Chapter 9

I’d thought she was trustworthy. But I never imagined she could find my mother and bring her there.

I hadn’t seen my mother in more than ten years.

When I saw her again, I was about the age she’d been when those people took her out of the village.

And she, now nearly sixty, looked even more poised, intelligent, and radiant than before.

I gazed at her, utterly spellbound.

In court, she said,

“As the spouse and mother of the victims, I forgive the defendant’s wrongdoing and undertake not to pursue the matter.”

What did that mean?

Did it mean I’d killed my father and brother, and my very own mother had forgiven me?

Grandma trembled and wailed. “There’s no justice! My son’s been murdered, and his own mother has nowhere to turn!”

Well… From a certain point of view, yes.

There were legal precedents.

And precedents carried considerable weight when a court passed sentence.

Because I’d genuinely had compelling reasons, because there had been an element of self-defense, and because the victims’ family had forgiven me,

I was only sentenced to a few years, and the sentence was suspended.

Which more or less meant I didn’t have to go inside.

Grandma was clearly unhappy with that outcome.

She pointed at my mother and started howling again. “That woman was just bought to have babies! What right has she got to speak for my son? They weren’t married!”

The judge said, “Then where did the marriage certificate come from?”

Grandma said, “We had someone get that to deal with the inspections.”

The judge said, “How did you get a marriage certificate when you didn’t even know where the woman was registered?”

Grandma said, “Oh, they’re easygoing where we’re from!”

“What?”

The prosecutor’s expression changed. “You’re saying you were also buying and selling women, imprisoning them illegally, and forcing them to have children? And the local authorities did nothing? Is that true?”

Grandma said, “Heavens, that’s what everyone does where we live! Nobody bothers about it!”

The prosecutor said, “There’s more to this.”

The judge told the clerk, “Write that down. All of it.”

The villagers who’d come with Grandma said, “For God’s sake, old woman, shut up.”

Grandma was dragged away. She didn’t understand why nobody cared when she’d suffered such a terrible injustice.

Because of that, she learned a new trick: petitioning the authorities.

An old woman in her seventies, she tottered from office to office every day to demand justice.

In the end, there was nothing else for it. The local authorities sent people specially to escort her away, safe and sound, and keep her well fed and looked after.

They were terrified she’d blurt out any more inconvenient truths.

But none of that had anything to do with me anymore.

After I came out of the detention center, I saw my mother once, from a distance.

She smiled at me and waved.

But I didn’t go over.

At eighteen, I hadn’t understood why my mother had been cruel enough to leave me behind.

But over the years, I’d become a mother too. I’d also read books.

At last, I understood.

I understood the story of the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl. I understood what lay beneath the tale of the River Snail Girl.

I understood the significance of Sun Wukong throwing Baihuaxiu’s two children to their deaths.

So yes, she was my mother. But I was a child born inside her nightmare.

I shouldn’t disturb her life.

Now that she’d escaped that nightmare, let her live happily!

As for me—

A grown woman, nameless among the multitudes, I too would live openly and happily from now on.

After all, I used to have nothing.

Now the only thing I didn’t have was a husband.

A house, a car, money, a child.

I had them all.

What more could I want?

The End