Chapter 10
Life's hardships, like the relentless machines in a factory, crushed Qiao Kexin's energy and will. Sometimes, working the night shift, she was so sleepy her eyelids were drooping, but she wouldn't allow herself to make mistakes at work. To keep herself awake, she stuffed a handful of dried chili peppers—the spiciest kind—in her pocket, and if she couldn't hold back any longer, she'd take a bite. Chewing on them…
When I got home and saw Muxue's sleeping face, all my fatigue and grievances seemed to be able to be swallowed up temporarily.
Once, Li Muxue developed a high fever in the middle of the night, becoming delirious. Qiao Kexin carried her to the hospital in the dark. The winter night road was long and cold, and she ran while tears streamed down her face—not out of fear, but out of heartache and a sense of inadequacy, feeling she had let her child suffer. The doctor said that if they had been any later, the consequences would have been unimaginable. That time, Qiao Kexin, holding her weak daughter after the fever subsided, sat on a bench in the hospital corridor and cried her heart out. After crying, she wiped away her tears, straightened her back, and carried her daughter home. No matter how hard life is, the road must be walked.
The neighbors saw what was happening; some sympathized, some sighed, and some gossiped behind her back, calling her foolish and saying Li Junsheng was an "economic criminal" who had dragged her down with him. Qiao Kexin never argued back; she simply endured everything with even more diligence and resilience. She went to work every day without fail, kept the house spotless, and dressed Li Muxue neatly, though her clothes were old. For those unrelated people, ignoring them was the best response.
As for Xu Zhenguo, who lived in the same building, Qiao Kexin had witnessed everything he did, including his affair with Luo Mei, his heartlessness towards Wang Lili, and his indifference towards his own son, Xu Chen. Like everyone else in the factory, Qiao Kexin could only curse him in her heart; there was nothing else she could do.
"Mom, Xu Chen wanted to give me a piece of fruit candy today, but he told me to throw it away. Who wants to eat his stinky candy! I hate him now!" Li Muxue spat on the ground as she spoke. Since that late autumn two years ago, Li Muxue had never called him "Brother Chen" again.
"Yes, Xiaoxue did the right thing! We can't afford the Xu family's candy..."
Nine-year-old Li Muxue has a secret: she believes the moon is a letter her father sends out from behind the prison bars.
At the beginning of each month, when the crescent moon hangs like a hook in the sky, she would stand on tiptoe, stretch out her arms, and try to touch that faint light. She felt that the curve of the crescent moon was exactly the same as the corners of her father's mouth when he smiled. And on the night of the full moon, she would quietly lean on the windowsill and whisper to the full moon, as if telling her father about the little things that had happened during the week.
"Dad, I got a hundred on my Chinese test today..."
"Dad, the old locust tree by the gate is blooming again, and it smells so good..."
"Dad, I've learned how to jump rope! I can jump twenty times in a row without falling..."
She always spoke carefully in a low voice, not because she was afraid of being overheard, but because she didn't want to disturb the moonlight—the only bridge connecting her to her father. In her innocent heart, the moonlight was a transparent postman, capable of delivering her longing accurately to those behind bars.
Li Muxue treasures a tin box filled with "gifts" she collected for her father: a heart-shaped fallen leaf, a smooth pebble, and her most cherished possession—the small plastic spoon that came with the ice cream her father bought for her on their last trip to the park before he went to prison. Whenever her longing surges like a tide, she opens the box and caresses these "treasures" one by one, as if by touching them, she can feel her father's warm, large hand.
“Dad is innocent,” she would say to the moon every night before going to sleep, “just like Chang’e was wrongly accused of stealing the elixir of immortality.” This nine-year-old child could not fully understand the complex meaning of “wrongfully imprisoned,” but she knew with certainty that her father was the kindest person in the world and would never do anything illegal.
Countless nights, Li Muxue dreamt of her father's return. In her dreams, her father always wore a faded blue work uniform, his arms outstretched, and she, like a little bird returning to its nest, would rush into that familiar embrace. When she woke up, there was always a small damp patch on her pillow, but she never admitted it was tears. She said it was moonlight kissing her cheek.
This sensitive and precocious child had already learned to put on a brave face in front of her mother, only revealing her true longing under the moonlight. She didn't know when her father would return, but she stubbornly believed that as long as she kept talking to the moon, her father would surely feel her love and waiting.
The moonlight, like water, flowed silently over the nine-year-old girl. Unbeknownst to her, far away behind prison walls, her father was also gazing at the same moon, entrusting all his longing to its cool glow, hoping it would illuminate every step of his daughter's growth…
(To be continued)
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