Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Leaving the residential complex, I felt suffocated by the weight of my fragmented memories. I could do nothing but sit dejectedly by the riverbank.

The river’s surface was a seamless expanse of green ripples, coldly reflecting the red numbers: “12:6:15.”

Twelve years, six months, and fifteen days. That was all the time I had left.

I realized then that this wasn’t a rebirth-it was a long, drawn-out review of my death!

I was currently seventeen, which meant my time would stop when I was five.

What would happen when it stopped? Would I still die from the fall all over again?

In the depths of despair, I forced myself to think: What exactly happened when I was five?

Oh! That was it.

That was the year my mother died.

That’s right. Age five was the starting point of my memory.

To be precise, my life officially began on that day:

It was midsummer, and the cicadas outside the window were singing.

Buzz… buzz…

Inside an old earthen house, a woman lay in bed, a floral quilt covering half her face.

She pulled a crumpled ten-yuan bill from under her pillow and told me to go to the store to buy snacks.

In that secluded little mountain village, ten cents could buy ten fruit candies. Ten yuan was a huge sum of money; it could buy rice seeds or baby chicks…

Yet she told me to use it for snacks, to buy whatever I wanted.

As the memory resurfaced, a voice-unfamiliar yet enough to make my entire body tremble-spoke:

“Ranran, buy whatever you want to eat. Don’t come home until you’re full.”

I was overjoyed.

I bought popsicles, spicy strips, lollipops… and one expensive item. I only remembered it cost three yuan, but I couldn’t recall what it was.

In the end, I had five yuan left. I thought she would surely praise me for being sensible when I got home.

But when I returned, there was a bed set up in the courtyard. It was covered with a white sheet, and beneath the sheet was a mound in the shape of a person.

Grandmother told me she had died of an illness. She warned me not to go near, lest I be infected.

I was the most obedient child in the village, so from beginning to end, I never took a single step closer.

I didn’t even get to see her one last time before the coffin was carried up the mountain.

Suddenly, the ringing of my phone interrupted my memories.

I glanced at the string of numbers on the caller ID and pressed answer. A man’s voice rang out, full of practiced ups and downs:

“College Student Chen, finished with your exams? How did they go? Are you sure you can take first place in your year?

“By the way, train tickets are hard to get. I’ve been checking online every day, but I haven’t snagged one yet.

“I told you back then to stay local and go to the normal university, but you wouldn’t listen. You insisted on going so far away. Now look what’s happened. If you can’t make it back, you have no one to blame but yourself!

“Sigh, back when your mother was sick, I took her to the hospital. When the money ran out, I went and borrowed more, but she still passed away.

“On her deathbed, she told me to find a new mother to take care of you. She said since you’re a girl, you need a mother’s care.

“That’s why I married your current mother. Even though she came with a child, as long as she could look after you, I didn’t mind.

“I’ve sacrificed so much over the years to raise you into a success. I just hope you’ll have a stable job and a good life in the future.

“Of course, I know you’re grown now and have your own ideas. You don’t have to listen to me, but don’t forget-if I hadn’t pushed you to start school early, would you have made it in time for the final year of that bonus points policy?”

“You were only able to get those grades because of me!

“I, Chen Youfang, went from being a village primary school teacher to the deputy director of the Bureau of Education. Do you think I could’ve done that without real talent?

“How many times do I have to tell you? Your father only wants what’s best for you.”

His words were exactly as I remembered them.

He had always harbored a grudge over the fact that I didn’t attend a normal university to become a teacher. Later on, no matter what difficulties I faced, he would blame it on that choice, using it as a springboard for one of his impassioned speeches.

I used to be used to it.

But as I walk through my life again, my memories have become much clearer.

And so, I began to rethink his words.

Could he really not buy a ticket? My classmates from the same hometown had just bought theirs.

Marrying a new mother to take care of me? My stepmother had never looked after me a day in her life.

Back then, my stepmother was a divorcee with two children. The village was traditional; unless a man was so poor he couldn’t put food on the table, he would never marry such a woman.

Yet my dad had actively sought her out. On the day of the wedding feast, my grandmother even insisted on following the customs for a first marriage.

They claimed it was all for my sake.

But his subsequent career path-from the village to the town, from the town to the county-followed exactly in the footsteps of his father-in-law, who was a primary school principal in town.

As for the house he bought after transferring to the county, I was only allowed to stay there for two days on the weekends.

Even the fact that I started first grade at the age of five was a bit too convenient; that was the year my mother suddenly passed away…

He was still talking:

“By the way, call your grandmother when you have time. You’re educated and know how to use the internet. If she needs anything, buy it for her online. It’s more convenient that way, and people will praise you for being a filial daughter.

“Also, your mother’s headaches have been acting up for months now, and you haven’t called her once! You’re a university student-did you study all those books just to feed them to a dog?”

…

I finally realized that his way of speaking was steeped in the tone of a “leader,” effortlessly switching between earnest concern and harsh reprimand.

It was so ingrained that throughout my twenty-six years of life, my body would go stiff and my palms would sweat the moment I heard his voice.

I finally remembered the truth behind our last “argument.”

At the time, I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to make it home, so I raised my voice slightly:

“Dad, just transfer the money to me and I’ll go to the station to buy the ticket myself!”

He immediately hung up. When I tried calling back, he rejected the call or turned off his phone.

He complained to all our relatives, claiming that I had addressed him by his full name over the phone and shouted that I didn’t want him meddling in my life.

As it turned out, he felt that because I hadn’t called him “Father” and had only used “Dad,” it was equivalent to calling him by his full name.

Later, I had to call every single relative to admit my mistake and perform a self-criticism before he finally deigned to take my calls again.

The memory was incredibly vivid, but I felt no anger-only a profound, icy calm.

“Chen Youfang.”

This time, I actually addressed him by his full name.

The man on the other end of the line dropped his facade, and a tide of filthy curses came pouring out.

Perhaps because he didn’t hear the expected crying or apologies, he stopped halfway through his tirade, sounding almost guilty in the sudden silence.

I asked, “My mother… how did she really die?”

There was a sharp intake of breath, then silence on the other end.

I enunciated every syllable: “If her death had anything to do with you, I will kill you. Do I make myself clear?”

I hung up the phone, ready to face the next yesterday.