Chapter Fifteen: From Butterfly to Pupa
Many people who are nearing the end of their lives like to say when they look back: "Youth must be a little more intense." Memories of youth are raw and brutal; in old age, when everything is forgotten, one can still faintly taste the sweet, viscous passion of those days. In that sense, Ju Nian's youth was passable, or rather, she accidentally scored high again, although that wasn't her intention.
As the talented Zhang Dacai said: An ordinary person's life, even at its best, is nothing more than a peach blossom fan. If you break your head, blood splatters on the fan. A clever person adds a touch of color, turning it into a peach blossom; a foolish person guards a bloodstained fan for a lifetime. Youth is the same. Who hasn't been arrogant and impulsive, who hasn't been ignorant and laughable? But other people's youth is for transition, for looking back. Most people are wise; after maturing, they admire their peach blossom fan through a semi-transparent veil. But Ju Nian was different. She crashed too hard, blood splattered five steps away. There was no peach blossom fan left; instead, a red scarf was stained.
Was it tragic? Perhaps a little. For most people, the pain would have been unbearable, a memory too painful to recall. But Ju Nian wasn't like that. As someone once remarked, she possessed a kind of pessimistic optimism. Ju Nian was afraid of pain; she had an exceptionally high pain threshold. It's said that when she was three, her family took her to the hospital for a shot. The adults placed her face down on their laps, their arms tightly holding her body. Unexpectedly, the doctor plunged the needle into her buttocks, and she couldn't move. Her legs kicked over the wooden injection table a meter away—not because of divine power, but because the pain was unbearable. However, ever since preschool, whenever the immunization station doctor came to the classroom to administer vaccines, she was always the first to roll up her sleeves and bravely approach the doctor, as if facing death. The teacher asked, "Xie Junian, why are you so brave?" She replied, "I want to shorten the time I'm scared. After I get the shot, I won't be scared anymore, and I can watch others being scared from the sidelines." Because of this answer, despite her "bravery," she has never received any praise.
Ju Nian liked having nightmares because she knew dreams were fake. Since they were fake, what did it matter? When she woke up, the monster was gone, and she realized how wonderful the morning was. She said the luckiest thing in life wasn't winning the lottery, but being imprisoned and suddenly hearing a voice outside the iron bars say, "You've arrested the wrong person. Go." At all times, she never forgot to keep a lifeline for herself. If that lifeline couldn't save her, at least she could use it to hang herself. Whether good or bad memories, if you can't forget them, just remember them. It's like pressing on your wound and then releasing it; suddenly, it doesn't hurt so much anymore. Just like the day that changed her life more than half a month after her eighteenth birthday—she went from an ordinary girl to a female prisoner. But for eleven years, she repeatedly recalled that day, and in the end, all she remembered was that chill, her long hair, which she had kept for many years, being cut off with a pair of scissors, and the back of her neck suddenly exposed to the air, so cold... just like the small patch of moonlight sprinkled on her feet on the first night inside the high walls, cold.
Strictly speaking, Xie Junian was a very lively little girl before she was three years old. At that time, her parents were busy with work, so she basically lived with her grandfather and only reunited with her parents on weekends when they went back to her grandfather's house for meals.
Grandpa was an old intellectual who lived through the old society. Even after retirement, he remained an active member of the retired cadres' group. He was very skillful with his hands; not only did he have beautiful calligraphy, but he could also sew beautiful clothes on a sewing machine. Besides the more unique and vibrant floral dresses that other children always wore, Ju Nian also received early education from Grandpa. She painted ink paintings of monkeys offering peaches, winning awards several times in children's painting and calligraphy competitions. While others were still reciting "Autumn has arrived, the leaves are turning yellow," she would cheerfully recite, like a rhyme: "I dismount to drink wine with you, and ask where you are going. You say you are not content, and will return to lie down on the southern mountain..."
