Chapter 53: Ren Dongliu (From the Past) – Love Always Fills Not Enough and Can’t Be Emptied… Part 1

(1)

“Names are the shortest spells. Naming all things is humanity’s arrogance.”

—

On September 16, 1996.

In a city section divided by clear solid and dashed lines painted in white mixed with fluorescent powder, after passing through a congested central area, a red Xiali taxi drove from the city’s edge (also the suburban road’s exit) into the most isolated depths. There, you would see the surrounding wasteland abandoned by developers, resembling the danxia landforms of the northwest, a barren Gobi desert without a blade of grass.

Sitting in the back seat of the taxi, looking forward through the windshield, the blue sky in the distance turned into silvery-gray mist amid the clouds. A sun that wasn’t too glaring had a round outline that seemed to be missing a corner, deprived of its rightful brilliance. Looking out the side windows, wide roads flanked by green-painted guardrails stretched into the distance. They were uneven, with many spots cracked from years of sun exposure, revealing visible red rust stains.

In the distance stood a few structures built from yellow mud bricks—no windows, just a small wooden door with old hinges. Blue or white paint formed large square characters on the walls: Organic Fertilizer, Auto Repair, Infertility Clinic.

They were spaced far apart, yet stood out clearly in this desolate scene.

Suddenly, a structure loomed in the distance. From this range, it looked like a gray thumb-sized dot. As the scattered bungalows drew nearer, it gradually became surreal, like an opened folding fan or a desert mirage appearing in an old person’s cloudy eyes.

—Huaqing City First Women’s Prison.

“9623, someone here to see you.” The female prison guard who spoke wore an open-collar uniform with a white shirt and red tie. The old red collar badge had been replaced by a metal pin of a red shield framed by pine branches. Though still the standard prison guard uniform, her epaulets retained the blue background with a red pentagram from the ’83 style.

At that moment, the woman working at the sewing machine paused, a flicker of panic in her eyes. She slowly stood up from her task.

Her waist-length hair had been cut to ear-length on the day she was formally imprisoned, exposing everything above the eyebrows, including her ears, with nape hair not exceeding the neck.

Her temples were deeply sunken, cheekbones prominently protruding. She wore an oversized, uniform-sized blue zebra-striped prison uniform. Her face was as pale as paper soaked in a bleach pool. Her arms emerged from wide sleeves, dry and thin like withered branches.

Her skin was unnaturally white, devoid of blood, making her equally pale lips appear a deeper red by stark contrast.

The woman followed behind the female prison guard, head lowered, eyes vacant and unfocused. She merely mimicked the guard’s rising and falling footsteps.

Soon, they reached the visitation room.

Separated by a transparent glass pane, a yellow wooden ledge the length of a palm sat in front, holding a red telephone for communicating with the visitor. The woman sat on the rectangular wooden stool beside it. She raised her head to glance at the glass (her eyes lifeless, dull as death). Outside, an elderly woman faced her. Her gaze lingered on the elder’s face for a few seconds, then dropped to the infant bundled in the elder’s arms. This time, she didn’t pause at all—she swept her eyes over and immediately looked away. Her face grew even paler than before.

The elder freed one hand and knocked on the glass, then picked up the red phone on the ledge.

Under the prolonged gaze in the quiet room, time ticked by second by second. Finally, the woman picked up the phone and held it to her ear.

“Ren Beng…”

“Mom…”

Wen Yang heard that “Mom” and felt as if a lifetime had passed. Tears welled up in her cloudy eyes in an instant. She gripped the phone tightly, wanting to show the child to Ren Beng, but Ren Beng resisted vehemently. No matter what sounds the child made through the phone or what expressions crossed her face on the other side of the glass, Ren Beng refused to look even once.

Her face was expressionless, like a heartless statue. The voice from the receiver was cold and emotionless, like a hammer striking a nail, only scattering debris in the cracks.

“Mom, don’t bring her anymore.”

“What are you saying? She’s your daughter…”

“Having a mom like me is worse than none. Better to cut ties now before any feelings form.”

“You’re not calm right now; I’ll take that as anger talking.” Wen Yang shook her head repeatedly, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. Once her emotions settled a bit, she continued, “The child needs to be registered on the household. That’s why I’m here. I don’t care what you’re thinking now, but you’re her mom. She came from your womb after ten months—you risked your life for half to birth her. You have to… give this child a name.”

For a few sluggish seconds, a unnatural flush rose on Ren Beng’s cheekbones. The muscles around her eyelids twitched nervously twice, then returned to indifference, emptiness, and stupor.

Just as Wen Yang grew impatient and was about to speak, she saw Ren Beng’s lips move slightly on the other side of the glass. At the same time, a faint murmur came through the receiver.

Wen Yang’s expression shifted through brief surprise and contemplation, time seeming to freeze. A few short seconds later, it resumed, her face not stern but almost cruel.

After an unknown stretch, Wen Yang suddenly sighed, weary and powerless—

“You’re sure?”

“Mm.”

“Alright, I understand.”

…

It was already dark when Wen Yang returned. Holding the child, she reached for her keys as the door opened.

