In mid-October, several letters forwarded by classmates from "Guizhou Normal University" arrived, including one written to me by my eldest nephew, Yang Hui.
His handwriting was excellent, clearly the result of diligent practice in hard-tip calligraphy, which surprised me quite a bit.
In his neat, beautiful regular script, he appealed to me for help—the conscription work in Yu County had already begun, and he met all the requirements. However, his father forbade him from joining the military. His family had incurred over twenty thousand yuan in debt from building their house, and his father believed he had reached the age where he should be earning money for the family. As the only son, wouldn’t the newly built house belong to him in the future? Wasn’t it only right that he should at least repay five thousand yuan of the family’s debt? His father insisted that he should go work elsewhere, and until he earned five thousand yuan for the family, he had no right to pursue any personal aspirations. If he dared to defy his father’s wishes, his father would go and cause a scene at the recruitment office…
The content of the letter gave me another surprise. Although his father’s reasoning was a "hard truth," it still stirred immense indignation within me.
I had three options.
The first was to ignore it entirely.
In twenty years, I had only met his mother twice, heard her speak just two short sentences, and even those weren’t directed at me. I had only seen his father once, and his attitude toward me was anything but friendly. If he hadn’t told me his name was Yang Hui, I wouldn’t have even known his father’s surname was Yang, nor would I have cared to know. It’s a common belief among people that relatives should "not interfere in each other’s internal affairs"—whether Yang Hui joined the military or not was purely the "internal affair" of the Yang family. As a sister who was born in someone else’s home and abandoned, what kind of kinship did I have with the Yang family? If I chose to ignore it, no one could blame me.
Alternatively, I could write a letter to that unrelated Eldest Sister’s Husband, advising him to take a longer-term view on matters concerning his only son’s future. If his son succeeded in the future, he would surely "benefit" in his old age, at the very least sparing himself much worry. Once the letter was sent, my sense of familial responsibility would be fulfilled. As for Yang Hui, I would have shown a serious attitude toward his plea. Whether his father heeded the advice or not would no longer be my concern. I doubted he would change his mind; he might even say something like, "Who does she think she is? It’s not her place to lecture me about my family’s affairs!"—In that case, aside from my own "self-fulfillment," it would offer no practical help to Yang Hui. He would still be unable to join the military.
Or, I could send Yang Hui five thousand yuan. If I did this, there would be no need to write a letter at all. Yang Hui could hand the money to his father, explaining that his aunt had provided it free of charge to help him fulfill his dream of enlisting. His father would surely be left speechless. If he still caused trouble after that, he would be utterly unreasonable. Someone offering to repay five thousand yuan of his family’s debt for free—I doubted he would be foolish enough to ruin such a self-serving opportunity.
I dismissed the first option.
My eldest nephew and I had caught loaches together when he was little. Though he was two years younger than me, back then he patiently played with me like an older brother, doing his best to make me happy. When I returned alone to Shenxianding for the second time, he was the only one who saw me off. After reading his plea for help, these two memories kept replaying in my mind like scenes from a film, making it impossible for me to lean toward the first option.I was torn between the second and third options, unsure of what to do. As I wrestled with the decision, I recalled how Yang Hui had sought me out to play back in the village when none of the other children would. That must have been at the urging of his mother, my eldest sister. Though she had become a woman with an unstable mind, the fact that she had shown such consideration for me back then made me acknowledge that traces of familial affection still lingered in her heart—at the very least, like a lotus root that breaks but its fibers remain connected. This led me to think of how my biological father had been injured while saving me. Whether he would have done the same for another child in danger, I couldn’t say for certain. But the fact remained that he had saved me once, proving he wasn’t entirely devoid of paternal love.
These memories tugged at my decision like countless hands pulling me toward the third option, leaving my rationality powerless to resist. Or perhaps it was precisely because I was rational and not emotional that I ultimately chose the third course of action.
Shenzhen lived up to its reputation as a city of many new phenomena. Several banks offered safe deposit services, which meant I no longer had to sew my bankbook inside my shirt.
After leaving one bank, my account balance had decreased by another 5,500 yuan. This meant I had not only worked an entire month for nothing but had also lost the "extra income" I had just received. The two sums combined amounted to just over 3,000 yuan. If I didn’t count the "extra income," it was as if I had worked tirelessly from dawn to dusk for more than two months for nothing.
Even though it was my own decision in the end, I couldn’t bring myself to feel happy about it. It wasn’t just that day—I remained in low spirits for several days, and both Li Juan and Qian Qian noticed.
Li Juan took me aside when Qian Qian wasn’t around and asked what was troubling me and if she could help in any way.
I forced a bitter smile and said, "I’m just 'unlucky' and not feeling well."
My use of "unlucky" was a double entendre, and "not feeling well" was a lie—the truth was that I felt uneasy in my heart.
I didn’t send the money directly to Yang Hui. Instead, I mailed it to my second sister along with a short letter, stating that if she succeeded in her task, 500 yuan would be hers as a "service fee." If she failed, she would have to return both sums. Success or failure would be determined by a single outcome—whether Yang Hui could successfully enlist in the military. I doubted she would put in the effort without that 500 yuan "service fee."
Then, another unpleasant incident occurred.
One afternoon, while I was alone in the kitchen cutting radishes, Liu Zhu walked in. He stood close beside me, watching me for a long time, making me feel uncomfortable.
I said, "Haven’t you ever seen someone cut radishes before?"
He replied, "You’re different from Xiao Li and Xiao Hao."
I said, "Don’t talk nonsense to me. Go do what you’re supposed to do."
He said, "You’re more... what’s the word, 'composed,' right? When you’re composed, there’s something special about you. I noticed it a long time ago. I like it."
I said again, "You’re getting in the way of my work."
As soon as I put down the knife, he grabbed me and kissed me eagerly.
