Chapter 28
At twenty-one, Lai Hui loved very few people—her mother and Jia Yi. Her love for them was deeply ingrained, yet she felt it was not enough; in her happiest moments, she often envisioned a future where the three of them lived happily together. She and Jia Yi would marry, and in the evenings, she’d come home to cook with her mother, while Jia Yi washed the dishes. Her imagination was confined to their small house, as if only within those walls could her dreams feel more real. She was certain that after graduation, she could live happily with her mother forever, without worrying about money since both she and Jia Yi could earn. She often thought this way, feeling as if it was just a matter of tomorrow. She never thought her mother might one day leave her; occasionally, the thought of her mother’s death crossed her mind, but she refused to delve deeper into it, scolding herself for being foolish. Her mother would live a long, long life. She ignored misfortune, but misfortune did not ignore her.
When she learned of her mother’s stroke and paralysis, it felt as if everything in the world shattered before her eyes. She was terrified, her heart trembling, not daring to move or even breathe, as if one breath would shatter her fragile heart as well. The faces promising her something were like shards of ice breaking away; her lips moved, and she heard a distant voice asking, “What’s wrong? What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” Each time she asked, Lai Hui answered in her heart, “Paralyzed! Paralyzed!” She wished she could deafen her ears, preferring not to hear anything. But she heard, and could not pretend otherwise.
When she finally let out a howl, the world seemed to piece itself back together. Sunlight still streamed through the window, casting a clear yellow glow on Xu Nuo’s face, melting the icy facade. It was Xu Nuo’s face, with her parents still together, her mother healthy in the countryside. Lai Hui didn’t want to look at her, only hating why it had to be her misfortune and not someone else’s. She collapsed onto the bed, crying her heart out. By noon, hunger set in; passing the school cafeteria, the usually unappetizing food seemed to have a tempting aroma. Students inside were laughing and chatting as if they were feasting on delicacies. She thought about eating before finding Jia Yi, but her feet wouldn’t lift. A leaf fell from a tree by the roadside, sinking in the air before hitting the ground, and her eyes welled up with tears of sorrow. She turned towards the school gate, thinking, “At a time like this, who cares about eating?” Jia Yi wasn’t at school, so she waited at their rental until the moon rose. As she was about to leave a note, she wrote his name and was overcome with frustration—here she was, her mother was ill, and he was nowhere to be seen. She crumpled the paper, unwilling to leave even a trace in that room, as if she knew what she was angry about, yet also didn’t.
With the only person she could rely on fallen, she couldn’t delay any longer. She took leave from school, called her boss to say she had an emergency and needed to return home. Zhou Yuqian didn’t say much, just thinking she was still an impetuous student, diligent when inspired, but otherwise seeking comfort.
After a night on the train, she returned to City C, hastily washing her face on the way, her heart burning with urgency as she rushed to the hospital. Her uncle and aunt had been keeping watch for days and nights. Lai Hui saw her mother lying there, seemingly unharmed but with a face like wax, hiding the pain. Her aunt’s eyes were swollen from crying; seeing her niece, tears gathered again. She held Lai Hui’s hand, lamenting, “Your mother has suffered so much, and we can’t do anything to help. Xiao Hui, look at us, we can’t even help with her pain, her illness, or even afford the medicine.” Her aunt stomped her feet in frustration, while her uncle, more composed, patted her shoulder to console her, then turned to Lai Hui with a pained look, “It’s good you’re back. First, mortgage the property certificate to get some money.” Only then did Lai Hui learn that her uncle and aunt had already mortgaged their house, spent all their savings, and sent their children to live with her aunt’s brother to save money. But that rural house was worth very little, and their savings barely reached four figures, just a drop in the ocean for her mother’s medical expenses. Her uncle continued, “We called you back to mortgage the house first. We can’t wait for the hospital, and your mother can’t either.” Lai Hui handed over the property certificate; the bank said it could only loan fifteen thousand yuan. Her uncle looked aged, both in face and voice, saying, “This illness won’t get better in a short time, and this money won’t last long. The hospital is heartless; if you don’t have money, they give you the cold shoulder, roll their eyes. I’m old, I don’t care about saving face, but we can’t let them stop your mother’s medication.”
At twenty-one, Lai Hui felt the weight of money. She went door to door to relatives and friends, often knocking until her knuckles hurt, with no response; some, out of kindness, gave her a couple of hundred yuan to send her away. When she visited her father’s home, before she could even mention money, his wife sat beside her with a cup of tea, talking about the rising price of meat, how long it had been since they last had meat, and how their child needed school fees. Eventually, the couple ended up arguing over last month’s living expenses. Lai Hui left expressionlessly, having experienced the coldness of human relationships in these days, finding it all too normal, even if it was her own father.
At the staircase, Zhang Zongxiang chased after her, secretly slipping her some money, whispering, “This is a bit I’ve saved; take it and use it.” In the sunlight, Lai Hui pulled out the green bills from her pocket—five hundred yuan. She looked up to see the old woman from her father’s house, peeking out from behind a flowerpot on the balcony, her face like a Peking opera mask, stark against the white wall, hurriedly pulling her head back when she saw Lai Hui looking.
Lai Hui turned and walked away. She saw clearly that the flowerpot contained azaleas, bright red, like burning coals in the sunlight, “sizzling” with red flames, clusters of them surging upward — that family must be on fire, she thought gleefully. The money she had begged for was spent like water in the hospital, and she could borrow no more from her hometown. She thought of Jia Yi, wanting to pour out all the bitterness of the past few days to him, still able to rely on him, and together they could think of a way out. She decided not to go to college, to ask Director Zhou for a formal job, and then she could advance some money from him. Her plan seemed good, and she felt somewhat relieved. After crying to her aunt, she packed her cloth bag and boarded the train.
