Between Shadows and Starlight

Chapter 1

Aldric Moonshadow and Elena Starlight were old flames, a young couple in their late thirties navigating the complexities of life together.
From the heights of Snowpeak Summit flowed the River Fallow, a waterway whose age was a mystery known only to the mountain and the skies above it. Aldric lived upstream, while Elena resided downstream; once strangers, fate intertwined their paths into marriage.
Aldric carried a gnawing fear within him—a dread that if he passed away, Elena would take their two daughters and vanish into the unknown. Even if she didn’t leave with them, he feared she would find another love and inhabit the life that once belonged to them. She would sleep in their marital bed, live in their home, and manage their finances, becoming a new father to their daughters.
Though Elena was unaware of Aldric's internal struggles, she could sense his unrest. Irritated, she often reprimanded him, “You’re so mysterious, always lost in thought!”
Divorce seemed distant at first, but since their wedding day, Elena had entertained the notion. Deep down, she believed she had made the wrong choice, felt begrudged to be with a man who didn't suit her. She often wondered how she had once been so captivated by him, landing herself in such a troubling situation. “Caring for aging parents, raising children, and dealing with you as a burden,” she would remind herself.
The couple had a long-distance relationship for nine years before tying the knot. Their story began when Aldric had just learned to go online using QQ; at that time, he was a timid high school freshman at a provincial agricultural college. His stern class teacher frowned upon relationships, and Aldric, with fluctuating grades, lacked the confidence to confront authority for the sake of love.
The girls in class were breathtaking to adolescent Aldric, each one a vision of beauty. He harbored many thoughts but dared not act on them, keeping his feelings buried deep.
During those days, he was skinny and awkward, rarely donning anything stylish—he blended into the background like a ghost. Not a single girl, not even his young and charming language teacher, spared him a glance. Despite his decent performance in language studies, his poetry reeked of cliché and lackluster imagination.
When he learned to navigate the internet and registered on QQ, Aldric discovered a space to express his emotions. He quickly connected with a user named “Momo,” who turned out to be Elena Starlight, then a junior high student aspiring to be a nurse. Their online friendship transformed into a correspondence of shared deeper feelings, and Aldric’s imaginative poetry finally found an audience.
This brought Aldric a sense of pride—he believed that the girls at school were mundane, nowhere near Elena’s taste.
Elena wasn't just Aldric’s confidante; she became his matchmaker.
Throughout their online courtship, Elena grew anxious about Aldric’s romantic shortcomings. She saw him as clueless and foolish. "If you like someone, say it! Go after her. Why are you so hesitant? You look pathetic!”
At one point, she tried to set him up with one of her friends, hoping for a spark, but nothing came of it. As Aldric began his college journey, Elena could no longer hold back, exasperated. “You’re hopeless. Why not let’s just be a couple?”
At that time, Elena was actually seeing someone else, but Aldric was unaware.
“Sure! If you’re willing, I’m all in.”
Fast forward to married life, and Elena often lamented, “God knows how I ended up as your girlfriend in the first place.” Aldric usually chuckled, accepting her complaints without much defense.
After seven years of marriage, Aldric finally grasped his father Benedict Brightmore’s words: “No matter the river, where it begins or ends, it flows for a reason. In the past life, you may have been a rock; in this life, you might still be a rock. If you were water before, this life likely mirrors that too. Stones and rivers—unchanging yet intricately linked—none can articulate nor untangle that mystery.”
Elena would often assert, “Loving you is ordinary; not loving you is my nature. The truth is that the woman I truly love is not you but your mother. And for you? Your heart lies not with me, but with your daughter.”
What does it mean to be a woman, and what defines a man?
Elena's deepest frustration stemmed from her departure from her intrinsic nature, having fallen for a man so unwilling to accept the mundane. He craved distinction yet remained as ordinary as a stone in a bathroom—stinking and hard. And still, she helplessly found herself attending to his uncleaned feet.

