Just as expected, without any surprise, after a few words, the so-called godmother immediately veered the conversation back to her son again. Her words were laced with self-congratulatory complaints, like how the boy’s rebellious phase was getting worse lately, how he acted like he was on top of the world just for ranking in the top fifty of his grade, how he’d slam the door after just a couple of words, blah blah blah… Qi Xin listened intermittently, alternating her responses with “I see,” “Is that so,” “That makes sense,” or “I completely understand.” She could make these polite responses without using her brain at all; it was almost instinct.
Perhaps I’m just a hypocrite at heart, she thought somewhat self-deprecatingly.
“Oh my, I got carried away chatting with you again. It must be getting late for you too, right? Go home early, Little Qi Xin, don’t make your mother worry. This weekend, Godmother will treat you to that frog restaurant again!”
Qi Xin infused her tone with some laughter and said, “Thank you, Godmother.”
She didn’t dislike frog, nor did she have any particular craving for it. But that godmother’s son especially loved spicy food, ordering the frog incredibly spicy every time. She, on the other hand, was rather weak when it came to eating spicy food. So, every time they supposedly went to eat frog, she’d end up filling her stomach with fried rice. Anyway, Mother and Godmother wouldn’t notice what she actually ate; they’d just eagerly urge her to take photos with the boy. But that was fair enough, wasn’t it? After all, someone else was paying. For a freeloader to be picky would be a bit too shameless.
She didn’t actually dislike the boy; the greater emotion she felt was sympathy. Because she knew the boy’s severe irritability was entirely forced out of him by his mother. This woman seemed to delight in poking at her son’s sore spots in front of outsiders, deliberately bringing up specific painful points known only to her, his mother. It was like a secret signal, a dog whistle only he could hear, provoking him into overreacting. Then she’d revel in the pleasure of thinking, “My son is so rebellious, it’s really not easy for me.” This sense of control sent her into raptures, surpassing any other pleasure.
Actually, this so-called godmother’s past was quite pitiful as well. Mother had told her the story. Godmother’s name was Zhuang Qunhong. Back in university, she dated a boy who was dirt poor. The boy’s family could only be described as destitute, with nothing but bare walls. He also had three younger brothers, the youngest just weaned. The four boys combined owned only three pairs of pants. So her parents vehemently opposed the marriage, telling her that if she married in, she’d be bled dry to the bone. If she truly married him, she wouldn’t just be becoming their eldest sister-in-law, she’d essentially be becoming the birth mother of those three younger brothers. But Godmother at that time firmly believed true love conquered all, willing to build a life from scratch with that boy. She stole the household registration documents from home and registered the marriage directly, enraging her parents so much that they threatened to throw her out and sever ties.
When her parents said they would sever ties, they seemed truly resolute. They didn’t attend the wedding. They didn’t visit when her son was born, nor for his first-month celebration. Unless she brought the child back for Chinese New Year, they wouldn’t even glance their way, even if the sky fell. Initially, it was out of stubborn pride, an inability to back down. Later, there was just no getting past it. Zhuang Qunhong sporadically sent money home, seemingly wanting to prove she could earn money with her husband without relying on her family. Her parents, meanwhile, said they were saving it on a card for her, untouched, not spending her money. So that stubborn knot in the relationship was never quite untangled.
Later, around the age of thirty, their hard work finally paid off. That penniless husband of hers truly built a business from the ground up. Those few years were probably some of the only truly happy times in her life. They bought a car, a house, and added many new pieces of furniture to the home. When they took her husband home for New Year’s, they were finally no longer met with cold faces; it had a slight taste of a proper New Year celebration. But good times didn’t last. Perhaps she simply wasn’t fated for a life of ease. One day, she suddenly received news: a financial dispute; the other party, in a fit of rage, stabbed her husband to death. The sky had truly fallen. During the period of handling his affairs, Mother helped her quite a lot. There wasn’t much inheritance, really, but there was a mountain of debt. Arguments, disputes, utterly exhausting.
It was then that Zhuang Qunhong finally remembered what her parents had said about saving all those bits and pieces of money she had sent. Over more than a decade, it should have added up to at least five or six hundred thousand. Though not much, it could solve the most urgent problems. But when she finally brought up the matter, she learned the money on that card had long ago been spent on buying a house for her younger brother. Otherwise, where did that thirty-thousand down payment for her brother’s house come from?
Too many things pressed down at once. Perhaps a nerve just snapped with a “pa” sound. After it snapped, she was no different from crazy. Some people go crazy sitting on the main road in tattered clothes. Some people go crazy wearing a mink coat, signing up for yoga classes five days a week, and taking pills every day. As if keeping herself this busy allowed her to somewhat forget those messy, trivial troubles. She desperately fussed over and controlled her son, feeling much better afterward, having vented it all.
“Little Qi Xin, you’re going back alone again?” The old gatekeeper said, a bit worried. “A girl your age, going home so late, it’s not safe, is it? Why don’t you take a taxi? Don’t skimp on that little bit of money.”
But where would she get the money? If she took a taxi home, she’d have no money for dinner. Qi Xin glanced at the kindly smiling old man and sighed inwardly. She nodded and said, “Thank you, Grandpa. I’ll take the bus home; it goes right to my doorstep.”
“Good, the bus is good, fast.” The old man’s eyes crinkled with laughter, as kindly as her real grandfather.
Actually, this Gatekeeper Grandpa had been criticized by other students for a long time. They called him a nosy busybody who was overly familiar with everyone. They said he didn’t brush his teeth, had a mouth full of big yellow teeth, and terrible breath. They said just because he put on a security uniform, he really thought he was someone important, and his bossy manner was nauseating… Qi Xin initially disliked such talk. Later, she realized the only reason she wasn’t familiar with these complaints was because she always left the school gate so late. This old man liked to deliberately open the school gate two minutes late every day after school. He just loved seeing those students standing at the gate sighing, or knocking on his window complaining, yelling at him to open the door. It made him feel his power was greater than the heavens.
Some had also dug up “good deeds” from his younger days and called him “Wen-Wu Grandpa.” Every time he was called that nickname, the Gatekeeper Grandpa would get furious, spewing spittle and cursing very dirty words… People were always complex. The kindly grandpa and the aging ruffian could absolutely be the same person.
Qi Xin wasn’t surprised by this. This was only logical, she thought.
In fact, it seemed like this was the case for everyone in this world. Everyone probably had more or less some screws loose in their heads. They were all supposed to be in pain, and they all took pleasure in tormenting others. It couldn’t be helped. If a person didn’t torment others, that was the person you needed to be most wary of. A person who took no delight in causing suffering to others? Such a person was far too frightening, a total sociopath.
She walked slowly, in no hurry. She had already finished her homework at school anyway. Mother would probably only come home after 11 PM from playing mahjong. Before heading home, she could leisurely consider how to solve her dinner problem.
As she walked, her peripheral vision suddenly caught a reflection on the glass door at the corner. A light gray minivan was following behind her. This made her slightly tense, but perhaps because it was so late, the wide street was empty. Only her and that minivan, alone, making her heart flutter with unease.
After turning a corner, she saw a somewhat warm green signboard. The brightly lit shop front was so welcoming it almost made her want to cry. On it were written four characters: Shaxian Snacks.
She walked into the shop, glancing behind her out of the corner of her eye. The minivan wasn’t what she had imagined; it had just been going the same way by coincidence. It didn’t pause for even a moment, just continuing to drive slowly and leisurely onward.