I turned my face left and right to avoid his mouth while struggling to break free. Finally, I managed to free one hand and slapped him across the face.
He let go of me and said with a cheeky grin, "What’s there to be shy about? I really like you."
I picked up the kitchen knife and pointed it at him.Just then his father appeared, shouting at him, "Still willing to work with me or not? If not, get back to your hometown early, don’t embarrass me here! You can’t even handle dating—aside from the work on the chopping board, you’re useless!..."
I slammed the kitchen knife onto the chopping board, ran out of the kitchen, climbed into the truck bed, and cried in anger.
Qian Qian had gone with the truck to buy groceries, leaving only Li Juan lying in the truck bed—she was truly "unlucky" and had taken half a day off.
She asked in surprise what had happened to me.
Because Uncle Liu had said Liu Zhu "can’t even handle dating," I told Li Juan what had happened. I was afraid that if I didn’t even tell her, I’d have no way to defend myself later.
Li Juan said, "Don’t worry about anything, I’m here! I guarantee he won’t dare bother you again."
The next day, while Liu Zhu was alone in the kitchen, Li Juan pulled me in, wrapped an arm around my shoulder, and glared at Liu Zhu with a stern face, saying, "Let me tell you, Wan Zhi and I have become sworn sisters."
Liu Zhu stared blankly at the two of us, looking utterly "shocked and dismayed."
Li Juan added, "Now that you know our relationship, do you understand what it means?"
Liu Zhu responded slowly, "I understand..."
"Good that you understand."
With those words, Li Juan took my hand and left.
After that, Liu Zhu hardly dared to look me in the eye. This wasn’t the outcome I wanted, but the relationship had already turned that way, and I had no choice.
Uncle Liu had a talk with me.
"Among you young people, it’s normal for someone to like someone else. If the one being liked doesn’t feel the same, you can talk it out properly. There’s no need to point a knife at anyone—that’s terrifying! What if...? Don’t ever do that again, okay?..."
He was clearly criticizing me.
I admitted my mistake to him and promised never to act so impulsively again.
He continued, "Liu Zhu genuinely likes you, he’s mentioned it to me. It’s true my son isn’t well-educated, but he’s hardworking and good at saving money. After working with me for a few years, he’ll have the chance to go solo and manage things on his own. I guarantee he’s a capable person when it comes to life..."
I said, "Uncle, I already have someone."
What else could I say besides that?
"Although my family is also from the countryside, I’m a veteran state-owned enterprise worker with a pension. Liu Zhu’s older brother is the head of the town police station, and his family is settled in town. Our courtyard is large, and we built a new brick house with a main hall and two wings two years ago. Right now, only my wife is home looking after it. Liu Zhu has no younger siblings, so the family property will all be his in the future. If he wants to settle in town later, it won’t be difficult for us. Even if he wants to settle in the county town, it’s not a problem either..."
He seemed not to hear my words.
I lowered my head and had to say again, "I have a boyfriend."
He still didn’t respond directly to my words, just kept following his own train of thought: "Liu Zhu’s uncle is the director of the county party committee office, and one of his uncles is the head of a construction team. In short, all our relatives are respected figures in our area, and no one dares to bully us. If any trouble arises, people have to give us face..."
Only after I said "I have a boyfriend" for the third time did he finally stop. Without looking at me, his eyes fixed on the ground, he stood motionless in silence for a moment before awkwardly adding, "Your voice was too soft, I didn’t hear the first two sentences clearly. Well, consider it all wasted words."After saying that, he stood up and left. From then on, he treated me with indifference. Apart from necessary work-related conversations, he no longer spoke to me about anything else.
This was something I was extremely unwilling to face—even more so than Yang Hui’s letter. The combination of these two matters left me feeling particularly downcast during that period, always on the verge of tears. But I never once thought of leaving; I was still counting on the year-end bonus. In colloquial terms, I was becoming someone "obsessed with money." Since running away from home, I had realized that I had changed in many ways, and "falling into the money pit" was one of them.
At the end of October, I received a letter from my second sister. The handwriting, reminiscent of a middle school girl’s, made me certain it was written by her daughter, Zhao Jun. Her handwriting wasn’t as good as Yang Hui’s, but it was clear she had tried her best to write neatly and had even recopied it.
In the letter, my second sister said, "As per your instructions, the matter has been settled. You can rest assured." She also added, "Actually, your eldest sister’s family isn’t in such dire straits. She has one son, while I have both a son and a daughter. With Yang Hui joining the military, her family has no real burden anymore. But my son and daughter are at the age where they need money. In the countryside, who doesn’t borrow money to build a house? Ten or twenty thousand yuan—isn’t that just a year’s worth of work to pay back? My family owes even more than your eldest sister’s…"
I tore up the letter.
I decided not to reply.
Apart from the crucial line about "the matter being settled," everything else in that letter disgusted me—as if my five thousand yuan for Yang Hui’s matter was completely unnecessary; as if I were truly rushing to help a relative in need, then He Xiaoju should have been the one to receive assistance. That day, I developed a conflicting attitude toward money—both worship and loathing. Yes, worship came first. If I hadn’t offered that five thousand yuan, even if I had sent several letters and exhausted all reasoning, would Yang Hui’s enlistment have been resolved smoothly? Definitely not. I suspect the later letters would have only angered my eldest sister’s husband (I really didn’t want to call him brother-in-law). But once the five thousand yuan was in place, both my eldest nephew and I achieved our goals smoothly. If I hadn’t also sent my second sister five hundred yuan as a "service fee," would she have handled it for me? Wouldn’t she have replied with an excuse like "not interfering in internal affairs," adopting an attitude of "it’s none of my business, so why bother"? Or perhaps she would have gone to my eldest sister’s house and said a few words, fulfilling her "self-imposed duty" but not ensuring the outcome? If that had happened, could my five thousand yuan have been wasted, falling short at the last moment? If my eldest sister’s husband had taken the money but still refused to let his son enlist, what could I have done? Sue him from a thousand miles away to get the money back? Was that realistic?
