“Yuyu,” Uncle said, “Your parents passed away early, and that workplace accident didn’t bring much compensation—what little there was got used up years ago. Our family simply can’t afford to send you to high school or university. We don’t have the means. But we can’t let that hold you back. These days, education isn’t worth much anyway—university graduates earn less than workers, and many can’t even find jobs. Learning a trade is more reliable. We’re only thinking of what’s best for you. There are quite a few people from our town working at a factory in Xiangcheng. I heard it’s run by someone from our county. You should go with them next month. They say you can make three to four thousand a month. When you start earning, remember to send money home. Don’t waste it! We’ll save it for you.”

Liu Yuyu remained silent.

Uncle and Aunt exchanged glances before Aunt spoke up: “You child, you don’t appreciate family at all, never showing us any affection. Am I not the same as your mother? We raised you! How could we possibly harm you? Miss this opportunity, and you won’t get another! You must go and work hard there. Make something of yourself.”

Liu Yuyu’s face had reddened. “But I’m only fifteen!”

“That’s not a problem, so that’s what you were worried about,” Uncle said. “We’ll just say you’re a bit older. They’re all acquaintances; it’ll work out. You might earn a few hundred less than others, but that’s still good. We’ve raised you all these years; it’s time you earned money to repay us! The most important thing in life is gratitude. Without gratitude, you’re no better than a beast—heartless!”

“Fine, I’ll go!” Liu Yuyu slammed down his cup with a bang, stormed into his room, and slammed the door.

Uncle and Aunt watched him go, muttering complaints under their breath before dismissing the matter.

A few days later, Liu Yuyu left with several young people from town, carrying just a backpack. When he left, Uncle was nowhere to be found, and Aunt was playing mahjong at a neighbor’s house. He went to say goodbye, and she beamed from the mahjong table: “Oh, our Yuyu is going off to earn money now. Have a safe journey!” She didn’t even stand up.

The aunties around her were all smiling too. Liu Yuyu felt their gazes on him, their fake smiles barely masking pity and mockery, as if saying: Sending such a young child off to work. How heartless. Poor child.

Liu Yuyu turned and left.

His middle school graduation exam scores had placed him in the county’s top twenty, first in their town.

Initially, Liu Yuyu had been hopeful about his new life at the factory. Whatever else, he had left that village, left that cold house. He could earn his own money now and read many books. Like all trapped youngsters, he was eager to grow up. He was no exception.

But within days, the novelty of the sprawling factory floors had worn off completely. He realized his new environment wasn’t much different from before. Just another remote semi-rural area, living in a township. Surrounded by nothing but workers and villagers. He had dreamed of Xiangcheng, the provincial capital of Hunan, having heard about its excellent schools, hospitals, and celebrities. “Only Chu has talent,” they said, and he had longed for it.

After receiving his first month’s wages, he bought himself a phone and spent an entire day exploring the city by bus before returning. Even though he wandered alone, not speaking to anyone, the dark-skinned village boy was happy.

When he sent money to his aunt and uncle that first month, it was short by the cost of the phone. They were unhappy on the call, but Liu Yuyu barely spoke before making an excuse about work and hanging up.

Next month, he didn’t plan to send them all his wages as they wished. The amount would keep decreasing. He had calculated how much they had spent on his living expenses over the years. Once he had repaid enough, he would stop sending money altogether.

He was finally free.

But gradually, the young man came to understand that life is like climbing mountains. You struggle to reach the peak, enduring darkness and storms, only to find another peak waiting for you.

You never reach level ground.

At first, he hadn’t realized how different he was from the adult workers. The factory occasionally had workers who looked very young, and everyone tacitly agreed not to meddle. When he first walked into the dormitory, the three occupants were startled. Perhaps it wasn’t just his age, but also his ill-fitting, hand-me-down middle-aged style T-shirt and the woven bag he carried. Xu Jiayuan laughed and said, “What little mountain kid is this? Are you lost?”

The other two burst out laughing. Liu Yuyu had never been good at arguing or quick responses; he just silently put his woven bag beside the bed, his face reddening.

Perhaps this first encounter established the unequal dynamic between him and his roommates, especially with Xu Jiayuan.

Gradually, everyone noticed how this youth rarely spoke, never defended himself, and just quietly did what he was told: cleaning the dorm, collecting everyone’s deliveries, and running errands without a word of complaint. This submissiveness pleased Xu Jiayuan, but there was still a sense that the kid wasn’t truly tamed. Besides, Liu Yuyu was just a child—wasn’t it natural for adults to order children around?

As a habit, everyone enjoyed feeling superior, and their attitude toward Liu Yuyu grew increasingly casual and cruel.

“Hey, wash my clothes.”

“Go buy me cigarettes.”

“I’ve got something tomorrow, cover my shift.”

“What the hell, it’s only ten o’clock, why are you opening the curtains to read? Don’t you know I’m trying to sleep? Close them!”

“How come you’re working here before eighteen? Either your family doesn’t care about you, or you did something wrong, didn’t study properly, and got sent here to work. That’s usually how it goes. But what trouble could a country kid like you cause? What could you possibly do? Huh?”

…

Liu Yuyu had thought about refusing. But once certain things start, people become addicted and won’t let him refuse. There were three of them, all bigger and stronger than him, with more experience at the factory. They knew more and had more friends. If he showed the slightest unwillingness, they would use their looks, their mockery, and even physical intimidation to show him he had no right to refuse.

“Just be obedient, okay? You’re not doing anything else anyway, why not help?”

“Country bumpkins are just stupid. You’re not even an adult—who else would pay attention to you except us?”

Xu Jiayuan was the cruelest. He would look at him and say, “Go. Unless you want me to expose you as child labor and get you kicked out of the factory. Have some self-awareness, will you?”

Sometimes they got physical.

Xu Jiayuan would sometimes rough him up—slapping his head, shoving him, kicking him.