Ju Nian didn't understand the meaning of the poem, but that didn't stop her from holding her grandfather's hand and reciting it aloud in front of the adults. Those difficult words posed no obstacle for her. She recited the poem calmly and seriously. When her uncles, aunts, and other relatives asked her to perform, she didn't hesitate to spin around, sing, and dance, showing no stage fright whatsoever. Later, Ju Nian looked at her childhood photos. Before she fully grew up, her face was round and rosy, like an apple—definitely cute. Coupled with her boldness and strong desire to perform, the adults all loved her; she was everyone's little ray of sunshine. All in all, her childhood was joyful, at least until she was three years old.
Shortly after Ju Nian turned three, her grandfather went out to play bridge one night. When he returned, his face was flushed as if he were drunk. He said he was dizzy, washed his face, and went back to bed. He never woke up again. Her grandfather died, and Ju Nian's artistic talent seemed to be frozen at that moment. Even now, the only thing she can draw is the monkey offering peaches, and her skill level is no different from when she was three. It's no longer a talent, but just a naive childhood memory.
As soon as her grandfather's funeral was over, Ju Nian went to live with her parents. While packing her things, her mother felt that she was dawdling and urged her many times, which made her give up her plan to look for her art supplies in the messy house after experiencing death. She picked up her favorite clothes and went back to her real home.
Although Ju Nian, who has only recently started kindergarten, is not as close to her parents as she is to her grandfather, she loves them just as all children love the words "Dad" and "Mom." The fact that they have been separated for so long has only deepened her longing to live with her parents.
Ju Nian's father, Xie Maohua, worked as a full-time driver in the municipal procuratorate's motorcade. Xie Maohua's personality was completely different from his father's and Ju Nian's grandfather's. He hadn't lived in a good era, received little education, and driving was his greatest, and perhaps only, skill. Fortunately, his workplace was decent, offering him a secure job at the time. He was an extremely introverted and reserved man, rarely expressing anything, whether verbally or physically, or rather, having nothing to express, even in front of his family. Correspondingly, his wife was also a very traditional and conservative woman.
Ju Nian's mother originally didn't have a job, but later, through her husband's connections, she got a temporary job in the staff canteen of the municipal institute. Although she didn't have much education, she had a very strong sense of morality. She was usually very proper and dressed plainly. When she saw a woman who was a little outgoing and enthusiastic, or who dressed too flashy, she loved to privately express her disgust for such "frivolity".
From the very first day Ju Nian was brought home, none of the floral dresses and hair clips she brought back pleased her mother. Her mother said, "A girl dressed so flashy, people might think she's from an improper family." Her father, in turn, offered a silent, approving comment. Ju Nian didn't fully understand the meaning of "improper," but judging from her mother's expression, she guessed it wasn't a good word. For the first time, she felt bewildered. She was happy with her grandfather, and she loved these pretty clothes; how could they suddenly become something negative?
She obediently put back on the "plain" clothes her mother had picked out for her, and transferred from the kindergarten near her grandfather's old house to the procuratorate's family kindergarten, officially beginning a brand new life. She still had many shortcomings, and much to correct. Her parents didn't like her talking too much, laughing carefree all the time, or her fondness for strange and unusual things. They didn't like her being the center of attention, finding it too eccentric. They wanted her to be quieter, much quieter.
Although Ju Nian didn't know what difference she would make from a puppet in a play if things remained quiet, children are incredibly resilient, and adapting to this change wasn't difficult for her. Like all the children from dual-income families in the compound, she played games at kindergarten during the day and came home at night to hear her parents criticize the pretty older sisters in TV dramas for being too seductive, or how some aunt at her workplace was incredibly frivolous, and how so-and-so was simply a XX... These words were both new and unfamiliar to her.
Once, her parents took her shopping (Ju Nian's parents never walked side by side when they went out together, as they felt embarrassed). Just then, there was a young couple hugging each other, and their affectionate behavior was quite rare at that time. Her mother muttered, "What a disgrace! If my daughter were to be like them in the future, I would break her arms and legs without saying a word!"
