My wife is a witch princess

Chapter 58 Unseen and Untouchable

Sunlight streamed obliquely into the living room, casting dappled patterns of light on the floor.

Song Che was curled up on the sofa, a biology textbook lying open on his lap, its pages long untouched. His phone lay quietly on the coffee table, not a single new message—it seemed the exams weren't finished yet, and his suspended death sentence had at least been extended to tomorrow.

He closed the book, stood up, and stretched.

Bruce lifted his head from his nest, glanced at him sleepily, and then buried his head back down.

Tao Xiang isn't in the living room; she's probably off causing trouble somewhere again.

Song Che walked to the window and looked at the window on the third floor opposite.

A few pieces of clothing were hanging on the balcony, swaying gently in the breeze.

He remembered Aunt Lan mentioning having dinner together that evening.

It's time to go buy some groceries.

He pushed open Xia Li's door.

"I'm going out to buy groceries. I'll go to Aunt Lan's house later," Song Che said in a low voice.

Xia Li turned her head and nodded.

Wei Yangyang floated over, her eyes sparkling: "Brother, are you going to Mom's? I want to go too!"

Song Che couldn't hear, but Xia Li relayed it for him: "She said she wanted to go too."

"Let her come along," Song Che said, "but... don't let Aunt Lan notice anything."

"Um."

The farmers' market is right next to the residential area, less than a ten-minute walk away. Around three or four o'clock in the afternoon, there weren't many people in the market; some vendors were arranging their goods, while others were chatting together.

Song Che, carrying shopping bags, stopped at each stall. He vaguely remembered Aunt Lan's tastes—she liked light food and disliked greasy food; she liked eggplant, but it had to be cooked until soft and flavorful.

He selected round eggplants, bok choy, and a bunch of fresh scallions from the vegetable stall.

After buying groceries, he went to a delicatessen and bought half a salted duck. As he paid, the proprietress smiled and asked, "Little Song, are you having guests over today?"

"Let's go to Aunt Lan's house for dinner."

"He Lan, she seems to have just returned..." The proprietress packed up the food quickly. "It's all alone, it's rather lonely."

Song Che nodded and walked back carrying his bags.

Back home, Xia Li had already changed into her outdoor clothes—a light purple sweatshirt and jeans. She stood quietly at the door, as if waiting for him.

Wei Yangyang floated beside her, spinning around excitedly: "Let's go to Mom's house!"

"Let's go." Song Che picked up the vegetables, thought for a moment, and then stuffed a box of pastries into the bag.

When they knocked on Aunt Lan's door, He Lan was busy in the kitchen, wearing an apron. Seeing them arrive, she wiped her hands and came out to greet them: "Why did you buy so much stuff? Auntie has everything here."

"I only bought a little bit." Song Che walked into the kitchen and took out the vegetables one by one. "Auntie, you can rest. I'll cook today."

"That won't do, you're a guest..."

"I'm not a guest at all," Song Che said with a smile, turning on the tap and starting to wash the vegetables. "Just consider me a guest here for a free meal; I should at least do something, right?"

He Lan watched his movements, her eyes softening: "You child, just like your mother, can't sit still."

Xia Li stood quietly at the kitchen doorway, watching this scene. Wei Yangyang floated to He Lan's side and tried to tidy her hair at the temples—of course, her fingers went through the hair.

"Xia Li, why don't you go watch TV in the living room? It's too smoky here," He Lan said, turning to her.

"I'll help." Xia Li walked in, glanced at the dishes on the table, and asked, "What do you want to make?"

"Wash the vegetables," Song Che said, handing her a basket.

He Lan stood aside, watching the two children squeezed into the not-so-spacious kitchen, one chopping vegetables and the other washing them. Although their coordination was awkward, there was an indescribable harmony to it.

She smiled, turned around, and went to wash the rice and cook it.

The sound of rushing water, the rhythmic thud of a cleaver hitting the cutting board, and the sizzling of oil in the pan.

These most ordinary sounds brought warmth back to this house that had been quiet for too long.

"By the way, Auntie," Song Che began, "how's your sleep been lately? Have you been having a lot of dreams?"

He Lan was taken aback for a moment, then laughed: "How did you know? Lately, I've been having a lot of dreams about things from the past."

"Did you dream about Yangyang?"

"...Hmm." He Lan's voice lowered. "I dreamt of her as a child, with two pigtails, chasing butterflies in the yard. That child loved butterflies since she was little; she would try to catch them whenever she saw them. Once, she fell and scraped her knee, but she didn't cry. Instead, she held up the butterfly in her hand to show me..."

Her eyes were a little red, but she quickly smiled again: "Look at me, why am I saying all this? It's been so long."

"It's okay," Song Che said. "It's a good thing to remember."

Wei Yangyang had already floated to He Lan's side, reaching out to wipe away her tears—of course, she couldn't touch her. She anxiously turned to Xia Li: "Sister Xia Li, tell Mom not to cry, I'm here..."

Xia Li was silent for a moment before speaking, "Auntie, Yangyang definitely wants you to be happy."

He Lan looked up at Xia Li with some surprise. This girl, who usually didn't talk much, suddenly said something that warmed her heart.

"Yes." She wiped her eyes. "That child can't stand seeing me cry. Once, I was in a bad mood because of work, and she saw it. She drew a picture for me with colored pencils and said, 'Mom, smile.'"

"What is it that you are drawing?" Song Che asked.

