“Those with little power have little voice” is the most deadly lie in this world.
Six o’clock was rush hour. The road from the hospital to home was particularly congested. The Aston Martin crawled along the asphalt like an old donkey, stopping and starting, stretching what should have been a 15-minute drive into an infinitely long journey.
Sheng Sui in the passenger seat kept her head down, repeatedly refreshing the latest comments on the top trending topic on Weibo.
From Lin Xi picking up Zhou Yi from school at 4:30, to the hashtag #Lin Xi’s Child Suspected to be Special Needs# trending first at 5:15, to the capitalized “EXPLOSIVE” appearing after the hashtag at exactly 6 o’clock.
The entire incident took just an hour and a half.
In the leaked video with nearly a million shares and comments, the camera first followed Lin Xi’s car as it stopped on the street opposite the school. At this point, the privacy-protected windows were tightly closed, making it impossible to see faces inside.
Until Sheng Sui’s silhouette appeared in the frame.
A stroke of luck in the disaster was that as a completely useless nobody teacher, she only showed half her face throughout, and given the distance, even her own mother might not recognize her.
She led Zhou Yi toward Lin Xi’s car, crouched down to pat the head of the boy clutching his doll, opened the rear door, and lifted Zhou Yi into the child seat.
Meanwhile, Lin Xi in the driver’s seat rolled down her window. Even wearing sunglasses, her delicate features and bright red lips were unmistakable.
The video’s background audio featured the characteristic sarcastic tone of paparazzi: “…Doesn’t Sister Lin usually maintain a tough, cool sister persona? Why is she always so sneaky when picking up her kid?”
The word “always” was deliberately emphasized, making it clear this wasn’t the first time they’d captured Lin Xi coming to school to pick up her child—definitely not a coincidence.
[This kid is obviously not normal, even his walking posture is weird, no reaction when adults talk to him, either intellectually disabled or autistic]
[Probably autistic. Intellectual disability means you can still communicate, just slower]
[What kind of special is this special school? Are all the students disabled or have brain development problems?]
[The entertainment industry is really a mess. Lin Xi looks like a vixen, who knows how chaotic her private life is. Having a problematic child is probably karma]
[I advise fellow netizens to watch their words, and the media really has no conscience for views—not even blurring out the child and civilian teacher]
[Don’t understand what the person above is sympathizing with. Lin Xi earns more in a year than you could in several lifetimes. Isn’t her son enjoying the benefits? Covering this up is just ridiculous]
[…]
Public opinion on this incident showed extreme polarization: some mocked Lin Xi for being glamorous on the surface while having a chaotic private life that produced a “freak”; others angrily denounced unscrupulous media for having no bottom line and exploiting children for hype. Many also questioned what a “special school” was.
Regardless, Zhou Yi’s label as a “special needs child” from a minority group certainly provided enough sensationalism for this expose.
Sheng Sui thoughtfully scrolled through the comments one by one. Just as she was wondering where this sense of familiarity came from, she heard Zhou Shiyu’s gentle voice beside her:
“What are you thinking about?”
The man gently ruffled her hair, his well-defined fingers gathering the loose strands at her temples: “Cheng He’s PR team and technical department have already taken action. The video will be removed from all platforms within an hour. Now it depends on whether Lin Xi chooses to confess or conceal.”
Sheng Sui looked up and asked: “How could she still conceal it?”
“Say it’s a relative’s child, that coming to school was for an invited activity,” Zhou Shiyu’s tone remained calm. “The person who leaked emphasized they have other videos—they just want Lin Xi to pay a high price to buy them. When money’s involved, it becomes a small problem.”
Sheng Sui was still worried: “Then why were you frowning at the hospital?”
“Your face appeared in the video,” Zhou Shiyu said, holding the steering wheel with one hand as the vehicles ahead moved slowly, his eyes on the road. “You said you didn’t want to appear in the public eye.”
This was something even Sheng Sui herself had forgotten, yet it had become the reason for Cheng He’s PR intervention.
