Boarding school did nothing to quell the animosity between father and son. Chen Yi fought at school, skipped classes to go online, gathered crowds to play cards—not a single good deed all day long. The school frequently reported his behavior, made home visits, and summoned his parents. When Chen Libin tried to beat him again, Chen Yi dared to fight back directly, stiffening his neck and jutting his chin, pointing at Chen Libin’s nose and cursing, "Damn you!" His eyes were fierce enough to devour someone. First, he smashed the electric shock device, then faced Chen Libin’s kicks and stomps with his bare hands.
Chen Libin was shoved back by his son, staggering a few steps backward. His face turned ashen, and for a moment, he was both shocked and panicked. But he quickly regained his composure and resorted to tools—a belt or a wooden stick.
He was taller than Chen Yi, sturdier than this lanky kid, and stronger too. It wasn’t yet time for the father to admit defeat.
The most severe incident occurred during Chen Yi’s second year of middle school. Chen Libin made a trip to the school.
Two groups of teenagers had been fighting outside the school. Someone brought a knife and stabbed the other in the abdomen, landing the victim in the intensive care unit. The troublemaker ended up in jail. Chen Yi had also taken part in the brawl, but he knew his limits—he avoided hitting vital areas and even called an ambulance. In the end, he slipped away quickly and managed to distance himself from the mess.
The school intended to expel all the students involved. Fortunately, the protection of nine-year compulsory education and Chen Yi’s kind-hearted homeroom teacher, who lamented the waste of Chen Yi’s intelligence, found a way to keep him in school, though with a major disciplinary record.
That time, Chen Yi was beaten severely. Chen Libin broke a belt whipping him, right in the living room. Both father and son gritted their teeth in silence. Wei Mingzhen was cooking in the kitchen, while Miao Jing stayed in her room, hearing the dull thuds from outside. She closed her eyes and covered her ears.
After the beating, Chen Yi lay on the bed in the living room, the curtains drawn tightly. The three of them ate in the dining room, completely oblivious to his presence.
After the meal, Chen Libin went to the bedroom to play on the computer. Wei Mingzhen filled a bowl with food and placed it by Chen Yi’s bedside. Turning around, she noticed Miao Jing’s quiet eyes fixed intently on the scene. She pointed toward the room, signaling Miao Jing to go in and do her homework.
In the middle of the night, Miao Jing went out to use the bathroom. Passing through the living room, she felt the darkness and time itself sink into a deathly silence. She was so terrified her hair stood on end—afraid he had died and turned into a corpse. But as she drew closer and listened carefully, she heard faint, labored breathing.
Mustering her courage, Miao Jing lifted the curtain. The bowl of food by the bedside remained untouched. Chen Yi lay with his head turned inward, limbs splayed out, flat on the bed like a piece of rotting flesh. Miao Jing tightened her throat, not daring to move, her heart sweating with tension. Slowly, he turned his head. Dried blood stained the corner of his mouth, and in the dim light, his dark, rigid eyes held a fleeting glimmer of tears. He stared at her numbly and fiercely, motionless.
She went to the kitchen and poured a glass of water, carefully bringing it to him. His gaze fixed intently on the cup, his temples twitching slightly. Then, with extreme slowness, he turned on his side, his cracked lips pressing against the rim of the glass. He let out a slow, heavy breath. Miao Jing tilted the cup gently, letting the cool water moisten his lips. He instinctively took small sips, slowly drinking the entire glass.
In the darkness, there was a faint sound—whether from his throat or his stomach, it was impossible to tell.The food by the bedside had long gone cold and hard. Miao Jing groped her way into the kitchen in the dark, found two eggs, turned on the stove, and under the faint blue glow of the flame, nervously steamed a bowl of egg custard. This was a dish her grandmother often made for her when she was sick as a child—smooth, steaming egg custard mixed with a little leftover rice. Carefully holding the bowl, she sat by Chen Yi's bedside, blowing on each spoonful to cool it before feeding it to him.
The two of them hardly spoke, and there was no genuine affection between them—only a child's sympathy and sense of duty.
Chen Yi, half-lidded, opened his mouth to take the spoon, chewing slowly bite by bite. After he finished one mouthful, Miao Jing would feed him another.
In the deep silence of the night, the bowl of food was slowly, very slowly finished, without a single sound.
After the egg custard was eaten, Miao Jing hurried to the kitchen to wash the bowl, then scurried back to her room.
The next day, when she returned from school, Chen Yi was already gone.
He came back occasionally after that, always when Chen Libin was away, to grab a few things. He never used the front door, instead climbing in through the balcony or his room's window. He seemed to have grown taller, his movements more agile, scaling up and down like a parkour athlete, startling Wei Mingzhen and Miao Jing.
That summer, Miao Jing graduated from elementary school and entered the same middle school as Chen Yi. She was in seventh grade, he in ninth. Miao Jing also chose to board at school, distancing herself from that nightmare of a room.
Chapter 5: That's My Sister!
The window latch was broken.
The residential building was a mixed bag of people, with most lower floors equipped with security grilles—except for the Chen family on the second floor. No thief dared to climb into Chen Yi's home.
In his teens, Chen Yi returned home by scaling the building parkour-style—his long arms gripping, his agile body leaping, flipping through the window into the room. Once, during a sudden midnight rainstorm, Miao Jing heard tapping on the window in her sleep. Peering out, she saw a powerful hand gripping the windowsill and a drenched, fierce face looking up at her—she nearly fainted.
If he could climb in, so could others. The latch was broken—either Chen Yi had to stay home as a deterrent, or he had to fix the lock.
The next day, Chen Yi slept until the sun was high before waking. The house was quiet, Miao Jing wasn't home, and bread and milk were left on the dining table. He ate a few bites hastily and headed out.
First, he went to the auto repair shop. The owner and a few employees were hunched over an engine hood and greeted Chen Yi warmly. Dai Mao was washing a car and called out, "Yi Ge!" A second-hand Cadillac was driven out of the garage. Chen Yi's car was an imported model from years ago, originally owned by a local boss involved in shady dealings—Chen Yi had once worked odd jobs for him. Later, the boss got into trouble, and his assets were seized to pay debts. The car changed hands several times before ending up with Chen Yi.
"We replaced the seal and reapplied the adhesive. Take it for a spin, and if it's still not right, we might need to change the transmission."
"Alright." Chen Yi caught the tossed car keys. "Thanks."
The old model had a rugged, muscular look but leaked oil badly. Maintenance and modifications cost a fortune. Since acquiring it, Chen Yi didn't drive it often—sometimes taking it out for meetings to make an impression, other times lending it to friends for the same purpose. When the repair shop owner asked about it, Dai Mao explained.
"Back when Yi Ge was working for someone, he drove this car. He's got a soft spot for it."
Everyone joked, "So it's an old flame! Was this car the Bathhouse special or something?"
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