Ju Nian was intently observing the different ways people walked around her when she was startled by her mother's sudden remark. She didn't know what she had done wrong again. She had been with her parents for two years, but it seemed she had never won their favor, even though the other uncles and aunts in the compound all said she was a beautiful darling.
When Ju Nian was five years old, she had just started preschool and was involved in a large-scale cultural performance at the kindergarten. During rehearsals, the teachers all liked to use Ju Nian; she was bold, expressive, and could imitate anything perfectly. That year, as usual, she was the lead dancer for her class. After finishing her makeup, Ju Nian remembered that the bell bracelet she used for the dance was still at home.
The teacher said to have her parents bring it over right away. But Ju Nian didn't dare, even though her parents were both off that day. Luckily, her dormitory at the kindergarten wasn't too far away. With her face heavily made up, Ju Nian dashed back to her apartment building like a whirlwind. It was lunchtime, and afraid of waking her hardworking parents, she quietly opened the door with the key tied to her neck with a red yarn, and easily found her bracelet on the dresser in the living room. Just as she was about to run back to the kindergarten, she heard some noises coming from her parents' closed bedroom door.
Ju Nian thought she had made too much noise and hesitated for a moment. But even after standing there for several seconds, her parents didn't seem to notice her presence. A child's natural curiosity led her to tiptoe to the door and secretly put her ear to the thin wooden board. After listening for a while, she was startled.
The heavy breathing made her feel suffocated on the summer afternoon. Ju Nian recognized her father's and her mother's voices. They sounded like they were fighting, or like they were both sick. She was scared. Her feet felt like they were glued to the ground and she couldn't move an inch. She just stood there and listened to the sounds gradually fade away.
Thank goodness, after a moment, her mother's normal voice finally came from the other side of the door. Some of the people in front of her couldn't hear it very clearly, "...I have no objection to having another child, but the family planning policy in the compound is very strict, so I should be punished."
“So be it, if I don’t have a son, my life has no meaning.”
"Giving birth is easy, but how do you register the child's birth?"
"There's always a way. Ask around through a few more people."
"If I had had a boy as my first child, I would have had so much less to worry about, and I wouldn't have to worry about it now."
"How about we send Ju Nian away?"
"Pah! He's still your own son, aren't you afraid of people gossiping about you behind your back? Besides, where are you going to send him? He's not a treasure. Who would want him?"
"You know what, I've got an idea. How about we transfer her household registration to my sister's, give her some money, and let her live with my sister and her husband? That would make things much easier for us. If that doesn't work, we can give her some money and get someone to issue her a disability certificate or something..."
Ju Nian listened, seemingly understanding, yet also seemingly not. Her beautiful, light gauze dance costume seemed soaked through at the back, clinging to her skin, both warm and humid. They were discussing her, and her unknown enemy. Her grandfather was dead, even her parents didn't want her anymore. They didn't love her at all.
Just then, Ju Nian suddenly remembered that there was a performance waiting for her. She crouched down and fled her house as if she had done something wrong, holding her breath as she rushed to the backstage of the makeshift stage set up by the kindergarten. The children were already waiting to go on stage. When the teacher in charge of their dance saw her face, which was covered in sweat and looked like a little kitten, she was both angry and relieved.
On stage, Snow White and the seven dwarfs danced gracefully. Ju Nian, who played the princess, tiptoed, her tulle skirt billowing like white clouds, making her the focus of everyone's attention.
Are Mom and Dad up yet? Are they coming to see her perform too? She suddenly realized that she shouldn't be making such a fuss. Mom and Dad prefer her to be quiet. Otherwise, they don't know where they would send her.
And so, a child, contemplating her uncertain future, gradually forgot her dance steps on stage. Ju Nian danced slower and slower, slower and slower, until finally, she stood frozen in place, not knowing what to do. A commotion erupted from the audience; she saw it and heard it. Her instructor stamped her feet in frustration, gesturing frantically towards her.