“If they admit Zhou Yi is an autistic child, what impact would Lin Xi face?” she asked somewhat absentmindedly. “Downgraded resources, or lost endorsements?”
“If there’s capital backing her, she won’t. It’s just that she’ll always carry the label of ‘mother of an autistic child.'”
The man beside her spoke in a flat tone: “When people don’t understand a group, stereotypes and labeling become the fastest method of identification—as a family member, Lin Xi must bear these burdens.”
“……”
Sheng Sui finally understood where the sense of déjà vu from Lin Xi’s situation came from.
In her shallow life experience, whenever topics like “autism,” “intellectual disability,” “type 1 diabetes,” or “mental illness”—things only a very small minority would experience—were discussed, rather than the affected individuals or professionals providing education, it was mostly half-informed people making descriptions and generalizations.
Because they bore no burden and had never experienced empathy, the best way for these half-baked commentators to describe silent minority groups was through presumptuous labeling.
Meanwhile, within minority groups, some individuals were unable to speak out, a considerable portion couldn’t overcome stigma and couldn’t go against mainstream public opinion, and even the few brave enough to stand up and refute would have their voices instantly drowned in the clamor.
Over time, these labels gradually evolved into stereotypes, naturally becoming derogatory and distorted, once again becoming linguistic weapons for attacking others.
This is why there were widespread comments like “Lin Xi’s chaotic private life produced an unhealthy child”; why Sheng Sui was repeatedly discriminated against during blind dates and repeatedly told that getting type 1 diabetes was due to not taking care of herself;
Why when Zhou Shiyu was tormented by mental illness, when that teenager in the hospital’s psychiatry department was so depressed he couldn’t get out of bed, there appeared the mother constantly asking “how could a child possibly be depressed,” the appearance of “mental patient” and “madman” being used by Sheng Tian as curses for “people who deserve to die,” and Yu Xuemei’s vigilant alarm at her daughter merely visiting psychiatry.
People always love to claim they have so-called flaws—being “too serious,” or having a “people-pleasing personality that gets bullied,” or being “too much of a worrier”—but when faced with people around them who truly have flaws and physical or mental illnesses, they reveal their harsh side.
The truth is, minority groups find it very difficult to openly and confidently share their circumstances under the sun.
The insulting implications derived from labels, deep-rooted stereotypes, and the ignorant believing and spreading of these ideas make the stigma felt by minority groups increasingly intense. So they can only try their best to play the role of “normal people” to fit in, doing everything possible to integrate into mainstream society.
Sheng Sui turned to look out the window at the flowing traffic and hurried passersby, but in her ears echoed what Lin Xi had said to her when they parted that afternoon.
—”Compared to worrying about Yiyi’s condition, I might be more afraid of people pointing and gossiping.”
“Those with little power have little voice” is the most deadly lie in this world.
“Public opinion is fearsome” is the truth hidden under the fig leaf.
With various thoughts tangled in her mind, Sheng Sui’s gaze followed the moving light and shadows of the setting sun, naturally settling on the man driving, watching the scattered golden light dancing on the edges of his hair and his well-defined left hand resting on the steering wheel.
—And despite having honestly revealed his condition, the wrist scars still firmly covered by that special platinum watch band.
She suddenly understood why Zhou Shiyu, even when he hadn’t had a bipolar episode for three years and everything was stable enough that she didn’t need to share any burdens, still stubbornly refused to let her delve deeper.
What exactly was it that even someone like Zhou Shiyu feared and avoided?
It was the unconscious judgment from mainstream society toward minority groups, and the casual words and strange looks from everyone around them.
Because he had experienced it when he had an episode on the street at age 19, because he had personally tasted the bone-deep memory of being exposed under the scorching sun and pointed at as an anomaly;
So he was desperately determined not to let her experience the same, not even half of that grievance.
While the Lin Xi incident was fermenting, there was obviously another matter disturbing Sheng Sui.
