Hard to Escape

Chapter 5

Honestly, I didn't really care what Yin Li might be thinking. The mind of a rich person is a mysterious thing.

But being able to go to school was a huge incentive. Even Mo Xing Zhi agreed that Yin Li was rarely so charitable.

"Judging by your age you should probably be a second or third-year university student, but I'm really curious as to what major you are," Mo Xing Zhi had said to me.

Ever since Yin Li had left for Europe, Mo Xing Zhi only visited that one time. I saw him mostly in the news on television, in magazines, or in newspapers. He had officially taken over the reins of the Mo clan. 　　

In regards to his question, I was pretty curious too but lacked the courage to ask Yin Li. The topic of my previous major was a thorny maze. I stood at the entrance wanting to go and ask but was too afraid to take the first step. The maze was covered in a dense layer of fog. I had exerted all my brain power but couldn't remember. In my mind there was only an illusory, gray mist.

Thankfully, my leg was recovering rapidly. Before leaving Yin Li had ordered the group of experts to draft a new rehabilitation plan. On top of that, I exercised for an additional thirty minutes every day on my own.

Those thirty minutes belonged solely to me, and only me. No Yin Li, no Mo Xing Zhi.　

I would look at myself in the mirror, thinking that from now on I would take care to never look as awful as I had on that day.

At the end of the two-month deadline Yin Li had given me, I was finally able to walk without pain or difficulty. My posture wasn't pretty, my stride was unnatural, and I could only walk for up to an hour. Despite it all, being able to walk without any support was sweeter than anything else in the world.

During the afternoon when the yard basked in sunlight, I would walk slowly for half an hour filled with a simple but poignant feeling towards life.

Because movement was easier, I was constantly brimming with excess energy. Take Yin Li's house. Previously my movement in it was limited to the first floor but nowadays I was itching to explore the rooms upstairs, especially the room next to Yin Li's study with an intricately carved door. The door handle's delicate patterns must have been designed to lure people in, because I swear that a sound called from deep in my heart. Open it, open it.

Without any inner struggle, I obeyed.

It's a pity I was disappointed upon opening the door.

Turns out it was a spacious room with many windows. The walls were lined with mirrors that refracted every image and strand of light and seemed to detain sunlight itself. Squinting against the glare, I stood there and took in the staleness of the air and the layer of dust under the light, all evidence hinting that this room had been abandoned for a long time.

I walked in.　　

Only then did I notice photos progressing from childhood to adolescence hanging above the mirrors. From the facial features, it appeared to all be of the same person. She wore leotards and tutus, striking different ballet poses through different years of her life—standing en pointe, tilting her graceful neck upwards, and leaping through the air. The photos captured a singular frame of her figure in movement.

So beautiful.

From the photos, I could feel the dynamic rhythm. In a way, the path from the doorway to the far wall held the entirety of that young woman's life of dance. The uncertain gazes from youth progressed to her proud expression and refined air.

At the end of the room, an oil painting of the woman replaced the photos. Dressed in traditional Chinese clothing, posing with the lofty air of nobility, and sitting with an upright posture, she stared out from the center of the painting with an enigmatic Mona Lisa smile. This looked to be a family-portrait-style painting. It was also the only picture where she wasn't in ballet clothes.