Oh, it's time for her to spin! She happily twirls around, pulling the little boy playing the prince along. Ju Nian pulls the boy next to her, one circle, two circles, three circles… She forgets everything else as she spins, only remembering to spin. Just then, everyone bursts into laughter, so happy they're bent over. Suddenly, Ju Nian notices that the little boy playing the prince is standing frozen in a corner of the stage. And who is she holding?
Through the face paint on the boy beside her, Ju Nian suddenly realized what was happening. The boy she was dragging around was a child whose parents had just been transferred to the facility from out of town. He had been temporarily called in to replace the little dwarf who had a high fever a week earlier. Ju Nian didn't even know his name.
She spun around and around, and ended up leading the wrong prince.
Or perhaps, she wasn't a princess at all.
The story of Snow White ended amidst laughter, and from then on, Ju Nian rejected all performances under the watchful eyes of others. She slowly transformed from a butterfly into a pupa.
I'm back from my business trip. I've been so busy lately, I'm really sorry.
Chapter Sixteen: A Perfect World for One
By second grade, Ju Nian already looked like a quiet little girl. The extroverted, lively, and expressive nature she showed in early childhood gradually faded away. Her most common appearance was buried in books, closing the pages and spacing out by herself. When someone called her, she would smile shyly.
At this point, Xie Maohua and his wife were less critical of Ju Nian. Aside from her excessive time spent on a wide variety of extracurricular books, which displeased them, their daughter had largely met their expectations: quiet, easy to manage, and well-behaved. Of course, their lack of criticism towards Ju Nian stemmed largely from their "efforts" to have a son. They had responded to the national call for later marriage and childbirth when Ju Nian was born, and now, being older, they had experienced repeated hopes and disappointments. However, their strong desire for a boy fueled their unwavering persistence, much like Edison's invention of the light bulb.
The one-child policy was strictly enforced, and the Xie couple had been secretly planning to have a child for several years, only Ju Nian noticed. Extensive reading, regardless of genre, and time spent alone made Ju Nian more precocious than her peers. When her parents' colleagues, friends, and relatives saw her, they would often exclaim, "This child is so quiet and pretty, so incredibly well-behaved!" At these times, the Xie couple would glance at their daughter with a slightly smug look, but Ju Nian rarely spoke, her smiles always subtle.
Actually, she didn't know when it started, but Ju Nian no longer felt lost and lonely because of her parents' neglect, nor did she ever feel dull. In order not to be a "wandering child," she gave her parents a quiet daughter, but in her heart lived an incredibly wonderful and dazzling world. This world was vast and bizarre, and she was the only one who roamed in it freely and without restraint.
When others praise her for being quiet and well-behaved, she might be studying that person's shoes. Shoes can reveal many details about a person. People with pigeon toes have shoes with distinctive wear patterns, and people who walk irregularly wear out their shoes very quickly at the toes. This aunt wears high heels almost every day because she feels she's never tall enough. The uncle's shoes have wet marks on the toes, even though it hasn't rained in the city for many, many days... Of course, her curiosity isn't limited to shoes. Their hands, the small creases in their clothes, and even the unique expressions they make when they speak are all very interesting. Observing these details brings Ju Nian endless joy.
Ju Nian's imagination was richer than that of children her age, and boundless daydreaming was her favorite game. Two ants, one after the other, crawled on the wall behind the sofa; she imagined they had just had a fight, one walking ahead and the other sheepishly chasing slowly behind. The eraser kept getting smaller and smaller; she saw it as a woman who felt too fat. Every night, after everyone was asleep, Miss Eraser would exercise and lose weight until she finally became slim.
When she was lost in thought, her mind was filled with these strange things. When others called her, she was just a normal, quiet little girl—obedient, sensible, and a little timid. The door to her inner world was tightly shut; her parents had never entered it, although Ju Nian had once thought that she would be happy to open it for them if they wanted to. But they could never see that door; they only knew that this easy-going daughter would occasionally do some strange things. For example, she liked to cut apples horizontally, and when eating noodles, she always liked to twist the noodles into strange shapes with her chopsticks, then secretly purse her lips and smile to herself.
