Chapter 302

Our Discord Server: https://discord.gg/PazjBDkTmW

Chapter 302: Postcard

Kokonohana Nori didn’t choose to greet Bai Wei. This time, she wasn’t wearing her traditional clothes. Through her gaze, Bai Wei understood she had recognized him, but the place was crowded and not suitable for conversation, so she averted her eyes.

Through the incident involving Jingūji, Kokonohana Nori had gained an understanding of Bai Wei’s personal strength. If he was willing to contribute, this trip to Shikoku Town would be even more convenient.

Bai Wei noticed that Kokonohana Nori didn’t greet him, and naturally, he didn’t think of approaching her enthusiastically.

Rokuro Shimura chose a different seat and sat down beside Bai Wei. He had brought many gifts, with a suitcase filled with various items from the city, including a whole box of gifts for his daughter.

Bai Wei casually asked, “Do you often not stay at home?”

“Indeed, I go out to work and earn money to support the family,” Shimura replied. “I do go back whenever I have time, but time flies, and I haven’t seen her much in the past year. With winter coming, I’ll finally have time to stay home for a while.” He smiled as he spoke. “My daughter is quite sensible; she sends postcards regularly.”

He opened a small package and took out a stack of postcards, thickly piled.

Bai Wei commented, “There are so many.”

“At first, I’d get one letter every week, but recently the frequency has decreased. I don’t know why, but lately, there haven’t been any at all,” Shimura scratched his head.

Bai Wei asked, “May I borrow them?”

“Of course, of course,” Shimura said quickly, handing them over.

Bai Wei pulled out a postcard. The handwriting was indeed that of a child, neat and clear, but with fewer hiragana characters than expected.

In the language of Yingzhou, hiragana characters can be understood like Han language pinyin in Ming Country, though hiragana can be written directly into the text. Occasionally, people in Yingzhou mix Chinese characters with hiragana, which could confuse people from the Ming Country who understand Chinese characters but not hiragana.

Nowadays, hiragana usage is increasing, while Chinese characters are being used less and less. This regression is similar to how people from the Ming Country might write with pinyin. Long passages in hiragana seem abundant, but in reality, the same meaning could be conveyed with just a few Chinese characters, unnecessarily complicating things.

However, considering that Rokuro Shimura’s daughter, Hitomi, was only ten, hiragana should have been more frequent. Bai Wei was surprised to find that most of the postcard’s characters were Chinese characters. Even as someone from Ming Country, who didn’t understand Yingzhou language, he found it easy to read.

Bai Wei curiously asked, “Is your daughter incredibly knowledgeable?”

“Ahhaha…” Shimura scratched his head. “Maybe it’s because postcards have fewer words than regular letters, so she looked up the characters in the dictionary while writing.”

Bai Wei quickly scanned the contents of the postcard and then examined several more. The information recorded was quite ordinary and even somewhat dull. The postcards mostly mentioned daily matters like what they had eaten, how their body felt, and how school was going. Yet, at the end of each postcard, there was always a sentence from Uncle, mentioning how well they were being taken care of at his house.

“Is your daughter staying at your relatives’ house?”

“It’s my younger brother’s house,” Shimura explained. “It’s caused them some trouble, but I’ve always been generous with financial support.”

Bai Wei continued looking at a postcard, carefully examining it for over ten minutes. It was at that moment that he discovered a common element among the postcards.

A postcard is a simple envelope, with a picture of a beautiful celebrity or poster on the front, and a blank space on the back for a message. Just stick a stamp on it, and you can send it away. Before faster modern communication, postcards were a popular form of communication for decades, or even centuries.

So, the front of the postcard already had a design, eliminating the need to add anything on the back. Bai Wei examined the design carefully and slowly recited, “Uncle hit me.”

He said this in the language of the Ming Country.

Rokuro Shimura was startled. “What did you say?”

Bai Wei translated, “Uncle hit me.”

Shimura immediately grabbed the postcard and asked, “Where is this sentence written?”

Bai Wei pulled out the next postcard and read aloud, “Sachiko scolded me.”

Shimura froze, then snatched the postcard back, struggling to read the Chinese characters.

Bai Wei pulled out another card and read, “I haven’t eaten for three days.”

Shimura quickly interrupted. “Mr. Bai, what are you talking about? I don’t see anything written on this postcard!”

