Seagulls and the Red Gown

My mother was renowned far and wide for her beauty. My father, on the other hand, was utterly unremarkable in every way. His only real advantage was having grown up alongside her. Yet, my grandfather, with his old-fashioned ways, saw something in his steady, honest nature. I heard that on his deathbed, my grandfather promised my mother to him, and she wept for three days straight.

Years later, when my father had an affair, she simply moved into a different room to sleep. It was then that my grandmother truly saw my father for what he was, privately cursing my grandfather for being a senile old fool who had ruined their daughter's life. Only after I was grown and independent did she decisively file for divorce.

When she and I moved back to the old countryside house to clear out her belongings, we found a leather suitcase hidden under her bed. Inside were an airplane ticket, an unopened letter, and a photograph of a man I'd never seen before. On the back of the photo, four words were scrawled: "I'm waiting for you."

My head swam, and suddenly I was back at an airport, twenty-five years in the past. A young woman in a trench coat, dragging a suitcase, sat down beside me and linked her arm through mine. "You little rascal, you're truly loyal, actually escaping with me!" she chirped, a hint of nervous excitement in her voice. "Just wonder if Dad's 'honest' apprentice will chase us. Hope he doesn't do anything stupid."

It was my mother, before my grandfather's dying wish had shackled her to that marriage.

Mom, this time, please don't look back. You belong where you're meant to be.

I stared at my mother, dumbfounded. She was so incredibly beautiful then. It was hard to imagine this vibrant, enthusiastic woman, clutching her suitcase, would one day become that haggard woman in the kitchen, silently enduring the cooking fumes, barely exchanging a word with my father.

"What's wrong, you frozen?" She nudged my shoulder, her tone light but laced with guilt. "Why aren't you saying anything? Regretting this crazy escape with me?"

I snapped back to reality, my palms slick with sweat. "Evelyn, are you absolutely sure about this?"

Her gaze darted away, her fingers unconsciously picking at the lock on her suitcase. "Dad's going to marry me off to Liam Miller. The date's practically set." She gave a bitter laugh, a smile more painful than any frown. "Liam's a good man, I guess. Honest, decent, Dad's favorite apprentice. But the moment I look at him, I feel like my life is already over. He always gives me this feeling, like 'I've done so much for you, you must be moved.' Chloe, do you understand? I've never been south, never seen the ocean. I don't even know what this free world Adam Grant talks about looks like. Am I really doomed to spend my entire life in that one alley, just circling the stove until I'm old?"

I gripped her hand tightly. In my previous life, she had turned back at precisely this juncture. Because of my grandfather's dying wish, she married my father. And what was the result? That "honest" man, Liam, started to resent her quiet dignity soon after I was born. Eventually, he found a woman outside who would drink and gamble with him, then turned around and accused Evelyn of being unfaithful and wild.

"Living your whole life for someone else only ends in mutual destruction," I said, looking into her eyes, enunciating each word. "Evelyn, you don't owe anyone anything. If you go back now, you will regret it. Go find Adam. He'll show you the world."

She paused, clearly unaccustomed to such talk. The teachings of that era told her that obedience was a virtue, and sacrifice was noble. "But Dad..." She bit her lower lip hard. "His health isn't good. If I leave, it'll be seen as unfilial. I don't think I can bear the guilt of abandoning my name like that."

"A shoe that doesn't fit will chafe your foot until it's raw. That's not the foot's fault," I said, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Liam's 'honesty' has hooks in it. He's being agreeable now because he's claiming the rest of your life. Can you really bear that silent pressure?"

A flicker danced in her eyes, and her breathing grew heavier. Just then, a hurried footsteps echoed. Liam was here. He was flushed from running, a button missing from his usually neat shirt, clutching a half-bag of steaming hot buns. He looked every inch the lovesick, clumsy, 'honest' man. Other travelers in the terminal turned to stare.

"Evelyn!" he gasped, reaching out to grab her suitcase.

"Stop this nonsense. Master's so angry at home he can't even eat. Come back with me. I won't tell Master the details. We'll just say you went out to clear your head."

His tone was nauseating. A condescending magnanimity, as if Evelyn were merely a petulant child who'd run away, and he, the generous adult. Evelyn turned sideways, gently evading his hand.

"Liam, I'm not coming back," she said, her voice soft.

Liam froze, his hand suspended awkwardly in mid-air. "Evelyn, has someone been putting ideas in your head?" He shot a displeased glance at me. "I know you chase romance and think I'm boring. But isn't life just about the daily grind? What can Adam give you? Today he's in the south, tomorrow he's in the northwest, no steady job. Are you going to go begging if you go with him?"

"I'm not asking for handouts, I'm asking for freedom," Evelyn looked at him, her eyes steadily growing colder. "You want a wife, kids, and a warm hearth, but I want the open world. We see life completely differently. Forcing ourselves together would be unfair to both of us. Liam, stop wasting your time on me."