As Ju Nian grew older, the world in her heart became more and more boundless, while the door became smaller and smaller, so small that only one person could pass through at a time. However, no one ever passed through it, and dust covered the door, except for the side facing inward, which remained spotless.
Ju Nian became even less talkative, but she laughed freely in her own world, and life didn't feel boring or dull at all.
If others can't give her happiness, then she'll make it up to herself.
Every time Ju Nian secretly glimpsed her mother in the bathroom with a strange note in her hand, she knew her brother's plans had failed again. This amused her, even made her feel fortunate; as long as her brother didn't show up, her current situation could continue for a while longer. Although this thought seemed somewhat selfish—her teacher said selfish children weren't good children—well, forgive a quiet child.
Around the second semester of Ju Nian's second grade, Xie Maohua began working full-time as the vice dean's driver. Ju Nian thought that the newly appointed vice dean must be very hardworking, because he was always on business trips, and her father had to go with him everywhere, often not being home for several days at a time.
How are children produced? Ju Nian hadn't found a clear answer in books yet. Although she loved reading anything she could get her hands on, as long as she recognized the words, and she enjoyed watching radio, television, and newspapers, none of them could explain how her little brother came to be. Perhaps even if they did, she wouldn't understand. However, Ju Nian knew at least one thing: it takes two people to produce a child (like two people making bread, one kneading the dough, the other proofing it). Since one person wasn't available, there would be no product. Ju Nian was relieved for a short while because of this.
Speaking of which, the vice president of the municipal court's child is the same age as Ju Nian. They were classmates in kindergarten for more than half a year. Ju Nian's deepest memory of that boy comes from the fact that she held his hand and spun him around countless times. When they finally stopped, he was half dizzy and half terrified, his mouth agape.
Thinking back to that time, although all the children attending the family kindergarten were children of municipal court employees, there were differences between the children. Some, like Ju Nian, were the children of drivers, canteen workers, plumbers, or security guards. And then there were the children of prosecutors and leaders.
Children that age don't have a strong sense of hierarchy, nor do they really understand these distinctions, but their parents do. Take the vice-principal's son, for example. He transferred to the school a month into preschool. He was short and small, congenitally nearsighted, and wore glasses that looked ugly to other children. Having grown up in the city where his father worked, he couldn't understand the local dialect and spoke broken Mandarin. Initially, many children laughed at him behind his back and didn't like playing with him. The teachers didn't particularly like him either; if one of the original seven children hadn't fallen ill, they certainly wouldn't have let him fill in. For the entire year of preschool, this child remained unnoticed. After graduating from kindergarten, unlike other children from the compound who attended the nearby Cuihu Primary School (which was zoned according to the city's district boundaries), his parents sent him to the affiliated primary school of the Seventh Middle School. If it weren't for occasionally seeing him come home after school, everyone would have almost forgotten he existed.
However, everything changed after the boy's father rose from department head to vice president in just two years. The number of boys looking for him to play after school inexplicably increased, everyone saying he had many interesting new toys. The vice president had a personal chauffeur who would also give his son a ride; Xie Maohua was that chauffeur. Ju Nian had vaguely heard her father tell her mother over tea that the Han family's son was unremarkable, but now her father always remarked that the vice president's son, who frequently rode in his car, was very clever—of course, Ju Nian couldn't compare.
Ju Nian didn't care about these things, and even when she started elementary school, she kept forgetting the boy's name. As she learned more and more characters, she accidentally found a tattered martial arts novel under her father's bed. She couldn't help but immerse herself in that world of martial arts, perhaps because her inner world had been decorated with a romanticized version of the martial arts world. Her fascination with martial arts novels became unstoppable. From elementary school onwards, she devoured those thick tomes, and when she encountered unfamiliar words, she had to consult the Xinhua Dictionary. She only understood bits and pieces of the plots, but that didn't diminish her enjoyment.
