Chapter 7

Chapter 7

I didn’t sleep all night.

I stayed in the security office until the afternoon of the next day. The head of the factory’s security department said the police had called to inform me I could go home.

On the way back, I could clearly feel that something was different.

At this hour, the family housing compound was usually at its liveliest, with children shouting and playing everywhere.

But today, every door and window was shut tight.

Not far away, several police officers were going door to door collecting fingerprints and conducting interviews.

A mother and daughter walked toward me. The little girl looked about the same age as An’an. She was pouting and throwing a tantrum. “I want to wear my princess tulle dress. Why won’t you let me wear it?”

Her mother coaxed her gently, “There are bad people bullying little girls lately, sweetheart, so let’s not wear dresses for now. In a bit, Mommy will take you to the barbershop, and we’ll cut your hair a little shorter.”

I lowered my head and hurried away.

It was only supposed to take ten minutes to get home, but it felt as long as a century.

The front door was ajar. I tried countless times, but I still didn’t dare push it open.

Tears fell onto my shoes, and I was overwhelmed with regret.

If I hadn’t gone out yesterday, An’an wouldn’t have died.

Suddenly, the door was opened from the inside.

My dad appeared right in front of me. He was still wearing his work clothes, his hair a little messy, his face darker than the bottom of a pot. There was still a faint smell of alcohol on him, and he was holding a big broom.

Almost instinctively, I took a step back.

My dad turned sideways to make room and ordered, “Get in.”

My body trembled. My legs felt as heavy as lead as I slowly shuffled inside.

Once I was in, I didn’t dare move. I shut my eyes and waited to be hit.

But after a long while, nothing happened.

I opened my eyes and looked over. My dad was bent over, sweeping the floor.

As he swept, he cursed under his breath, “Those damn cops questioned me for so long, but they couldn’t even bother to feed me a meal!

“Good thing that little brat died outside. Otherwise, how the hell would we live in this place from now on? Fucking unlucky!”

I didn’t dare say a word. I silently picked up the mop and started mopping the floor.

Suddenly, my dad shot me a cold look. “Zhu Yanwei, did you kill An’an?”

My breath caught, and I shook my head desperately. “No! It wasn’t me!”

“It better not have been.”

My dad pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pants pocket, bit one out between his teeth, lit it, and took a hard drag. Two streams of white smoke poured from his nostrils. “Did you tell the police I came home yesterday afternoon?”

I swallowed in panic. “It wasn’t me who said it. It was Aunt Ma who called. She said you came home to drop something off and change clothes, and I just repeated what she said to the police. Really! I really didn’t tell the police anything else!”

My dad slowly rolled up his sleeves. “And you told the police I beat you?”

My teeth were chattering. “No! Captain Wan saw the injuries on my arm…”

My dad let out a cold laugh. “Take off your pants.”

“Huh?” I was so scared I backed away.

My dad walked toward me with the broom in hand. “Don’t make me say it again.”

I turned and ran.

But my dad grabbed me by the back of the neck and slammed me against the door, pinning me there.

He raised the broom high and whipped it down hard against my backside. “You little bastard, you’re already turning on your own family at this age? What the hell were you running your mouth about in front of the police?

“I’ll teach you to spout bullshit to the police! You cheap little mongrel! You rotten maggot! Why don’t you just go die?”

My forehead was pressed against the wall, and all I could hear were his curses.

My backside burned with pain. I didn’t know how many times he’d hit me. Ten? Twenty?

All these years, my dad had always found one reason or another to beat me.

When he was fighting with Mom over the divorce, he beat me.

When his bosses at work made things hard for him, or he argued with his coworkers, he beat me.

When he quarreled with Aunt Ma, he beat me.

When he was unhappy that An’an spent his money, he beat me.

I had gone numb to it long ago.

By the time he was done, my dad had finished his cigarette too.

He flicked the cigarette butt onto the floor and ground it out with the tip of his shoe. Then he pinched another cigarette from the pack, lit it, exhaled comfortably, and asked, “Have you eaten?”

Holding back my tears, I shook my head. One hand hovered over my backside. “The police officers gave me food, but I was upset, so I didn’t eat.”

My dad threw the broom aside. “Go buy something to eat outside. Stop by the hospital while you’re at it and bring your Aunt Ma some food.”