Chapter 735: The Old Neighbors

Gazing at the familiar bluestone alley ahead, the old shops that had stood for decades—some with the very same signs—and even the air, filled with the familiar scent of daily life, Rosalind Green’s mood steadily improved. Her steps grew lighter, and she turned back to hurry Adrian Hawthorne. "Faster!"

Adrian Hawthorne quickened his pace, a sense of unease growing within him. ’She’s acting more and more strangely. We’re going to the hospital tomorrow. I can’t put it off any longer.’

"Ooh, Tiger Claws! Adrian, do you want to try one?"

Catching a familiar aroma, Rosalind exclaimed in delight. It was a snack from her childhood with a rather grand-sounding name: Tiger Claw. In reality, it was just a piece of flatbread baked in a charcoal oven, so named because its shape vaguely resembled a tiger’s claw.

Adrian Hawthorne had few memories of Tristone and had certainly never tried a Tiger Claw. Without waiting for his reply, Rosalind, in high spirits, bought one and broke it in two. She gave the larger half to Adrian and kept the smaller one for herself.

"Back then, your grandfather would always buy a Tiger Claw on his way home from work for your uncle and me to share."

Rosalind spoke as she ate, her expression lost in reminiscence. Adrian took a bite and was disappointed. ’I’d rather have a steamed bun,’ he thought. ’This has no flavor at all, just the faint aroma of the flour itself.’

But Rosalind ate with great relish, her appetite soaring. After finishing her portion, she saw Adrian nibbling at his half-heartedly and broke off another piece for herself.

"We’re almost there! It’s that building. Your grandfather’s apartment is on the second floor. See? The one with the towels hanging in the window."

Rosalind was overcome with excitement. She hadn’t been in contact with her parents for over four years. The last time she’d seen them was a brief meeting with them and her younger brother ten years ago, just as her family was leaving Tristone. She hadn’t seen them since.

While she was on the farm, she had still exchanged letters with her parents. But before her husband left, he had warned her not to contact anyone from the outside. So she had cut off all ties, even with her parents. ’I wonder how they’re doing now?’

Adrian Hawthorne looked where Rosalind was pointing. It was an old-fashioned shikumen building, with a web of clotheslines crisscrossing the air above, laden with colorful laundry. His grandfather’s window had the most hanging from it, including several towels. Rosalind had told him his grandfather was a neat freak who demanded the house be spotless. Sheets and duvet covers were to be changed every three days, and towels had to be sunned daily to sterilize them.

’I really feel sorry for Grandma. Living with a man like that must be exhausting.’

"Rosalind? My goodness... it really is Rosalind! Where have you been? We haven’t seen you in over ten years! Your poor mother’s cried her eyes out over you, and not a single letter..."

"It really is Rosalind! You haven’t changed a bit in over ten years, still as beautiful as ever. Oh my, is this coat cashmere? I could tell the moment I touched it. Cashmere isn’t cheap these days, and the tailoring is excellent. It looks like you’re doing quite well for yourself."

"And this must be your son? He was just a little tyke ten years ago, and look how tall he is now! So handsome, a real fine young man. Just like his father."

More and more people gathered around, all old neighbors from the lane. They recognized Rosalind in an instant—how could they not? She hadn’t changed in over a decade. The years had been exceptionally kind to her.

Seeing Rosalind in an expensive cashmere coat, looking so elegant and poised, with a lovely face that had clearly never known a day of hardship, the neighbors grew intensely curious about her last ten years. They’d all heard the Hawthorne family had been denounced, their property confiscated, and that they’d been sent to a farm to perform hard labor—a life worse than a beggar’s. But seeing how Rosalind looked now, they wondered if she’d somehow become the queen of the beggars instead.

"Rosalind, where’s your husband? Why didn’t he come with you?" someone asked, their curiosity piqued.