In the dim light of the desk lamp, the blade gleamed faintly.
The sound of a door opening broke the silence. Qiao Qingyu quickly retracted the blade into its bronze handle and stuffed it into a drawer.
“Qingqing,” Li Fanghao poked her head in a moment later, “come out and have some fruit.”
Her face was as dark as if it had been smeared with charcoal. Qingyu thought it couldn’t just be from exhaustion.
Sure enough, as soon as Qingyu sat down at the dining table and picked up an orange tangerine, Li Fanghao launched into a tirade.
“You couldn’t even drop by the shop to say hello before coming home? When did you get back from school? What lecture did you attend? I bet you’re lying again, aren’t you?”
Qingyu set down the tangerine. “It was a senior who got into Tsinghua a few years ago, named Ming Dai. Many classmates stayed to listen… I’ve been home for an hour, but I didn’t go to the shop because I was rushing to do homework.”
“Another one with the surname Ming? A boy?” Li Fanghao pressed.
Qingyu remained silent.
“Answer me when I’m talking to you! Are you mute?” Li Fanghao approached, jabbing her finger hard at Qingyu’s chest. “Your heart’s gotten wild, you know that?! Tsinghua? Do you think you can get into Tsinghua? Why are you joining such crowds?!”
Qingyu abruptly stood up, ignoring her mother’s startled “What are you doing?”, and rushed to her room, slamming the door shut.
“Come out here!” Li Fanghao demanded, giving Qingyu no chance to calm down.
In a fit of rage, Qingyu acted before thinking, doing something she’d never imagined herself capable of: she kicked open the plywood door leading to Qiao Jinyu’s side of the room.
“How dare you?!” Li Fanghao roared, advancing quickly. “I’ll show you…”
“Don’t come any closer,” Qingyu climbed onto Qiao Jinyu’s desk, yanking open the cold aluminum window with a screech. “If you come any closer, I’ll jump.”
Suddenly, an extreme fear crept over Li Fanghao’s face, making her look vulnerable and distorted.
“Qingqing, come down, be good,” she pleaded, tears falling as she crouched down, afraid to approach lest she provoke Qingyu. She looked like a collapsing building.
“Qingqing, be good, don’t do anything foolish…” Li Fanghao knelt, crying as she inched forward cautiously. “Qingqing, Mama won’t scold you any more, I won’t…”
The cold wind brought Qingyu back to her senses. Seeing her mother’s pitiful state made her tears fall too. She pulled back her hand and sat on the desk, her feet dangling, feeling empty after the intense emotional surge.
“Come here, come,” Li Fanghao struggled to her feet, gently caressing Qingyu’s blank face. “Let Mama hug you, just a hug.”
With her head buried in Li Fanghao’s chest, surrounded by the smell of oil and smoke from the noodle shop, Qingyu found an unexpected softness and warmth. She burst into loud sobs.
“Mama spoke too harshly. I know you’re a good child, you’ve always been,” Li Fanghao comforted her through her tears. “Mama’s just too worried, afraid you might go astray…”
Qingyu had never doubted whether she was a good child. However, what happened the following Saturday seemed to validate Li Fanghao’s uneasy intuition.
Black Brother and his gang came in the afternoon when Li Fanghao had gone home to check on Qingyu, leaving only Qiao Lusheng dozing at a table in the shop. He woke to the commotion. Seven or eight young men with dyed hair surrounded him, blocking out the light like a dark cloud.
“Where’s your daughter?” the leader in a black leather jacket asked. “Not the dead older one, the younger one. Is she at home?”
Qiao Lusheng cautiously inquired about their business.
“She owes me money,” the man grinned, flicking ash onto the table. “Yesterday, she drank the bubble tea I bought her.”
After finally getting rid of the gang, Qiao Lusheng pulled the shop door shut and hurried home. While the couple whispered behind closed doors in their room, Qingyu paced anxiously in the living room—had her father encountered ghosts at the shop? Why was he so frightened?
Half an hour later, the couple emerged, miraculously restored to normalcy, as if nothing had happened.
“Qingqing, your studies are demanding. You don’t need to help at the shop anymore,” Qiao Lusheng patted Qingyu’s head kindly. “Your mother and I just decided to have Qiao Huan come help starting tomorrow. From now on, just bring breakfast in the morning, and come straight home after school. We’ll send dinner to you, so you don’t need to visit the shop often.”
“Qiao Huan is from our hometown in Nan Qiao Village, working here in Huan Zhou,” Li Fanghao added. “We’ve been thinking of asking her to help, as there’s too much work at the shop. With her here, I’ll have time to take you to and from school every day.”
It was an announcement, not a discussion. Qingyu nodded silently.
She vaguely guessed it was because Black Brother had come to the shop. The next day, Qiao Huan’s arrival quickly confirmed her suspicion. Qiao Huan was an outgoing and friendly person who ended up sharing Qingyu’s bed that night. After some casual chat, she revealed that Black Brother’s gang had been eating and drinking at the shop without paying.
