Early on the second day of the Lunar New Year, Li Juan took some money and rode her bike with me to a small seaside village in the suburbs. Every household had two- or three-story buildings, some in Chinese style, some in European style, and others a mix of both. They all looked like they had been built within the last ten years, and every house was adorned with red lanterns, some with several. The couplets on the doors conveyed an atmosphere of joy and celebration. The streets in front of the houses were covered with red firecracker debris. Clearly, the sound of firecrackers had lasted through the night on New Year's Eve and the first day of the year.
Yet, at that moment, the village was eerily quiet.
I asked, "How could there be TVs for sale here?"
Juan said, "Don't ask too many questions. Just trust that we can buy them."
As we were talking, an old man came out of his house, leading a small dog.
Li Juan pulled me forward and politely explained our purpose.
The old man looked us up and down and said, "On the second day of the New Year, you two girls seem quite sincere."
Li Juan sweetly said, "Please help us out, sir. We really want to watch TV today!"
"Well... come into my house first."
We followed him into his courtyard.
The old man called into the house, "Grandma, bring out the basket."
An old woman came out of the house in response, carrying a large basket, followed by a boy wearing a tiger hat, pedaling a small tricycle around the courtyard, causing the little dog to chase after him, dragging its leash.
The basket was filled with colorful electronic watches of various styles, along with a few calculators.
Juan said, "Sir, we're not here to buy these things..."
The old man said, "Buy them, buy them. After you buy them, I'll take you to my nephew's house. He still has a few TVs left. Most other families in the village have sold out. Several groups of people from inland came before the Spring Festival and bought them all up in a frenzy."
The old woman also said, "On the second day of the New Year, since you've already come into our courtyard, you should at least give us old folks some joy, right? We've been checked several times; next time, we won't even have these things."
Only then did I realize that Juan had brought me to buy "smuggled goods." Since things had come to this, I could only go along with it.
The old man persuaded, "You two shouldn't let me be an introducer for nothing, right? Look how beautiful these watches are—there are men's, women's, and children's styles. We're not selling them individually; for a hundred yuan, you can grab a handful, and whatever you grab without dropping counts. That's it; once they're gone, they're gone..."
Li Juan had big hands. She was clearly tempted but didn't want to decide on her own, so she just looked at me.
I nodded slightly.
So Juan rolled up her sleeves, spread her fingers, and grabbed down like an eagle catching a rabbit!
That grab was truly a big haul, probably picking up fifteen or sixteen watches.
I quickly caught them with the hem of my clothes.
After catching the second handful, greed had already taken hold, and I even encouraged her loudly, "Great! Another handful!"
But the old woman stepped back in time, her face flushed, and said, "No more, no more. We can't sell all the cheap goods to you two. I've never seen a girl with such big hands!"
The old man also forced a smile and said, "You two got such a good deal with those two handfuls, right? You came to the right courtyard!"
Juan paid two hundred yuan, and the old man found a bag to help us pack the watches. Then he took us to his nephew's house.
His nephew led Li Juan and me into a dilapidated shed behind the building. It looked like it had once been a pigsty but hadn't housed pigs for some time. It was quite clean, with wooden planks laid on the ground. He lifted a large piece of canvas and moved aside the straw bundles underneath, revealing several cardboard boxes of varying sizes.The man pointed to the smallest cardboard box and said to the two of us, "Only you two are looking, and since it’s meant to be placed on a bunk bed, this one is the most suitable."
He removed the packaging, opened the cardboard box, and carefully lifted out a red, upright, fourteen-inch television.
I asked, "Is it color?"
He replied, "Around here, even if you wanted a black-and-white one, you couldn’t find it. Foreign manufacturers stopped producing black-and-white TVs long ago. I’ve never seen one this big before—probably meant for a child’s room. We’re planning to quit this business soon. Life is getting better, and we need to know when to stop, when to advance and when to retreat. Some trades can’t be kept up forever. To be honest, fourteen-inch TVs aren’t easy to sell. If you two are serious about buying it, you can have it for five hundred yuan!"
Li Juan and I immediately took a liking to the television and were quite satisfied with the price.
But how to get it back home stumped us—of course, carrying it on a bicycle wasn’t an issue, but that would mean one of us would have to walk back, which was definitely not an option. There was no bus service there yet, and on the second day of the Lunar New Year, no taxis would be cruising around either.
The old man and his nephew were also anxious for us, saying they’d be willing to give us a ride if they had a car, but they weren’t wealthy enough to own one yet.
Suddenly, Li Juan remembered Zhang Jiagui. She reached into her pocket and, to her surprise, pulled out his business card.
She asked the man if his house had a telephone.
The man said yes, adding that every household in the village had a phone, and some even had mobile phones. "When you have money, keeping up with the times is no problem at all."
So Li Juan borrowed his phone and tried dialing Zhang Jiagui’s mobile number. To her surprise, it connected on the first try. Li Juan tactfully explained our situation and the name of the village. Zhang Jiagui told us not to worry and to wait patiently there.
"He said he knows this place and has been here before. His phone is a Nokia or something—small, with a flip cover. Look at my memory, I can’t recall it right now…"
With the problem solved, Li Juan immediately relaxed and returned with the old man to his house to buy a calculator.
Juan said, "Abacuses are outdated, and without a calculator, we’d be overwhelmed once we have more customers!"
I replied, "Whatever you say."
Only after speaking did I realize that, without noticing, "Whatever you say" had almost become my catchphrase when talking to Li Juan.
After buying the calculator, Juan took me on a bicycle ride along the seaside. We returned to the village when we estimated Zhang Jiagui was about to arrive. After drinking some tea offered by the host, Zhang Jiagui’s car arrived exactly as promised.
On the way home, Zhang Jiagui initiated a conversation with me. Since he had done us a big favor, I naturally answered all his questions.
"You also have the surname Fang. There’s a well-known person in Yuxian County named Fang Jingyu. I wonder if you have any connection to her?"
Although I was quite cautious around him, his direct question still caught me off guard.
Li Juan quickly spoke up for me, "Her family later moved to Linjiang City. She has no connection at all to the Ms. Fang you mentioned."
Zhang Jiagui said, "There are quite a few stories about Ms. Fang at Shenxianding. She often went there to practice medicine. I heard she passed away, and the people of Shenxianding still remember her fondly. Actually, she was somewhat related to a family with the surname He…"
Li Juan hurriedly changed the subject, asking about other things instead. I, on the other hand, didn’t feel like saying another word.Juan had thought of everything—she had installed a power strip on the loft bed. Zhang Jiagui carried the TV up for us, adjusted it until the picture came through, and only then came down, already sweating profusely.
Juan handed him a towel. As he wiped his sweat, he said, "The location of your little supermarket is quite ideal. Run it well—you definitely won't get rich from it, but it'll absolutely be enough to sustain your lives... Still haven't installed air conditioning?"
Juan said, "We'll earn a bit more money, and that's the next step."
Zhang Jiagui added, "I didn't see any telephone wires outside, and I didn't see a phone inside either."
I said, "We'll get it installed right after the Spring Festival."
Zhang Jiagui said, "So you didn't have one before either. How about this—in my garage, I have some semi-new, semi-old air conditioners and landline phones. They were all discarded by related units during renovations—some were given for free, some were bought at a discount. After the holiday, I'll have someone bring them over for you and install them. It's not good to go without, but there's no need to buy new ones either. Save that money for other uses."
