Starving to death, freezing to death, being beaten to death
People of the Porcelain Country!
Jonathan opened his eyes, feeling the chill from the cold wind on his sweaty body, and hearing the noise of cars passing by on the street blocked by buildings, before he realized that he was still alive and not hallucinating.
Realizing he was still on the run, he snapped to attention, struggled to sit up, and lifted his head.
Her gaze moved upwards from the two pairs of exquisite men's and women's leather shoes in front of her, to a pair of crisp, sculpted trousers and a warm-looking, soft pencil skirt. Further upwards, backlit by the light, Jonathan couldn't see them anymore, so she had to get up a little more, her half-kneeling posture humble and pathetic.
"Hey, which department are you in?" The girl squatted down to be at eye level with Jonathan. Her almond-shaped eyes were devoid of emotion, even cold, but her voice had a soft, girlish quality, creating a strong contrast. "Which department is so exhausting right after the start of the semester?"
The girl was small and delicate, wearing a fitted jacket with a bow, which made her shoulders look thin and narrow. Even when she squatted down, she could still completely cover the upper body of the man next to her.
Seeing Jonathan looking confused and not answering for a long time, the girl tilted her head and looked disappointed: "Not from China?"
Jonathan had a strong feeling that he had to seize this opportunity that was right in front of him.
"I am!" He didn't even know what opportunity it was, only acting on instinct, or rather, the will to survive, to avoid disappointing the girl any further, he quickly answered. But then, remembering that he wasn't a Columbia University student and hadn't even had a proper education, he stammered, "But I'm not..."
Jonathan instinctively gripped the Lincoln car keys still in his hand, nervously glancing back. He didn't see anyone chasing him behind him, only a few students or teachers passing by.
Students, teachers... He then looked around. One side of the building was made of sand-colored checkered patterns, while the other side was made of mirrored glass and square white bricks. Up close, he could also see the orange floors and facilities inside the building.
I somehow ended up here by accident. Turns out this really is a school!
"It's boring. I thought I wasn't the only kid from China who was going to study abroad at the age of fourteen." The girl had clearly figured out Jonathan's hesitation, but she was even more disappointed after figuring it out.
At this moment, the man who had been hidden finally spoke, his voice clear and elegant, his tone as cold as the girl's almond-shaped eyes: "Didn't you want to go to the museum? Let's go, I'll take you out to eat after we're done." With that, he walked away on his own.
"You're the one who insisted on coming with me, and you're the one who's so impatient." The girl clicked her tongue, got up, and chased after him. "Hey! Wait for me, Third Brother!"
When Jonathan heard the man mention taking the girl out to eat, his stomach growled involuntarily. He also saw the two of them talking intimately in the distance. His survival instinct was fueled by hunger, which gave him immense courage.
He quickly stood up, took two steps at a time, and ducked under the open-air staircase extending from the glass building. He followed them along the wall for a while, and just as the two were about to turn the corner of the building, he shouted with all his might, "Don't go!"
The two stopped and turned to look at him, this reckless fellow.
Jonathan walked timidly from the shadows into the sunlight. When he got closer, he stopped in a spot that was blocked by walls, stairs, and trees on all sides. The warm light shone into his eyes, as if it had weight, making the corners of his eyes bend.
Although he didn't meet the person he was waiting for in his imagination at the end of this road, he did encounter what was very likely his only chance to change his fate in reality. It was just as worthwhile for Jonathan to cling to it like a leech and seize it.
Then the corners of his lips quickly followed suit, and he used his somewhat rusty porcelain-like words to promote himself: "Such a lovely young lady, coming here to study alone at the age of fourteen, must need a friend of similar age... for company. I've lived in New York for five years..."
Having said something he himself didn't believe, Jonathan suddenly felt a little uneasy. He pursed his lips, secretly encouraging himself, and continued with a bright smile: "I think no one is more qualified for this... honor than me, who is the same age and skin color."
Jonathan originally wanted to say "work," but that would be too money-oriented, so he changed the word to "honor."
After finishing his speech, he felt it was incoherent, but since he had already said it, he could only hope that the two people opposite him would think that his awkward and inarticulate words were due to his long-term residence in Country A and his lack of frequent use of his mother tongue.
After the sales pitch was over, Jonathan had a clear look at the man's clothes and appearance.
He was probably in his thirties, with delicate features and a refined, scholarly air. He should have had a gentle appearance, but his serious expression and matching silver-gray suit made him seem as if he were shrouded in a one-way fog.
The man's gaze remained fixed on her, scrutinizing her intently. After listening to Jonathan's enthusiastic sales pitch, his expression became meaningful.
Jonathan felt as if his lie had been exposed. He tried to maintain a smile, but his heart was pounding in his chest. Guilt overwhelmed him again, and he looked away to see the girl's reaction.