“Your parents didn’t want me to tell you, afraid you’d worry,” Qiao Huan seemed excited to whisper under the covers, her tone barely containing her enthusiasm. “But I say, when I was sixteen, I’d already been working for two years. I’m not a child anymore~ You’re so smart, how could you not guess… That Black Brother came with three or four others to eat noodles at night, and after finishing, they just put it on a tab, saying they’d pay it all later. They’re gangsters, what can we small business owners do? At least it’s just a few bowls of noodles…”
Qingyu just listened, making no arguments. Qiao Huan was plump, making the already small bed feel cramped and stuffy. Finally, when Qiao Huan finished talking, Qingyu lifted the covers, gasping for air.
“My mom used to like eavesdropping on me and my sister too,” Qiao Huan seemed to be enjoying herself. “Your parents are so good to you, thinking of you like this. My mom used to beat me with a stick.”
“What bad things did you do?” Qingyu asked emotionlessly, staring at the ceiling in the dark.
“Stole money to buy snacks,” Qiao Huan giggled. “You can tell from my figure. I’ve always loved snacks, but my mom thought I was too fat and wouldn’t buy them for me…”
Her voice trailed off as she began to snore loudly. Qingyu continued staring at the ceiling, her already sparse drowsiness completely dispelled.
Why did everyone insist that their parents were acting for her good?
She was the instigator, yet she was forcibly isolated from the crisis at the noodle shop. She despised her parents’ self-righteous, seemingly tragic sacrifice.
I won’t feel moved or guilty because of this, Qingyu told herself.
Qiao Huan’s arrival made the already cramped room even more suffocating. When Qingyu learned that her parents had arranged for Qiao Huan to live with her indefinitely to save money, she felt as if her neck had been broken, unable to breathe freely anymore.
True to her word, Li Fanghao picked Qingyu up and dropped her off at school every day. Qingyu disliked her mother’s constant presence at the school gate, her eyes watching from behind the safety helmet as she saw Qingyu off or welcomed her back. But she did enjoy riding on the back of the electric scooter, feeling the dense airflow pressing against her exposed skin like countless cold whips, and her ponytail dancing wildly in the cool breeze. Closing her eyes, she would imagine herself free.
When dismounting, the originally cold silver frames on either side of the seat would often be warm from her body heat. Li Fanghao always reminded her to hold onto her shoulder or waist, but Qingyu never complied. Moreover, as soon as she entered the school gates, she would take off Qiao Baiyu’s old pink cotton coat that she wore over her uniform.
Before morning reading, she would longingly gaze at the glass windows a few rows of desks away. A week ago, after the sports meet ended, the whole class had rearranged, and she moved from the window-side eighth group to the fourth group in the middle of the classroom. Surrounded by people on all sides, she felt like a fish dropped in the desert. Looking at the windows, she would vividly imagine herself slowly exhaling pure white vapor onto the glass, then watching its ethereal form silently disappear.
She survived on imagination. Life was like an ice marsh ready to engulf people at any moment, with thick fog obscuring the way. Fortunately, she walked barefoot, the cold beneath her feet piercing her body, keeping her alert. Though unsure of her destination, she firmly believed she was treading on ice crystals. Painfully cold yet transparent, it was the cleanest path in this murky world.
On the weekend after the monthly exam, Qiao Huan took a day off to go shopping at the clothing market with her former factory coworkers. Li Fanghao returned home as usual on Saturday afternoon to accompany Qingyu while she did her homework. Around five o’clock, she left a bowl of hot noodles for Qingyu and went out.
After eating the noodles and washing the bowl, Qingyu put on the black hooded sweatshirt that Qiao Jinyu had carelessly tossed on the sofa and slipped out into the gathering dusk. Passing the newsstand, she tugged at the hood that already covered half her face, then dashed across the street just as the green light was about to change. Turning right for thirty meters, she stopped, hiding behind a bare plane tree to observe the opposite side.
The Qiao Family Handmade Noodle Shop squeezed among a row of storefronts, looked like a glowing shoebox. Qingyu realized for the first time how bright the lights inside were. At that moment, three of the six tables in the shop were occupied.
The curtain to the kitchen was lifted, and Li Fanghao appeared, efficiently and smilingly placing a bowl of noodles in front of one of the customers.
“Take your time. Here are some side dishes and chili sauce. Let me know if you need more soup.”
Qingyu could imagine her mother’s praised warmth and hospitality.
She began pacing slowly between two plane trees, glancing across the street occasionally. A few minutes later, Qiao Huan appeared, carrying no less than five bags—she had returned earlier than planned, and Qingyu was grateful she had come straight to the shop instead of going home first. Not long after Qiao Huan’s arrival, three young men with differently colored hair, each holding a cigarette, swaggered into the shop.
Qingyu stopped pacing and hid behind the tree, carefully watching their actions across the flowing traffic.