Juan and I were overjoyed and repeatedly said, "Thank you."
As Zhang Jiagui turned to leave, Juan whispered to me, so I invited him to stay for lunch. He declined, saying he had other matters to attend to and no time, and that he would treat us both in the future.
After seeing Zhang Jiagui off, Juan said, "So, what do you think? He's not a bad person, right?"
I said, "If he weren't from Shenxianding, he'd be someone worth getting to know deeply."
Juan looked at me, opened her mouth as if to say something, but then stopped herself.
With the TV, we became like a pair of lazy bugs—eating, sleeping, and when we weren't eating or sleeping, we'd sit together watching TV endlessly, both of us gaining weight to varying degrees.
Right after the Spring Festival, Zhang Jiagui sent someone to deliver two air conditioners—one floor-standing and one wall-mounted. They saved us over ten thousand yuan.
The landline phone was also brought along, but the telephone line needed to be installed by the telephone company. Juan said this was simple and she would handle it, sighing with emotion, "With a noble person's help, once life starts turning for the better, it becomes so smooth you can't even stop it."
I felt the same way.
I hoped I would also have the chance to become a noble person in someone else's life.
When I shared this thought with Juan, she teased me, "How come you're starting to get superstitious like me? Actually, what's all this about noble people? It's just people who get along helping each other out."
After the Lantern Festival, the phone line was connected. The first call Juan made was to the innkeeper to ask how "Little Friend" was doing. He told us to come pick up "Little Friend" quickly, saying it missed us terribly, and if we didn't fetch it soon, it might even get depressed. After Juan relayed his words to me, I immediately rode my bicycle to pick it up. Along with "Little Friend," I also brought back two letters for me.
The first letter was from my second sister's daughter, Zhao Jun, who was working in another city—the letter was sent from there. In her letter, she criticized her parents for not caring at all about her younger brother Zhao Kai's studies. Zhao Kai was already in high school and living on campus, yet her parents had never once attended a parent-teacher meeting for their son. She particularly criticized her mother, my second sister—because my second sister stayed at home but failed to take responsibility for the family or her son, instead indulging in gambling gatherings at home.
Zhao Jun said she had advised her mother many times, either in person or through letters, but her mother simply ignored her, so she asked me, her aunt, to help persuade her, hoping it might have some effect.
How much this letter ruined my good mood goes without saying.
Originally, I had a decent impression of my second sister, but that letter completely overturned my view of her.The second letter was from Zhao Kai—he said he planned to drop out of school and come to Shenzhen to seek refuge with me, starting his working life earlier...
Li Juan asked with concern, "Why has your mood suddenly turned so bad?"
I said, "Look."
She took the letter and read it, remaining silent for a long while before saying, "Every family has its own troubles. It's normal for your nephew and niece to confide in you."
I said, "How should I reply to such a letter?"
Juan said, "Even if it's difficult, you still have to reply, right?"
I said, "Why did heaven burden me with such a Second Sister and such a Brother-in-law?"—compared to Second Sister, Eldest Sister was actually better; unfortunately, she was already mentally ill.
Juan said, "What kind of parents or siblings you end up with is fate, and when it's fate, you have to accept it. Fate can be changed, but hating it is meaningless."
Actually, I hadn't finished reading Zhao Kai's letter. I never expected that, upon reading it, I would be shocked and terrified:
Auntie, I call you auntie because you truly are my auntie, and my biological auntie at that. If we didn’t have this relationship, I wouldn’t bother writing to you and adding to your worries. Right now, aside from turning to you for help, I don’t know who else can save me. If you don’t come back soon and take me away, I absolutely don’t want to live anymore! SOS! SOS!...
Juan went to attend to a customer, while I silently picked up "Little Friend" and climbed onto the bunk bed. I didn’t come down until the supermarket closed.
I remembered what Juan had said: "Once a person’s fate starts to improve, it often goes so smoothly that nothing can stop it." My fate had only just begun to improve a few days ago!
When Juan sat down beside me, though I didn’t cry out loud, tears streamed down my face.
Juan asked, "What do you plan to do? It seems just replying with a letter isn’t enough. If something happens, it’ll be too late for regrets."
I said, "I don’t know."
Juan said, "I called the airport. Guizhou suddenly had a temperature drop with rain and snow, so flights from Shenzhen to Guizhou have been suspended."
"I’m not going back! I can’t leave you alone to bear the burden! When they abandoned me back then, didn’t she know? Her surname is Zhao, mine is Fang! If he doesn’t want to live anymore, why doesn’t he tell his parents? If he wants to die, let him die—what does it have to do with me, Fang Wanzhi?!"
I shouted.
After a moment of solemn silence, Juan said softly, "I also called the train station. There are still tickets for tomorrow, but not many left..."
I burst into tears.
"Then I’ll go to the station. You shouldn’t stay on the bunk bed either. Lock the door as soon as I leave."
Juan quickly climbed down from the bunk bed.
I hugged "Little Friend" tightly in my arms...
Li Juan bought me a sleeper ticket. Unexpectedly, I ran into Gao Xiang on the train.
We were in the same carriage but not the same compartment. Aside from my friend Li Juan, the only people I knew in Shenzhen were Gao Xiang, Director Li, and Zhang Jiagui, whom I had met not long ago. I didn’t want to run into any of these three on the train. The last person I wanted to meet was Zhang Jiagui, followed by Gao Xiang. But as luck would have it, I ran into him anyway. I could only pretend to be happy, even though I truly wasn’t.
After the train started moving, he sat with me in the aisle seats and chatted, asking where I was going. I said I was returning to Yu County to visit my father. To Gao Xiang and Director Li, I had once said that both my parents were middle school teachers, and they believed it.
Gao Xiang said that he and a few friends had helped build a Hope Primary School in a mountainous area of Guizhou, and it was about to open. They were heading there separately to attend the opening ceremony.After chatting for a while, I found an excuse to return to my own compartment. Once I lay down, I didn't go out again, and he didn't come looking for me either. About two hours later, as it grew dark, I drifted into a heavy sleep.
I had a dream—I dreamed of my nephew Zhao Kai. His face was deathly pale, his lips bloodless and black.
He said to me, "You are my aunt, that's an ironclad fact, something you absolutely cannot deny. You acted too slowly; I'm already in another world. I know you didn't want a sister like my mother, nor a nephew like me. I understand that. Sorry for disturbing you..."
He bowed deeply, and as he straightened up, he turned into a wisp of blue smoke.
I woke with a start, drenched in cold sweat, and couldn't help feeling the train was moving too slowly.
A little after ten in the morning, the train arrived in Guiyang.
On the platform, Gao Xiang asked if I needed any help.
I declined, saying someone was picking me up.
He believed me again, and seeing I only had a small bag slung over my shoulder, he parted ways with me on the platform.
The scene outside the station astonished me—the square was packed with people like sardines in a can. Usually, people would quickly take taxis or "black cabs" to various parts of the city and surrounding counties, towns, and villages. But now, due to the terrible weather and slippery roads, almost no vehicles were taking passengers. Occasionally, a driver still willing to hit the road would be immediately surrounded by people desperate to leave, as if being mobbed.
Anxiously, I shouted repeatedly, "Is anyone going to Immortal Peak? I have urgent business at Immortal Peak! Any driver willing to take me to that township, please! I'm willing to pay a high price! Immortal Peak! High price!..."