"A big sun, and a field of sunflowers, with a little smiling figure standing beneath it." He Lan smiled. "It's drawn crookedly, but it was the first gift she ever gave me, and I've kept it all this time."

Wei Yangyang floated into the living room and found the painting on the TV cabinet—carefully framed and placed next to the family photo. The paper had yellowed, and the crayon colors had faded somewhat, but the radiant smile of the sun remained clear.

She reached out and gently touched the glass of the picture frame.

"Xia Li, are the vegetables washed?" Song Che asked.

"……alright."

The preparation of dinner proceeded smoothly. Song Che was in charge of cooking, while He Lan assisted him, occasionally offering pointers such as "It's almost done cooking" or "It's time to add salt." Xia Li was responsible for setting the table and serving the washed vegetables.

The kitchen was filled with delicious aromas.

The sweet and sour flavors of sweet and sour pork, the savory and salty taste of garlic eggplant, and the refreshing aroma of stir-fried greens—these most ordinary, everyday flavors constitute the most tangible image of home.

"Dinner's ready." Song Che carried the last dish out of the kitchen.

The table was laden with food. He Lan looked at the dishes, her eyes welling up with tears again: "It's been so long since we've had such a lively meal."

The three sat down. Song Che placed a piece of meat on He Lan's plate: "Auntie, try it and see if the saltiness is to your liking."

Wei Yangyang floated beside the dining table, watching the three of them eat. She couldn't eat, but just seeing the satisfied smile on her mother's face made her happier than if she could eat herself.

The meal was eaten very slowly.

He Lan talked a lot—about Song Che's mischievousness as a child, Yangyang's maturity, and funny stories about the neighbors. Song Che listened patiently, occasionally chiming in. Xia Li ate quietly most of the time, only giving brief answers when asked.

As darkness fell outside the window, the afterglow of the setting sun shone through the window, casting dappled light on the dining table.

"Time flies." He Lan put down her chopsticks and looked at the twilight outside the window. "In the blink of an eye, you've grown so much."

"You haven't aged at all," Song Che said.

"That's nonsense," He Lan laughed. "Half of your hair has turned white."

"That is a symbol of wisdom."

Amidst laughter and conversation, they had almost finished their meal. Song Che got up to clear the table, and He Lan wanted to help, but he pressed her back into her chair, saying, "You can rest today, I'll do it."

Xia Li also stood up and silently helped tidy up.

He Lan couldn't hear, but watching Song Che's busy figure in the kitchen, she murmured to herself, "This child, just like his father, seems quiet on the outside but is warm-hearted on the inside."

After washing the dishes and tidying up the kitchen, it was completely dark. Song Che checked the time; it was almost eight o'clock.

"Auntie, we should go back now."

"Are you leaving already?" He Lan asked, a little reluctant. "Sit a little longer, Auntie will cut some fruit."

"No need, I'll go to bed early tonight and get up early tomorrow," Song Che said. "You should rest early, remember to eat on time, and don't always make do with whatever you can find."

"I know, I know, you're so talkative at such a young age." He Lan smiled and saw them to the door.

At the door, she suddenly called out to Song Che, took a small red envelope from her pocket, and stuffed it into his hand: "Take this."

"Auntie, I can't accept this..."

"Be good." He Lan held his hand. "Auntie doesn't have much money, so consider this as money to buy you school supplies. The college entrance exam is coming soon, so eat well and take care of your health."

Song Che held the red envelope, wondering how Bruce's good fortune had ended up on his aunt's head. But even without Bruce, his aunt would have given it to him anyway.

"Thank you, Auntie."

"No need to thank me." He Lan patted his shoulder, then looked at Xia Li, "Xia Li too, come visit often."

"Um."

Stepping out of the apartment building, the night breeze carried a chill. Song Che took off his coat and draped it over Xia Li's shoulders: "Put this on."

Xia Li did not refuse; his coat still carried his body heat.

Wei Yangyang floated beside them, constantly looking back at the lit window on the third floor.

"Mom's all alone now," she whispered. "Doesn't she feel lonely?"

Xia Li didn't answer. She just looked up at the window, then looked away and followed Song Che.

Back home, Momoka was already asleep on the sofa, with Bruce in her arms.

Song Che walked to the window and looked at the third floor across the street.

The light was still on in that window.

"What is she doing?" he asked softly.

Xia Li walked to his side and looked at the window as well. She could see Wei Yangyang floating in front of the window, looking at He Lan inside the room through the glass—although He Lan couldn't see anything.

"She's with her," Xia Li said.

Song Che was silent for a moment, then turned and walked towards the study: "I'm going to review."

"Um."

Xia Li didn't go back to the bedroom immediately. She stood in the living room for a while, looking at Tao Xiang sleeping soundly on the sofa, then at Bruce beside the sofa, and finally her gaze fell on the window with the light on.

There are too many things in this world that she cannot understand.

Death, obsession, bondage, love.

These words are just cold concepts in books, but here, in these people, they become warm and real—like the wrinkles at the corners of He Lan's eyes, like Song Che's clenched fingers when he gripped the knife, like Wei Yangyang's hand that tried to touch but passed right through.

She suddenly remembered that a magic book in the castle had said: magic can change the form of matter, manipulate the flow of elements, and summon powerful forces.

But there are some things that even magic cannot touch.

For example, longing, memories, and those bonds that will never fade away in the long river of time.

—I want to experience all of these things.