But once the money was used appropriately, the matter was resolved effortlessly, leaving no loose ends. Compared to reasoning, the power of money seemed overwhelmingly significant. The role of reasoning appeared as light as a feather, almost contemptible. And this was within so-called "family ties," with Yang Hui being a shared relative among us.
Having witnessed money’s "supreme and unrivaled" power, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of loathing toward it. It was a loathing tinged with fear—fear of its "supreme and unrivaled" ability to seemingly overpower all other forces, and an indescribable dread that fueled this loathing. Because fear and worship were inextricably intertwined, so too were loathing and reverence entangled…For me, a favorable situation emerged: Liu Zhu had begun pursuing Qian Qian again, and Qian Qian seemed happy to reciprocate.
At noon, our carriage "dormitory" for us three sisters often had only Li Juan and me left. Qian Qian would frequently go to the back carriage to get cozy with Liu Zhu, while Uncle Liu would rest in the canteen. From the back carriage, Qian Qian's giggles and laughter often drifted out, making it sound like Liu Zhu was keeping her thoroughly amused. If Qian Qian's laughter went on and on, Li Juan would shout out: "Are you done yet? Don't you want others to get some sleep?" Later, she simply found an iron rod and, too lazy to shout, would bang it hard against the side of our front carriage. Uncle Liu also showed Qian Qian special consideration, discreetly reducing her workload without making it obvious. Naturally, the work Li Juan and I had to do increased, and our hours grew longer.
Once, Qian Qian said to us apologetically: "Sorry about this, I didn't ask for special treatment."
I didn't know what to say.
But Li Juan said: "No need to be polite, it's understandable."
Because the relationship between Liu Zhu and Qian Qian had changed, becoming more inseparable by the day, the attitude of Liu Zhu and his father toward me also improved. Liu Zhu, brimming with happiness, even said in front of Qian Qian to Li Juan and me: "Calling me 'Brother Zhuzi' is outdated now. From now on, you two should call me 'Brother-in-law.'" Qian Qian listened without any sign of protest; instead, she smiled with evident pride.
Afterward, she said to Li Juan and me: "Don't feel upset about having to do more work. At the end of the year, I'll make sure they give you both a bigger bonus."
Li Juan said: "Now that's something I like to hear."
I still didn't know what to say, but inwardly I was pleased; I had fallen even deeper into the "money trap." Setting aside the bonus issue, I was happy anyway. I even thought about finding an opportunity to thank Qian Qian. If it weren't for her being my close friend, the attitude of Liu Zhu and his father toward me might not have improved. The opportunity was actually there, but whenever I was alone with her, I didn't know what to say. To Liu Zhu, she was clearly a "backup option." I was afraid that if I said something inappropriate, I might hurt her self-esteem and end up offending her instead.
In mid-November, I received two letters in succession; mail could now be delivered directly to the construction site, with a dedicated postal worker making the deliveries.
One letter was from Yang Hui to me, containing a four-inch full-body color photo. The letter naturally contained words of gratitude—he had achieved his wish and become a soldier, and a naval one at that. After three months of training on land, he would board a ship and set sail. He was determined to become an outstanding naval soldier, striving to become a naval officer in the future, to bring honor to me, himself, his family, loved ones, and the people of Shenxianding. In the photo, he looked majestic, upright, and full of vigor; the handsome naval uniform made him appear very dashing.
That letter filled my heart with joy. I felt that the sincere effort I had put into his matter had been rewarded with a perfect outcome; the expenditure of five thousand yuan was absolutely worth it. I thought that even if he didn't become an officer in the future and returned to Shenxianding, he would be different from the previous generations there—I believed that "the military is a great university."Li Juan and Qian Qian also saw the photo and were both surprised that I had such a handsome nephew, though they found it somewhat hard to believe. I solemnly swore that I wasn’t lying to them, and only then did they believe me. Yet they began to question the age gap between my eldest sister and me. That was the “original story” of my background, something that couldn’t be explained in just a few words and, at the time, I was unwilling to share it with anyone.
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you all about it in detail another time.”
I brushed it off with this line, hoping they would forget about it later and not bring it up again.
Qian Qian said, “If he becomes a ship captain or something in the future, whether he’s your nephew or not, I’ll go after him. But if he doesn’t have the fate of becoming an officer, then I’ll just be his godmother.”
“Get lost! You never say anything serious!”
Li Juan pushed her aside, hugged me, and whispered, “I love soldiers. My boyfriend is an engineering corps company commander. I’ll take you to meet him someday.”
Qian Qian shouted, “You think whispering means I can’t hear? Do you really think you can hide your little secrets from me? I want to meet my future brother-in-law too!”
Both Li Juan and I laughed.
I couldn’t help but hug Li Juan, silently wishing her well in my heart.
The second letter was from my adoptive father, Meng Zisi. After my job became stable, I took the initiative to write him a letter, reporting that I was doing well and asking him not to worry. I believed this was the least I should do, and it was also something I had to do. He had raised me for over twenty years, and I couldn’t just vanish from his life without a trace. That would be nothing short of ingratitude, with no other conclusion. My “Principal Mother,” if she knew from beyond the grave, would condemn me for it. It wasn’t that I feared anyone’s condemnation, but rather that if I didn’t do it, it felt like a lingering “burden” in my heart. After doing it, I slept much more soundly.
In his letter, my adoptive father said that men can sometimes be fragile inside, even when they become fathers or mayors; even a man who has weathered life’s hardships can sometimes find himself in such a state. After my “Principal Mother” passed away, his heart had been utterly fragile, and his spirits sank to a point where he found it hard to pull himself out.
