Chapter 4: Although the hope is slim, I want to give it a try.
Li Xiao always speaks recklessly and never considers the feelings of others.
Even when facing Young Master Lan, I sometimes speak without thinking, let alone the person opposite me who is being subjected to this verbal baptism.
— Someone he never took seriously, someone he even wished would disappear from his sight immediately.
Judging from the depth of Li Xiao's resentment today, it's likely that it's also mixed with some regrets about not being able to get what he wanted.
Last time I had a major hemorrhage, I almost died if it hadn't been discovered and I was taken to the hospital in time.
Back when I was at home, I rarely had enough to eat. It wasn't that my biological parents were stingy and didn't feed me. Rather, few people in the entire village could get enough to eat. The little food saved was naturally given to the adult men in the family. As for the children, as long as they didn't starve, there would always be some.
Later, I moved into the building, where meals were provided daily. However, being a newcomer, I was thin and small, and looked like someone who could be easily bullied. Being alone, I was isolated from the group. Almost as soon as I held my rice bowl, I was sandwiched between two people and had most of it taken from me.
There was absolutely no meat left.
With just a little leftover soup and some leftover rice at the bottom of the bowl, they barely managed to get through that bit of hunger.
However, there is one good thing: basically, those people who stole my food rarely hit me anymore. Perhaps it's because my submissive attitude made them lose interest in messing with me.
In short, I gradually became able to relax at night.
Instead of what happened at the beginning, where I would be suddenly dragged out of my half-asleep state every few days, thrown into a corner, and inexplicably beaten up. The reasons those people gave for beating me were varied and bizarre, but I knew that it all boiled down to one thing: they were in a bad mood and just happened to dislike me.
Back then, I was so anxious that I didn't dare close my eyes all night. By the time I finally felt a little sleepy, it was time to get up.
Fortunately, this situation only lasted for about a month before the steward brought Young Master Lan to select people.
According to the steward, I was incredibly lucky, like my ancestors' graves were emitting auspicious smoke, to be able to gain the favor of someone like Young Master Lan.
I only vaguely understood what the manager was saying.
The image of a bare mound behind the house still lingers in my mind. In our area, when someone dies, they are usually wrapped in a mat and buried in the ground, with a mound built on the flat ground. But that was something I saw when I was much younger.
The year I left my hometown, Aunt Li from next door passed away. Her husband didn't even wrap her in a mat; he simply dug a hole and buried her.
I watched with my own eyes as Aunt Li was put into the pit.
The woman who was leaning against the door frame and waving to me with a smile just a few days ago is now lying stiffly on the ground in the blink of an eye.
Her already thin face looked like it was just a thin layer of skin, tightly binding her bones, stiff and rigid, like the smooth surface of a candle.
Her lips were dry and shriveled, pulled apart to reveal a few dry, white, pebbly teeth. Her murky eyes, completely devoid of luster, were sunken between her unclosed eyelids, forming a strange shape.
I stood quietly behind the wall.
I don't know if it was the angle, but when I mustered up the courage to look at Aunt Li lying on the ground, I felt that Aunt Li's strange dead eyes were also staring straight at me.
I was startled, and my initial curiosity vanished instantly.
His body, which had always moved slowly due to years of hunger, suddenly burst forth with unprecedented strength.
I practically fled back home, and then, to my mother's astonishment, I crashed into her arms.
I kept calling out to my mother, without explaining what had happened, which made her very worried.
Later, when I finally calmed down, my whole body was soaked in cold sweat.
My mother felt sorry for me, so she wiped my body with hot water and wrapped me up again with the only tattered cotton quilt we had left.
"Go to sleep, you'll feel better after a good night's sleep..." the mother said softly.
I was really tired, but I just couldn't fall asleep. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was Aunt Li's unseeing face, her skin taut like a drum stretched to its limit, ready to burst open at any moment and pull out a monster completely unrelated to Aunt Li.
I couldn't sleep, so I had to beg my mother to sing me a song.
Before that, I hadn't made that request to my mother for a long time, simply because singing is actually quite strenuous. I thought that my mother had already given me everything she could, and I shouldn't ask for anything more.
But I was so scared that day. I felt cold and uncomfortable, and I thought I might die like Aunt Li.
Seeing me trembling, my mother hugged me even tighter with heartache.
Then, in a hoarse voice, she began to hum softly.