Later, Ju Nian read thousands of martial arts novels, but her favorite was still the tattered copy she first encountered. It wasn't until she was in her third year of junior high that she realized it was one of Wen Ruian's "Shenzhou Qixia" series. The male protagonist, the chivalrous hero Xiao Qiushui, embodied all of Ju Nian's longings for the opposite sex before she began to experience romantic feelings.
"A cool breeze rises at the end of the day; what are the thoughts of a gentleman? When will the wild geese arrive? The rivers and lakes are vast in autumn."
With just a few words, Wen Ruian introduced Ju Nian as the perfect man she admired. He was extraordinary, loyal, and chivalrous, truly a hero. However, more than the stories of good triumphing over evil, what attracted Ju Nian even more was the passionate love between Xiao Qiushui and Tang Fang.
Tang Fang is the young princess of the Tang Clan in Sichuan. Her grandmother, Old Madam Tang, dislikes Xiao Qiushui, but by a twist of fate, Tang Fang and Xiao Qiushui meet by chance in the martial arts world, and their love blossoms at first sight during a fight between strangers. In fact, throughout the entire book, Tang Fang and Xiao Qiushui only spend a very short time together, followed by a long separation, spending their lives searching for each other, always missing each other again and again. However, Xiao Qiushui ventures alone into the Tang Clan, fighting her way through an earth-shattering battle, all just to see Tang Fang one last time.
Before she even knew what love was, Ju Nian had already conceived of what love would look like, just as she had envisioned the ending she wanted for Xiao Qiushui and Tang Fang—
In the cool autumn breeze and among the fallen leaves, Xiao Qiushui held Tang Fang's hand.
Tang Fang said, "Take me away."
He nodded and smiled, and then the two of them ran hand in hand, flying out of the Tang Clan, out of the martial world, out of all constraints, to a world where they were all alone.
She thinks of him constantly, never forgets him, and he is always the first person she sees. This is the Xiao Qiushui that Ju Nian imagines, and the person she loves in her imagination. As for others, whether they are inconspicuous or intelligent, they are all just passersby.
To read martial arts novels, Ju Nian learned to save a few cents from her breakfast money to borrow books from a book rental shop near the school. Her classmates also came, and they all read comics and cartoons. She would even change the covers of her novels to look like textbooks, fooling her teachers and her parents.
Perhaps due to a lack of focus, Ju Nian's grades in elementary school weren't particularly good. She could solve math problems, but even if she got the steps right, she often got the answer wrong; Chinese was supposed to be her strong point, but writing was her weakness. She was probably like a bottle with a round belly and a narrow mouth, filled with a lot, but not easy to pour out.
The teachers didn't really "appreciate" Ju Nian's compositions; they were either too absurd or too strange. For example, when the teacher asked them to write about "My Happiest Thing," the honest Ju Nian wrote: "My happiest thing is sitting alone by a windy window, sitting and sitting, so happy, so happy..."
No matter how many ellipses she used or how many times she repeated her happiness, it was difficult to reach the required word count. Moreover, the teacher didn't seem to find anything to be happy about—just sitting idly by the window—and she urged Ju Nian to describe it in more detail, much more detail.
Happiness is happiness; how can it be expressed in words? Although Ju Nian got full marks on all the fill-in-the-blank questions, she never ranked in the essay section. Before high school, she was always ranked 20th out of 40 students, and 25th out of 50. Not particularly outstanding, but not a bad student either. She never caused trouble at school, was never late or absent, and didn't talk during class. Aside from her tendency to daydream, her student handbook had no other shortcomings. Her parents had no reason to criticize her; they had no expectations of her—their expectations were all for their son, who was always late.
When Ju Nian was in fifth grade, just when she thought her younger brother would never appear again, her parents' faces lit up with joy. From then on, her mother stopped working in the canteen of the procuratorate and stayed at home all day, getting fatter and fatter every day.
Ju Nian's fear deepened day by day. She noticed her parents whispering with their backs to her and starting to call her aunt frequently. She knew they were arranging to send her away to make room for her future brother. At that time, she had the most wicked thought a child could have: that her brother would fall out of her womb and disappear forever while her mother was washing dishes, mopping the floor, watching TV, or singing, so that she could stay there forever.
