Children living under others’ roofs may not necessarily become rebellious or ingratiating, but they invariably become very perceptive of others’ moods and intentions.

Life in Teng City was far more comfortable than in their small hometown.

The city elementary school was prettier than the township school, with well-equipped classrooms and kind, gentle teachers. Living with her birth mother gave Miao Jing some confidence. Moreover, Teng City had a hot climate – winters brought no snow, and when temperatures dropped, two sweaters plus the school uniform were enough to get by.

For poor people, summer was much easier than winter – fewer expenses for clothes and heating. In a humble dwelling, drinking plenty of water and eating salty food was enough to cope with the heat.

Both Miao Jing and Wei Mingzhen liked Teng City.

The new family seemed to get along harmoniously. Chen Libin was gentle and refined, with no bad habits, but he didn’t manage household affairs or look after the children. After work, he would sit in front of his computer – surfing the internet, playing games, trading stocks, chatting, watching DVDs. In those days, the Power Supply Bureau was one of the best-performing state-owned enterprises. He was in a technical position with good prospects for promotion, a high salary, and excellent benefits. Rice, oil, salt, and daily necessities all came from work unit distributions. With four people in the family and two children who didn’t spend much beyond food and drink, the household was simple with no extra expenses, and their savings seemed quite substantial.

Wei Mingzhen felt lucky to have found such a reliable husband. Her relationship with Chen Libin had started through online chat, and she held him in spiritual admiration. In the beginning year as a housewife, Chen Libin would give Wei Mingzhen a sum for household expenses at the start of each month. The amount wasn’t too much, just enough for household expenses. Wei Mingzhen also showed an attitude of not caring about material things, and taking good care of the family.

Between the two children, Wei Mingzhen openly favored Chen Yi, treating him with kindness and attentiveness, but Chen Yi was indifferent, his eyelids lifting and falling lazily, cold glances cast askance. Even at such a young age, his face showed viciousness, which Wei Mingzhen thoroughly despised. Privately, Miao Jing received better treatment than Chen Yi – a hidden kind of better. When there was a chicken with two legs, one went to Chen Libin, one to Chen Yi, but the first person to taste the meat was Miao Jing.

After living there for a while, Miao Jing learned a phrase called “two-faced.”

No one in the family looked after Chen Yi, and neighbors said he was no good, destined to become a hoodlum. He was extremely wild, coming home only at set times for meals and sleep, and spending all other time outside. Near the residential complex was a garbage station and a small park – that was Chen Yi’s territory. He played marbles, card-flipping games, horseback fighting games, and spinning tops. He excelled at fighting and causing trouble, cutting an imposing figure as the little tyrant among his peers. Though Miao Jing and Chen Yi attended the same school, they never went to school together or spoke to each other. If they got too close outside, he would coldly tell her to go away, to keep her distance.

At home – whenever the two were in the bedroom together, Miao Jing would suffer. She often didn’t know how she had provoked him. A sudden punch would land on her back, a pencil would sharply stab her arm, or he would pull chairs around and tear up her homework in cruel pranks that frequently left Miao Jing in pain. Both she and Chen Yi were quiet by nature, though Miao Jing seemed more timid. Chen Yi would also viciously threaten her, saying if she dared tell the adults, he would beat her to death.

The second bedroom had no air conditioning. Throughout the summer, Chen Yi completely monopolized the electric fan. Miao Jing’s bed was by the window, baked by the sun every morning. At night, she often couldn’t sleep from the heat, tossing and turning in bed. Sometimes she would glimpse Chen Yi sleeping peacefully in his tank top and shorts, looking harmless, though he was a little demon.

The reason she never reported to Wei Mingzhen and Chen Libin was because Chen Yi got beaten too – beaten by Chen Libin.

In those days, gentle education wasn’t popular. Naughty children often got beaten, with ghost-like wails and wolf-like howls floating out windows for all neighbors to hear, though no one thought much of it. But in the Chen household, no sounds of beating or violence were ever heard.