The girl didn't react well; she tilted her head, frowned, and squinted—this wasn't a good sign.
Jonathan panicked even more, because he didn't know what other value he, at fourteen, had besides being a servant to this wealthy family's child, in exchange for a job that would provide him with money, food, and lodging, and the opportunity to return home in the future.
The first mask of her life was about to shatter at any moment. Jonathan felt his lips were heavy, struggling against his facial muscles as they drooped downwards.
Unexpectedly, the girl suddenly relaxed her brows and looked at the man with a sudden realization, saying, "I just said his voice sounded strangely familiar. Third Brother, his voice sounds just like yours when you were young! I wonder if he sings just as well."
The sound of singing... Jonah's throat tightened instantly.
Firstly, the girl skipped over his sales pitch, meaning she wasn't interested in his company at all; secondly, Jonathan didn't know if her singing voice, which resembled the man's when he was young, would upset him, and whether they would turn around and leave.
In a foreign country, as a minor, I had no ability to survive.
You can't go to the shelter; if you run into your stepfather, you'll definitely be taken back.
If you can't find a job before you turn eighteen, you'll probably have no choice but to wander around and beg.
Four years is such a long time. What if he just starves or freezes to death on the streets, or gets targeted and beaten to death by bad guys...?
January in New York City was damp and cold. No matter how bright and warm the morning sun was, it couldn't provide a thinly dressed boy with lasting warmth and hope. Jonathan's smile froze on his face, and he unconsciously hugged his arms and shivered.
The man suddenly took half a step closer and asked in a succinct tone, "Can you?"
"Yes! I will!" In order to seize the opportunity, Jonathan could only say yes, even though he had only hummed a short tune three months ago after his voice changed at the age of twelve, which brought him a terrifying shadow that he might never be able to get rid of for the rest of his life.
"Then sing a couple of lines for me." The girl finally showed a curious smile, which was a good sign.
Jonathan sucked on his lips, pressed his tongue against his palate, and swallowed the saliva that welled up in his mouth, trying to moisten his dry throat. But he didn't have any decent songs in his mind, which made him even more nervous, and his throat became even drier and itchier.
“I can, no, you can,” Jonathan said, leaning over the girl’s shoulder and staring intently at a glowing cabinet displaying various drinks at the corner of the open-air staircase. “Can I buy you a bottle of water first? The cheapest one will do.”
Without much thought, the girl agreed. She took out a few coins from her small seashell-shaped bag, went straight to the cabinet, inserted them into the small holes, then ran her slender finger around the glass, pressed a button, and the corresponding drink was pushed out and dropped down...
Jonathan was marveling at the amazing sight when he felt a faint, tangible prickling sensation on his cheek. Turning around, he met the man's piercing gaze. He blinked several times in surprise and looked down at his toes.
The girl brought back a bottle of orange juice for Jonathan. Jonathan drank a few sips very slowly and carefully, and decided to sing "Amazing Grace," a lullaby his mother had sung to him a long time ago.
He imitated his mother's singing style in nightclubs in eastern Guangdong, using an orange juice bottle as a microphone, clearing his throat, and closing his eyes:
“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound.
(Amazing grace, how sweet!)
That saved a boy like me…”
(The sins of children are forgiven)
The first floor of the open-air staircase is a spacious semi-enclosed structure. Jonathan heard his own singing echoing, the echo carrying familiar yet unfamiliar words and melodies that came out of his mouth, drilling into his ear canal, hitting his eardrum, and arousing a shiver on his skin.
The image of my mother gently coaxing me to sleep as a young child suddenly flooded my mind, along with a flood of questions.
Does my mother still love me?
Is my mother's current behavior actually due to years of repression, causing her to suffer from some kind of mental illness?
Without my companionship, how will my stepfather treat my mother?
Mother, Mother, Mother...
A wave of guilt washed over him from the bottom up. As Jonathan sang, his eyes began to well up with tears. He couldn't help but feel a pang of regret and wavered about whether he should back down, stop singing, and go home.
However, when he finished singing and opened his eyes again, the strangers standing and clapping not far from the stairwell, the sweet smile on the girl's face and the deep look in the man's eyes all seemed to be urging him on—
Keep moving forward, don't look back.
"Do you have family?" The man's voice warmed.
His gaze swept over Jonathan's other hand, where he was clutching the Lincoln car keys.
Upon noticing, Jonathan hid the hand behind his back. Clutching the bottle tightly, he rubbed the back of his hand against his eye socket, lying with absolute certainty: "I didn't."
...
A month later, a private plane painted with a snake entwined with a jasmine totem picked up Jonathan from Country A and took him to Manr.
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