Chapter 3

Chapter 3

“Who among you actually saw Xiao Lan give birth to her? I picked her up from outside. She hasn’t even been registered in the household yet.”

“My family still has a quota for birthing a son!”

All eyes fell squarely on my face.

Tears immediately filled my eyes.

I opened my mouth, wanting to call out “Dad.”

But he said fiercely, “Shut up! You’re someone I picked up. I’m not your real father. I’ll send you away tomorrow.”

I turned to look at Mom; her eyes were red as she shook her head at me.

Dad, Mom.

Such simple sounds that even a one-year-old can say them.

Yet at that moment, no matter how hard I tried to open my mouth, no sound came from my throat.

Clearly, I hadn’t done anything wrong, but I was abandoned in public.

The Women’s Affairs Director didn’t believe this story. Just then, Grandma appeared, leaning on her cane.

She had a booming voice: “Second Sister is the daughter of my eldest son, Hu Shan. She was sent to live in the countryside.”

“Tomorrow, I’ll have my eldest come and take her away.”

“Back during the famine, if your father hadn’t had the porridge I gave him, he would have died. You want to touch my daughter-in-law? Have your father return his life to me first.”

…

The next morning, my uncle from the city rushed back in a flurry.

He refused to accept me: “Jiawen and Jiawu are starting junior high. It’s a critical time. Miaomiao and I simply can’t spare the time to take care of Second Sister.”

“Having two daughters is also great. Raising girls well is no worse than raising boys.”

Dad was furious: “You have twin sons yourself, so of course it’s easy for you to talk.”

“If you think daughters are so good, then trade Second Sister for Jiawen or Jiawu to be my son. Are you willing?”

Grandma tapped the ground with her cane: “If there’s really no choice, just send Second Sister off to be a child bride. She can still fetch a nutritional fee.”

The sky was overcast, and a storm was coming.

I sat barefoot under the eaves. The hot summer wind lifted my tattered clothes.

Like an icy knife slicing across the skin of my waist.

So cold.

So painful.

Grandma tried both persuasion and emotional blackmail, but Uncle wouldn’t relent.

Raising a child was a huge responsibility, and he didn’t want to shoulder it.

Grandma cursed, and Dad also lost his temper.

Uncle shook them off and came out of the main room. He looked at me sitting under the porch.

I knew this was my only chance. I had to fight for something in my life.

I handed him the butterfly I had woven from tender palm leaves and said softly, “Last time, I promised Auntie I’d weave her a butterfly.”

“I practiced for many days, but it’s still not very pretty. Please ask her not to mind.”

Uncle looked down at my hands.

They were covered with scars, both deep and shallow.

There were bloody lines from climbing the tree last night to gather palm fronds, cuts from cutting pigweed, burns from boiling water, scorch marks from the fire…

Country kids aren’t so precious. These minor injuries all heal on their own.

Uncle took the butterfly and turned to leave.

It was still no use.

Perhaps I was destined to be a child bride in the mountains.

My heart plummeted into an abyss.

I clenched my fists tightly and told myself not to cry.

A child who isn’t loved won’t gain sympathy from crying; it only brings curses.

But I couldn’t bear it.

Tears rushed out in torrents, blurring the whole world.

I don’t know how much later, a hazy figure appeared before me.