Chen Libin never managed Chen Yi, never reasoned with him, or offered heartfelt advice. The first time Miao Jing saw it – Chen Yi had come home from playing outside at mealtime, and took his bowl to eat at the table, the chair legs scraping noisily against the floor. Chen Libin slightly furrowed his brows and directly kicked Chen Yi in the stomach. The boy crashed into the corner, the wall making a dull thud like a muffled firecracker. Chen Yi hung his head, crouching in the corner, his mouth tightly drawn. Chen Libin calmly walked over, looking down from above to deliver two more kicks, then sat down to drink and eat as if nothing had happened. Chen Yi got up from the corner without a sound, picked up his chopsticks from the floor, and viciously shoveled food into his mouth with his head down.

These beatings always came without warning, like a fly suddenly being swatted – no reason given, no explanation. Or maybe there was a reason, but Chen Libin couldn’t be bothered to say – perhaps a neighbor had complained, someone had come to tell on him, or a school teacher had called for a home visit.

It wasn’t daily beatings – sometimes ten or fifteen days would pass peacefully, but every few days there would be one session. Chen Libin never hit the face, usually using his feet to kick wherever was convenient – stomach, back, thighs. Miao Jing had seen bruises in all these places on Chen Yi.

She was terrified of this beating method. Wei Mingzhen comforted her, saying boys needed to be beaten – it was education, and Chen Yi truly had a vicious character: crude, fierce, cursing, fighting, stealing, disliked by everyone. Wei Mingzhen told Miao Jing to stay away from him, saying if Chen Yi ever bullied her, she should tell Chen Libin.

Chen Libin’s kicks seemed very forceful, but Chen Yi would always get up with an unchanged expression. The small boy would keep his head down, his eyes like hidden cold stones, with a kind of desperate intensity. Miao Jing always thought it couldn’t be that painful, until later she discovered Chen Yi made sounds in his sleep at night and talked in his dreams. Sometimes when he rolled over in his sleep, she saw his furrowed brows, his hand clutching his stomach, broken whimpers of pain. Only then did she realize he was hurting too, just enduring it. His sleep-talking was rushed and unclear, but he would call out for “mama.”

Living in this house for a long time, Miao Jing was always on edge.

Later, someone came to complain, saying their car parked on the street had been scratched. Someone had seen Chen Yi scratching the car with a stone. The car owner came demanding compensation, the evidence was conclusive. Chen Libin paid some money, saw the person off, and with a gentle expression took out an object.

Chen Yi suddenly rushed into the room, shrinking into a corner. Miao Jing saw the fear in his eyes, like a terrified wild animal trapped in a cage.

It was probably some kind of electrical device Chen Libin had made himself. He understood electricity and could easily create a punishment tool. When that thing lightly touched Chen Yi’s body, he began to tremble, his shoulders hunching, face turning pale, eyes reddening.

“This is for your good. You’ll get into real trouble sooner or later acting like this,” Chen Libin said gently. “So young and already going bad – don’t say you’re Chen Libin’s son, I can’t control you.”

“You’re not my son, and I’m not your father.”

Miao Jing saw Chen Yi’s body twist and jerk up strangely.

Wei Mingzhen watched with some trepidation and pulled the frozen Miao Jing out of the room, discovering Miao Jing was shaking continuously. She dragged her to the balcony: “What are you afraid of? It has nothing to do with you. That’s Chen Yi’s birth mother – his mother wronged your Uncle Chen.”

After that, whenever Chen Yi got into trouble and was beaten, Miao Jing would have nightmares at night. She would wake up struggling in the middle of the night, her calves twisted with cramps. She would clutch the sheets, breathing heavily. Sometimes she would wake Chen Yi, who would pull back the curtain and stand by her bed, watching her flushed face and heaving chest, sneering with cold light in his eyes.

“If you keep watching, I’ll get up in the middle of the night and gouge out your eyes.”

Miao Jing whimpered, covering her eyes with her hands.

Seeing her mouse-like timidity, he curled his lip in disdain: “What are you afraid of? He doesn’t beat you.”

“He’s a psycho, a pervert.”

Chen Yi muttered, abandoning Miao Jing to lie back in bed, pulling the covers over his head, and turning over to sleep soundly.

Later, when Miao Jing grew a bit older, she understood Chen Yi’s mother from neighbors’ gossip and Wei Mingzhen’s veiled attitudes.

