Chapter 4

My mother is a woman who is willing to risk everything.

Right after graduating from elementary school, she dared to follow her girlfriends to work thousands of miles away from home.

As a rural girl, hardworking and honest, my mother experienced life’s hardships early on. After entering a garment factory, she scrimped and saved, always keeping only a pitiful amount for her own living expenses, and sending the rest of her wages home every month.

My grandparents were delighted to have raised such a useful daughter-she could not only earn money to support the family but also help her brother with a bride price.

When she was twenty, my eldest uncle was about to get married, so my mother was betrothed to a lame man.

That lame man was my biological father.

He was not born with a limp. He had broken a tendon in his foot as a child, and it was never properly treated, leaving him with a lifelong disability.

My grandfather told my mother that my biological father’s family was well-off, and he wasn’t bad-looking. Except for being lame and a bit older, there was nothing wrong with him. He also said that girls had to get married sooner or later and warned her not to be too picky.

My grandmother kept her mouth shut and simply cried.

At that point, the family had already accepted the bride price, so my mother had no choice but to nod and marry him.

My biological father was a taciturn man who liked to drink. When he drank too much, he would hit people. My mother was covered in bruises shortly after marrying him, but everyone told her to endure it.

After I was born, my biological father became even worse. Before my mother had even finished her postpartum recovery, he started beating her again.

Back then, in the mountains, divorce was unheard of, and no one would help my mother. She thought about resigning herself to fate, but my cries made her resolve to escape.

When I was five months old, my biological father got drunk and went crazy. With one slap, he knocked me to the ground, splitting my forehead open and leaving a bloody wound.

From that day on, my mother changed.

When my biological father refused to divorce, she went to the market, bought a pile of pesticides, and put them at home, standing by his bed at night with an axe in hand.

When her own family refused to let her divorce, she went to their house with a kitchen knife and smashed everything to pieces.

Everyone said my mother had gone mad, but in reality, she was incredibly clear-headed.

She knew that my biological father’s vows of repentance were no different from a dog’s barking, and her own family was nothing but vampires who had pushed her into the abyss. They were not husband and family, but buyers and sellers. She was not a person, but a commodity to be traded.

For women at the bottom, there are always only two paths: endurance and escape.

My mother could not endure, so she resolutely chose to escape. She turned herself into the shrew and lunatic everyone talked about. After losing her sexual and reproductive value, she finally gained true freedom.

That night, with five yuan in her pocket, my mother carried me on her back, crossing mountain after mountain.

She was so brave and so clear-headed. If I am able to face the hardships and challenges of life with strength, then my mother must be the source of all my courage.

Qi Zheng’s mother, on the other hand, is kind to the point of weakness.

When people talked behind my mother’s back, she would quietly stand up and defend her. But when faced with her husband’s infidelity and years of silent abuse, she chose to endure it in silence.

But it must be admitted, under her upbringing, Qi Zheng was not a bad child when he was young.

He was just a little spoiled and self-centered.

But in front of me, none of his little tempers mattered. Ultimately, it was probably because I was even more selfish than him.

Most girls are taught from birth to always consider others, but my mother taught me that my own feelings are the most important, and to never pay the price for someone else’s expectations.

So, whoever stands in my way, I let them go.

Qi Zheng didn’t understand why I always asked him to leave me, nor why I was never soft with him. All he could do was stubbornly stick by me, firmly occupying the seat next to mine.

My attitude was always cool, never as warm as he was to me.

At first, Qi Zheng would feel disappointed and upset. Later, perhaps after being rejected so many times, he learned to ignore my coldness, grinning as he scrambled to help me carry my backpack and water bottle, insisting on waiting for me to go to and from school together.

On the way home, he would always chatter on at my side. Whenever I frowned, he would immediately apologize and fall silent.

“Sorry, Moon.” He looked at me cautiously, his eyes nervous and apologetic. “Did I bother you again?”

I calmly reached out my hand, asking him for my water bottle and backpack. “I never asked you to do these things, Qi Zheng. We’re just classmates. There’s no need for you to try so hard to please me.”

Qi Zheng deftly dodged, looking at me with a cheeky grin. “I know, I know, it’s just that I want to do it myself.”

School wasn’t far from home, and the backpack wasn’t heavy. I stuffed my hands into my pockets and tossed out a casual, “Whatever you want,” as I walked toward home.

Qi Zheng followed closely behind me, step by step.

And he kept doing so, for many years.

On the day of our elementary school graduation, Qi Zheng carefully wrote in every classmate’s yearbook: Zhong Yue is my best friend.