As for me, ever since my adoptive mother passed away, whenever I thought of her, the title “Principal Mother” naturally came to mind. In reality, I had two mothers, and in my heart, I couldn’t help but distinguish between them. Whenever I heard or saw the words “Mom” or “Mother,” my association was always with “Principal Mother.” My biological mother, whom I had never met and could never meet again, was merely a woman I thought of in passing because of “Principal Mother.” The thought would come and go, just like when someone thinks of a well or a river in their hometown, they might also think of the withered tree beside the well or the fisherman often seen by the riverbank—if such things indeed existed.
My adoptive father also told me in the letter that he and Aunt Qu had lived together for a month before parting amicably. It wasn’t due to any other reason but simply because their personalities and lifestyles were too difficult to reconcile. Aunt Qu had never married before and was used to living alone, finding it hard to adapt to the role of a housewife all at once. As for him, he was accustomed to sharing life’s joys and sorrows with my “Principal Mother,” and he too found it difficult to adjust to a “completely new” wife.
He said that he and Aunt Qu were still good friends, and they could be described as “confidantes.”"My daughter, though you say you're doing well and want me to be at ease, the thought of my daughter leaving university unfinished to become a migrant worker far from home, and a female kitchen assistant at that, leaves a bitter taste in my heart. I feel I've failed terribly as a father, and I've let your mother down too. If the world outside truly offers no solace, then come home. With your father's direct care, your life could take a different turn—what could possibly be wrong with that?..."
My tears dampened Adoptive Father's letter. My sorrow arose not only because he still loved me as his daughter, but also because he acknowledged his own vulnerability, and because Aunt Qu had not been able to replace "Principal Mother" as his daily life companion.
That day, I wrote him back a letter, reflecting on my own willfulness and asking him not to worry. I reported that not only was I earning my own money, but I would also receive a year-end bonus for my good work performance. I got along well with the two sisters I worked with, and the world outside wasn’t all hardship—it had its wonderful moments too. I figured he must have been paying close attention to Shenzhen’s development—after all, back then, how many mayors didn’t keep an eye on the “Shenzhen phenomenon”? So, I wrote down everything I had seen and heard about Shenzhen’s thriving progress. It was a long letter, four pages in total.
One Sunday afternoon, Li Juan said someone would treat us to dinner that evening. Qian Qian and I asked who it was, but Li Juan kept it a secret, saying we’d find out when we met.
That evening, in a private room at a large restaurant in the city, Li Juan and I met Company Commander Zhou—the man Li Juan was in love with. He was in his thirties, of medium build, and looked strong and athletic, though his demeanor was clearly that of a staff officer or political officer. He had a gentle personality and even seemed a bit shy when he smiled. Facing the three of us women, he appeared quite reserved. Li Juan repeatedly emphasized that Qian Qian and I were her close sisters, and only then did he gradually relax. He liked to say “comrades”—it was his catchphrase. Every time he said it, the three of us couldn’t help but laugh. When we laughed, he naturally laughed too, so he seemed to remain shy throughout.
He and Li Juan were both from the Northeast, and their families were from rural villages not far apart. Li Juan had met Company Commander Zhou on a train during a trip back to the Northeast from Shenzhen. She had brought a lot of luggage, and thanks to his help along the way, she didn’t suffer much. Unexpectedly, a year later, they met again on the same construction site in Shenzhen—truly a twist of fate.
Company Commander Zhou was also very candid, telling Qian Qian and me that his family had originally arranged a marriage for him, but the girl had changed her mind soon after because he was someone who traveled all year round.
He looked affectionately at Li Juan and said, “I hope we can make it work.”
I said, “You definitely will.”
Li Juan said, “Even if you change, I won’t.”
Qian Qian then proposed a toast to Li Juan’s words.
That meal was the fanciest dinner I’d had since arriving in Shenzhen, featuring mostly seafood, with large prawns “available in abundance.” I imagine it was the same for Qian Qian, as we both ate to our hearts’ content.
Before leaving the restaurant, Company Commander Zhou gave Li Juan an exquisite notebook. The first page had a large “Award” character; the second page bore a line of poetry he had written: “Two hearts pledged, not just in fleeting moments”; and the third page held the key message: “For my dear Juan to keep.”
On our way back, Qian Qian jokingly asked Li Juan, “Why didn’t you ask him to send us back in a car?”
Li Juan said, “He can drive himself.”
Qian Qian said, “There are plenty of military vehicles at their engineering corps’ construction site. As the company commander, he’s the top authority there—he must have a dedicated car.”
Li Juan said, “He does, but even I haven’t ridden in it. If he drove us back, wouldn’t that clearly violate military discipline?”
Qian Qian teased her, “Listen to her! They haven’t even gotten their marriage certificate yet, and she’s already aspiring to be a model military wife!”
Li Juan said to me, “Hold her back! Today, I’m going to tear her sarcastic mouth apart!”
Before I could do anything, Qian Qian giggled and ran off.Li Juan said to me again, "Today is an important day for me. You and Qian Qian are my best friends. The fact that he agreed to meet you two proves that my relationship with him is set in stone. You and Qian Qian are essentially witnesses to our love."
Li Juan seemed exceptionally happy, singing loudly all the way, and Qian Qian joined in with full voice. Even I, who rarely sing, couldn’t help but join in. The happiness brought by love is contagious, spreading even faster among friends. Qian Qian and I shared Li Juan’s happiness and joy, reveling in her delight.
As the year drew to a close, the engineering corps completed their support mission, and Company Commander Zhou was about to lead his soldiers away from the construction site. Qian Qian and I accompanied Li Juan to bid him farewell. The soldiers were already loaded onto the trucks, and Company Commander Zhou waited for us below. From a distance, we three sisters saw him pacing back and forth, repeatedly checking his watch.
When we ran up to him, I spoke on Li Juan’s behalf, "Sorry we’re late."