Unfortunately, her will could not control reality. When her mother's belly was like a small hill, she moved to her aunt's house in the suburbs and rarely appeared in the courtyard anymore. Every week, Ju Nian would go to her aunt's house to deliver things to her mother, as her father had instructed. When her mother's belly was like a mountain, she moved to a relative's house in a certain town.
Finally, one day, Ju Nian, carrying her little bag, was taken to her aunt's house by her father, who kept turning back to look at her as she walked.
After Auntie settled Ju Nian in, before leaving, Dad knelt down for the first time and stroked Ju Nian's little face. He coughed a few times before saying, "You stay here for now, and we'll come back to pick you up later."
Ju Nian clutched her small bag tightly, as if it were her everything.
She disappointed her father. This time, instead of obediently nodding, she stared intently at the adults in front of her and asked, "When is 'later'? If you have a younger brother, will you still want me?"
These words left Dad feeling incredibly embarrassed, and he left with a changed expression. Perhaps because of Ju Nian's words, Dad rarely visited her, except to send her living expenses.
Auntie comforted Ju Nian, saying, "Your parents are also very reluctant to part with you, and they feel guilty about it."
Auntie was actually afraid that Ju Nian would cry. But Ju Nian continued to ask her auntie, "What is guilt?"
Chapter Seventeen: Witch Rain, Witch Rain!
My aunt and uncle live in the suburbs. They run a small fruit business and their lives are not difficult, but they have to get up early and work late every day.
Ju Nian had a cousin who was four years older than her. But when her cousin was three years old, he was playing alone in the open space in front of their house when a farm vehicle passed by and ran him over. He was crushed under the wheels and became a bloody mess. There was no need for an ambulance. When her aunt and uncle rushed back and wailed, all they could find was their son's cold body.
For some reason, after my cousin passed away, my aunt and uncle were unable to have a child. Perhaps not everyone is as lucky as Ju Nian's parents. Without the birth of a newborn to ease their lingering grief, the couple, who had experienced the pain of losing their child, faced the collapse of their marriage. They cried, they regretted, and they resented each other.
The uncle scolded the aunt, saying that if she hadn't been cooking in the inner room and hadn't been watching her son, this tragedy wouldn't have happened. He said she was the one who killed her son.
My aunt cried and said that if anyone is to blame, it's my uncle. He pushed all the household chores onto her while he was busy outside all day. He's the indirect culprit.
At that time, Ju Nian's grandfather was still alive. Not wanting his daughter and son-in-law to suffer together in their grief, he arranged for them to adopt a newborn boy the year after his cousin's death. The boy's home was actually near his aunt's house. His father had been shot for murder while drunk, and his mother had left, leaving behind a grandmother who was unable to raise him.
The aunt and uncle adopted the child, but things didn't improve as Grandpa Ju Nian had hoped. Knowing the child's entire family history was a grave mistake. No matter how innocent the child was, they constantly thought that the child's father was a murderer, and like father, like son—the child of a murderer was a little murderer. This thought made the poor child incredibly monstrous, becoming a constant source of heartache for the couple. Furthermore, Ju Nian's uncle's longing for his son was so profound that he felt no one's child could replace his deceased son. He grew increasingly disgusted with the adopted boy, to the point that he would verbally abuse him and even physically assault him whenever he cried.
Because of this, life with a child was less peaceful than two people crying in silence. The child hadn't even stayed in that family for three months when the aunt sent the little boy back to his grandmother. When others found out about this, it became even more difficult for them to adopt a new child. This went on day after day until Ju Nian was brought to their side.
So many years have passed, and my uncle is no longer interested in having another child. My aunt used to like Ju Nian quite a bit; she said the child was obedient, quiet, and would keep her company, help with chores, and besides, it would be a favor to her younger brother, who should have a boy. Their Xie family line, descended from Ju Nian's grandfather, couldn't be broken.