Chapter 16: The Intersection of Luxury and Extravagance (1)

  "Dad seemed to notice my stiff posture and bent down to ask softly, 'Vivian, what's wrong?'"

  "No, nothing." I stuffed the photo back into his hand and turned my face to look out the window at the scenery. How annoying, why was I crying? Why could I cry in front of my father? The tears flowed like a fountain and couldn't be stopped, I stuck to the window and randomly rubbed my face, hoping the tears would stop soon.

  "Vivian?"

  "Nothing." How could the sobbing just now be concealed in the quiet car, I turned my face back, so ugly, with unshed tears on my face. I blinked and asked in a hoarse voice, "Is this the reason for divorce?"

  "Not..."

  "Really... What do these adults take marriage as? What do they take love as? Wait, what was the answer I just heard? Without even hearing the answer clearly, I suddenly realized this and asked sideways, "What?"

  "No, that's not... the reason for the divorce." His father said this with a pause, as if recalling something unpleasant. He just shook his head in denial and finally muttered, "It's all your mother's fault."

  This sentence is like a sharp tool that opens up old wounds, and the memories of my childhood can no longer be suppressed, all rushing out like a flood. At that time, I was still very young, and my parents would often close the door and quarrel in the house, getting more and more intense as time went on. One day, my mother left home and didn't come back for several months, and when she did, she handed me a divorce agreement. After that, I remember being taken home by my mother, but just a few days later, she took me to my grandmother's house, and from then on, there was no news of her, and my father only occasionally came to visit me a few times, and the frequency became less and less, until recently he suddenly suggested taking me back home to live.

  Once the sense of belonging to home is formed, I am more and more afraid that one day my father or grandmother will leave. My father's complexion is now very poor and must change the subject. Hoping for his smile to return, I thought for half a day and asked dazedly, "Where are we going now?"

  "Let's go have dinner first." Father glanced at his Rolex on his wrist, then took out the phone from his pocket and dialed a number. He put the phone to his ear and said softly, "Are you out? At Hilton Western Restaurant. Uh-huh... We'll be there in a bit, if you get there first, go ahead and order."

  "Drip." The brief conversation ended, I was somewhat curious about the identity of the person on the other end of the line, but eavesdropping on others' conversations wasn't right, so I just pursed my lips and remained silent, my gaze drifting out the window to the street scene.

  "Vivian, we're here, hurry up and get off." The urging voice sounded in my ear, I suddenly woke up, and found that I had actually fallen asleep. My head was leaning against the hard and cool window, feeling uncomfortable. Squinting at my father, he was already standing outside, looking at me from the car door. A flush rose to my cheeks, I awkwardly forced a smile, then got off the bus. The hotel in front of me suddenly came into view, and I opened my lips with embarrassment, "Is this..."

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