“Mom…”

Ren Yu opened it. She had just started university and was home for the weekend. Hearing footsteps outside, she had risen from the wooden table in the living room. Now, she took the child from Wen Yang’s arms. The child was asleep, her little face rosy, long black lashes, and a black mole at the corner of her left eye—just like her sister Ren Beng.

Ren Yu’s eyes stung instantly. She blinked hard to hold back the tears threatening to fall.

Holding the child, she followed Wen Yang, who pulled out the household registry from her shirt pocket and placed it on the coffee table. Then, without a word, she took the child back from Ren Yu and went to the bedroom.

Ren Yu stared at the household registry on the table for a long while before bending to pick it up. As soon as she opened it, she froze.

“Mom—” Ren Yu rushed into the bedroom, holding the new page of the registry up to Wen Yang. “How could you give the child this name?!”

Her deliberately lowered voice carried incomprehensible anger.

“It wasn’t me; your sister chose it herself.” Wen Yang waved away the registry without lifting her head.

“Why didn’t you stop her?!”

“How? She’s the child’s birth mother; she has the right.” Wen Yang said gravely.

“She’s not right in the head— are you not either?” Tears Ren Yu had held back now fell. “What kind of name is this?! No! It can’t be. Change it… right now—”

Before she finished, noticing it was dark outside, she added—

“Tomorrow! First thing tomorrow, I’ll go with you to the police station to change it!”

Ren Yu got too worked up, her voice slipping. The sleeping child murmured in her sleep.

“What are you yelling for?”

Wen Yang glared at her and gently patted the child’s back.

Then, she took the registry from Ren Yu’s hand, walked to the locked drawer, and locked it away without argument.

“Mom…”

“This was your sister’s decision; no one forced her. Besides, this child wasn’t meant to be born. Since your sister chose to bring her into the world, she should be prepared. It’s just a name—her life came from your sister.”

“You… you’ll regret this!”

At that moment, the household registry lay quietly in the locked drawer. On the new page, in the name field, three characters stood out boldly—Ren Dongliu.

—

(2)

“Forgetting and being tamed are more terrifying than suffering pain and injustice, eroding the will like boiling a frog in warm water.”

—

Ren Dongliu thought she had exhausted every effort to please her grandmother, to obey her, but Wen Yang’s attitude toward her remained unchanged.

When she was little, around five years old—that was the start of her earliest memories. She had no friends; kids her age never played with her. Even if one or two did, adults quickly discovered and dragged them away.

Ren Dongliu didn’t understand the looks adults gave her—slanted glances or outright stares, brows furrowed deeply. At five, she couldn’t articulate what those gazes meant, but her heart felt the scratches first, like pores on skin.

Until one day, a stray dog ran into the family courtyard. It wasn’t big, looking like a malnourished two-year-old child. Lying flat, its fur was long and thick, unwashed for who knows how long. The originally brown coat was matted and filthy black. Pus oozed from sores around its eyes. Its paws left unclear red prints mixed with black water on the ground. Its tail was half gone, and it reeked of a heavy fishy stench when it ran.

Then, Ren Dongliu realized the adults’ looks at her matched those at the filthy, stinking dog exactly.

“Stay away from that dirty dog! One bite and you’ll learn!”

—Stay away from that murderer’s kid; those kids are all wild!

“Where’d that dirty dog come from? Chase it out before it bites someone—who’s responsible then?!”

—Living with a murderer’s kid every day—we’re the victims too!

“If I catch you playing with that dirty dog again, I’ll twist your ear off!”

—Play with her? Who plays with her?! One more time, and I’ll beat you!

Five-year-old Ren Dongliu began fearing those voices, those adult glares. After parents’ terrifying warnings to their kids, bullying reached out to her first time.

They threw stones at her, beat her with sticks made from picked-up branches, spat on her. Innocent, lively children surrounded her in a malicious circle.

Ren Dongliu saw the filthy dog again, dragging its broken tail, reeking—it was her.

That day, Ren Dongliu cried nonstop. Wen Yang, furious, took her door-to-door to confront the bullies’ parents.

Wen Yang cursed at them, but no one feared her; they shouted back louder—

“Murderer!”

“Mistress!”

“Shameless!”

Wen Yang trembled with rage, tears streaming. She pounded her chest—

“My daughter was deceived!”

“You’re parents too—how can you say that? Are you even human?!”

“She’s just a child. You can keep your kids away, but why bully her?!”

“I’m telling you, don’t think I’m just an old lady and easy to bully! One more time… one more time… and I’ll fight you to the death!”

Even so, Wen Yang got no apologies. They called her whole family crazy and slammed the door.

“Don’t cry… we won’t cry anymore…”

Wen Yang held Ren Dongliu’s hand—one dry, rough hand full of wrinkles clasped around a delicate, soft, powerless one.

“Grandma… they say my mom is a murderer, that my mom is a mistress…”

“You remember this! Your mom was tricked by someone. She did the wrong thing to protect you. If it weren’t for her… you wouldn’t even exist! No matter what others say in the future, remember one thing: everything your mom did was for you. You have to be grateful to her your whole life!!”