The missing wooden bed was nothing; the disappearance of Wenshu was a monumental event. Xiaoyu raised his voice, shouting Wenshu's name, circling the front and back of the house several times, but not a trace of her could be found.

What was going on? What should he do? What in the world had happened? Countless question marks swirled inside Xiaoyu’s mind. He wanted to climb back down into the well to question the two elders again, but then he remembered the urgent need to find his mother at the threshing ground. He suppressed his impulse, steadied himself, and walked toward the threshing ground.

Had Xiaoyu never visited the crystal tunnel and the white jade hall beneath the well, he would have assumed the village before him was the most ordinary among thousands. Villagers, clad in simple clothes, moved back and forth along the narrow paths choked with creeping vines. Some carried firewood home for cooking, while others gathered stalks of straw salvaged from the fields, intending to dry them later. A few villagers at the threshing ground were beating grain using the most traditional method: backs to the sun, faces to the yellow earth, swinging their flails, punctuating the rhythm with a cry of "Heiyo," followed by a responsive "Yoho," working at a leisurely pace.

Xiaoyu walked toward them from a distance, angling his body to peer at the women bent over, beating the grain. Not a single one resembled the image of his mother etched in his memory. Just as doubt began to settle in, a raspy voice called from behind him: "Xiaoyu..."

Xiaoyu instantly froze, slowly straightening up. He turned his head, following the sound, and saw an old woman standing behind him. Her hair was tied up with a blue cloth kerchief, and she wore a faded yellow dress patterned with small flowers. In her hand, she held a bamboo dustpan containing less than half a measure of grain.

"Ah!" Xiaoyu answered vacantly, realizing that this woman who called him shared a seventy percent resemblance to his mother from memory, though her face was now etched with far more wrinkles, and her eyes lacked their former sharp brilliance. When his mother left him, she was as young as Wenshu, and even in his dreams, she appeared much fuller-figured. Seeing her suddenly, Xiaoyu could hardly believe his eyes, couldn't believe that time could so ruthlessly alter someone's appearance. A wave of protective affection surged up, yet the word "Ma" stuck stubbornly on his tongue.

It wasn't until the old woman stepped forward and pulled him into a tight embrace, weeping with tears streaming down her face, "My child, you've finally come!" that Xiaoyu broke free from his untimely speechlessness. He began to sob uncontrollably, crying out repeatedly, "Mama..."

Witnessing this scene, everyone at the threshing ground stopped. They quietly set their flails down and quietly distanced themselves from the mother and son.

The two of them wept for a full half an hour before their endless sobs finally subsided. The mother used her sleeve to wipe the tears from Xiaoyu's face, her heart aching again as she saw how swollen his eyes had become, like peaches.

"Mama, where have you been all these years? Do you know that my sister and I have missed you and Dad every moment? The days without you have been so lonely, so helpless," Xiaoyu asked breathlessly as soon as his weeping stopped.

At his question, shame crossed his mother's face. "I am an unfit mother; I couldn't stay by your side all this time."

"Mom, what exactly happened that made you and Dad vanish overnight as if evaporated? Neither my sister nor I believe you would abandon us without reason." Xiaoyu pressed on, his emotions growing agitated.

Seeing his insistence on knowing the truth immediately, his mother took a deep breath, wiped her own tears, and said, "Your father discovered a secret, and he told it to me. Later, because of that secret, they murdered your father. I was hunted too, and only with the help of a friend did I manage to escape here and live in seclusion. The reason I haven't returned all these years is not anything else, but the fear of implicating you both."