Company Commander Zhou replied, "Not late at all, you’re right on time. Our soldiers boarded the trucks a bit early."
The three of us stood side by side. He shook hands with Qian Qian and me first, then saluted. With Li Juan, however, he neither shook hands nor saluted. Instead, he whispered, "You’ve visited our construction site several times, and many soldiers recognize you. Since our relationship is now official, I’ll announce it to them. Why don’t you greet them?"
I had never seen Li Juan blush before, but at that moment, her face turned bright red. She stammered, "How embarrassing! What should I say?"
Company Commander Zhou gently nudged her toward the trucks and said, "There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. If you don’t want to say anything, just wave."
Li Juan waved to the soldiers, simply saying, "Hi," and then smiled sheepishly, looking like a celebrity greeting her fans.
Suddenly, someone among the soldiers shouted, "Sis-in-law!..."
Over a hundred soldiers on the four trucks followed with shouts of "Take care!"
"Sis-in-law!"
"Take care!"
"Sis-in-law!"
"Take care!"
Their shouts echoed to the skies.
Li Juan also shouted twice, "You take care too! I love you all!"
Her shouts brought a moment of solemn silence.
In that silence, Li Juan covered her face with her hands and began to cry.
Only then did Company Commander Zhou walk up to her again. He gently lowered her hands, snapped to attention, and gave her a particularly dashing military salute. Then, with precise military movements, he turned around, fists at his waist, and jogged to the cab of the lead truck.
In an instant, the four trucks sped off into the distance, leaving only dust behind.
Qian Qian said, "That’s it?"
Li Juan replied, "I’m satisfied."
Before this, I had heard much about the pain love could bring, especially in novels, movies, and TV dramas. But at that moment, I suddenly realized that when love is good, it truly is wonderful. And when accompanied by solemnity, it holds an indescribable, profound beauty.
I was deeply moved.
All the construction projects had been completed, and the vast site suddenly fell silent, with only a few bulldozers carrying out cleanup work.
One day, Uncle Liu returned from the office, sighing heavily, his face clouded with worry, looking utterly aggrieved.
We three sisters asked him if he had received his bonus.
He said it seemed the bonus was gone—the finance office had changed personnel, and they refused to honor the original contract, citing overspending as the reason to cancel all bonuses.
Qian Qian grew anxious and scolded Uncle Liu, "Is a contract stamped with a big red seal just a worthless piece of paper? Are you just going to accept it if they don’t give it to you? Didn’t you argue with them?"Uncle Liu said, "How could I not argue? But that short, stout man in charge simply ignored me. What else could I do if they refuse to acknowledge it?"
I said angrily, "Sue them!"
Uncle Liu replied, "Haven't you noticed the construction site is almost empty? In a few days, when the temporary office buildings are dismantled, the office workers will all go back to their hometowns for the New Year. Even if the court accepted the case immediately, do we have any say in when the trial takes place? And where would we find the defendant on the day of the trial? Should we all stay here, not return home, and find a place to live while waiting for the lawsuit?"
His words left me speechless.
Liu Zhu had just returned from the city. Upon hearing his father recount how he not only failed to collect the bonus but was also humiliated, he flew into a rage, his anger boiling over. He grabbed the iron shovel used for cooking and charged outside.
Uncle Liu rushed forward, blocking the doorway, and shouted at him, "Put that down!"
Liu Zhu said, "Fine, I'll put it down. But can I take this instead?"
He set down the shovel and picked up the rolling pin from the dough board.
Uncle Liu snatched the rolling pin away and slapped him across the face, scolding, "The contract has my name and seal on it. If I couldn't get it, do you think you could? Do you think this is our hometown, where everyone is on our side?"
Liu Zhu roared furiously, "If they don’t honor the contract, I’ll smash their office!"
Uncle Liu pointed at Qian Qian and continued, "Have you thought about what the consequences would be? If you won’t think about your own fate, at least think about hers!"
Liu Zhu glanced at Qian Qian and immediately deflated like a punctured ball. He crouched down, burying his head in his hands, and fell silent.
I was confused.
Uncle Liu turned to look at me and Li Juan, saying, "When you’re away from home, everyone gets cheated at least once. We’ll give up on that twenty-thousand-yuan bonus. We accept it, and I advise you two to do the same. What else can we do?"
Li Juan said nothing. She grabbed my hand, turned abruptly, and walked out with me.
I thought she had something to say to me privately, but she remained silent, leading me all the way to the front of the "dormitory."
Li Juan climbed into the truck bed and lay stiffly on her bedding, staring wide-eyed at the canvas roof, her chest rising and falling with anger.
I sat at the edge of the truck bed in my usual spot, watching Li Juan helplessly, unsure how to comfort her. I was angry too, very angry. Although I was already "obsessed with money," my hands were still clinging to the edge. The bonus was something I wanted—a sum I deserved for my hard work, guaranteed by a contract. Just because some unreasonable person appeared out of nowhere and decided not to pay, who wouldn’t be angry? But my anger wasn’t just about the lost bonus; it was also about the principle of the matter. For the first time, I had encountered such injustice, and I tasted the bitterness of "being unable to speak up despite having reason on my side." Besides, I knew Li Juan sent her salary home every month. As the eldest daughter, she had a younger brother. Her father had injured his leg while working and could no longer do heavy labor, leaving him partially disabled—she was counting on the bonus for her trip home!
Qian Qian returned to the dormitory. Her bedding was next to Li Juan’s. She sat on her bedding, looking at Li Juan, and said, "Try to take it easy. If you’re short on money for the trip home, I can lend you some."Li Juan asked coldly, "What did Uncle Liu mean by pointing at you and saying that to Liu Zhu?"
Qian Qian said calmly, "I'm pregnant."
Li Juan immediately sat up straight.
But Qian Qian lay back down, hands covering her abdomen.
"What do you mean 'pregnant'?"
