Hearing this, Ms. Lu’s expression darkened. She said stiffly, “Our family’s financial situation isn’t as good as you imagine. Your brother is about to start his third year of middle school, and his grades are excellent. Do you understand?”
Fang Zhuo looked her straight in the eye and stated, “Legally speaking, I’m still a minor. You have an obligation to support me.”
Ms. Lu laughed out loud. “Compulsory education is nine years! Do you even know the law?”
“I admit I don’t know much,” Fang Zhuo said, “but I’d think an adult should. You’ve never fulfilled that obligation. Even calculated at the lowest standard for child support, the cost over all these years should be more than enough to cover my tuition.”
The middle-aged man, who had kept his head down without speaking, could no longer hold back. He said with displeasure, “What exactly are you implying?”
Fang Zhuo lowered her eyes halfway, staring at the grain of the wooden dining table in front of her. “I know where you both work. I’ve met your colleagues, too.”
Fang Yiming’s face went pale. Realizing something, his tense features began brewing rising anger.
A wooden chopstick slammed onto the table hard, one of them flying off. Ms. Lu, furious, leapt to her feet, glared fiercely at Fang Zhuo’s face, then snatched the chopsticks from Fang Yiming’s hand and snapped, “Forget dinner! Look at this daughter of yours—listen to what she’s saying, does that even sound human? Just a student, and she dares to threaten us! Fang Yiming, when I married you, you told me I’d never have to deal with her!”
She spoke with great agitation, but no one responded. Fang Zhuo turned her head, the corner of her eye lifting as she glanced sideways at her, and asked back, “You think I’m threatening you because you know what you’ve done can’t see the light of day?”
Ms. Lu choked on her own breath, and was about to keep scolding when Fang Yiming raised a hand to stop her.
Whether out of some rare flicker of guilt, or wariness of how deep Fang Zhuo’s thoughts ran, Fang Yiming’s chest heaved several times before he finally held himself back, saying with a frown, “Give her the tuition money.”
On the other side of the table, Fang Xiaodi slammed down his bowl, crossed his arms, leaned back, and refused to eat any more.
Fang Zhuo added, “And my living expenses too.”
“You want to cut all ties with us, is that it?” Ms. Lu said in disbelief, pointing at the front door. “Fine, I’ll give it to you—get out, and never come back!”
Fang Zhuo got up, walked over to the sofa, picked up her backpack, and walked out the door without a trace of reluctance.
Ms. Lu grabbed the bag hanging nearby, shoved her feet into slippers, and rushed out through the security door after her. She pulled a stack of freshly withdrawn cash from the bag and, without counting it, hurled it at her in fury.
“You’ll turn eighteen next month, right? I’ll just count it as if you’re already there—half a month early. Take it all, keep the change!”
Red and white banknotes scattered across the ground in a flurry, a few of them caught by the cool draft from the stairwell’s vent window and blown down toward the steps below.
The sound-activated light switched on, making Fang Zhuo’s face look even paler.
A night wind swept past, cold air striking against everyone’s bare skin, and only then did they realize the sky had already turned ink-black.
Fang Zhuo pressed her lips tightly together, hooking a finger under her backpack strap and pulling it up. Her tone sharpened, and she said, word by word, “Pick it up.”
Everything around them fell dead silent.
“If I can’t go to school, that’s fine. I’ll just carry a sign every day to your son’s school, sit outside his classroom door, and tell his classmates and teachers all about how I couldn’t get a poverty subsidy and couldn’t afford to study because of how cold my family was to me. If he goes to high school, I’ll follow him to high school. If he goes to college, I’ll follow him to college. And whenever it’s too cold or too hot out, I can always go to your workplaces instead.”
Her voice was unmistakably soft and slow, yet it left the others feeling a chill of fear.
The dim light seemed to be swallowed into the blackness of Fang Zhuo’s eyes, her long lashes shadowing those dark, fathomless depths.
She said it again: “Pick it up.”
Ms. Lu’s face trembled, rooted to the spot by the threat in Fang Zhuo’s words. Regret stirred in her, but her pride wouldn’t allow her to bow to Fang Zhuo. Caught between the two, it was Fang Yiming who finally stepped forward, picking up the banknotes from the ground one by one.