Hearing that the leaked video involved Zhou Family Consulting, even Old Master Zhou, who hadn’t paid attention to outside affairs for years, personally took action. Zhou Shiyu could only go to the study for a video conference with the PR team.
Sheng Sui went to the bathroom to shower, to remove the germs and pungent disinfectant smell from the hospital.
Hot water washed away the fatigue from her body. Half an hour later, Sheng Sui came out of the room toweling her damp hair. After changing clothes and opening the doors and windows for air, the phone on her vanity suddenly vibrated.
Seeing “Yu Xuemei” on the incoming call screen, along with six previous missed calls, Sheng Sui’s eyes darkened slightly.
She picked up the phone and confirmed the connection. Before Sheng Sui could speak, an impatient female voice came through the receiver:
“You explain to me about that book you bought half a month ago—’Bipolar Disorder: What You and Your Family Need to Know,’ and all those messy books related to mental illness. What’s going on?”
“Sheng Sui, tell me honestly, is it your problem, or does that person have mental illness?”
Faced with her mother’s increasingly high-pitched questioning, Sheng Sui became calmer instead, not falling into the trap: “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
“Fine, not admitting it, right?” Yu Xuemei gasped heavily in exasperation. “Look at your phone yourself, see what your so-called ‘don’t understand’ is all about!”
Her mother sent five or six screenshots, all from Sheng Sui’s Taobao friend circle—even Sheng Sui only learned today that Taobao and WeChat friends worked similarly: WeChat let you see friends’ moments, while Taobao friends could see friends’ shopping circles.
The friend circle was enabled by default with automatic sharing, which detailed friends’ purchase records, allowing Yu Xuemei to easily check Sheng Sui’s recent book purchases.
Sheng Sui rarely studied shopping apps and couldn’t even remember when her mother had added her as a friend.
She just remembered Yu Xuemei looking through her private records, combined with the woman checking her brother Xu Yanze’s phone photos, and felt nauseated by her controlling behavior.
The ridiculous thing was that despite Yu Xuemei abandoning her since childhood and doing so many excessive things afterward, Sheng Sui only truly felt disappointed and disgusted with her today, instead of just desperately seeking a few scraps of cheap maternal love as before.
Sheng Sui was very clear about who had carefully mended with needle and thread the deep abyss that her original family had smashed into her emotions.
“I’ve seen the screenshots. Just buying a few books,” she efficiently unfriended her and closed the friend circle. “I don’t need to explain to you or anyone else.”
“What kind of tone is that? You’re talking to your mother!”
After shrilly rebuking her, Yu Xuemei seemed to realize that a daughter who could no longer be beaten or scolded was difficult to threaten, so she could only soften her tone: “Mom is worried about you. How could you possibly get mental illness out of nowhere? So, is it that person who has problems? Sui Sui, do you know how dangerous this is?”
“What a huge price there is to pay for marrying the wrong person—can’t your mother prove that?”
“Also, if people find out about that person’s illness, do you know how others will look at you? Saying you married a mental patient? Or are you planning to live your whole life hiding like this?”
The woman’s voice unconsciously rose and became shrill again. Sheng Sui turned her back to the door, organizing her bag at the vanity, unmoved.
Only when Yu Xuemei finally stopped, breathing heavily with excitement, did Sheng Sui say flatly: “So, what does any of this have to do with you?”
Without the anger mixed with longing for her mother as before, even at this moment of exposure, she was merely puzzled: “This is my marriage. Whether good or bad, you don’t need to bear responsibility for it. Why are you so excited?”
“Why? Because I’m your mother! I’m the one who truly cares about you!”
Faced with her daughter’s indifference, Yu Xuemei’s hysteria at this moment seemed particularly undignified: “Everyone in the world might harm you, but your mother never would!”
“But when I was sick and nearly dying, you never came to see me once or even made a single phone call. Even knowing father wouldn’t spend half a cent, you still gave money directly to him thinking it was compensation, so you could live your happy new life with peace of mind.”