Chen Yi’s mother had drowned, going to wash bedsheets by the river for no reason. When they found her several days later, it wasn’t clear if it was an accident or her own choice. Before this, rumors said Chen Yi’s mother had an affair, making Chen Libin a cuckold. Someone had caught them, and when she couldn’t get a divorce, she would fight with her husband at home every day. There were also rumors that Chen Yi wasn’t even Chen Libin’s son, because Chen Libin had been diagnosed with weak sperm and couldn’t easily have children.

Wei Mingzhen had carefully observed Chen Yi, even secretly asking Miao Jing if she thought Chen Yi looked like Chen Libin. Neighbors said Chen Yi looked very much like his mother, who had been very beautiful, but he seemed to resemble Chen Libin too. Father and son were both good-looking – Chen Libin’s high nose bridge and double eyelids, Chen Yi had them too.

There were no photos of Chen Yi’s mother in the house. Maybe there were – Miao Jing might have caught a glimpse once, though she hadn’t seen the face. A small black and white ID photo is tucked between the pages of one of Chen Yi’s books. When Chen Yi noticed, he gave her a vicious shove.

As time went on, Wei Mingzhen also started fighting with Chen Libin. Each month Chen Libin only gave her a fixed sum for living expenses. The family savings were supposedly substantial, but he kept a tight grip on them, not letting a bit slip out. If she wanted more spending money, Wei Mingzhen had to find work herself. Additionally, Chen Libin maintained ambiguous relationships with different women online.

Wei Mingzhen still wanted to get pregnant. Given the current situation with Chen Libin and Chen Yi, they would eventually cut ties. If she could have Chen Libin’s child, many things would become easier to handle.

Miao Jing was a good student, consistently ranking among the top in her grade. Each semester brought numerous awards, and she participated in various academic competitions and contests. Her personality wasn’t particularly likable – she was quiet most of the time, gaining attention and goodwill solely through her academic performance. Eventually, she made one or two close female classmates.

At school, people didn’t know about her relationship with Chen Yi. Even at his young age, Chen Yi was already domineering and untamed at school, though his academic performance wasn’t too bad – middle of the pack. By fifth and sixth grade, girls had started liking him, chasing after him and shouting his name, competing to do his homework.

Young as they were, the girls would say Chen Yi was handsome, even more handsome when he smiled, and though he could be crude and annoying, he was loyal – like a chivalrous warrior.

Sometimes Miao Jing would see Chen Yi on the playground, darting from one end to the other, his forehead covered in sweat, his dusty face lit with an unrestrained smile, eyes bright and black. He didn’t seem so frightening then.

After elementary school, Chen Yi entered the district middle school. Though the school wasn’t far from home – only a thirty-minute walk – Chen Yi boarded there.

The children were growing up, and middle school boys were entering puberty. It wasn’t appropriate for them to share a room anymore, especially given Chen Yi’s personality and temper. Boarding was better – Miao Jing could have a room to herself. With her good grades and quiet, timid nature, she deserved more care.

Chen Yi’s single bed was moved to the living room. The living room was rectangular, with a corner that had previously held several large boxes. Once cleared out, it was perfect for a bed against the wall, with curtains moved over to partition off a small space.

Anyway, Chen Yi was always out playing, only coming home to eat and sleep. After he started boarding at middle school, he came home even less – just once a month for living expenses and such.

He began rapidly shooting up in height, all his clothes suddenly becoming too short. His appearance transitioned from boyish innocence to raw, spirited vigor. His facial features began taking on definition, his personality growing more domineering and unruly, increasingly wild as he entered his rebellious phase.

Boarding school didn’t ease the father-son enmity. Chen Yi got into fights at school, skipped classes to go to internet cafes, and gathered groups for gambling – never doing anything good. The school frequently complained and requested parent visits. When Chen Libin beat him now, Chen Yi dared to fight back directly, neck rigid and jaw set, pointing at Chen Libin’s nose and cursing “motherfucker,” his eyes fierce enough to eat someone. First, he destroyed that electrical device, then met Chen Libin’s kicks with bare hands.