Fang Xiaodi gripped the doorframe, calling out hesitantly, “Dad.” The latter waved a hand sternly, signaling him to go back inside.
Once all the bills had been gathered up, Fang Yiming raised his head and found himself looking straight up into Fang Zhuo’s eyes.
That look of hers, scrutinizing him from above, held no emotion whatsoever—it even carried a faint, eerie menace.
Fang Yiming froze for a moment, then awkwardly looked away, realizing for the first time that Fang Zhuo wasn’t as timid or easy to push around as he’d imagined. Whatever conciliatory words he’d been about to say, he swallowed back down.
Fang Zhuo doesn’t resemble her mother at all, Fang Yiming thought distractedly. Ye Yaoling had been a very simple, guileless person.
He held out the money, and Fang Zhuo paused for two seconds before taking it.
As if deliberately tormenting them, Fang Zhuo counted each bill carefully, doing so three times in a row right in front of them. Only when Ms. Lu’s patience finally ran dry did she stop.
In total, it came to five thousand yuan.
Belatedly, Fang Yiming pulled another two hundred yuan from his pocket and pressed it into Fang Zhuo’s hands as well.
“Tuition plus dormitory fees, and some other expenses—it comes to 4,200.” Fang Zhuo pulled her backpack over and carefully tucked the money into the middle compartment. Without looking at either of them, she said flatly, “And a thousand even, to settle accounts and buy myself out for good.”
Fang Yiming’s lips moved, about to say that wasn’t what he meant, but before he could, Fang Zhuo added, “More than I thought I was worth.”
She glanced at Ms. Lu, noting the woman’s unease and discomfort, and smiled, curling up the corner of her mouth, saying with a touch of malice, “I’ll be back, you know.”
Ms. Lu yanked Fang Yiming inside with force and slammed the door shut.
After the heavy slam, a faint stirring came from upstairs. Even though the person had tried to soften their footsteps, that small rustle of sound was still noticeable in the quiet stairwell.
Behind that single wall, Ms. Lu, all pretense of composure gone, screeched hysterically, “Fang Yiming, how much do you even make a month? Get this straight—your son’s starting his third year of middle school this year! How much are his tutoring fees a month? How much does it cost to feed and clothe him? Are you planning to peel a layer of skin off your own son just to pay off that ungrateful wretch out there? If that’s how it is, then let’s not even stay married!”
Fang Zhuo no longer held any so-called attachment to this family. She lifted her feet and started down the stairs.
All that fierce noise and quarreling ended, in the end, this quietly. Just like no matter how violent a wave might be, once it crashes into the sea’s surface, it can only leave behind a brief ripple.
As she pushed open the security door, fine rain sprinkled down along with the first cool breath of late summer. Fang Zhuo tucked the money into her pocket, fingers clenched tightly around it, yet she felt as though all the warmth in her body had been drained away by that thick stack of bills.
Perhaps the bond of family between them had never been particularly warm to begin with.
Loose strands of hair grew damp with rain, sticking to her cheeks. Fang Zhuo walked on with her head down, beneath the eaves, and before she’d gone more than a couple of steps, a voice rang out from above her head.
“Hey!”
A window opened upstairs. Fang Xiaodi, gripping an umbrella in his hand, gestured before tossing it down to her.
Fang Zhuo bent down to pick it up, hearing the person above say, “Take all your stuff and don’t ever come back!”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than he was yanked back inside by Fang Yiming.
Fang Zhuo opened the umbrella and stood there blankly for a moment.
She had no phone, no navigation. The school dormitory had already closed for the night, and she had no idea whether the last bus had already stopped running.
The city showed its most alien face to those who had lost their way.
She walked aimlessly along the street for a while, and finally settled on a 24-hour convenience store, sitting down on the bench outside. She opened her bag and, using the light from inside the store, began flipping through her books.
The light, filtered through the glass, was dim and weak. Before long, Fang Zhuo’s eyes began to feel dry and strained. She packed her things away, leaned gently back, and rested half against the glass.