Actually, my mother only knew one song, which she heard from elsewhere. She remembered the melody very clearly, but only learned the lyrics roughly. As time went by, each time she sang it seemed a little different, and in the end, only a vague, incoherent tune remained.
Nevertheless, this piece remains a rare and precious memory in my monotonous childhood.
Later, I finally relaxed to my mother's familiar singing and drifted off to sleep.
During that time, it felt like I was having a lot of chaotic dreams, and my body felt hot and cold at times. When I woke up, it was already three days later.
I had chills and fever for three whole days, with a persistent high fever.
My family didn't have money for medical treatment and medicine, so they could only use some folk remedies to keep me from suffering in vain.
The day I opened my eyes, my mother was so excited she almost fainted.
The father squatted by the door frame, his back turned, secretly wiping away tears.
My illness turned me from a thin and small person into a mere skeleton.
Seeing their own reflection in the bowl of water, they were terrified. Remembering Aunt Li's horrific death, they felt a lingering fear.
It was really just a hair's breadth away...
It is said that those who survive a great calamity are destined for good fortune.
That might make sense, because the day after I woke up, there was news that several people had come to the village to look after girls and children.
It's basically just human trafficking.
In slightly better years, the villagers probably wouldn't have let them in.
But these days, being sold might be a way to make a living.
I heard the news when the human traffickers were at the village entrance. My parents naturally knew about it too.
Mother couldn't bear to part with him no matter what.
Father, however, was gazing in the direction of the village entrance with a furrowed brow, as if deep in thought.
I saw Yang Erbo's little girl being led out of the village. The slave trader took the little girl and casually handed a string of copper coins to Yang Erbo.
The little girl didn't know what was happening at first. It wasn't until she was pulled by strangers towards the riverbank that she belatedly realized what was going on and started crying out.
Uncle Yang acted as if he hadn't heard anything, and just kept his head down, intently counting the string of copper coins in his hand, back and forth.
Even after walking quite a distance, and the little girl's voice was no longer audible, Uncle Yang didn't even look up.
I told my parents about Uncle Yang's family, including the countless copper coins.
They remained silent for a long time without reacting.
During a brief moment of silence between them, I looked up and stared blankly at a loquat tree in the corner of the yard.
The origin of this tree is unknown; it seems to have sprouted from a crack in the wall.
The year the loquat tree sprouted was the same year my mother became pregnant with me.
The saplings that were originally going to be uprooted by Dad were saved at Mom's request.
The mother felt that it was, after all, a life. She was a kind person and wanted to accumulate good fortune for the unborn child in her womb.
My father said that the tree was not growing properly, and even if it survived, it would not bear fruit.
But unable to resist her mother's repeated pleas, she left it there, neither fertilizing nor watering it, just waiting for it to live or die on its own.
Surprisingly, the loquat tree survived.
However, just as Dad said, the tree survived, but it never bore fruit.
I didn't understand any of this. When I was little, all I knew was that it was a loquat tree, and I would always beg my mother to carry me to see if there were any fruits on the tree.
After he learned to walk, he moved a small stool by himself and placed it next to the tree.
A person sat quietly on a small stool, sucking on their finger and gazing longingly at the thin branches.
Whenever someone passes by and asks me what I'm doing, I reply that I'm looking at loquats.
Over time, everyone started saying that my parents had given birth to a slow learner, who only knew how to look at the little tree branch in the yard all day long and didn't know how to play with the other children.
Occasionally, people from neighboring villages would come to visit, and when they passed by my house, they would see a person and a tree inside the fence.
Then someone from our village took the initiative to explain that he was looking at loquats.
Over time, the villagers gradually started referring to me as "under the loquat tree," and later, finding it troublesome, they simply simplified it to "loquat."
My parents started calling me that too.
"Loquat, what are you thinking?"
My father's hoarse voice roused me from my past memories.
I glanced at the tree, then at my mother's sorrowful expression, and finally turned my gaze back to my father's face, meeting his eyes.
The man's dark face was ashen, as if covered with a layer of indelible yellow dust.
I know that it wasn't actually loess, but rather a certain earthy color.
In this village, almost everyone is like this, to varying degrees, some more, some less, some more severely.
I can't remember the last time I had a full meal.
I said, "Dad, I want to try. Eating separately is better than the whole family starving to death together."
When my mother heard what I said, she was initially incredulous and tried to get up to stop me, but when she heard the second half of the sentence, she seemed to have all her strength drained away, and she covered her face and began to cry sadly.
I didn't cry.