Chen Libin was pushed back by his son’s counter, stumbling several steps backward, his face ashen. He was shocked and panicked for a moment, but quickly recovered, resorting to tools – belts or wooden sticks.

He was taller than Chen Yi, more solidly built than the reed-thin boy, and stronger. It wasn’t time yet for a father to submit to his son.

The worst incident was in the second year of middle school when Chen Libin went to the school.

Two groups of teenagers had fought outside school. Someone had brought a knife, stabbing an opponent in the abdomen, landing them in intensive care. The troublemakers were taken to the police station. Chen Yi had been involved in the brawl, but he knew his limits, only hitting non-vital areas, and he had called an ambulance. In the end, he got away clean, avoiding consequences.

The school wanted to expel this batch of students, but fortunately, the nine-year compulsory education protection and Chen Yi’s kind-hearted homeroom teacher found a way to keep him in school, though with severe disciplinary action.

That time, Chen Yi was beaten severely, breaking one of Chen Libin’s belts. Right there in the living room, father and son both gritted their teeth in silence. Wei Mingzhen was cooking in the kitchen, Miao Jing in her room, hearing the dull sounds of blows outside, eyes closed, hands covering her ears.

After the beating, Chen Yi lay on his living room bed, curtains drawn tight. The three others ate in the dining room, completely unable to sense his presence.

After dinner, Chen Libin went to the bedroom to play on his computer. Wei Mingzhen filled a bowl with rice and dishes, placed it by Chen Yi’s bedside, and then turned to see Miao Jing’s quiet eyes staring intently. She pointed to the room, telling her to go do homework.

Late that night, Miao Jing went out to use the bathroom, passing through the living room. The night and time were deathly silent, making her terrifyingly nervous. She feared he might be dead, become a corpse, but moving closer, listening carefully, there were weak, labored breathing sounds.

Miao Jing gathered her courage to pull back the curtain. The bowl of food at his bedside was untouched. Chen Yi’s head was turned to the inside, limbs splayed out, lying flat on the bed like rotting flesh. Miao Jing’s throat tightened, afraid to move, her heart pounding with nervous sweat. He slowly turned his head, dried blood at the corner of his mouth. In the dim light, his black, rigid eyes flashed with tears, looking at her numbly and fiercely, motionless.

She went to the kitchen for a glass of water, carefully bringing it to him. His gaze fixed straight on the glass, his temple twitching slightly, and then he turned to his side extremely slowly. His cracked lips touched the rim of the glass, slowly exhaling a breath. Miao Jing gently tilted the glass. His lips touched the cool water, unconsciously sipping small mouthfuls, slowly drinking the entire glass this way.

In the darkness came slight sounds, unclear whether from his throat or stomach.

The rice at his bedside had long gone cold and hard. Miao Jing fumbled in the dark kitchen, found two eggs, turned on the stove, and by the ghostly blue light of the flame, nervously made a bowl of steamed egg custard. This was what her grandmother often made when she was sick as a child. She mixed the smooth, hot custard with a bit of leftover rice, carefully cradling the bowl as she sat by Chen Yi’s bed, cooling each spoonful with gentle blows before bringing it to his lips.

The two barely spoke, sharing no positive feelings – it was just a child’s sympathy and sense of duty.

Chen Yi’s eyes were half-closed as he opened his mouth to accept the spoon, slowly chewing each mouthful. When he finished, Miao Jing would feed him the next bite.

In the deep night’s silence, that bowl of food was eaten slowly, so slowly, without making the slightest sound.

After finishing the egg custard, Miao Jing hurriedly washed the bowl in the kitchen and then rushed back to her room.

The next day, returning from school, Chen Yi was gone.

He occasionally came back after that, when Chen Libin wasn’t around, to get some things. He wouldn’t use the front door, climbing directly through the balcony or bedroom window. He seemed to have grown taller, more agile, parkour-like in his climbing and jumping, giving Wei Mingzhen and Miao Jing quite a fright.

That summer, Miao Jing graduated from elementary school and entered the same middle school as Chen Yi. She was in the first year while he was in third. Miao Jing also chose to board, staying away from that nightmare-filled room.