Love for You

Miao Jing stiffened her neck, refusing to look at him or speak, her wide eyes shimmering with turbulent light.

After a long silence, he spoke again, his voice icy: "What about your mom? Did you find her?"

"She remarried long ago, had a son. They run a fast-food shop—she takes care of the kid and helps in the kitchen. Stays pretty busy."

The cigarette hung silent for a long moment.

"Move into the company dorm," he finally said, lowering his gaze. "Or I'll rent you an apartment."

"No." Miao Jing refused outright.

"You fucking looking for death?" His jaw tightened, cheek muscles bulging along his jawline as he glared at her with unveiled ferocity. He flung the cigarette butt to the floor and snarled, "You think I want to see you?"

She turned her head back, meeting his domineering, predatory stare with calm, clear eyes. Her tone was even: "I told you—no smoking at home. Clean the floor yourself."

Chen Yi flicked his lighter again, lit another cigarette, and perched it insolently at the corner of his mouth. A plume of white smoke billowed toward her. Frowning, Miao Jing stood and stepped closer, a faint, delicate fragrance wafting with her. Her slender fingers snatched the cigarette from his lips, crushed it out on the edge of the coffee table, then confiscated both the pack and lighter, tossing them into the trash. She poured a full pot of lemon water over them, ruining everything, before turning and striding back to her room—all in one fluid motion.

The bedroom door slammed shut with a "bang."

Sitting on the sofa, watching her seamless, practiced routine, he ground his molars, then let out a bitter laugh, exasperated.

"Miao Jing, you’ve got some nerve."

Chapter 4: The Reckless Brat

Children living under someone else’s roof aren’t necessarily rebellious or eager to please, but they inevitably become adept at reading the room.

Life in Tengcheng was far more comfortable than in their old rural town.

The urban elementary school was prettier than the village school, with well-equipped classrooms and kind, approachable teachers. Living with her biological mother gave Miao Jing a bit of confidence. Plus, Tengcheng’s climate was hot—no snow in winter, just a couple of sweaters under her uniform to get through the cold snaps.

For the poor, summer was always easier than winter: fewer expenses on clothing and heating, a simple shelter, plenty of water, and overly salty food sufficed.

Both Miao Jing and Wei Mingzhen liked Tengcheng.

The new family seemed harmonious enough. Chen Libin was gentle and refined, with no bad habits, though he also didn’t involve himself in household matters or child-rearing. After work, he’d sit in front of the computer—browsing the web, gaming, trading stocks, chatting, watching DVDs. In those days, the power bureau was one of the most profitable state-owned enterprises. As a technical staff member with promotion prospects, his salary was high, benefits excellent. Rice, oil, salt, and daily necessities were all provided by his unit. With four in the family and two kids who didn’t cost much beyond food and drink, expenses were minimal, and the family savings seemed ample.

Wei Mingzhen considered herself lucky to have found a reliable, good man. Their relationship had started online, and she held a kind of spiritual admiration for him. That first year, she stayed home as a housewife. At the start of each month, Chen Libin would give her a household allowance—not a large sum, but enough to cover expenses. Wei Mingzhen, in turn, made it clear she wasn’t materialistic, taking excellent care of the home.Of the two children, on the surface, Wei Mingzhen showed more favoritism toward Chen Yi—treating him kindly and attentively. Yet Chen Yi remained aloof, his eyelids lifting and falling with a cold, sidelong glare. Even at a young age, his expression was fierce and hostile, earning Wei Mingzhen’s deep disdain. In private, however, Miao Jing received better treatment—the kind that was kept hidden. For instance, when a chicken had two drumsticks, one would go to Chen Libin and the other to Chen Yi, but Miao Jing was always the first to taste the meat.

As time passed, Miao Jing learned a phrase: "duplicity."

No one at home paid much attention to Chen Yi, and the neighbors often remarked that he was headed down the wrong path—destined to become a troublemaker. He was wild by nature, returning home only at fixed times for meals and sleep, spending the rest of his days outside. Near their neighborhood stood a garbage dump and a small park, which served as Chen Yi’s territory. There, he excelled at marbles, card-flipping, mock battles, spinning tops, and brawling—reigning as the local bully among his peers. Though Miao Jing attended the same school as Chen Yi, they never walked together or spoke. If they happened to be near each other outside, he would coldly order her to leave and keep her distance.

At home—whenever they shared the bedroom—Miao Jing endured hardship. She often had no idea what provoked him: a sudden punch to her back, a pencil jabbed into her arm, or malicious pranks like dragging away her chair or tearing up her homework. These torments left her in constant distress. Both children were quiet by nature, but Miao Jing seemed more timid. Chen Yi would threaten her fiercely, warning that if she ever told the adults, he would beat her to death.

The second bedroom had no air conditioning, and throughout the summer, Chen Yi monopolized the electric fan. Miao Jing’s bed was by the window, baked by the morning sun, leaving her tossing and turning at night from the heat, unable to sleep. Sometimes, she would glance at Chen Yi, sound asleep in his vest and shorts, looking deceptively innocent—a little devil in disguise.

She never reported him to Wei Mingzhen or Chen Libin because Chen Yi also faced beatings—from Chen Libin.

In those days, gentle parenting was not the norm; mischievous children were often disciplined, their wails echoing through the neighborhood. Yet no such sounds ever came from the Chen household.

Chen Libin never bothered with reasoning or lecturing Chen Yi. Miao Jing witnessed it for the first time: Chen Yi returned from playing outside at mealtime, bowl in hand, dragging a chair with a screech. Chen Libin frowned slightly and abruptly kicked him in the stomach, sending him crashing into the corner with a dull thud, like a muffled firecracker. Hunched in the corner, head bowed and lips tight, Chen Yi said nothing as Chen Libin calmly walked over, delivered two more kicks from above, and then sat down to drink and eat as if nothing had happened. Silently, Chen Yi picked himself up, retrieved his chopsticks from the floor, and shoveled food into his mouth with fierce determination.

These beatings always came without warning—like swatting a passing fly—without cause or explanation. Or perhaps there was a reason, but Chen Libin couldn’t be bothered to voice it: a neighbor’s complaint, a visitor’s grievance, or a phone call from a teacher.

It didn’t happen every day; sometimes weeks would pass peacefully. But periodically, the violence would recur. Chen Libin never struck Chen Yi’s face, usually opting to kick wherever was convenient—the stomach, back, or thighs. Miao Jing had seen bruises in those very places on Chen Yi’s body.