·
Catching sight of a familiar figure in blue passing through his field of view, Yan Lie set down the half-eaten burger in his hand, studied the figure carefully, and confirmed it was Fang Zhuo, thinking to himself what a coincidence this was.
She seemed very tired, sitting in front of the store, clutching her backpack tightly to her chest, and before long she had fallen asleep.
Yan Lie hesitated, then kept sitting and watching. He’d meant to see when Fang Zhuo would leave, but by the time he’d finished his dinner and played a round of a game, he looked up to find the person in his sight was still there.
He walked over, meaning to wake her, but couldn’t be sure why she was staying here. His raised hand ultimately hung in midair without coming down, his own shadow simply blocking half the streetlight’s glow from her.
Whether it was the effect of the dim, murky light, or Fang Zhuo’s recently irregular lifestyle, from where Yan Lie stood, her face looked frighteningly pale, her lips chapped from thirst, and the slim wrist exposed below her sleeve hinted at how thin she’d become.
Yan Lie couldn’t quite recall how Fang Zhuo carried herself at school, since the two of them had interacted so little. He only remembered that she always seemed busy, always rushing somewhere. She didn’t seem to fit in much either, always wearing an expression of disinterest in everything.
Everyone had their own little quirks, Yan Lie figured, and his instinct told him it was best not to disturb her peace.
He walked into the convenience store, picked out two steamed buns at the counter, a bowl of sweet porridge, and two small cakes. After paying, he lowered his voice and said to the cashier on duty, “Give this stuff to the person outside. Just tell her it’s unsold and about to expire, so you’re giving it to her to eat.”
The cashier followed his line of sight and only then noticed someone sitting outside the store. From the vague silhouette, she was wearing the same school uniform as this handsome young man in front of him, so he readily agreed.
Yan Lie grabbed a drink for himself, and after walking out, stood in front of Fang Zhuo for two seconds before turning and leaving.
His shadow had barely receded before Fang Zhuo opened her eyes.
She didn’t quite have the nerve to actually sleep out on the street—just the money tucked in her bag was enough to keep her sleep uneasy.
The cashier came out right after, carrying the bag, and seeing that Fang Zhuo was awake, had originally meant to say what Yan Lie had told him. But meeting Fang Zhuo’s upward gaze, somehow the words seemed to scald his tongue, and what came out instead, taking an unexpected turn, was: “Your classmate’s quite worried about you. Are you hungry? Eat something.”
Fang Zhuo slowly lowered her head, her attention shifting to the white plastic bag in his hand.
The cashier thought this girl seemed far too mature. Or rather, not so much mature as worn down by friction with the world.
Just as he expected her to refuse, she reached out a hand and said politely, “Thank you.”
“No problem.”
The cashier tucked his hands into his pockets, ready to head back inside. He took half a step in, then stepped back out again, saying, “It’s been raining these past couple of days, and there are a lot of bugs out here. Why don’t you find somewhere indoors to sit?”
Seeing that Fang Zhuo all but had the words “no money” written across her face, he gave a helpless laugh and pointed vaguely in a direction, saying, “There’s a KFC on the street up ahead, open all night. The staff there are pretty nice, and since you’re a student, they probably won’t give you any trouble. There’s a row of sofa seats in the corner that’s pretty comfortable for sleeping—if you’re lucky, you might still find a spot. If not, there’s a hospital nearby. Just make sure to keep an eye on your belongings.”
Fang Zhuo listened, nodded, considered for a moment, then picked up her bag and stood.
The buns still held a faint warmth, which traveled into her palm through her tightening fingers.
She watched the road as she walked, and at a red light, couldn’t help lowering her head to take a bite.
The heat, along with the savory filling, filled her mouth, warming her once-cold insides through and through, and only belatedly did she realize how hungry she’d been.
She ate with great care, until the red light turned green, and the green light turned red again.
Fine rain blurred the air; the night was cold, the wind sharp.
This was, in fact, her first meal of the day.
Dazzling neon lights stretched on in an unbroken line, leading into the deep, boundless dark of night.
Fang Zhuo gazed absently toward the far edge of the sky, feeling that her future was like this river of light—perhaps not straight or clear, but already laid out before her, inescapable.