Chapter 24
Outside the window, the autumn rain of 1999 was falling steadily, tapping against the old, rusty iron window frames and cloudy glass of the Huaxing Machinery Factory's residential building. The air was filled with the cold, damp atmosphere of the old cement walls.
Li Muxue is now a senior in high school. The heavy academic workload and the upcoming college entrance examination next year have made her feel suffocated like never before. But on this rainy afternoon this weekend, a rare rest has given her some temporary relief from her fatigue. She curled up on her small bed with yellowed checkered sheets, her ears plugged in with earphones, the whole world shut out, leaving only Meng Tingwei's clear yet slightly melancholic voice singing "A Cloud Made of Rain in the Wind".
This silver-gray Aiwa Walkman was bought by Xu Chen from the city's largest department store—Zhongxing Building—with his savings of who-knows-how-long. And these brand-new cassette tapes, with the gentle-looking woman on the cover, became a ray of light in Li Muxue's gloomy and oppressive life. She carefully stroked the cool metal casing of the Walkman, as if she could feel the clumsy yet burning affection Xu Chen had shown when he handed it to her. The headphone cord was tangled around her chest, like quietly growing emotions, inexplicable and impossible to sever.
The door was suddenly pushed open.
"Smack!"
The overhead fluorescent light suddenly switched on, its cold light instantly shattering the warmth and tranquility of the small room. Li Muxue shuddered in fright, hastily pulling off her headphones, and Meng Tingwei's singing abruptly stopped. She instinctively tried to hide her Walkman behind her back, but it was too late.
The mother, Qiao Kexin, stood at the door, her face ashen, dressed in faded work clothes. Her gaze, like two cold awls, first pierced her daughter's panicked face, then fixed on the "luxury item" in her daughter's hand, so out of place in this impoverished family.
"What are you holding in your hand?" Qiao Kexin's voice was dry and hoarse, trembling with suppressed anger.
Li Muxue's lips moved, but no sound came out. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, almost shattering her ribs.
Qiao Kexin's voice was as cold as ice: "Tell me! Where did this broken tape recorder come from? Do you think I don't know how much pocket money your dad and I give you every month? Could we afford this?!"
"I..." Li Muxue's voice was so soft it was almost inaudible as she stared at the red paint on the cement floor, "It was borrowed from classmate Guan..."
"Classmate?" Qiao Kexin grabbed the cassette tape and held it up in front of her. "Is it Su Suisui or Liu Yuling? I think it's Xu Zhenguo's son, Xu Chen! If you don't tell the truth today, believe me, I'll throw all of this out the window right now!"
“That’s a matter from the previous generation! Xu Chen is different from his father, he…”
Li Muxue suddenly looked up, her eyes instantly reddening.
Qiao Kexin's voice suddenly rose, making the calendar on the wall shake: "How is he any different? Like begets like, and a rat's son knows how to dig a hole! You've completely forgotten all the despicable things Xu Zhenguo did back then, haven't you? Look at what he did to your father and our whole family! Tell me yourself! What kind of good thing could a son raised by such a person be? He thinks he can fool you with a broken tape recorder?"
"This isn't a broken tape recorder! He saved up his breakfast money for half a year to buy it!"
"So you're arguing with me over this?" Qiao Kexin's chest heaved violently. She grabbed a cassette tape of the album "Look, Look at the Moon's Face" from the bed and slammed it hard onto the concrete floor. The cassette case shattered, and even the tape inside cracked. Then she grabbed her Walkman, as if to throw it out the window. "I'll smash this thing today, so you'll give up on that idea!"
Li Muxue rushed over and hugged Qiao Kexin's arm tightly. Tears finally broke free: "Mom, please, don't throw it... that's him... he..." She choked, unable to continue, her mind filled with the image of Xu Chen's sunny face as he shoved the Walkman into her hand.
Qiao Kexin's hand froze in mid-air as she watched her daughter tremble with tears streaming down her face, her nose red and her tears falling onto the concrete floor. Her shoulders twitched, emitting soft, suppressed sobs.
The mother's voice softened, but she still gritted her teeth: "Xiaoxue, I'm doing this for your own good. We're inextricably linked to the Xu family. If you get close to him, you'll regret it later..."
Li Muxue heard her mother sigh, and the sound of her footsteps gradually faded away. Only her suppressed sobs remained in the room, like the first autumn leaf falling outside the window, subtle yet carrying a chilling coldness. Her schoolbag was still lying by the door, the canvas covered in dust, just like her current mood—crumpled and soiled, yet deep within the folds, a trace of undying warmth belonging to a young girl was hidden.
She kept asking herself: What should I do? Should I obey my mother and return to that path filled with complaints and hatred? Or... secretly continue to cherish these little bits of warmth? Whichever choice I made meant pain and betrayal.
She felt like she was suffocating. On one side was her mother, who gave birth to her and raised her, hardened by life but also consumed by resentment, and the heavy past of that broken family; on the other side were Xu Chen's bright eyes when he looked at her, his slightly reddened ears and the warmth of his palms when he handed her the Walkman, and the gentle singing in the headphones that could temporarily make her forget all her troubles.
She squatted down and picked up the cracked cassette tape. On the album cover was Meng Tingwei's still gentle smile, now covered with a layer of fine dust.
She buried her face in her knees, her thin body curled up into a small ball under the lamplight, like a little rabbit with nowhere to go in a storm. She tried hard to suppress her sobs, leaving only faint whispers that mingled with the cold autumn rain outside the window, endlessly. But that broken cassette tape would probably never play a complete song again…
(To be continued)
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