I shouted several times, but no one paid me any attention.
I was almost in tears from desperation when suddenly I heard someone call my name. Turning around, I saw Gao Xiang pulling a rolling suitcase. He said he was also having trouble finding a taxi and had heard my shouts.
The moment I saw him, tears began to flow uncontrollably.
Perhaps it was because I desperately wanted to see a familiar face.
"Don't worry. My business isn't urgent whether it's a day earlier or later. Let's find a place to discuss how to handle your situation."
After we sat down in a small café, I told him I needed to rush to the township middle school for a parent-teacher meeting for my nephew, scheduled for three in the afternoon.
"I see. If things go smoothly, you should make it in time. Are you brave enough to ride on the back of a motorcycle?"
My words would obviously raise many questions, but he didn't ask too much, getting straight to the point.
This matter concerned my nephew's life or death. Even if Zhao Kai weren't my nephew but just an unrelated teenager, last night's dream had made me realize the seriousness of the situation and the urgency of time. I wished I could sprout wings.
Without hesitation, I said, "Yes! I used to ride on the back of motorcycles driven by male classmates all the time."
He smiled and said, "Then don't worry. I guarantee you'll make it to the parent-teacher meeting on time."
He asked me to wait patiently for a while, then got up and went to a place with a telephone to make a call. When he returned and sat down beside me, he told me the problem was solved, and I could be on my way in just over ten minutes. With that, he took two magazines from the rack, handing one to me and keeping one for himself.
After we finished our coffee, he asked me to follow him. We walked to an overpass, where a man around his age was already waiting. The man wore a helmet and held another in his hand, standing beside a relatively new, large motorcycle. It wasn't electric but had a fuel tank, and it looked imported.
Gao Xiang introduced the man as also a photographer, a friend of his."My profession has given me good friends in almost every corner of the country."
As he said this, his face radiated a deep sense of fulfillment in life.
His friend didn't say a word, just smiled and handed him a helmet. He took it and carefully placed it on my head. Meanwhile, his friend removed his own helmet and meticulously helped him put it on.
Without a word, he steadied the motorcycle and swung his leg over.
I asked in surprise, "You're taking me with you?"
Gao Xiang remained silent, only nodding once.
His friend laughed and said, "Don't worry, he's an expert! He's ridden motorcycles to Xinjiang, Tibet, and Qinghai. Otherwise, I wouldn't have lent him my precious bike."
With that, he pulled down my visor for me.
Only then did Gao Xiang speak: "Taking you on this trip is a piece of cake for me—I actually wish it were more challenging. Hold on tight, we're setting off."
And so, for my sake, he left his suitcase with his friend and rode off on the man's "beloved ride."
Despite being a skilled motorcyclist, the poor road conditions forced him to keep his speed low and drive with great caution.
Midway, he pulled the motorcycle over to the roadside and stopped for a while. As I stretched my limbs, he walked toward a few old trees farther down the road.
I understood what he intended to do and called out to his retreating figure, "No need to go so far! I'll just turn around!"
He shouted back, "That wouldn't be proper!"
When he returned, he rummaged through the toolbox and pulled out a safety belt.
Before letting me sit behind him again, he fastened the belt around both our waists. That way, I wouldn't have to keep my arms wrapped around him until they went numb, and it would be safer too.
Not long after we set off again, it began to rain. The downpour grew heavier and heavier, making it impossible to continue.
He had no choice but to pull over by the roadside. Pointing at a tree, he started to speak, but I misunderstood his meaning and immediately made a dash for it.
He grabbed me and shouted, "Don't go there! We're already at a high elevation—if there's lightning, it's dangerous." Then, looking at the mountainside, he added, "And don't take shelter there either—rocks might come rolling down. Sit behind me."
He sat down right where he was, crossed his legs, and closed his eyes.
I obediently did the same and called out, "Are you meditating?"
He replied, "Yes, I learned this from a lama friend in Tibet. Sitting here is the safest option. You might as well close your eyes too—this kind of experience should be felt with the heart."
So I closed my eyes.
To our left were mountains, to our right a valley. Rain poured from the sky like a waterfall, water flowed beneath us like a stream, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Suddenly, hail began to fall, clattering incessantly against our helmets. With my eyes closed, I reached out and felt a few hailstones—they seemed as large as fingernails.
In that moment, I suddenly felt as though I had vanished—not completely, but as if I were both present and absent, existing and yet not existing.
The question "Who am I?" emerged in my mind, repeating over and over. It felt like both a self-inquiry and a voice from the heavens echoing back: "Who are you?"
I couldn't help but think of the word "destiny."
About half an hour later, we were back on the motorcycle. By then, the dark clouds had dispersed, the sky had cleared, and the sun had emerged—washed clean by the rain, glowing with a fresh, vibrant red.The section of road near the village was difficult to pass, as it was under construction, full of potholes and occasional sand and gravel piles, with the deepest puddles nearly a foot deep. Gao Xiang cherished his friend's motorcycle and refused to push it through the water. Instead, he steered the bike into a cornfield by the roadside to bypass the obstacles. It was unclear who had planted the corn there—only the ears had been harvested, leaving the stalks to wither. My clothes and pants were already soaked enough to wring out water, so I didn’t even bother rolling up my pant legs and simply waded straight through the puddles.
As per my request, Gao Xiang drove me all the way to the edge of the sports field at Township No. 1 Middle School.
As he rode away on his motorcycle, I asked myself—Fang Wanzhi, does he now count as a benefactor in your life?
The sports field was also dotted with puddles of water. A few shirtless boys wearing only shorts were playing football, splashing water everywhere with each kick.
On the second-floor outdoor corridor of a building stood a row of students, both boys and girls, all watching and occasionally cheering.
I shouted at them, "Tell Zhao Kai his aunt is here!"
So they shouted in unison, "Zhao Kai, Zhao Kai! Your aunt is here to see you!"
The shouts caught the attention of the boys playing football. Coincidentally, the ball rolled toward me.
I kicked it hard, steady and accurate, sending the football flying high and far, as if I had kicked my "fate" with all my might.
My "Mayor Father" loved watching football matches. Influenced by him, from high school to university, I loved playing football just like the boys and even served as a center forward.
The shirtless boys didn’t look up at the ball but stared at me instead. One of them even gave me a thumbs-up.
I was still wearing my helmet, with the visor down. I must have looked like a woman who had just escaped a mudslide.
One of the boys asked me, "Are you really Zhao Kai’s aunt?"
I pretended not to hear and ignored him.
A boy was walking toward the field, looking around. I recognized him as Zhao Kai and raised my arm. He slowly walked toward me.
My anxious heart finally settled.
Thank goodness, my nephew was still alive!
Well, even if I had come specifically to attend the parent-teacher meeting for him, who could blame me? After all, his mother was my second sister, he was my nephew, and I was his aunt! The closer the boy got to me, the smaller and slower his steps became.
I couldn’t help but yell at him, "Hurry up!"
He quickened his pace and stopped three steps away from me, refusing to come any closer.
I wanted to say, "Your aunt is here to attend the parent-teacher meeting for you"—but I didn’t want to say it, feeling that the whole situation was utterly unreasonable! He had parents, and I wasn’t his guardian!