Li Juan glared at her like a tiger mother worried about her daughter.
"What else could it mean? I'm carrying Liu Zhu's child. I have to go back to his hometown with him and give birth to the baby. I won't have an abortion—I'm afraid of complications later, of not being able to have children again."
Qian Qian's tone remained so calm, spoken lightly as if discussing someone else's ordinary affair.
"You... you... have you really thought this through..."
"What counts as thinking it through? What counts as not thinking it through? Liu Zhu is the child's father. What choice do I have but to go with him and the child? It's all because of loneliness..."
Qian Qian laughed self-mockingly and indifferently, even letting out a chuckle. After her laughter faded, the "dormitory" fell into silence.
In the silence, Li Juan didn't stand up but crawled over to me like a turtle, whispering, "Then my plan has nothing to do with her. I can't swallow this injustice."
After explaining her plan, she looked me straight in the eyes and added, "Even if you don't join, I'll do it alone."
At that moment, I suddenly felt a surge of boldness, as if a sense of chivalry had enveloped me.
So I said, "I'll follow your lead."
Qian Qian, still lying down, said, "I'm in."
Without turning her head, Li Juan said, "This doesn't concern you."
Qian Qian said firmly, "You can't decide for me. Sisterhood isn't just lip service."
When the three of us sisters appeared in the accounting office, a short, stout man was sitting in a chair reading a newspaper, one short leg propped on the windowsill.
He was the only one in the office at the time, and he looked at us in surprise.
Although Qian Qian was pregnant, no one could tell unless she said so; at that time, she had wrapped something around her abdomen, sticking out a "big belly" as if she were about to give birth soon. She also held a large Coke bottle filled with coconut juice, wearing an expression of desperate resolve.
Li Juan and I held similar plastic bottles, labeled with "Enemy Killer" trademarks.
The three of us stood in front of the desk. The short, stout man lowered his foot from the windowsill; his swivel chair spun around, and he faced us directly.
Li Juan placed a full bottle of "Enemy Killer" on the table, the label facing him, pressed her hands on the desk, leaned forward, and asked, "See it clearly?"
The short, stout man said, "Are you crazy? Is this the place to sell pesticides?"
"We're not here to sell pesticides. We're here to risk our lives with you!"
These words slipped out of my mouth. As soon as I said them, I couldn't believe they had come from me.
The short, stout man stared at me wide-eyed.
Li Juan then announced our demands to him.
"Outrageous! Who do you think you are? Even Old Liu himself wouldn't dare. Do you think I'll give in to you? Do you think I'm scared of your tantrums? Get out! Get out! Go die somewhere else if you want to die!..."
The man, furious and embarrassed, repeatedly slammed the table.
Li Juan said, "No, the three of us sisters have made up our minds. If you don't give us the bonus, we'll die right here in front of you. Before we die, we'll make sure to leave a lasting impression on you, or we won't rest in peace."
After saying this, Li Juan picked up the thermos cup on the table, shook it, unscrewed the lid, and poured the steaming hot water directly over the man's head.The man yelped from the scalding and jumped up from the chair.
Since I had already spoken such desperate words, I couldn't back down without action.
I grabbed the ink bottle from the table and hurled it at the white wall, instantly creating a "blooming red flower" on the surface.
Qian Qian said, "Red flowers need good leaves to complement them, that's what makes them beautiful."
She also picked up an ink bottle and threw it at the wall, but what appeared was a "black wave."
"This one must be blue."
I threw the last ink bottle at the wall as well, and sure enough, a "blue ocean" appeared.
Li Juan then picked up the thermos and smashed it forcefully on the ground. The sound of the thermos shattering was deafening!
The short, stout man never expected us to act like this. He stood there dumbfounded, frozen in place.
Just then, the door opened, and two men and a woman walked in. One of the men was around fifty years old, wearing a military uniform without insignia, looking as if he had just been discharged from the army.
He asked the short, stout man in surprise what was going on.
The short, stout man stammered, unable to form a complete sentence.
Li Juan then restated our legitimate demands.
I said, "She is Company Commander Zhou's fiancée, a future military spouse."
The fifty-year-old man asked me, "The Company Commander Zhou from the engineering company that left the construction site a few days ago?"
I said, "Yes! When we three sisters saw them off, they saluted us collectively!"
I deliberately exaggerated.
The fifty-year-old man's stern expression softened. He said to Li Juan, "Let me see the contract."
Li Juan was stunned—we hadn't asked Uncle Liu for the contract.
The fifty-year-old man said, "It's fine if you didn't bring it." He turned to the short, stout man and said, "Find the contract."
The short, stout man first said he forgot where he put it, then claimed the key to the file cabinet was missing.
The fifty-year-old man said, "Think carefully, take your time. I'll sit here and wait."
He sat down in the swivel chair.
Qian Qian suddenly groaned, saying her back hurt.
The fifty-year-old man said, "There are plenty of chairs here. Please, all of you, have a seat. Let's not act impulsively. Reasonable demands should be fulfilled. Shenzhen is a place that respects contracts."
The three of us sisters then sat down.
The female comrade, while helping Qian Qian sit, took the opportunity to take the bottle of "Dichlorvos" from her and hid it behind her back.
The fifty-year-old man carefully examined the label on the bottle of "Dichlorvos" on the table, unscrewed the cap, sniffed it, screwed the cap back on, and said nothing, only frowning slightly.
The contract was finally in his hands, and he read it very carefully. For several minutes, the three of us sisters held our breath, watching his face intently. However, aside from a serious expression, there was no other change in his demeanor.
After putting down the contract, he said to the short, stout man, "Isn't it written clearly and explicitly here? Why didn't you follow the contract?"
Hearing his words, the three of us sisters secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
The short, stout man hemmed and hawed, evading the issue and making awkward excuses.