Chapter 2

On the summit of Mount Merrow, Snowpeak Summit, a blanket of white snow always covered the ground. Below, a grand river, known as River Fallow, flowed vigorously, tracing its winding path for miles.
It was night, and the full moon hung high in the sky, casting shimmering ripples across the water's surface, each ripple concealing eyes that gazed longingly at the stars. Those eyes belonged to Aldric Moonshadow.
Tears glistened in his eyes as memories flooded back. His father, Benedict Brightmore, had been unsure what to name him when he was born—feeling the weight of expectation and pride. To Benedict, Aldric had been blessed.
The year Aldric was born marked a significant change: the land had been apportioned, and hunger was no longer a worry. Benedict felt a swell of pride greater than his own father, Cyril Windwhisper. Across three generations, Aldric was the only one to escape the hardships of poverty.
Old Lady Margaret, Aldric’s grandmother, often lamented over the lack of education in the family. As she cradled her chubby grandson at the window, gazing at the bright moon, she mused, “Moonlight bright, scholar on horseback, crossing the tranquil lotus pond.”
Aldric's mother whispered beside her, eyes brimming with tears, “What about Aldric Moonshadow?”
“Aldric Moonshadow? That sounds like a girl’s name!” protested Benedict.
“The same day the Bodhisattva was born, with a life filled with brightness and hope, how wonderful would that be?”
Benedict sighed heavily, reluctantly nodding in agreement. According to family tradition, the boy should’ve had an ancestor’s name, but nothing fit. "What about Aldric Ancestor?" he joked. Aldric Moonshadow it was, whether he liked it or not.
Aldric couldn’t argue; he had no voice in the decision back then. From then on, the moonlight and the night would walk ever alongside him. The moon was frosty and distant, while he would remain firmly rooted on the earth. Soon enough, he'd approach the milestone of a life without doubt.
In the light of day, Aldric's reserved father, Edmund Dawnbringer, had a rare quarrel with Aldric’s wife, Elena Starlight. Ever since they had moved from the village to the city, Elena had harbored an inexplicable anger during her pregnancy.
His parents had never been one for niceties. From Aldric’s childhood, they always seemed disheveled, their clothes heavy with the smell of labor. They toiled from dawn until dusk, returning home exhausted, barely scraping by. After washing their feet, they would crash into bed, barely awake for the next day’s grind.
Since turning eight, Aldric had been by their side, cooking and washing without believing the smell was nearly as bad as Elena claimed. In city life, they had become somewhat more refined. But Elena remained dissatisfied.
Though also of rural roots, Elena was different. She had been the pampered child of her family, never having to lift a finger. Old Lady Margaret felt a sense of pride in her children, having shielded them from the hardships Benedict’s family faced.
The conflict between Edmund and Elena ignited over nothing more than a toothbrush—it was a petty argument sparked by Edmund mistaking Aldric's toothbrush for his own.
It was hard to fathom such a trivial issue spinning into an argument. Just swap it out for another; it hardly warranted such fury.
Benedict had always been stubborn, never one to back down, even in his younger years when he faced tough bureaucratic decisions. But as he aged, facing the forceful demeanor of his daughter-in-law was different. Crushing the cigarette butt in his hand, he hung his head, wisps of gray hair contrasting against his weathered face. “Son, let’s just go back to the village for now. We can still manage for a while, while we’re able. Staying here makes it tough for you, for us… and even harder for your wife.”
“Go back? To do what? Just farm some fields? Absolutely not. This is not up for discussion.”

Chapter 3

"A family has to live according to its own way. Your way of living is different from ours."
"Sometimes you just can’t force what isn’t meant to be." They say raising kids is the best insurance for old age. Benedict Brightmore had entertained that thought more than once. Over the years, while his wife helped Lady Beatrice Brightmore care for their granddaughter, he toiled away in another town. Though his time at home was brief, he always felt suffocated by the way things were.
Julian Moonbeam understood his father’s feelings all too well. Having lived as a high-ranking official, he now sought to assert himself within this family. Yet the truth was, as the son, he was hardly in a position to call the shots.
Aldric Moonshadow dismissed the matter with a wave of his hand. "Let's just drop this. Whether you can make it work or not, we’ve got to keep pushing through. If we can make it work, then all the more reason to try."
Julian Moonbeam felt like the filling in a sandwich, caught between his stubborn parents. They saw him struggling and felt pity but were too set in their ways to relent. So they wiped their tears in secret and sought to appease their daughter-in-law quietly.
Elena Starlight was like a firecracker—quick to ignite and just as swift to extinguish. She may have criticized relentlessly, but she still showed respect toward her in-laws. The only problem was that she was particularly discerning.
Her sense of propriety left the older couple bewildered in their own home. Aldric Moonshadow had tried to smooth things over multiple times, but Elena stood her ground. "I worked hard to move to the city; I want to live like a city person. Otherwise, won't our kids start off behind? Are you okay with that? Well, what about them in the future?"
Three generations brought along three different perspectives. None of them were easy to manage.
Every few days, he felt like he was extinguishing fires all around him. But this time, he was truly worn out.
"Why do people even get married in the first place?"
"And once you’re married, why do you feel so resentful about it?"
"Is it really necessary to draw such a clear line between city folks and country folks?" Aldric Moonshadow pondered. When times were tough, no one differentiated households; now that life had improved, why did they still choose to divide? "If we separate, is that still a family?"
People said he was lucky, but he felt anything but. There hadn’t been a single moment when he wasn’t gritting his teeth and trudging through life.
Yet, looking back over the years, he indeed had been lucky—certainly far better off than his father ever was.
He lived in a good era.
Watching the river flow by, he stood on the bank smoking, letting the tears fall. Sometimes he envied the fish swimming freely, able to go wherever they pleased.
But he lacked the courage to dive in. What good would hopping into the water do? It could lead to transformation, but more realistically, it might leave him stuck like a stone. Stubborn and resistant to change, what could possibly give ground for improvement?
Day after day, year after year, life would have to be endured as it was.
Entering middle age without the wisdom that accompanies it.
He suddenly broke into a silly grin, his tears flowing even more freely.
“To hell with it all, what a crazy idea.”
He bent down and picked up a stone, hurling it into the river. As the moonlight shattered upon impact, a cruel smile crossed his face.
Returning from the riverbank beneath the dazzling city lights, the moon elongated his shadow on the ground.
In that instant, he looked at the bustling little town and felt as if he had truly come back to life.
It turned out, he wasn’t alone.
There were so many others like him living in this city.
The story of Aldric Moonshadow and Elena Starlight deserved to be told from two years before he was born.