Bai Wei said, “Of course, you wouldn’t notice. If you’re not from Ming Country, it’s hard to detect.”

He pointed at the design on the back of the postcard and explained, “All the postcards sent by your daughter have a design like this one. For example…” He pointed to the dove in the top left corner and said, “Brother.” Then to the dove in the top right corner, “Brother.” Then to the pot in the bottom left, “Bump.” Finally, to the smiling face in the bottom right, “Me.”

Shimura snatched the postcard away. The cheerful middle-aged man’s face turned dark and menacing as he looked at Bai Wei. “Mr. Bai, please, don’t make jokes like this.”

Bai Wei said, “There are more here. I can read them to you one by one.”

Shimura’s face turned pale with anger.

Bai Wei continued, “Each postcard has a different design, and there’s no need to draw these patterns every time you simply write a letter, especially since you mentioned it.”

The middle-aged man asked, “What do you mean?”

“One postcard per week—that’s quite frequent,” Bai Wei analyzed, picking up another postcard. “But as I look at the contents, there’s nothing particularly noteworthy. Many are repetitive and mundane. So why does she send them so frequently?”

Rokuro Shimura struggled to speak. “Hitomi… she’s not sending postcards just because she misses me…”

“She is seeking your help,” Bai Wei stated firmly.

Bai Wei continued flipping through the postcards. Each one had just four hidden words, and some of the designs were blurry, with even incorrect Chinese characters. He couldn’t piece them all together, as a child from Yingzhou wouldn’t understand so many Chinese characters or match them with the corresponding images.

But many of the contents already sparked a fire in people’s hearts.

“My father is not here, and my mother has already passed away.”

“She no longer has any relatives to rely on. They treated her like a nuisance and pushed her away.”

“It’s not hard to guess she must have had a difficult time living under someone else’s roof—scolded by her uncle, bossed around by her aunt, and even…”

The middle-aged man sat stunned, his backbone slowly bending.

He wanted to protest but said, “But why didn’t my daughter just tell me directly…”

Bai Wei felt curious. “It’s strange. Why did she use Chinese characters? She could have used kana. Are you familiar with Chinese characters?” he asked.

Rokuro Shimura opened his mouth and suddenly remembered something. His face darkened with sorrow. “In the past, I lied to my daughter, feeling ashamed of working on construction sites. I told her I worked at a foreign company in Ming Country… She must have believed it.”

Bai Wei sighed. “It seems like she thought you understood Chinese characters well and was trying hard to communicate with you. Unfortunately, you didn’t realize it. Over time, her messages became less frequent, and eventually, she stopped.”

Shimura remembered his earlier words, “At first, I’d get one postcard every week, but recently, the frequency decreased. Now, I don’t know why, but she hasn’t sent any at all.” Suddenly, the truth hit him. He became angry and smacked himself.

He couldn’t believe it. Realizing his grave mistake was too painful to admit, but his love for his daughter had unintentionally caused her even more pain.

Shimura felt defeated, as if his spine had been ripped out.

He clutched the postcard tightly, its cardboard creased from his grip. “If only she could secretly send some money or make a call from a public phone. I… I call home every week.”

Bai Wei flipped through the postcards and said, “Perhaps your daughter is very mature. She’s likely more intelligent than most at her age.”

…After all, being from a witch lineage, early awakening is common—just like Sakurai Shiru.

“She might have used this way to avoid the attention of others, secretly sending messages to you. She probably wanted you to notice, but also hoped you wouldn’t. Maybe she feared causing trouble for you or feared you’d clash with your relatives because of her.”

Rokuro Shimura clenched his fist and struck his thigh angrily. “To hell with relatives!”

His shout startled the other passengers on the train. Someone glanced over and met his bloodshot eyes. Without a word, they quickly moved away.

The middle-aged man held his head in frustration. “What foolish thing have I done? I trusted them to take care of Hitomi. I worked to earn money, all for her…”

At that moment, Bai Wei flipped to the last few postcards. His furrowed brow relaxed slightly.

“Daddy is very busy.” “I will be obedient.” “I’ll wait for you to come back.”

Bai Wei gently patted the middle-aged man’s shoulder. “Please calm down. We’ll go back to see your daughter later. Let’s not let her see you with a gloomy face.”