I intended to say only three words, "I’m here," but then I noticed the black mourning band on his arm and froze, unable to utter even those three words.
It was February, after all. From my shoes and socks to my pants and clothes, everything I wore was wet, covered in mud stains, and I was so cold that my whole body felt stiff.
Zhao Kai, with the black band on his arm, stared at me blankly, looking distressed and unsure, as if I weren’t a real person or the savior he had called for.
I shuddered violently—I wasn’t sure whether it was from the cold or the sight of the black band.
My nephew finally rushed toward me, hugging me tightly and burying his face against my chest.
"Auntie..."
I heard him call me softly.
Even if he weren’t my actual nephew, if a boy with a black mourning band on his arm hugged me so tightly—what else could I do but hug him back?
That’s what I did.
"Who is it for?"
I could hardly believe those words came from my mouth, as my tone had become so gentle.My first thought was that my biological father had died. This speculation did not bring me grief, but it did stir a deep regret, because there were questions I had wanted to ask him and words I had wanted to say to him that I never got the chance to.
Unexpectedly, the boy said, "My dad..."
He began to cry.
So it wasn’t my dad who had died—it was his.
Not only did I feel no grief, I didn’t even have a trace of regret. Because I had no impression of that man who was his father—I had only stood outside their courtyard, separated by the meat-chopping block set up in their yard and the window of their newly built house, and caught a glimpse of his father sitting inside with a cigarette in his mouth. And at that moment, his father had glanced at me too—that was all.
But after all, the one who had died was the biological father of this boy who was holding me tightly—I couldn’t help but stroke his head—he was, after all, the son of the deceased.
Suddenly, a male student ran over, handed me a note, then stepped back a few paces and stood there, studying Zhao Kai and me with a gaze that seemed to find our relationship particularly suspicious.
Only then did I notice that several shirtless boys had stopped playing soccer and were standing motionless in different parts of the field, watching us. The students on the second-floor corridor were also standing still, watching us.
I, this aunt of Zhao Kai who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, had come to the school to see him and had shared an intimate, almost post-disaster reunion with him on the field—this fact was witnessed by the students of Township No. 1 Middle School—and the collective witnessing itself became an ironclad reality.
At that moment, time seemed to freeze.
The note was from Gao Xiang—he said he had to attend to his own matters, and he estimated I would have to stay in the township overnight, so he had reserved a room for me at the guesthouse, with the fee already paid.
I asked Zhao Kai to accompany me to buy clothes.
On the way, I asked him how his father had died.
The boy remained tight-lipped, only saying, "You should ask my mom, or my grandpa." As he spoke, he seemed on the verge of tears again.
As for the things I had advised him, he accepted them sincerely and showed great obedience.
He said that the parent-teacher meeting had indeed been scheduled for this afternoon (I hadn’t expected my lie to Gao Xiang to align so closely with reality, which eased much of my guilt toward him). Due to the weather, some parents couldn’t make it, and some students couldn’t return to school on time, so it had been postponed to the same time two days later.
I said, "Then I’ll go back to Shenxianding tomorrow..."
I wanted to add, "to see your mom and your grandpa."
But I didn’t think it would be a pleasant reunion, so I left the second part unsaid.
He asked, "Aunt, will you really attend the parent-teacher meeting for me?"
I said, "I promise."
"Aunt, you’ve had a long day. Rest early..."
In front of the guesthouse, my nephew handed me the clothes and medicine he had been carrying for me, then turned and ran off. He ran quite fast, with a posture that resembled an athlete’s. This was likely something to be grateful to my biological father for—he was tall. All three of his daughters, including me, had long legs. Zhao Jun and Zhao Kai were the same—long legs were a good gene he had passed down to his descendants.After showering, changing clothes, and taking the cold medicine before lying in bed, my heart was filled with gratitude toward Gao Xiang. Not only had he endured more hardship than I did by driving me here, but he had also considered everything so thoughtfully for me. The guesthouse was already fully occupied at that time—either by parents sending their children back to school who couldn’t return home due to the weather, or by people attending the market or petitioners. If he hadn’t booked a room for me in advance, where would I be now?
This reminded me of a slogan about family planning: "One child is best." Back then, farmers resented this slogan the most, as its flaws were glaringly obvious! Growing up as an only child is so dull—I know this from personal experience. Besides, what if the child dies young? What if they die young and you can’t have another? At the very least, it should be changed to "Two children are best," preferably one boy and one girl.
Similarly, benefactors are also best in pairs, preferably one male and one female. Male benefactors have their merits, and female benefactors have theirs. Each has its own goodness, and together they bring even greater blessings.
This thought made me feel once again that I am actually a happy and fortunate person—happy before 2002, and fortunate after 2002.
As for my adoptive father and adoptive mother, they are not my benefactors. Their importance in my life cannot be encompassed by the term "benefactor." They reshaped me, served as mentors in my life, and transformed my character. Otherwise, I would never have appeared before Zhao Kai that day, nor would I have helped Yang Hui fulfill his dream of joining the military. In this world, especially in rural areas, it’s not uncommon for siblings born of the same parents to become enemies over trivial conflicts of interest—even something as fundamental as caring for aging parents can become a trigger for turning against each other. I’ve learned much about this since 2002.
I couldn’t help but ask myself—why did I treat Zhao Kai and Yang Hui differently?
Was it because Yang Hui played with me once when we were young? Because he said something mature when he saw me off from Shenxianding? Because he was a handsome boy who excelled in his studies and wrote beautifully? Because I sympathized with his mother, my eldest sister’s fate? Because his desire to join the military was a noble aspiration?...
I admit that all of the above reasons made helping him feel less awkward.
But the main reason was—helping Yang Hui came first, and Zhao Kai’s matter came later. If all my rural relatives repeatedly sought my help, what would become of my life?
Don’t I also need family affection?
But I’ve only just become able to support myself—how could I bear so many familial responsibilities!
Lost in these wandering thoughts, I eventually sank into the mire of heavy contemplation. Fortunately, the medicine took effect, and I gradually drifted off to sleep...
Shenxianding had taken on a new look.
After a year and a half, the roads up and down the mountain had been fully repaired. Some farmers had bought minivans and started transportation services between Shenxianding and the township, even reaching the county town. They carried both passengers and goods, and business was quite busy—earning them no less than working away from home. This also made travel more convenient for the people of Shenxianding. Going to the county town had become as simple as stepping out the door, as routine as daily life.
Every household had built new houses and courtyards, some even two-story buildings.The village was now clean, with a small square paved with square bricks—several women with children sat on small stools chatting, all of whom looked like peasant women who had become grandmothers or maternal grandmothers at an early age. A few children were playing with toys, toys their parents had never seen in their own childhoods.
I arrived at Shenxianding in a minivan driven by a farmer. Perhaps because he took me for an outsider, he kept striking up conversations with me along the way, seemingly feeling honored that his vehicle could carry someone from Shenzhen.
"Shenzhen, I've heard of it. It started as a small fishing village too, right? In a few years, our township will become a town, and in a few more years, maybe we'll even surpass Shenzhen."
Everyone in the van laughed at his boastfulness, saying only places "circled" by the central government would develop quickly.
But he said, "Isn't our county a key poverty alleviation county in the province? We're registered at the provincial level, so aren't we also registered at the central level? Doesn't that mean the central government has 'circled' us too?"