While speaking, Sheng Sui felt the office drawer key at the bottom of her bag, finally remembering the diary she’d forgotten and the will supposedly stored in the home safe.
“What do you mean? You clearly know I had no choice then. If I hadn’t left, I would have been beaten to death, but he might have been vicious to you—”
“I never blamed you for leaving me behind, because I know that before being a mother, you have to be yourself first.”
Sheng Sui put away the key and bag, picking up the insulin pen from the vanity: “But when I had no survival ability, you could leave regardless of whether I lived or died. Why are you suddenly concerned about my marriage after I became independent as an adult?”
Installing the disposable needle and tearing open the alcohol swab package, Sheng Sui looked down as the sharp needle pierced her skin, slowly pushing in the insulin: “Are you really worried about me, or do you think that whether I or my partner have mental problems, others pointing and gossiping would make you lose face?”
Seeing the person on the other end rarely struck speechless, Sheng Sui chuckled softly, finding it ridiculous: “See, you can’t even fool yourself.”
Previously, Sheng Sui didn’t understand why her mother abandoned her as a child but showed distant intimacy and suffocating control after she grew up.
Now she understood that all the contradictory behaviors, past and present, were simply for the sake of “face.”
Too proud to ask her current husband to take in young, sickly Sheng Sui; unable to tolerate her face being challenged by her daughter’s rebellion; even less able to accept that her daughter’s failed marriage might make her lose face and be gossiped about behind her back.
Trees live for their bark, people live for their face. Whether Lin Xi or Yu Xuemei, what they now feared and raged about was no longer just the illness itself, but the potential pointing and gossiping from society that could stab them in the back at any time.
Past Sheng Sui had been the same way. Afraid of being mocked or pitied, she’d rather swallow the beatings from her father than reveal a single word, lest it become dinner table gossip.
But Sheng Sui also realized that even using all her strength to protect so-called face didn’t seem to make her truly happier.
Instead, like a child who doesn’t cry doesn’t get milk, she had been so cautious and careful in preserving hers and Yu Xuemei’s face, living like a pug around her mother for those pitifully few moments of care and love, just for those cold leftovers.
“……”
Yu Xuemei was still chattering endlessly in the receiver, repeating the same circular arguments.
Sheng Sui didn’t want to waste more words. As she hung up, she heard Ping’An’s sticky meowing behind her.
She turned around in her seat to see Zhou Shiyu standing by the door, holding her usual light green mug in his right hand.
Sheng Sui guessed the man had probably specially made her another sleep-aid nourishing bedtime drink, but she didn’t know when he’d come over or how much of the phone call he’d heard.
So she proactively said softly: “My mom just called. She probably knows about your illness, but I didn’t admit it.”
“Mm,” Zhou Shiyu didn’t ask about the process, standing by the door without coming over, just lowering his eyes and responding with a heavy “mm.” “I heard you two arguing.”
“She was the one wanting to argue with me,” Sheng Sui looked up quietly at her husband, each word clear: “She said if people knew about marrying someone with mental illness, they’d point and gossip; and even if people didn’t know, you’d have to spend your whole life carefully hiding it.”
“……”
This was the first time they’d discussed this topic openly and honestly. Sheng Sui could sense the man’s tense emotions from the solidified atmosphere.
The clock’s ticking was deafening in the dead silence. After a long while, Zhou Shiyu’s hoarse voice sounded:
“So, what do you think?”
To be honest, Sheng Sui didn’t really have many thoughts.
Just as she’d told Yu Xuemei, this was her and Zhou Shiyu’s marriage—they didn’t need anyone else to be responsible for it, so why give outsiders any so-called explanation?
“I don’t have any particular thoughts,” she admitted her mind was blank. “I just know that in this house, only the two of us are married.”
Unable to find suitable words, she paused slightly in her tone, thinking carefully for a few seconds before choosing to swear for the first time in her life:
“As for everyone else, they can all go to hell.”