Chapter 4

In the vast stretches of Sangwood County, deep within the Northern Hills, the promise of spring had not yet brought a shower. Frost lingered on fields of canola and wheat, crackling underfoot. In the expansive valley, fertile farmlands glimmered with dew and sunlight, heralding the renewal of life.
In the innermost part of this valley lay Brightmore Hollow, where the old pear trees stood outside the gray-walled courtyard, their gnarled branches sprouting tender leaves and blossoms. Behind the aging home, the newly cultivated mulberry fields lay bare, their branches still in need of time to grow fresh shoots.
As the lunar calendar turned to February second—Dragon Raising His Head—celebrations erupted in Brightmore Keep.
Benedict Brightmore, the second son of the Brightmore family, had recently fixed a marriage date with Captain Roger Bray’s daughter from the nearby village. Before the sun had even risen, Old Lady Margaret, with her tiny feet wrapped tightly in silks, crunched across the icy frost on her way to rouse the neighbors. She knocked on doors, urging everyone to awaken at dawn, to slaughter pigs, catch chickens, kindle fires, and prepare goods for the day. The village maid, Elsbeth, had been bustling about even earlier in her own home.
Benedict Brightmore was Old Lady Margaret's only son, born to Cyril Windwhisper and his late wife, Lady Maud. After moving from Hubei to Brightmore Hollow, their family had encountered unfortunate fate—decades of carrying on the bloodline with no daughters, nearly leading to extinction. It was only with Cyril’s generation that their luck changed. Cyril, previously the village academy teacher, was widowed less than two years after marrying Margaret when he succumbed to tuberculosis, leaving his wife and their son to rely on each other.
To support their little family, Old Lady Margaret worked as a tenant farmer for one of the village's minor landlords, determined to preserve the last remnants of the Brightmore lineage.
Despite her illiteracy, her foresight set her apart. While others struggled to get by, she arranged for a few chickens to be sent to the village academy’s headmaster to secure an education for Cyril Windwhisper.
When the town square echoed with the proclamation, “The Chinese people have stood up!” she finally found her footing, reclaiming four rooms in a tile-roofed house belonging to a small landlord. Life stabilized from that day onward.
After the founding of the new China, her sacrifices paid off as Cyril thrived—first as the village accountant, then as the village clerk and community director, eventually ascending to the Town Council and securing a government position, finally placing food on the table.
Cyril's first wife, Lady Maud, had been a capable and nurturing woman. Shortly after their marriage, she gave birth to their first son, Edmund Dawnbringer, and soon after, they conceived twins. Yet misfortune struck—she suffered complications during childbirth, leaving her with only a single surviving son, Benedict Brightmore, before she tragically passed.
Old Lady Margaret cherished her daughter-in-law, grateful that the Old Brightmore family could finally thrive with two boys instead of risking a continuation solely on the eldest son. After her death, Margaret grieved intensely, her heart shattered. “What sort of fate is this? Oh, heavens, open your eyes!” she had implored.
In the wake of Lady Maud's passing, Cyril turned his attentions toward his career in village governance, leaving Margaret to tend to her two grandsons. After waiting diligently until Benedict turned eight, Cyril married again, this time to a young school teacher named Rosalind Fairchild. This new bride was even more fruitful, bringing forth another child, Julian Moonbeam, a granddaughter, two more granddaughters, and a pair of twins. However, the fourth child tragically succumbed to illness shortly after birth.
As the family branched out, mealtimes and housing soon became a pressing concern. Rosalind needed to care for her own children, leaving Old Lady Margaret to attend to Edmund and Benedict.

