Shen Wan’s question caught Shi Nian off guard, making her lose focus even in front of Shen Wan.
The most enchanting bedtime story she’d ever heard?
The most enchanting bedtime story she "heard" came from a person. However, those stories weren’t heard with her ears, but written, character by character, in her palm by that person’s long fingers. She had to patiently connect each character slowly to "understand" those stories.
Listening to someone tell a story usually encapsulates around 300 words per minute, but writing those words carefully with a fingertip takes almost 10 minutes. Meaning, her "bedtime story" listening speed was reduced to one-tenth of a normal pace...
Because the storytelling pace slowed down tenfold, those unbearable times quickened for her, giving that eternal night and day indistinguishable darkness a glimmer of hope.
Such slow and difficult "listening" is one of the few pieces from her life that she might never forget. ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ novel⁂fire.net
Yet now... she couldn’t tell Shen Wan about them.
She tilted her head and laughed softly, "I’m sorry, I truly can’t remember."
Shen Wan earnestly looked into Shi Nian’s eyes, "...Can I say I’m a bit disappointed? I feel certain that Qingqing must have told you bedtime stories. Nian Nian, how could you forget."
Shi Nian looked at Shen Wan in shock.
Objectively, she shouldn’t understand what Shen Wan was saying; yet strangely, she somehow felt she understood Shen Wan’s words?
But if she tried to trace carefully, she indeed couldn’t find a clear logical relation from Shen Wan’s words...
What on earth was going on?
Seeing Shi Nian’s utterly surprised and bewildered face, Shen Wan could only sigh quietly. She recalled that night when her son told her about all this, unable to hide his melancholy sorrow.
The son felt sad, thus she empathized, couldn’t help saying "Silly boy, then tell her"; yet her son bitterly smiled, "No, I’d rather she just forget about all of it. It’s alright to forget; at worst, I’ll pursue her all over again. After all, I didn’t go through a normal pursuit back then, everything today is what I once owed her."
However, even though her son could let it go, as a mother, she was heartbroken, wishing she could just unveil everything now and make it clear for her son.
But seeing Shi Nian’s amazed expression... she could only swallow it down.
Shen Wan then smiled, "Alright, let’s not make things difficult for you. Nian Nian, let’s talk about another story."
Shi Nian silently sighed in her heart: It seems today’s meeting theme with Shen Wan is "storytelling", and Shen Wan wants to assume the role of not an "evil mother-in-law", but a "story king".
Shi Nian could only smile and nod, "Alright, please go on."
Shen Wan took out her handbag, pulling a set of books from it, neatly placing them on the table.
Shi Nian, with keen eyes, recognized the all-too-familiar cover design and asked in surprise, "Heavenly Dragon Eight Books?"
Shen Wan smiled, "Because of company affairs, I once had the chance to meet Mr. Zha Liangyong. I told him I most liked his Heavenly Dragon Eight Books, and Mr. Cha gifted me his own collection, with his autograph for keepsake."
Shi Nian couldn’t help but envy, "Wow."
Speaking of Jin Yong novels, the girls in the dorm mostly liked The Return of the Condor Heroes best, followed by The Deer and the Cauldron. The former liked Yang Guo and Little Dragon Girl’s romance, the latter appreciated Wei Xiaobao’s worldly adventures. Yet her favorite remained Heavenly Dragon Eight Books, for its broader scope, rich life perspective, and incisive human nature portrayal.
Shen Wan smiled serenely, "There’s just one part I daren’t fully agree with. The part where Xuzhu and Princess of Xi Xia fall in love in the darkness... Good heavens, how could such a thing happen in the world? It was darkness, completely unseen; how could they so rashly like one another?"
Shi Nian frowned, "Though you haven’t experienced it, nor have the people around you, doesn’t mean such things haven’t happened in the world. Besides, those two characters in the novel were quite fortunate; even though they couldn’t see each other, they could hear one another’s voice. Even without relying on appearance, they could find each other by voice."
Unlike her, who neither saw the person’s appearance nor heard their voice. She couldn’t even be sure whether those dream-like fragment memories were truly real occurrences or merely a response to her post-traumatic stress syndrome, just conjured imaginings.