Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Perhaps her mother’s death had truly affected her more than she realized; for a long time, her mind had instinctively blocked it out.

Or perhaps the event had already left her mental state in a sub-healthy condition, and her recent emotional turbulence and anxiety had completely triggered her already unstable nerves.

Back in high school, Huang Yuanrui’s parents divorced. Her father left their small town and never contacted them again.

She never knew why they divorced. Perhaps her father couldn’t stand her mother anymore, or perhaps there was someone else.

Left alone with her mother, she felt utterly suffocated.

She hated her father for slipping away and leaving her to deal with that nightmare of a woman all by herself.

Her mother was paranoid, overbearing, short-tempered, and narrow-minded.

Her views on love and marriage were rigid: one partner for life, and premarital purity was an absolute must.

Huang Yuanrui had gotten into loud arguments with her in public many times, the stares from those around them pricking her like needles.

Many times, she had locked her bedroom door and sat by the window on the twenty-first floor, hesitating over whether or not to jump.

Many times, she had tested a small knife against her arm, contemplating self-harm.

Before the Lunar New Year, she and her mother went to the supermarket to buy holiday goods. Over the store’s speakers, Andy Lau was singing warmly:

“Gongxi ni facai, gongxi ni jingcai…”

Huang Yuanrui was in high spirits. She pushed the shopping cart to the candy section, chatting with several salesgirls while tossing various candies into her bag based on their recommendations.

As they talked, her mother pushed her own cart over.

Her mother’s brow furrowed as she barked a reprimand:

“What are you running off for? I just told you to help me get the black sesame paste-where the hell did you go? I’ve been looking for you forever! And I’ve told you a thousand times, we already bought candy! We have so much left over from last year that we can’t even finish it! Why are you picking out all this trash!”

Her voice was booming. The salesgirls, who had been smiling and chatting with Huang Yuanrui just a moment ago, all stopped awkwardly and stole glances at the mother and daughter.

Huang Yuanrui gave a quiet “oh,” put the candy back, and turned to walk away with her mother.

She forced herself to stay calm, laughing and talking with her mother as they walked.

She knew those salesgirls were still watching her from behind, gossiping about her, pitying her.

She tried her best to act as if everything were perfectly normal, wanting them to think her mother wasn’t actually throwing a tantrum, but was simply used to speaking loudly-that this was just their normal way of communicating.

The moment they reached a spot where the salesgirls couldn’t see them, her scalding tears began to fall.

Back then, the school didn’t allow mobile phones, so Huang Yuanrui used a notebook and pen to keep a diary.

In her diary, she described her first kiss like this: “He held the back of my head, his tongue gently sliding into my mouth. Our tongues intertwined, and I could feel his body reacting.”

After writing that passage, her face had flushed a deep crimson, and she had hurriedly snapped the notebook shut.

The next afternoon, when she returned home from school, her mother threw the diary at her feet and sneered triumphantly, “I’ve read all your diaries and little notes.”

Huang Yuanrui tore the diary to shreds, went to her room, slammed the door with a bang, and proceeded to smash every glass and ceramic object in the room into tiny pieces.

While she smashed things inside, her mother kicked at the door from the outside, calling her a beast, a dog, and a shameless brat.

During the exam the next day, she filled her entire test paper with the word “Fuck.” She was called to the teacher’s office and made to stand as punishment for the entire morning.

After graduating high school, she left the small town to study elsewhere.

Then, one day, she suddenly received a message from her aunt: her mother had committed suicide.

Her mother had swallowed pesticides and passed away in her bed.

Huang Yuanrui didn’t ask why. She left all the funeral arrangements to her aunt and only returned home a month later to look at her mother’s funerary portrait.

Was she sad? Yes, she was sad. But she also felt an immense sense of relief.

Huang Yuanrui spoke to her mother’s portrait: “Did you know? People who commit suicide can’t enter the cycle of reincarnation. There is no next life for you.”

With that, she turned to leave.

After taking two steps, she turned back. “I looked it up online. Suicide is hereditary. You really are a terrible role model.”