Whether it was the farmer driver or the farmers and peasant women in the van, they were all different from the local farmers and peasant women I had seen before. They were more talkative and cheerful, and their faces bore a certain liveliness.
I saw the same kind of liveliness on the faces of the peasant women and children in the small square—something I had never seen during my two previous visits to Shenxianding. Back then, the faces of adults and children in Shenxianding were generally dull and expressionless, a result of long-term isolation from the outside world.
As I hesitated over whose house to visit first, a man with a basket on his back stood before me.
He asked, "You look familiar... Are you... Zhao Kai's younger sister-in-law?"
I nodded.
"Oh, oh, don't you recognize me? I never expected you to come back! I'm your Eldest Sister's Husband. Come with me to my house—you must go to my place first!..."
If he hadn't said so, I truly wouldn't have known who he was.
He stepped forward and grabbed my arm, holding on tightly as he walked, chattering nonstop. He said the Linjiang municipal government had submitted a report to the province, requesting that villages like Shenxianding—extremely poor and with little land—be exempted from the obligation to hand over public grain. They wanted to allow farmers in such villages to no longer grow grain on their limited land but to plant whatever they liked, whatever they thought would bring in more money, and to be exempt from land taxes on whatever they grew. The province had already approved it. Linjiang City had sent tea experts to Shenxianding several times, and the farmers there had all switched from growing grain to growing tea. Every evening, the township's tea factory would send trucks up the mountain to collect tea, paying on the spot without issuing IOUs...
My eldest sister's family had built a two-story house, and both the front and back yards were quite clean.
When Eldest Sister's Husband and I entered the yard, my eldest sister was washing clothes in the courtyard.
After several days of bad weather, that day was sunny and breezy, perfect for washing clothes.
Eldest Sister's Husband said, "Look who's here?"
My eldest sister slowly stood up, shook the soap suds from her hands, looked me up and down, and turned to ask her husband, "Who?"
Eldest Sister's Husband chuckled and said, "Your younger sister, of course."
Blood ties are truly an inexplicable force. Although I had never called that man "Brother-in-law," psychologically, I had already begun to accept the fact that he was my Eldest Sister's Husband, because there was no doubt that Xiao Qin was indeed my eldest sister—my state of mind at the time was somewhat like that of a cancer patient, instinctively refusing to accept the reality at first but ultimately having to resign myself to it in the face of a series of test results.He Xiaoqin—no, my eldest sister—stared fixedly at me, taking small steps toward me.
I wanted to retreat—I had never been close to someone mentally unstable; it was an instinctive reaction.
But my eldest sister’s husband pushed me from behind, and I stumbled forward uncontrollably, ending up face-to-face with my eldest sister.
In my moment of confusion, my eldest sister embraced me, just as Zhao Kai had embraced me. Strictly speaking, it couldn’t really be called an embrace—perhaps because her hands were wet, she merely held me with her arms; at the same time, her chin rested on my shoulder. Although her way of holding me differed from Zhao Kai’s, as two people related to me by blood, they had both, in fact, made extremely intimate contact with me.
Facts are indeed powerful.
Once a fact becomes a fact, people often find themselves led by it, whether they are rational or emotional.
My eldest sister whispered, “Fang Wanzhi, thank you.”
Her words left me utterly bewildered.
I had entered her courtyard and allowed her to treat me that way, which was enough to prove that I acknowledged her as my eldest sister. Yet she didn’t call me “little sister” but instead addressed me as “Fang Wanzhi”—how strange!
But my eldest sister’s husband whispered to me, “This is her speaking clearly. When she’s not clear-minded, she wouldn’t say such things.”
I found my brother-in-law’s words even more baffling.
He then said to my eldest sister, “Alright, a hug is enough to convey the sentiment.”
When my eldest sister released me, my brother-in-law took off my backpack—the backpack was also something I had bought in the township.
He asked, “What’s in here? It’s quite heavy.”
I said, “It’s all wet clothes. I got caught in the rain when I arrived yesterday, and there was no place to dry them at the guesthouse. I wanted to hang them here to dry.”
My eldest sister snatched the backpack, silently unzipped it, and dumped all the clothes, pants, shoes, and socks inside by the washbasin. Then she sat down and resumed washing the clothes.
My brother-in-law said to her, “I’ll first take your little sister on a tour of our home.”
My eldest sister let out an “ah” sound and didn’t look at us again, focusing instead on scrubbing the clothes in the basin.
The exterior of the small building was well done, with tiles even laid below the first-floor windowsills. Inside, apart from one bedroom that had been whitewashed, all the other areas remained bare cement walls. Some rooms had only one or two pieces of old furniture; others were piled with farming tools; and some were empty. Only the bedroom showed a hint of life—the bed was old, its wood darkened, but the floral bedsheet and pillowcases were relatively new. One wall, adorned with a mirror and photo frames, was quite impressive, with Yang Hui’s color photo in military uniform being the most eye-catching. The largest one was about a foot in size.
My eldest sister’s husband said that back then, they had been determined not to build a single-story house but insisted on constructing this small building, entirely for their son’s sake.
“We thought he’d have a ready-made new home when he got married, but he ended up joining the army… Although your eldest sister already thanked you earlier, I still want to thank you again. Your five thousand yuan was like sending charcoal in snowy weather… Once our son enlisted, your eldest sister and I had fewer worries, and her condition improved a lot. She can pick tea leaves now, and she does it quite quickly… It’s fine for this home to remain as it is for now. We’re not in a hurry to renovate; we’ll save up for a couple of years first. Saving twenty thousand a year is no problem, so wouldn’t that be forty thousand in two years? And sixty thousand in three years? When it comes to living, having money in hand keeps the mind at ease. Your eldest sister and I both believe that your five thousand yuan must be repaid…”His words came out in fits and starts. Even when he paused, I didn’t pick up the conversation—there was nothing to say. I could tell that, besides expressing his gratitude to me, he actually wanted to admit how irresponsible he had been as a father back then. But because of his pride, the words would veer off into something else just as they reached his lips.
When he finally stopped talking, I said, “There’s no need to repay that money.”
“Ah, ah, well… let’s go out to the yard. We can sit in the sun and chat over tea, how about that?”
He accepted my statement with two “ahs.”
My eldest sister was already washing my clothes.
I said, “Eldest Sister, I can do it myself.”
As soon as the words left my mouth, I was secretly surprised—I hadn’t expected to call her “Eldest Sister” so naturally. It was the first time I had ever done so.
My eldest sister didn’t say anything either. She just stood up and blocked me with her back, not letting me near the washbasin.
I had no choice but to sit on a small stool and drink tea.
The sun warmed my body, making me feel especially comfortable. The tea was fragrant, soothing my throat and lungs.
Brother-in-law said, “It’s pesticide-free.”
I said, “It tastes good.”
Brother-in-law then said to Eldest Sister, “Wan Zhi won’t let us repay her the money.”
He emphasized the words “won’t let” particularly strongly.
Eldest Sister, hanging the clothes to dry, said, “We have to repay it. Don’t listen to her. No one earns money easily.”
I was instantly overwhelmed with emotion because I had finally heard her say something that was undoubtedly sensible and spoken by someone who understood.
Brother-in-law scratched his head, smiled, and quietly asked me, “Well, this puts me in a difficult spot. Whom should I listen to?”
I also whispered, “Listen to me.”
