Chapter 5
Our family’s financial situation was never good to begin with. To pay for the treatment of my sister and me, we borrowed more money from the villagers, making life even more difficult.
Dad spent his days in the apple orchard, carefully tending the trees, hoping that when the apples ripened next year, he could sell them for a good price.
Mom took on some manual piecework from factories to help make ends meet.
They often said, “Contentment brings happiness.” No matter how hard life got, they never gave up hope.
In the summer of 2014, I was admitted to university. The whole family was overjoyed.
It seemed as if our family had finally received some mercy from above, welcoming a new hope.
But we never imagined that despair is always good at disguising itself.
During the summer vacation, a young man passed by our house and came in to ask for a bowl of water. That’s how he discovered Bai Xue.
His name was Liang Chuan. He introduced himself as a journalist, traveling around collecting stories. He wanted to write a report about my sister so that more people could see her suffering.
At first, my parents disagreed. Their meaning was clear: “We don’t want Bai Xue to become gossip for others.”
Liang Chuan was very patient, analyzing the pros and cons for us bit by bit.
He said, “Once the story is exposed, Bai Xue’s situation can attract public attention. The more people know, the greater the chance of getting help.”
My parents were moved.
Honestly, I didn’t really like this man. The sharp glint in his narrow eyes made me uncomfortable.
But this was my sister’s opportunity, and I had no right to refuse.
That night, Liang Chuan stayed at our house. My parents brought out the best food and wine to treat him-a meal that cost enough to feed our whole family for a week.
He took photos of my sister and interviewed my parents. When he left, he promised confidently, “Wait for good news. The hard days are coming to an end.”
We were never afraid of hardship; we just hoped my sister could live a little better than now.
Why is such a small wish so hard to realize?
A few days later, we saw an article in the newspaper titled “A Life Shackled by Chains: Why Is a Young Girl Imprisoned?”
The author glossed over the facts, never mentioning my sister’s mental illness, but instead harshly criticized my parents for disregarding the dignity of a mentally disabled child.
My father tried to contact Liang Chuan, only to find that he had already changed his phone number.
So we contacted the newspaper and learned that the article was a reprint.
Liang Chuan was not a legitimate journalist at all. He ran his own blog and often posted sensational stories.
Using my father’s phone, I found his Weibo account, where he had uploaded audio files.
One was of my sister, her speech stuttering, barely intelligible: “Uncomfortable… I feel uncomfortable…”
Another was of my father, consulting about raising donations.
I remembered that conversation-it was Liang Chuan who brought up the topic, and my father just followed along, emphasizing in the end that raising money wasn’t the goal; the most important thing was to see if there was a way to treat my sister.
Both recordings were incomplete, and the selected content was highly misleading, making it seem as if our family wanted to exploit my sister’s suffering for money.
I looked at the one-sided criticism online, burning with anger. I wrote a long explanation of the truth and posted it under his article.
But my words were like a small stone thrown into the sea, not causing the slightest ripple, and before long, the blogger deleted them.
After several attempts, my account was blocked.
“Demon parents,” “deformed family”-the online comments distorted the truth, every word cutting to the heart.
I said I wanted to contact a reporter to clarify the facts and call the police to have him arrested. But my parents just shook their heads and comforted me: “Let it go, don’t stir up more trouble. After a while, everyone will forget.”
They were kind by nature, but they hadn’t always been so weak.
I knew it was the series of blows that had drained their spirit, leaving them completely powerless to fight back.
A huge sense of helplessness crashed over me like a wave, dragging me under, as if I were about to drown.
But the impact of this report didn’t stop there.
August was the harvest season in the orchard, but the fruit wholesaler we’d always worked with suddenly canceled their order.
They claimed the market was bad, but everyone knew the truth.
They had simply seen the false news online and self-righteously decided to punish us.
If the apples couldn’t be sold, our family wouldn’t even be able to maintain basic living expenses.
While the whole family was worrying, the police came to our door, accompanied by the Village Chief, Li Jinshui.
The police had come from the county and didn’t know our situation.
They had received a report from the public, accusing my parents of abuse.
My father was always tongue-tied, but my mother had been a teacher and was usually eloquent-yet now she couldn’t say a word.
How could all this suffering possibly be put into words?
Fortunately, the Village Chief, Li Jinshui, helped explain, and we provided Bai Xue’s medical records, so the matter was resolved.
Still, the police gave my parents a lecture before leaving, criticizing them for not fulfilling their roles as parents.
My father’s once-straight back gradually bent, his head bowed in apology, looking like a hunched old man.
The light in my mother’s eyes slowly faded away.
You see, isn’t life ridiculous?