They sat at the table nearest the shop entrance, casually flicking ash onto the floor while waiting for their food. The one with his back to her faced outward, legs crossed, occasionally whistling at passing girls. Soon their noodles arrived, and after quickly finishing their meal, they waved at Qiao Huan, who hurried to the cash register to fetch a notebook and pen.
One of them casually scribbled something. Qiao Huan put away the notebook, her face brightening with a farewell smile.
After they left, Qingyu returned home. The next day was Sunday, and after dinner, she repeated her actions from the previous day.
This time, however, she didn’t stay as long. As soon as the three young men with different hair colors entered the shop, she took out her phone and dialed 110.
In the three or four days following her call to the police, the adults continued their busy routines as usual, but the atmosphere at home grew increasingly tense, like a snake slithering into the room in the dark of night. Qingyu knew something significant had happened.
Qiao Huan gave Qingyu an extremely oversized grey coat, claiming she had bought it, especially for her, though Qingyu was puzzled why it wasn’t given to her immediately if it was indeed bought for her, and why the tags had been removed before giving it to her. Almost simultaneously, Li Fanghao put away Qiao Baiyu’s old pink cotton coat and several brightly colored old sweaters, giving Qingyu the black cashmere sweater that she had worn for many years, saying it was warmer. Qiao Lusheng brought home a large cardboard box from somewhere and spent the night sorting out many “unnecessary” clothes from both rooms.
As Qiao Lusheng ripped open a strip of clear tape in the living room, Qingyu had just finished her shower. Something was propping up the box lid—glancing in before entering her room, she was shocked to see it was the deep red wooden plaque with calligraphy.
The continuous sound of tape being torn was urgent and sharp, piercing the quiet night, inexplicably causing Qingyu to break out in a cold sweat.
Qiao Huan wasn’t asleep, and neither could Qingyu sleep. With a thud, Qiao Lusheng left the house carrying the box on his back, and the house fell into silence. At this moment, Qiao Huan softly told Qingyu that she would be returning to Nan Qiao Village tomorrow because—she paused—because Qiao Dayong’s insane wife had died.
“She had just started walking on her own again. The last time when she had that high fever, my Uncle Dayong spent quite a bit on her medical treatment. Everyone said it wasn’t worth it, that even if she recovered, she’d never be presentable… Who knew she’d jump from the third floor yesterday and die.”
“Why?” Qingyu asked, staring at the ceiling.
“Ah she had always been crazy. I guess she just went mad,” Qiao Huan murmured. “Her room… the windows had long been sealed shut. I don’t know how she managed to climb onto the roof…”
“Why were the windows sealed?”
“Ever since her child died years ago, she has tried to kill herself several times,” Qiao Huan explained. “They had no choice but to lock her in the house, even keeping pesticides under lock and key. My uncle has had such a hard life, working diligently, spending all his money on his wife, and never enjoying a day of happiness himself… She gave birth to a daughter who died of a high fever before turning two. My uncle wanted to have another child, but she would fight with him every day, and later she completely lost her mind… Even so, my uncle still treated her well, taking her to the doctor and buying medicine when needed… People said she wasn’t like a bought wife at all, but more like a Buddha being worshipped…”
“Bought?” Qingyu couldn’t help interrupting. “Aunt Qin was bought by Uncle Dayong?”
“Twelve thousand yuan, twenty years ago,” Qiao Huan sighed. “They said she was educated, so the whole family pooled money for my uncle… My uncle is good in every way, just not in looks. He’s too honest and uneducated, and his family is poor. He was over thirty, and no girl was willing to marry him… After years of desperation, he specifically went to rural areas elsewhere to ask around before buying her… Originally, they just wanted someone who could bear children, but my uncle also wanted the child’s mother to be educated, saying it would be good for the child. That’s why he bought her, alas!”
Closing her eyes, Qingyu saw Aunt Qin wrapped in flames rushing towards her, the high leaping fire behind her like burning wings. In the raging firelight, Qingyu only remembered a pair of eyes more scorching than the fire itself.
“Aunt Qin must have been very beautiful?” Qingyu opened her eyes, her voice sounding as if soaked in water.
“She was good-looking, tall, fair-skinned, an educated city girl,” Qiao Huan recalled. “She was from the north, with very standard Mandarin. When she first arrived, everyone said my uncle was lucky…”
“What was Aunt Qin’s daughter’s name?”
“I heard adults mention it before, I think it was Panpan?”
“Panpan,” Qingyu said softly. “Skin as white as clouds in a blue sky, eyelashes softer, thicker, and more even than feathers, big eyes that blinked and sparkled…”
These were phrases often used by family members when describing Qiao Baiyu as a child.
“I don’t remember that, I was only one or two years old then…” Qiao Huan replied.
“She was also a little angel,” Qingyu interrupted, seemingly talking to herself. “So, they’ve both returned to heaven.”
“They?”
A hot tear was about to break through the thin barrier of Qingyu’s eyelid. She turned to her side with difficulty, allowing it to escape and silently fall onto the pure cotton pillowcase.