Brother-in-law’s words were the kind that “ask the guest before killing the chicken,” but mine were sincere.
Unexpectedly, Eldest Sister had sharp ears. She looked at him and said loudly, “Listen to me!”
“Alright, alright, I’ll listen to you, of course I’ll listen to you. Your words are like imperial decrees, okay?”—Brother-in-law coaxed Eldest Sister. While refilling my tea, he whispered, “I still have to listen to you.”
Although his behavior seemed cunning to me, I didn’t feel any resentment. Because whether from his face or from my eldest sister’s, I could see a change that gave me the impression of “vitality.” This change made me secretly happy for the people of Shenxianding, as well as for the two of them. It’s worth noting that people who have been numbed by poverty often don’t even possess a hint of cunning. Living in extreme poverty for too long can almost reduce a person’s intelligence to zero.
Brother-in-law asked me about the reason for my “return home,” as if Shenxianding had always been my home and as if this was the only home I had. I felt that his warmth was first and foremost due to the five thousand yuan, or, to go further, his son’s enlistment, which had lit up a colorful lantern in his life—wasn’t it true? A red iron plaque reading “Honored Military Family” was nailed to the lintel of his courtyard gate. As far as I knew, this was the first household in Shenxianding to have one, and how enviable it was, one could imagine. But I immediately felt that my thoughts were rather unkind, so I began to criticize myself.
I said I had come back to attend Zhao Kai’s parent-teacher meeting.
He let out an “oh” and asked me if I had seen Zhao Kai yet.
I said I had.
“So, you know his father is gone?”
“I saw him wearing a black armband. He didn’t tell me the reason. What exactly happened?”
Brother-in-law then asked Eldest Sister loudly, “Wan Zhi is asking about Zhao Kai’s father. Come over and tell her, I’ll wash.”
Eldest Sister, without looking up, said, “You tell her. I’m almost done washing here.”
“Is it appropriate for me to tell?”"It's all the same matter, who tells it makes no difference, what's appropriate or not."
Eldest Sister's words grew clearer with each sentence, her tone and pace no different from anyone else's. Aside from the occasional directness in her gaze, it was hard to tell she had once suffered from mental illness. I felt that the relationship between Eldest Sister's Husband and Eldest Sister had also changed noticeably—Eldest Sister's standing in the family had clearly improved. This, too, had to be credited to those five thousand yuan. Or, to put it further, it was thanks to the fact that I was my eldest sister's own sister. If I were merely her sister but offered no help in a critical moment, or was willing but unable, then it would have been a different story.
Just five thousand yuan had altered so many relationships!
And it wasn’t even necessarily something he truly couldn’t afford at the time.
Money, money, money—this thing!
At that time, I once again felt an overwhelming reverence for money in my heart, and because of it, I shuddered.
Eldest Sister's Husband explained it this way—Zhao Kai's father didn't follow the right path. He loved gambling and befriended some unsavory characters. They gathered together and came up with a terrible idea—grave robbing...
"They were completely inexperienced and didn't have the proper tools. One night, three half-drunk men set to work and made quite a commotion. Zhao Kai's father was responsible for prying open the coffin lid, using a chisel and hammer. He accidentally chiseled the corner of his own clothes into the coffin without even realizing it. Suddenly, someone came running with a flashlight, shouting as they approached. The other two took off running, but Zhao Kai's father couldn't escape—his clothes were stuck! The more he struggled, the more it felt like a hand from inside the coffin was pulling him in, so he ended up screaming for help. By the time people from the nearby village arrived, he had been scared to death. It's absolutely true—he died of fright, confirmed by a forensic examination..."
Eldest Sister's Husband didn't hesitate or stumble while telling this story; he spoke smoothly, as if he had recounted it many times before. I couldn't detect any grief in him—only that when he reached the part about "screaming for help," he barely held back a laugh.
I felt no grief either—I couldn't muster any, as if I were listening to him "spinning a yarn." My night school classmates often mocked those who spread strange tales as "spinning yarns," yet everyone loved to listen, so such storytellers were quite popular.
Good deeds go unspoken, while bad news travels far and wide—I now understood why Zhao Kai's second letter to me had been the way it was.
I didn't know what to say and fell into an awkward silence. Yes, I felt awkward. Eldest Sister's Husband didn't seem awkward at all while telling the story, but I, the listener, grew uncomfortable, though I didn't know why.
Eldest Sister's Husband asked Eldest Sister, "I didn't exaggerate, did I?"
Eldest Sister said, "That's exactly how it happened."
She had finished washing the clothes, poured the dirty water into the courtyard, and went to the faucet to fetch clean water.
To escape the awkwardness, I walked over to help Eldest Sister carry the basin and noticed tears in her eyes.
I said, "Take a rest. I'll do the second rinse."
She said, "Stay for lunch." Then she went inside.
While I washed the clothes, Eldest Sister's Husband squatted beside the basin and said that my second sister was too ashamed to go out because of Second Sister's Husband's actions; my biological father had fallen ill from anger; and Second Sister's Husband's family felt he had utterly disgraced them, so none of them wanted to handle his funeral arrangements.
"There was no other way. For Eldest Sister's sake, I had to step up. It was me who arranged Second Sister's Husband's funeral. Even though we didn't get along well when he was alive—he had wronged me, and I had wronged him—after his death, I treated him with the utmost respect..."
Eldest Sister's Husband spoke with remarkable frankness.
I said, "Thank you, Eldest Sister's Husband."
As soon as I said it, a sudden surge of anger rose within me. What kind of rotten mess was all this? What did it have to do with me, Fang Wanzhi? Why should I thank him? And on whose behalf was I even thanking him?
Lunch was simple and plain.
Eldest Sister's Husband said that, in principle, he should have arranged for my biological father and my second sister to come to his house so the family could gather for a meal. But after that unfortunate incident, what would they even talk about if they gathered? So it was better not to bring everyone together.
My eldest sister said, "Right."
That was exactly what I wanted to say too.
At the courtyard gate, my eldest sister instructed me, "If your second sister asks whether you've been here, tell her you haven't—that you went to her place first."
I nodded.
"If she doesn't ask, there's no need to stick to what I told you to say. It's best to avoid the topic altogether."
I nodded."She suffered from that shock, and her nerves are a bit off too. If she says anything you don't like, don't hold it against her."
I didn't nod again.
My neck stiffened—no, my whole body almost stiffened.
My eldest sister, who had once been mad, saying my second sister was "a bit off in the head" was an absurdity I had never imagined.
Stepping out of my eldest sister's courtyard, I cursed inwardly, "Damn it, damn it, damn it"—not cursing anyone in particular, but cursing heaven and earth. Could it be that among us three sisters of the He family, two would end up mad? Or perhaps, one recovers, finally no longer mad, and the other goes mad in turn? And on top of that, a grave robber? Thankfully, I returned in time. If not, would there have been another suicide?! How could heaven and earth heap all these rotten things onto one family without deserving to be cursed?!
When I saw my second sister, she had just taken eggs from the chicken coop, one in each hand.
Seeing me, the two eggs fell to the ground.
I said, "I'm sorry."
She withdrew her gaze from my face, turned around, and called the chickens and ducks from the shed. Several chickens and a duck emerged from the shed, overjoyed as they scrambled to eat the broken eggs on the ground.
She watched.
I watched too.