Liam's brows furrowed into a knot. He gritted his teeth, shook his head, and sighed. "You're too naive. In this world, apart from your parents, only I will truly care for you. Do you really think the world out there is so easy to navigate?"

He was about to say more, but the airport announcement suddenly changed. "Passenger Evelyn Cole, please contact your family immediately."

Old Man Johnson, from their alley, rushed over, sweating profusely and stumbling. He grabbed Evelyn's arm. "Evelyn, quick! Go back! Your father collapsed! Heart attack! The doctor says it might be serious!"

The airplane ticket slipped silently from Evelyn's hand, hitting the floor. Her earlier resolve and yearning for freedom shattered completely at the mention of a heart attack. Her eyes instantly welled up.

"Dad..." she whispered, trembling, her legs weak, utterly losing all her resolve.

I bent down and picked up the ticket, a wave of intense helplessness washing over me. Does fate truly have such a powerful pull?

When we arrived at the hospital, the hallway was filled with hushed sobs. My grandfather lay weakly on the hospital bed. He looked even older than I remembered, the tough resolve of a traditional man completely eroded by illness. Seeing Evelyn enter, my grandfather's hand trembled as he reached out.

"Evie, it's good you're back," his voice was broken. "Your father has no other wishes in this life. Just to see you in a wedding gown, settled, before he closes his eyes. Liam is a good boy, I watched him grow up. He'll take care of you. Then your father can rest in peace."

There was no scolding, no shouting. Only this heart-wrenching plea, the cruelest weapon of all. Evelyn knelt by the bed, covering her mouth, tears streaming between her fingers. She wanted to object, to speak of freedom, but looking at his almost ashen face, she dared not open her mouth.

"Dad, I don't want to marry Liam," she finally managed to say, her voice as faint as a gnat's buzz. "I have someone I like, Adam Grant, he..."

"Silence!" My grandfather's emotions suddenly flared. He coughed violently twice, his face turning purple. "That Adam Grant? Always gallivanting around, doesn't even have a steady job! He's too wild, a known playboy, not someone you can build a life with! Can he give you stability? Can he keep you from starving? Liam, I trained with my own hands." My grandfather stared at her, his stubborn gaze chilling me to the bone. "Only by entrusting you to him can I rest easy. Do you want to see me die with regrets?"

Evelyn turned to me, desperation in her eyes. She was like a little deer caught in a trap, surrounded by hunters with the moral pitchforks.

At two in the morning, the hospital corridor fell silent. My grandmother, exhausted, had been taken to a relative's house to rest. Now it was just my mother and me.

"Chloe, am I completely useless?" She leaned against the hard chair, her face pale. "Can't even control my own life. I despise this arranged fate so much, but I can't bring myself to refuse."

I handed her a cup of hot water and gently took her cold hand. "Evelyn, your father's illness isn't your fault. You haven't stolen anything, you haven't cheated anyone. You just want to live your own life. You don't owe anyone anything," I tried to keep my voice calm. "Don't blame his illness on yourself. These are two separate things."

"But he's my father," she said with a bitter smile, slowly sipping the water. "If I left, and he truly died of anger, I would live with that guilt for the rest of my life. How could I... how could I be so selfish?"

I cradled her face, looking into her eyes. "Selfish people often live better lives. But kind people like you, who are always self-sacrificing, end up being eaten alive, bones and all." I felt as if I was seeing her, decades in the future, sitting on a balcony late at night, gazing at the sky.

She was silent for a long time. "Maybe that's just who I am," she murmured to herself, closing her eyes in pain. "No courage to leave, just self-pitying here."

In that moment, my heart ached so much I wanted to hold her tight.

As dawn broke, Liam came in, carrying a thermos. There were dark circles under his eyes; he looked like he'd been up all night. "Evelyn, you haven't slept all night. Have something to eat first." He ladled out a bowl of porridge, blew on it, then offered it to Evelyn. "I talked to the attending physician. Master's condition is temporarily stable. With continued rest, he should slowly recover."

"Thank you, Liam," Evelyn took the bowl but didn't touch the spoon.

Liam sat beside her, maintaining a subtle distanceclose enough to show intimacy, but not intrusive. "Evelyn, I know your mind is in turmoil. What happened with Adam, I can pretend it never did. As long as you stay, I'll be good to you for the rest of my life." His voice was low and gentle, but his gaze was locked on her. "Master always wanted us to be together. This is for your own good, too."

I stood nearby, unable to listen to his hypocritical words any longer. "Liam, you're taking advantage of the situation," I said, my voice cold, tearing through his facade without mercy. "You know Evelyn is distraught right now, and you're using her father's illness to bind her. What kind of man does that make you?"

Liam turned his head. "Chloe Yeager, I've tolerated you long enough! Are you deliberately trying to cause trouble?"

"Liam..." Evelyn looked up, trying to explain something.

"I know your head isn't clear right now. No need to rush your answer," Liam interrupted her directly, standing up and adjusting his jacket, masking the possessiveness in his eyes. "I'll wait for you. No matter how long, I'll wait."