When I was little, whenever I was sad and cried, my mother would pat my back and comfort me.
The time has come; it's time for me to do something for my mother. I just don't know if those slave traders would even consider me, given my appearance.
As it turns out, I wasn't overthinking it.
The leader of the group was clearly not very satisfied with my frail and thin appearance. However, after checking me over thoroughly and confirming that there was nothing wrong with me, and considering that I had behaved exceptionally well, he finally nodded and accepted the item.
When I saw that the copper coins handed to my father by the lead slave trader were no different from those received by Uncle Yang's family, I finally felt relieved.
I was worried that the other party would withhold the coins that should have been given to my parents because of my terrible appearance.
That's good, that puts my mind at ease.
Before leaving the courtyard, I took one last look at the loquat tree in the corner.
I watched it grow year by year. Although everyone calls it a loquat tree, I had never seen it bear loquats before, let alone eaten them.
I originally thought I would never see its outcome in this lifetime.
But now, across this small courtyard where I grew up, I can clearly see a tiny green shadow swaying among the lush foliage.
"Loquat." I couldn't help but blurt it out.
My voice was too soft, and no one noticed what I said, except for my mother. She followed my gaze and then seemed to be taken aback.
Father silently accepted the string of copper coins without giving it a second glance.
I knew it! There are only a few coins in total. You can tell just by looking at it once. There's no need to count them over and over like Uncle Yang did. You don't even get one or two extra coins no matter how many you count.
Dad must think so too.
We are father and son, so we thought of the same thing.
I told my parents that I was leaving.
But they didn't say goodbye.
Because I don't know if we'll ever see each other again. Don't easily say things you can't do; that's a lesson my mother taught me since I was little, and I remember it very clearly.
The human traffickers came by boat.
When I was led to the side of the boat, the little girl was still crying, but her crying had subsided, and only her two thin shoulders were trembling slightly, as if she were extremely aggrieved.
There were also several unfamiliar children on the boat, who must have been brought from elsewhere.
Just as we were about to set sail, a person suddenly ran over from afar on the shore—it was my mother.
My mother rushed over, her hair falling out from under her headscarf and onto her equally dusty face, looking both disheveled and beautiful.
I have always thought that my mother is the most beautiful woman in the world.
It has nothing to do with appearance.
"Loquats," Mother said in a slightly trembling voice from running, as she pulled three green fruits from her pocket.
It's the kind of fruit I just saw on the loquat tree.
"Loquat." Mother repeated, then quickly stuffed the fruit into my hand and squeezed it tightly.
For a moment I was dazed, and I couldn't quite tell whether the word my mother had just called was me or the fruit in my hand.
The unripe fruit, clutched in the palm of my hand, is like three smooth pebbles nestled together intimately.
Only when you get close can you faintly smell a very faint fragrance, with a hint of sourness similar to grass juice.
The boat quickly sailed away from the shore, but my mother's figure remained standing on the shore, growing smaller and smaller until it became a blurry afterimage in my memory.
My name is Loquat.
Everyone in the village, including my parents, calls me Loquat.
But I actually have another name. It is said that when I was born, my mother specially asked her close friends to ask her cousin, who was a teacher in another county, to help her choose a name.
But after calling it "loquat" for so long, no one remembers that name anymore.
So, even I forgot.
I was nine years old that year, squeezed among a group of almost complete strangers, drifting leisurely on the water in a boat, not knowing where I was going or whether I would ever come back.
But I'm still very happy. My departure not only adds a string of copper coins to the family, but also eliminates a mouth to feed, which will surely make my parents' lives much easier.
Besides that, I saw a real loquat for the first time. Its small and unassuming appearance actually resembled me quite a bit.
I'm thinking of putting these things away and keeping them as a keepsake. I can take them out and look at them when I miss my parents.
Unfortunately, the boats were all lost halfway through the journey.
I was also beaten by a stranger for the first time in my life because of this.
It hurts so much, I feel like I'm going to die.
But I knew I couldn't die, because I didn't want to become like Aunt Li who died, and even more so because I couldn't let the slave trader find an excuse to take back the copper coins I had already given to my parents.
Later, another reason was added for not being able to die.
I want to grow up well and look forward to becoming the kind of person that Young Master Lan talks about—someone great and capable. Although the hope is slim, I want to try.
But why...?
Just when I think things are starting to look up, Li Xiao will suddenly appear in front of me, full of malice, like he is now.
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