The sharp-beaked ones couldn't compete with the flat-beaked one. Most of the broken eggs were eaten by the duck, and it ate with remarkable skill—sucking them up in one gulp, leaving the chickens helpless and glaring in frustration. I had never seen a duck eat broken eggs before.
I thought that since the existence of ducks in the world, there must have been very few who had the chance to eat raw eggs. I felt fortunate for that duck, and also fortunate for my eldest and second sisters—if not for a younger sister like me, what would their lives have been like? I felt even more fortunate for Zhao Kai. If not for a sister-in-law like me, who would have cared about his life or death during these days of shame?
Thus, I felt a sense of existence that, though not beautiful, was clear. Yet I also feared that I might be nothing more than like the broken eggs—if the chickens and ducks that ate the eggs turned into peacocks or swans—no, they didn't even need to become something so ideal. Even if they turned into ordinary beautiful birds, I would willingly sacrifice myself like those two broken eggs...
But what if the chickens remained chickens and the ducks remained ducks after eating the eggs?
In today's terms, I was stuck in a very bleak, very bleak thought, like a small moth that had impulsively flown in the wrong direction and gotten caught in a giant spider's web.
My hand instinctively covered my satchel—Li Juan had stuffed some money inside for me, though I didn't yet know how much.
I understood it was time to use money to solve problems again.
I hoped the money in the satchel would be enough.
When the broken eggs disappeared without a trace, leaving only wet marks on the ground, and the chickens and duck left unsatisfied, my second sister turned and went inside.
I stood there in a daze, unable to tell whether her attitude was normal or the opposite.
Suddenly, I heard her shout from inside, "Well, come in!"
I entered the room she was in—a mess all over the floor. It seemed to be the bedroom she shared with her husband. It looked as though she had smashed everything in the house that could be broken, including plates and bowls. On the bed, the cover of the new quilt had been cut to shreds.She threw the broom in her hand aside, sat on the edge of the bed, and said through gritted teeth, "I can't go on like this! I hate the Zhao family to death! Is Zhao Kai's Father just my husband? Isn't he also a member of the old Zhao family? When something shameful happened, his two older brothers and one younger brother—three grown men—all stood by and did nothing! His mother even went around saying I was the one who corrupted him! Did I teach him to go tomb raiding? They even encouraged my son to turn against me! One day, I'll completely destroy this family and die just to show the Zhao family!..."
As she spoke, I picked up the broom and silently swept the floor.
Before I finished sweeping, she began to sob.
I said, "If you die, what will happen to your daughter and son?"
She said, "I can't care about that anymore! I'll leave them to you—who told you to be their aunt! If not you, should I leave them to our Eldest Sister?..."
I snapped, "He Xiaoju, is that any way to talk?"
She said, "What's the difference between human talk and ghost talk? Just because you changed your surname to Fang, does that mean you're no longer flesh and blood of the He family? Even if you shed three layers of skin, you'd still be my own sister! Now that you've become the mayor's daughter, have you completely forgotten sisterly affection? You won't even help when you clearly could? Then why did you come back to Shenxianding?!..."
She was taking her anger out on me.
I threw the broom down and turned to leave.
She hugged me from behind and said, "Little Sister, you can't abandon me! If you don't save me, I'll have no way out!..."
She burst into loud sobs.
"Let go of me!"
I had no choice but to sit with her on the edge of the bed, listening and watching as she cried her fill. Only when she grew tired of crying did I begin to console her.
I told her she had to go out and find work. If she was willing, she could come to Shenzhen and rely on me—I would help her find a job.
She asked, "Then what about my son?"
I said there was nothing wrong with letting the Zhao family take care of her son for a while, and she could rest assured.
She said she didn’t want to go out to work, had never been far from home, and was afraid of being bullied.
I said, "Then you'll have to get up early and stay up late picking tea leaves. In any case, you have to take responsibility for yourself and for supporting your son’s education."
I could see that this peasant woman, who was my own Second Sister, was actually someone who had grown too accustomed to relying on her husband to earn money and lacked the ability to work herself.
After a moment of silence, she mumbled, "That dead man still owes several debts. People come to collect every other day, and I have no money to pay them. The Zhao family certainly won’t pay on his behalf."
So I opened my bag—inside was about five thousand yuan. I counted out one thousand and placed it between us.
She glanced at it and asked, "How much is that?"
I said, "One thousand."
She said, "What’s that enough for?"—then glanced at my bag and added, "There’s still plenty in the bag, isn’t there?"
I said, "I still need to leave some money for Zhao Kai, and I can’t go empty-handed to see our dad."
She said, "Just give our dad two or three hundred as a gesture. The money for Zhao Kai can also be left with me—I’ll give it to him."
I said sternly, "How much I give to whom is my business. You don’t need to arrange it. The money for your son, I’ll also give it to him in person."
She looked at me and asked, "Do you mean that from now on, you’ll cover all of Zhao Kai’s school expenses?"
"Did I say that? Listen clearly—I didn’t mean that!" I flared up.
"Forget I said it, don’t be angry. Zhao Kai is lucky to have such a kind aunt like you. Even if you just covered half for me, my burden would be much lighter. You helped Yang Hui, so you can’t not help your Second Sister through this hardship."She looked like she was about to cry again.
I calmed down. Thinking about it, a thousand was indeed too little, so I took out another five hundred yuan and set it down.
Once the matter of money was settled, my second sister and I immediately fell into an awkward silence.
I picked up the broom and continued sweeping, while she held the dustpan, working in tandem with me.
After roughly cleaning up the mess on the floor, I said I was leaving.
She asked, "Going to see Dad?"
I nodded.
I still wasn’t quite used to saying "Dad."
She said, "Do you need me to walk you over?"
I replied, "No."
At the courtyard gate, she tugged at the hem of my clothes, speaking in a confidential tone: "Your eldest sister’s family isn’t struggling anymore. Since Yang Hui joined the army, they’ve been much more at ease. Your eldest sister’s husband doesn’t go out to work anymore either. The two of them go out together to pick tea leaves, and they’re really into it. Your eldest sister’s husband’s family doesn’t have any burdens either, and you’ve already given them five thousand yuan. In short, they’re not a struggling household anymore. Among family, you should know who to help and who not to help, right?..."
I said, "Go back inside." — I pulled my clothes free and quickly walked out of the courtyard.
I didn’t go directly to my biological father’s house.
Thinking about it, my biological father was almost seventy. I figured an old man would need his afternoon nap, so I wandered around the village.
At that time, the village was quiet and still, but there were still people picking tea leaves in the tea fields. To protect themselves from the sun, some wore scarves over their heads, while others wore straw hats.
A stream flowed down from the mountain, forming a pond in the village before flowing out the other end. I sat by the pond for a while and soaked my feet. The water was so clear you could see the bottom—a cement base with small fish swimming about. I spotted a few small red carp and koi, trying to catch them with my handkerchief, but I failed several times.
I had memories of this place. When I was little, I used to watch Yang Hui and the others playing in the pond. Back then, the banks of the stream and the pond were muddy, and women washing clothes would sometimes slip and fall in. Now there were steps, and this place had become a scenic spot in Shenxianding.
A golden turtle had crawled onto the steps at some point. When I saw it, it was stretching its neck to look at me, as if it wanted to talk.
Suddenly, the collective voices of children came from not far away. I stood up and looked around—the sound came from behind a grove of tall bamboo, with glimpses of white walls and gray tiles visible through the gaps.