After he left, Evelyn looked at the steaming bowl of porridge, and tears streamed into the bowl. This tactic was truly vile. Liam was using my grandfather's illness, using Evelyn's guilt, to slowly erode her defenses.

In the afternoon, I went back to the alley. At the reception room, the old caretaker handed me a letter. The envelope had no stamp, sent by someone entrusted to deliver it. It was addressed to Evelyn. It was from Adam Grant.

I brought the letter back to the hospital, and Evelyn's hands trembled as I gave it to her. Inside the envelope, besides the letter, was a photograph. Adam stood by the clear blue sea, tall buildings behind him, smiling brightly. It was the world Evelyn had always dreamed of. She sat on a bench, holding the letter, her fingers tightly clutching the edges of the paper. She desperately wanted to open it. But the thought of her critically ill father potentially dying from her rebellion made her press the letter against her heart. I knew she needed my guidance.

"Open it," I said, sitting beside her and patting her shoulder. "This is the way out you're looking for."

She trembled as she opened the letter. In it, Adam wrote that he had settled down, found an apartment with a balcony where he could see the ocean. He said he understood her struggles, but he would wait for her there, until the day she was completely free. After reading the letter, a faint glimmer finally ignited in Evelyn's eyes.

"But I can't leave," she cried, covering her face in pain. "My father could die any moment." I knew that she still needed someone to make the decision for her. My presence alone wasn't enough.

While she was fetching water, I picked up the photo and turned it over. On the back was Adam's address in San Francisco. I pulled out a piece of paper I had prepared from my bag and quickly scribbled a message on it.

"Adam Grant, Evelyn is trapped in the hospital right now, her father is critically ill. Her entire family is forcing her to marry Liam Miller, and she's about to break. If you truly understand her, if you're not just a coward who only knows how to write letters, please show up immediately. Otherwise, you will lose her forever. After this letter, no one else can save her."

I rushed to the post office at top speed and sent a registered express letter. This was the last chance. If Adam didn't come, Evelyn would repeat the tragedy of her previous life. I stood at the post office entrance, watching the letter slide into the mailbox, silently thinking:

Mom, this time, I will pull your happiness back for you.

The situation deteriorated faster than I expected. Due to a violent coughing fit, my grandfather was rushed back into the emergency room. This time, it lasted a full two hours. When the doctor emerged, his face was extremely grim. "Prepare yourselves. The old man might not make it through the month. It's a matter of days now."

These words became the last straw. My grandmother completely broke down in that moment. She had originally quietly supported Evelyn's pursuit of happiness. But now, she suddenly grabbed Evelyn's hand, crying hysterically. "Evie, I'm begging you! I'll get on my knees for you, okay?"

My grandmother actually started to kneel on the floor. Evelyn cried out, holding her close. "Your father was so stubborn his whole life. This is his only wish before he dies. Just grant him this one thing, just so he can rest in peace. Do you want to see him die with regrets?"

The surrounding relatives and former colleagues also gathered around. My uncle stepped forward, sighing heavily. "Evelyn, filial piety is the greatest virtue. At a time like this, personal feelings have to take a back seat. You can't be so selfish."

"Exactly. Liam is such a good boy, he's been busy helping out all these days. Just agree, don't let your father leave with bitterness."

Each sentence was like a heavy chain, clamping down on Evelyn's neck, choking her until she couldn't breathe. She couldn't even cry anymore.

Liam walked over, his gaze sweeping over everyone. "Evelyn, don't worry. As long as it brings Master peace of mind, we can have a simple ceremony first. After we're married, I'll treat you like a sister. I'll never force you." His tone was gentle and warm, making him sound like a paragon of virtue.

I stood by, watching this absurd family drama, a furious fire building in my chest. "Treat her like a sister?" I said coldly, mercilessly tearing through his disguise. "Liam, do you even believe that? Marriage is a contract, not a stage for your self-righteous performance."

My uncle glared at me, pointing a finger at my nose. "You're an outsider, what are you interfering for? This is our family business!"

I ignored him, gripping Evelyn's hand tightly. "Evelyn, don't say yes," I whispered in her ear.

The hospital room door opened, and a nurse wheeled out my weakened grandfather. He stared fixedly at Evelyn, his gaunt hand clutching the bedrail. "Evie... say yes. If you say yes, your father will smile as he slowly goes. If you shake your head, your father will die right now before your eyes."

This was an overt threat. Evelyn trembled all over, the last bit of resolve keeping her standing finally crumbling. She closed her eyes, her lips moving. The word "yes" was on the tip of her tongue.

In that very second, hurried footsteps echoed from the end of the hospital corridor.

Bang!

The hospital room door was flung open. A man in a dark trench coat stood in the doorway. His face was covered in dust, his hair disheveledhe had clearly traveled across half the country overnight. All the accusations and pleas ceased instantly. Adam Grant gasped for breath, walking straight to Evelyn. He firmly took her hand. "I'm sorry, Evelyn, I'm late," his voice was a little hoarse. "I promised to show you the ocean. How could I break my word?"