bits and pieces of the past
The windows of the inpatient ward were covered with a thin layer of dust, making even the sunlight that filtered in appear heavy and pale. Xu Yanchi lay on the hospital bed, curled up in the blankets like a leaf that had been drained of its moisture—the once-fitting hospital gown now hung loosely on her body, her wrists were so thin that Song Shi could easily grasp them, her cheeks were sunken, making her eye sockets appear deep, and her complexion was a porcelain white devoid of any color, even her lips had a bluish tinge. The autumn weather grew increasingly cold, and yellow maple leaves gently tapped against the windowpanes, as if in prayer for Xu Yanchi.
The side effects of the targeted drug became increasingly apparent. She felt nauseous at the smell of food. She could only drink a couple of sips of the millet porridge and pumpkin paste that Song Shi cooked in various ways before pushing them away. Her weight dropped from 95 pounds when she was hospitalized to 79 pounds.
These past few days, several groups of classmates and teachers have come to visit. The homeroom teacher, carrying a thermos, sat by her bedside and talked about her recent review progress; the girls gathered around the bedside, placing folded origami cranes on the bedside table, chattering, "We'll take graduation photos together when you come back." She listened, leaning against the pillow, occasionally nodding in agreement, without ever frowning or showing a hint of pain—she didn't want those warm gazes to be tinged with pity, didn't want her current disheveled state to shatter the vibrant image she once had in the classroom. But as soon as the ward door gently closed, her hand gripping the blanket would slowly tighten, cold sweat would seep from her forehead, trickling down her temples and behind her ears, even her breathing would tremble slightly.
That afternoon, Xu Yanchi fell asleep after taking her medicine. Song Shi gently closed the door, leaned against the cold wall of the corridor, and suddenly burst into tears. She took out a tissue to cover her mouth, afraid that crying out loud would wake her daughter, but her shoulders trembled uncontrollably. The past events came crashing down on her like a surging tide—when she was 22, she met Xu Guochang at the factory and was blinded by his words, "I will be good to you for the rest of my life." Xu Guochang said he would take her back to his hometown, even if it was just a poor rural village thousands of miles away. She agreed without thinking, even when her parents slammed their fists on the table and scolded her for being "foolish." She even argued with her family and followed Xu Guochang to the countryside without their knowledge.
When her parents found out about this, they were very disappointed and slapped her a few times. Her mother cried in anger, but Song Shi became even more determined to follow Xu Guochang back to the countryside.
"Don't you understand! Xu Guochang is the best person in the world to me, even better than you! He promised to love me for life. I'm an adult now, you don't need to worry about me!" Song Shi said, her voice trembling with tears, gently touching her reddened left cheek. The day before she left, her mother held her hand, crying, "That place is far away, I'm worried about you going!" She shook off her mother's hand, stubbornly saying, "We're truly in love, he won't do that," even threatening, "If you don't approve, I'll cut ties with my family." Finally, she boarded the old green train with Xu Guochang. As the train pulled away, she watched the scenery rushing past the window, feeling no reluctance, her mind filled with fantasies of a better future—looking back now, she was pathetically foolish.
When she arrived in Xu Guochang's hometown, she realized how difficult life was. The mud-brick house leaked when it rained, and the winters were bitterly cold. Xu Guochang's parents always looked displeased with her because she was from out of town and hadn't brought much dowry. When she was first pregnant, Xu Guochang occasionally helped with housework, but on the day Xu Yanchi was born, when he saw it was a girl, his face instantly darkened, and he turned and left the hospital to go to the village store to drink. From that day on, arguments at home never stopped—he cursed her for "not being able to give birth to a son, cutting off the Xu family line," and called Xu Yanchi a "money-losing daughter." If he was upset outside, he would come home and smash dishes and bowls. Sometimes, even if Song Shi's cooking was a little too salty, he would point at her nose and berate her for a long time. But Xu Guochang could lower his noble head in front of his superiors. His sturdy body and fawning eyes were like those of a lapdog, constantly demanding his share of the benefits. But after failing to gain what he wanted, his face turned ashen, as black as the bottom of a pot, and he took his anger out on his wife and children when he got home. The Song Shi who had just married Xu Guochang was a gentle and kind girl with bright, smiling eyes and fair, porcelain-like skin. Even in tattered clothes, her natural elegance shone through in the photos. She thought she had found love, but little did she know it was a living hell. Three years into their marriage, her body was covered in bruises and scars, new wounds mixed with old ones, threatening to devour her mercilessly. Three short years were enough to change a woman's life forever.
But her in-laws sided with their son, saying she was "unworthy of her womb," and if she was a little slow with laundry and cooking, they would shove her, muttering, "What's the use of a wife who can't even give birth to a son?" What chilled her to the bone was when Xu Yanchi was three years old. Xu Guochang, drunk, annoyed by his daughter's crying, raised his hand to hit her. Without thinking, she rushed over and hugged her daughter, taking a solid slap to the back. Her vision went black for a moment, and she almost fainted, but she held onto Xu Yanchi tightly, her nails digging into her arms, until Xu Guochang got tired of hitting her and slammed the door and left. Only then did she sit on the cold ground, holding her daughter who had cried herself hoarse, and weep until dawn.
That very night, she made up her mind to get a divorce—even if it meant leaving with nothing, even if she had to make a living by collecting scraps, she couldn't let her daughter grow up in such a home. After the divorce, she and Xu Yanchi, with only a few hundred yuan left, traveled for two days by train back to her city, but she was too ashamed to face her parents again. She rented a tiny room of about ten square meters, washing dishes in a restaurant during the day and taking on beadwork at night. Her fingers were marked with red welts from the thread, and she was so tired that she would fall asleep as soon as she lay down. But as long as she saw Xu Yanchi hugging her legs and calling her "Mom," she felt that she could endure any hardship.
Later, she heard that Xu Guochang had married a new wife at the village entrance. The new wife had thick black braids, wore exaggerated lipstick, and always followed Xu Guochang around. The two seemed very affectionate. Song Shi just smiled indifferently. They were already divorced, and things were basically just going with the flow. Her daughter, Xu Yanchi, was obedient and sensible, consistently ranking among the top students in her grade. In another year, she would take the college entrance exam and leave this small house to see more of the world. But now, her daughter lay in a hospital bed, emaciated, even her breathing trembling slightly. How could the light she had longed for for so many years have suddenly been extinguished?
The smell of disinfectant in the corridor assaulted her nostrils, making her feel even worse. She wiped away her tears, staring at the glass of the ward door. She could vaguely see Xu Yanchi's bald head peeking out from under the blanket. Her heart felt like it was being pierced by countless needles, a dense, throbbing pain. She took out her phone and checked her bank account balance—the remaining money was only enough for two more treatments. But even if she had to borrow, even if she had to sell her blood, she had to persevere. Back then, for the sake of so-called "true love," she had wronged her parents. Now, she absolutely could not let down the daughter she had risked her life to protect.
A breeze blew in from the window at the end of the corridor, carrying a slight chill. Song Shi took a deep breath, wiped away the tears on her face, and straightened the rumpled hem of her clothes, trying to appear calm—her daughter was waiting for her in the ward, and she had to go in and tell her daughter with a smile, "Don't be afraid, Mom is here."
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