Chapter 5

When Edmund Dawnbringer turned twelve, a devastating drought struck, turning daily meals into a perilous challenge. During this time, families relied on collective dining and labor points for survival. Although Cyril Windwhisper earned a modest income each month, the household suffered from a lack of labor and an abundance of mouths to feed. The meager rations led to a diet of thin broth and unresolved hunger, with the children either too weak to function or appearing persistently undernourished.
As times became harsher, even a single sweet potato had to be shared among multiple people. Clothes passed down from older siblings became tattered and were patched up for the younger ones. Benedict Brightmore, the eldest, always opted to eat last, keenly aware that those who ate first often left scraps for him. Ironically, the poorer they became, the humbler the family appeared. Strangely, the person who ate last often ended up with the most, able to lick the bowl clean or savor the broth. Old Lady Margaret could hardly bear to watch him eat without shedding secret tears. This grandson of hers endured far worse than other children. He never tasted his mother Claire Brightmore's milk; instead, he depended on her carrying him from house to house to beg other nursing mothers for leftovers to survive. His greed alarmed these women, often leaving them in distress before he could be satisfied. In the end, he had to rely on a meager porridge made from corn to grow up strong. Old Lady Margaret felt a deep sense of guilt for him, lamenting that he had never had a proper piece of meat. Whenever she thought of his early years, her anger towards Cyril Windwhisper resurfaced.
After Lady Maud passed away during childbirth, Cyril grew resentful toward this child, neglecting him completely. As he took on more responsibilities at work in town, he became increasingly overwhelmed, barely managing time for the newborns, let alone the child who had already survived.
Providing for the family weighed heavily on Cyril, but it was even more burdensome for Old Lady Margaret. With everyone in the family needing to eat, Cyril focused on his town duties, often away for long stretches inspecting farmlands. The only thing he could do was exchange his entire monthly paycheck for food supplies, which he would bring home. Whether that was enough to satisfy everyone became a concern he had no time to address. The critical task of meal preparation fell into the hands of Rosalind Fairchild and Old Lady Margaret.
Having lived through more fortunate times, Old Lady Margaret tried every trick in the book to gather food from the trees, rivers, or anywhere else she could think of. But, she was no match for the village youth who snatched up any morsel that grew in the hills, leaving her to scavenge for leftovers. Rosalind juggled earning work points and caring for the children, constantly exhausted from her efforts.
Benedict Brightmore had always been mischievous. While others attended literacy classes or elementary school across the river, he often napped instead, barely completing the fifth grade before dropping out. When his brother Edmund married Lady Beatrice Brightmore and started a family, Benedict chose not to compete for food, opting instead to move out with New Mother Helen, leaving Old Lady Margaret behind.
After separating, New Mother Helen stayed with her younger siblings in the main house while Benedict and Old Lady Margaret resided in the cramped kitchen and adjoining rooms of their small, dilapidated home, where leaky roofs and windblown gaps made it hard to see in complete darkness.
Benedict, a restless spirit, was quick-witted despite his poor education. During the family upheaval, Cyril Windwhisper was called away for education and training in a nearby village. When he finally returned, it was too late—his family's fate was sealed, and each was now living independently.
Life became a struggle when Old Lady Margaret aged and grew weaker, while Benedict's earnings hardly made ends meet. To provide enough food, he and some boys from the Council secretly cultivated tobacco along fence edges, starting a small smuggling business.
Waking before dawn and returning late, he trekked for miles to sell their tobacco. Although it was of little worth—barely fetching 20 to 30 cents a pound—it was more reliable than earning work points. Fearing discovery, he exchanged the cash he earned for food stamps to buy a few luxurious items for Old Lady Margaret and his younger siblings.
Upon reaching eighteen, not only did he have to manage household chores, but he also had to help New Mother Helen. Helen, educated but not adept at physical labor, struggled to keep up. Cyril then took advantage of a local cement factory's formation, sending his elder son to work there, allowing the younger siblings to have more support at home.
Even though Cyril begrudged sending his youngest son, he held a private wish to keep him close, torn between resentment from losing his first wife and a longing for family. As the boy matured, Old Lady Margaret attempted to arrange matches for him with maidens, but none found him appealing. Perhaps it was due to his birth complications; the younger son was notably shorter than his siblings, with a darker complexion and a fierce countenance, leaving him intimidating to the villagers, especially the eligible young women who shied away from him.

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