan raised her head and looked into Jiang Ye's eyes.

This time, she did not dodge.

"Jiang Ye, I'm sorry." Shen Qinghan's voice trembled slightly, but her tone was unusually sincere. "Before, I was too selfish and too vain. I always thought I was superior, always thought the world revolved around me. I took your sacrifices for granted, and I even hurt you with the most vicious words."

"During this time, I've been reflecting on myself every day. I finally understand that what I've lost is not just a husband, but the only man in this world who has ever truly been kind to me."

Shen Qinghan finally couldn't hold back her tears, which slid down her cheeks.

"I came here to suffer and try to clear my head. I never thought I'd meet you, really."

Listening to Shen Qinghan's heartfelt words and seeing the tears on her face.

Jiang Ye was deeply moved.

He stood up and walked to Shen Qinghan.

Looking at the woman in front of him, whom he had once loved deeply and who had also hurt him deeply, Jiang Ye stretched out his arms and gently embraced her.

Shen Qinghan's body stiffened abruptly. Then, she buried her face in Jiang Ye's broad chest, wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, and cried silently.

Jiang Ye felt the trembling body of the woman in his arms and smelled the cheap shampoo on her hair.

At that moment, the distance between the two was infinitely shortened.

My breathing became a little rapid, and the temperature in the room seemed to be rising continuously.

Jiang Ye lowered his head, looking at Shen Qinghan's tear-streaked face and her slightly trembling lips.

They were so close, just a tiny bit more, to cross that forbidden line and have sex.

but.

At the last moment, Jiang Ye took a deep breath and forcibly suppressed the impulse in his heart.

He gently patted Shen Qinghan's back, then slowly released his hand.

Shen Qinghan understood what he meant. She wiped away her tears, took a step back, and forced a bitter smile.

In the end, nothing happened between the two.

They simply lay down fully clothed on the simple, hard bed, covered with thick quilts, and lay side by side for a while.

The two looked at the ceiling and talked for a long time.

They talked about the past, about the present, but what they talked about most was their daughter, Shen Xinyu.

"Jiang Ye, no matter what has become of us, Xinyu will always be our daughter." Shen Qinghan turned her head, looked at Jiang Ye's profile, and said earnestly, "From now on, I will definitely try my best to be a good mother and never let her suffer any more grievances."

"Yes." Jiang Ye nodded, his tone firm. "From now on, we will be Xinyu's best parents. We will play this role well together and watch her grow up safely and peacefully."

Listening to Shen Qinghan's words, Jiang Ye thought to himself.

This woman, having endured so much hardship and pain, has indeed matured. She has finally learned how to love someone and how to shoulder the responsibilities of a mother.

Although they can never go back to the past, this ending may be the best arrangement for everyone.

. . .