"Say no more. Handle their matter immediately, and come to my office afterward." It was the demeanor of a discharged officer—decisive and efficient as he stood up and walked out. He paused at the door, turned to look at the three of us sisters, and added, "In the future, if you encounter similar situations, you should seek out the leadership. Taking extreme actions is not advisable either."
The three of us sisters nodded in unison, even forgetting to say "thank you."
The man and woman swept the floor clean and left as well.The short, stout man counted the money and had us sign the receipt, hanging his head low, not daring to meet our eyes.
Seeing Li Juan take the money from his hands, Qian Qian said with an air of seriousness, "Juan, I'm still not satisfied."
Li Juan asked, "What do you want to do then?"
Qian Qian, unable to let go of her resentment, said, "This bastard was definitely trying to embezzle our bonus. I want to teach him a lesson with half a life, so he won't have a good ending!"
After saying this, Qian Qian unscrewed the bottle cap, tilted her head back, and gulped down half a bottle of coconut juice.
"Hey, hey!..."
The short, stout man slid from his chair onto the floor and didn't get up again. I don't know if he was scared unconscious or what.
As the three of us walked back, discussing our victory and the possible punishment the short, stout man might face, we were all extremely excited.
But Li Juan suddenly fell silent, her expression sorrowful.
Qian Qian asked her what was wrong.
She said, "If there had been any other way, who would have wanted to do that?"
She began to cry. Clearly, she felt deeply ashamed for having done it.
But I didn't share her sorrow, nor her sense of shame.
Not only was I still excited, I could even say I walked with a triumphant spirit, feeling heroic and bold. I even wanted to imitate the heroes in Peking opera, raising my head to the sky and shouting, "How exhilarating!"
"The outside world is full of helplessness"—I had already learned that.
"The outside world is full of wonders"—the wonders were proven by the actions of the three of us. It was as if I had made my first contribution to the "outside world," ensuring that justice was served. As for the means, why should I trouble myself and blame myself? I felt no shame at all!
Uncle Liu was very righteous. Seeing that the three of us had actually managed to get the bonus back, he insisted on splitting it equally.
I firmly opposed an equal split—Li Juan and Qian Qian had arrived at the cafeteria over half a year earlier than me, so an equal split would be unfair to them. But I was the only minority, unable to argue against the four of them, and in the end, we still split it equally.
The equal split actually made me feel ashamed. I had never taken advantage of anyone, and I felt deeply uneasy inside.
From my share of the bonus, I took out the extra portion I had received, half of which I forced into Li Juan's hands, and the other half into Qian Qian's.
The reason I gave Li Juan to accept it was: "Compared to you, I don't lack money. I have no family burdens at all."
The reason I gave Qian Qian to accept it was: "You'll soon need to prepare to become a mother, and you'll have more expenses than I do."
Li Juan and Qian Qian left the construction site at the same time as the Liu father and son—Liu Zhu had contacted a truck driver who could take all four of them directly to the station. They had a lot of belongings, and traveling together made it much easier for them to look out for one another.
By 2002, many people in China had mobile phones, but neither Li Juan, Qian Qian, nor I had one yet. An ordinary Nokia cost three to four thousand yuan, and we were all girls who couldn't bear to spend that much on a phone. Most rural households still didn't have telephones, so our only means of contact was through letters.
Both of them left me their mailing addresses.
As Liu Zhu was about to board the truck, he seemed to want to say something to me but felt awkward with the two of them nearby. I guessed what he wanted to say, so I took the initiative to hug him and called him "Brother-in-law."
This made him leave in high spirits.
He looked at the cafeteria and said, "Getting along with the three of you was really wonderful. I have no regrets leaving."
And in my heart, I had already forgiven him.
I believe that if a woman is loved by a man, even if he possesses no qualities that appeal to her, even if his expression of love is crude—ultimately, even if it is entirely one-sided infatuation on his part, even if he completely disregards the question of whether they are "compatible"—as long as his pursuit is not violent and he ceases to persist once he realizes there is no hope, then his crude expression should and can be forgiven.
When it comes to love itself, any man loving any woman, or vice versa, is essentially the same; the only difference lies in the so-called issue of "compatibility." As long as it is genuine love, it should not be met with contempt.
Yes, I have indeed forgiven Liu Zhu.
And I am truly grateful to Qian Qian.
If it weren’t for Qian Qian’s presence, I might not have been able to work at this construction site until the end of the year.
Holding the handle of my rolling suitcase, I stood still, staring blankly as the truck drove away until I could no longer distinguish who was still waving to me from the vehicle.
I slowly turned and looked at the cafeteria. It seemed to say to me, "All banquets must come to an end." Although we never held a banquet, the gatherings and partings in human life are not much different from one.
I glanced around. Apart from the few completed high-rise buildings, there was nothing else—not even a crane or a bulldozer. The cafeteria was the last remaining superfluous structure. By tomorrow afternoon at the latest, a group of people would come to dismantle it as well. Bulldozers would flatten the area, leaving no trace behind.
And I, in fact, had become the last person to leave the construction site.
Suddenly, a thought crossed my mind—it was as if a grand drama involving thousands of soldiers and horses had come to an end. The entire crew had already withdrawn, the lead and supporting actors had all gone their separate ways, moving on to the next grand production. The stage had been cleared, and there was no need to lower the curtain, as there was no scene change. The stage merely awaited the arrival of another crew and the performance of another grand drama. And I, as an extra in the previous grand drama—small, insignificant, an extra whose presence or absence made no difference, not even one of the nameless crowd—stood bewildered, full of melancholy, and lost on the stage, unsure of where to go next.
"Drifting, what do I resemble? A solitary gull between heaven and earth."
These two lines of poetry emerged spontaneously in my mind.
But I was not so lost that I didn’t know what to do.
I silently said to myself, "Farewell, my 'convent.'"
Turning around, I dragged my rolling suitcase along the temporary dirt road flattened by a road roller, walking toward the city center like a traveler.