"Moonlight before my bed,
I suspect it’s frost on the ground..."
The children’s Mandarin wasn’t perfect yet, their accents thick, but it still carried a unique poetic charm.
On the bus ride here, I’d heard people say—although the kindergarten in Shenxianding wasn’t high-end, it was built at the highest point in the entire county. It was funded by the county government so that parents working away from home wouldn’t worry about their children. The kindergarten teachers were assigned by the county, and their salaries were paid by the poverty alleviation office.
Around two-thirty, I went to see my biological father.
My biological father, He Yongwang, was already frail with age. His hair was almost gone, he was very thin, and he walked with a cane, one foot wrapped in bandages.
I asked in surprise, "What happened to you?"
He said the corn on his foot had worsened and developed into a plantar wart. In the past, when it flared up, he would dig it out himself, but this time it got infected, and he had to go to the township clinic.
I asked, "Did they treat it?"
He said, "The township clinic referred me to the county hospital, saying I needed surgery."
After helping him sit down, I said, "That’s not just referring you—that’s taking responsibility for you. Why didn’t you go?"
It suddenly occurred to me that the last time I saw him, he was also limping—it must have been related to the time he injured his foot saving me when I was little.
My heart tightened.He didn't answer my question but instead asked why I had come back.
I said, "To attend Zhao Kai's parent-teacher conference."
He then asked, "Do you know about his father's situation?"
I nodded.
"Then you shouldn't have come back. His father brought it upon himself."
Tears welled up in his eyes.
I told him about the letter Zhao Kai had written to me.
"You've already taken the Fang surname. You never wore a single piece of clothing from the He family, never ate a single meal from them. Why should their adults and children always burden you like this?..."
He repeatedly tapped his cane on the ground.
I said, "I did eat a meal from the He family this time—lunch at my eldest sister's house."
My biological father's house had been renovated and looked somewhat like a proper home now. He said it was funded by my eldest sister's husband, and that my eldest sister and her husband often came to take care of him. Even so, the house still appeared messy.
I hung up my bag and told him not to move, then started tidying up.
"If you insist on cleaning, I won't stop you. Then I'll keep you company and talk..."
He began rambling, trying to make conversation. I didn't pay much attention to most of what he said, only listening carefully to a few remarks about my adoptive father—he said everyone in Shenxianding was grateful to my adoptive father, who was willing to risk losing his official position to fight for the welfare of the farmers in the mountainous areas of Yu County...
I was startled and asked urgently, "Was he removed from his position?"
He said, "No, not exactly, but he was supposed to become the municipal party secretary. It's said he didn't get the position because of the land tax issue..."
Just as he was speaking, my eldest sister's husband arrived with bedding.
My brother-in-law said, "We didn't dare let you stay at our place, afraid your second sister might overthink it..."
I said, "I'm willing to stay here."
After my brother-in-law left, while I was making the bed for my biological father, I noticed a four-inch color photo of Yang Hui sewn onto the mosquito net. The net had probably never been washed since it was hung up and had turned black with grime. The photo of the heroic naval soldier seemed to make the small, enclosed space glow.
Looking at the photo, I couldn't help but think to myself, "Yang Hui, Yang Hui, keep striving!..."
After tidying the room, I gave my biological father fifteen hundred yuan.
He refused to take it.
I said, "This is for treating your foot condition. I've already asked my eldest sister's husband to accompany you to the county hospital. If you don't take this money, will you spend his instead?"
Only then did he stop refusing, but he said it was too much and five hundred would be enough. I insisted it definitely wouldn't be enough and forced him to accept a thousand.
He became cheerful and said he wanted to go to the kindergarten, that he loved listening to the children of Shenxianding recite poems—it helped him forget his worries.
After he left, I started washing everything. I wanted to wash every piece of clothing that needed cleaning, regardless of the weather tomorrow. By the time he returned, it was nearly dusk. Two clotheslines were crisscrossed in front of the door, filled with my laundry, and I was cooking dinner.
My biological father sat awkwardly by the stove, helping me feed the fire and operate the bellows. The bellows leaked air in several places, making a sound like the wheezing of a tuberculosis patient. I thought his efforts were unnecessary, but he insisted on doing it. I figured he did it to enjoy a few moments of closeness with me, and for some inexplicable reason, I felt a faint sense of pleasure about it too.
As I was bringing the dishes to the table, he stood up too quickly—I heard a noise behind me and turned around to see him fall in front of the stove. Startled, I helped him up and asked anxiously, "Dad, did you hurt yourself anywhere?"
He smiled and said, "It's nothing, nothing. I'm not hurt anywhere."I helped him over to the faucet to wash his hands, but he kept washing endlessly. When I peeked outside the door, I saw him covering his face with both hands, bent over, his head pressed against the faucet, shoulders shaking uncontrollably—clearly, he was weeping silently.
During the meal, my second sister arrived. Naturally, she was someone who could sit down and eat without needing an invitation. Second Sister’s mouth never stopped—either eating or talking; every word she spoke was a complaint, condemning my biological father for forcing her to marry a man with a different surname, saying he had ruined her life. If she had married someone surnamed He, her fate would certainly not have turned out like this. When she spoke of her anger, she seemed as if she could bite a chunk off the edge of the bowl. My biological father listened while eating at first, but later he stopped eating, staring at her with silent tears streaming down his face.
I couldn’t help but protest, "He Xiaoju, are you forcing me to be rude to you?"
My words carried significant weight. Second Sister was clearly afraid of provoking my anger. After eating a few more bites, she wisely stood up and left.
At the door, she turned and reminded me, "His aunt, when you attend Zhao Kai’s parent-teacher meeting, don’t forget to give him that five hundred yuan."
The soup in my biological father’s bowl had already gone cold.
When I placed the hot soup in front of him, he looked at me with tear-blurred eyes and said, "Listen to me, don’t come back again. What’s the point of coming back to acknowledge a second sister who has become like that? Your second sister now has even less humanity than your eldest sister who once went mad. You’re not the government—poverty alleviation is the government’s responsibility, not something you must shoulder. Don’t let your two sisters become your burden. You... you’ve already done your best..."
He choked up again, unable to speak.
I couldn’t help but gently pat my biological father’s back.
"Dad, let’s not talk about these things. Let’s finish this meal properly."
After calling him "Dad" for the first time, the second time felt completely natural...
At night, I felt the soles of my feet were warm. When I got up to look, I saw my biological father had placed a large cola bottle filled with hot water at my feet at some point...
My biological father told me that my biological mother’s death was related to me—on the day I was born, she had been caught in a heavy rain on her way back and fell ill, never recovering. Although my biological father borrowed money everywhere to treat her, her heartache was not something medicine could cure...
My biological father naturally didn’t say it outright.
I pieced together his fragmented words to reach this conclusion. If I hadn’t pressed him repeatedly, he likely wouldn’t have even shared those fragments with me.
That conclusion filled my heart with sorrow.
Poor biological mother!
From then on, there was no more resentment in my heart, only indignation toward poverty.
The next morning, accompanied by my biological father, I visited my biological mother’s grave for the first time.
Facing that mound of yellow earth, I couldn’t help but kneel down.
"Mom, forgive your daughter for only coming to see you today..."
Tears streamed down my face as I wept uncontrollably.
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