Yes, I felt like a nun, and the soon-to-vanish cafeteria was the convent where I had practiced my cultivation. Although the enlightenment it gave me had nothing to do with religion, it revealed to me certain principles of being human. I was grateful for the practical wisdom it bestowed upon me—something my "Principal Mother" and "Mayor Father" had never taught me.
Suddenly, I heard a cat’s meow.
Our "Little Friend" among the three of us sisters had grown up, now a foot and a half long. It had eaten well in the cafeteria and grown quickly. Li Juan had helped me place it in a cylindrical backpack, with only its head exposed, and I carried it on my back. It must have grown uneasy because the familiar people had been taken away by the truck, leaving only me behind. Though it was on my back, it couldn’t see my face.I shifted the basket to my chest, patted its head, and comforted it, saying, "Don't be afraid, you still have me, don't you?"
It let out another cry, as if understanding my meaning.
It was the only "friend" accompanying me away from the construction site, and I decided to stay with it forever, never abandoning or leaving it.
At that moment, the setting sun was as red as fire, as large as a wheel, hanging over the distant city. The outlines of some completed or unfinished high-rise buildings were edged with an orange-red glow by the sunset's afterglow. Waves of sea breeze blew over, carrying a damp, salty scent in the air.
The first thing I needed to do was find a place to stay in the city.
As I walked, I thought about the relationship between people and so-called life directions.
It wasn't a deliberate thought for the sake of thinking, nor even a subconscious one. It was simply the natural reaction of a mind unable to remain "idle." Pondering such serious questions was no different from wondering about trivial matters like "which came first, the chicken or the egg."
I thought that the vast majority of people in the world initially have no clear life direction; direction is often determined gradually during the process of survival. But a very few people indeed have a direction from their youth—for example, a crown prince naturally knows his life direction is to succeed to the throne. During the peak of the ancient imperial examination system, scholars' life direction was to pass the exams and "serve in government," to "cultivate oneself, regulate the family, govern the state, and bring peace to the world." Passing the exams was the goal; without it, one could not "serve in government," and "cultivating oneself, regulating the family, governing the state, and bringing peace to the world" became the emptiest of empty words. Another example is Zhou Enlai, who wrote a heroic self-encouragement poem at a young age: "Seeking knowledge to save the world from poverty" was his life direction, and "Even if I fail and drown in the sea, I remain a hero"—what lofty determination! I have always felt that his self-encouragement poem was much more practical than Zhang Zai's famous four lines.
But for an ordinary working girl like me, what is, or more positively, what should be my life direction?
I honestly admit—I didn't have one at the time, nor did I want one. And I understood that it wasn't necessary to have one; even if I wanted one, it would be futile.
All living beings in the world live toward death.
Death is the ultimate direction for humans.
So for a little woman like me, it might be wiser not to make such long-term plans for my life but to set only one short-term goal after another.
Yes, that's what I thought at the time.
The first goal of my life had already begun and ended in that cafeteria. I had a few thousand yuan on me, earned through honest labor, which could be considered achieving my expectations.
With money in hand, my heart was at ease, so I could drag my rolling suitcase, with the "Little Friend" hanging from my chest, walking unhurriedly as if on a sightseeing trip, strolling leisurely as if in a courtyard.
The second goal of my life lay ahead—not a mirage, nor a self-deceiving subjective imagination, but a place that was absolutely real.
It was right there. With every step I took forward, I drew closer to it. Only I could move closer to it; it couldn't retreat even half a meter.
It was right there, beneath a blood-red sunset and a brilliant evening glow, quietly waiting as if to welcome my arrival.
I would find a place to settle down there.
I would find a second job there, hoping the wages would be a bit higher than the first.I suddenly realized at that moment that the fundamental difference between the lives of the vast majority of people and the extremely few lies in this: the latter had found their life's direction relatively early, while the former mostly only had one concrete, small life goal after another. In the process of approaching and achieving these goals, if they also sensed a direction, they would go with the flow and live on; if ultimately there was no direction to speak of, then so be it—just like me back then.
If my "Principal Mother" were still alive, she would never have allowed my life to be without direction. Even if I wanted to have none, it wouldn't have been possible—my "Mayor Father" would have wholeheartedly cooperated with her to set my life on the "right track," rather than taking it one step at a time as I do now.
But I no longer belong to the extremely few.
I have already joined the ranks of the vast majority!
So what if life has no direction, only concrete, small goals? I am determined to test it out myself and see how it turns out!
Doesn’t a person with only ordinary, small, continuous goals still need to work diligently to achieve them?
Li Juan had her next concrete goal—to use the money she earned through hard work, just a few dozen yuan a day, to urgently treat her father’s illness; her next goal was to build a new house for her family.
Qian Qian’s next goal was to buy a mobile phone; what her goal after that was, she didn’t tell me.
Uncle Liu’s next goal was to arrange a marriage for Liu Zhu.
Liu Zhu’s next goal was for him and Qian Qian to first become residents of the town, and his goal after that was to become residents of the county. He once said he wanted to achieve it in one step, but he didn’t have enough money yet.
My next goal was to walk to the city district. I would have preferred to take a vehicle, but there was none available. Fortunately, it wasn’t far from the city district—I could definitely walk there in an hour. Compared to the others, my next goal was the easiest to achieve and also the one that most required diligence.
If I didn’t walk diligently forward, could I expect myself to grow wings and fly there?
"Right, Little Friend?"
I looked down and asked, only to find it had already fallen asleep.
I could provide a sense of security to "Little Friend," which made me feel that I wasn’t a redundant person living in this world.
I walked diligently forward without stopping, my mind filled with a jumble of thoughts that hovered between worth thinking about and not worth thinking about. It wasn’t that I had to think them—they naturally emerged from my mind, and there was no way to suppress them...
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