You Must Be Good 3

Chapter 3

◎She had nowhere else to go.◎

After a long day of work, Qiao Xiaoxiao returned home with the last rays of the setting sun. She closed the door softly and took out the twenty-seven yuan she had earned from selling herbs. The bills were slightly damp with sweat but carried the fresh scent of the mountains.

The rusty milk powder can sat quietly by her bed, its surface gleaming softly in the dim light of the kerosene lamp. She carefully lifted the lid, revealing the neatly stacked small bills and coins inside—wrinkled small-denomination notes, shiny worn coins, every cent a record of her treks through the mountains over the years.

She calculated the amount in her head, her fingertips lightly brushing over the bills that still held her body heat.

Five hundred and eighty-two yuan.

How many mornings had she set out in the dew, how many evenings had she returned with a bamboo basket on her back? The scratches from thorns, the skin darkened by the sun—all had now transformed into the heavy weight inside the can. This money had to support her through this stage of high school. Although there wasn’t much left after buying the textbooks for twenty yuan, it at least gave her a temporary sense of security.

Just as Qiao Xiaoxiao had hidden the money can, she heard Huang Sulan’s sharp scolding from the courtyard. She froze, instinctively clutching the hem of her clothes.

“Where have you been fooling around?! Not even feeding the pigs? You think you’re so great just because you’re going to high school?” Huang Sulan’s voice scraped into the room like a knife. “You haven’t even left yet, and you’re already slacking off! After raising you for so many years, I’ve raised an ungrateful wretch!”

Qiao Xiaoxiao’s stomach twisted in pain. She had only eaten a dry steamed bun all day, which had long since been digested, leaving only a burning sensation. She bit her lip, enduring it, hoping that Huang Sulan would stop once she had vented enough.

But the next second, the door was kicked open with a bang. Huang Sulan stood at the entrance with her hands on her hips, her face so dark it looked like it could drip water.

“Cat got your tongue?” she sneered. “Not cooking, not working. Do you really think you’re some young lady from the city?”

Qiao Xiaoxiao kept her head down. Her uncle was busy making a living and always left early and came back late. She knew that talking back now would only earn her a harsher scolding, or even a beating.

“I’ll go now.”

Huang Sulan snorted coldly and turned away, her footsteps thudding heavily on the ground as if to stomp out all her dissatisfaction.

Qiao Xiaoxiao dragged her weak legs outside, each step feeling like she was walking on cotton. As she passed the kitchen, her gaze uncontrollably drifted to the stove. The half bowl of porridge had formed a thin skin of rice oil, gleaming faintly in the dim light. She subconsciously licked her chapped lips, her throat bobbing, but all she swallowed was a mouthful of air that tasted of rust.

Working on an empty stomach was truly unbearable. By the time Qiao Xiaoxiao had finally finished washing the pigsty, her back was soaked with sweat. She straightened up, leaning against the mottled earthen wall, and a shower of golden stars exploded before her eyes, forcing her to close them and rest for a moment.

The night wind, carrying the unique stench of the pigsty, rushed towards her. Her thin shoulders shivered involuntarily.

Fortunately, because her sister wasn’t home, Huang Sulan didn’t even want to look at her. She closed the inner room door, ready to watch TV. Before she left, she shot Qiao Xiaoxiao a cold glance. “You just try staying up all night reading and wasting electricity again.”

Qiao Xiaoxiao didn’t look up. She stood pressed against the base of the wall, almost melting into the shadows.

She was already thin, and her sudden growth spurt in the third year of middle school made her look even more frail. Her faded, washed-out clothes hung loosely on her frame, revealing wrists that were shockingly thin. The night wind blew through the courtyard, lifting a few strands of her dry, yellowed hair, making her look as if she might be blown away by the wind at any moment.

Qiao Xiaoxiao held her breath, clinging to the wall like a wary stray cat. The sound of the TV finally came from the inner room, mixed with exaggerated laughter and commercial jingles, which sounded particularly harsh in the quiet courtyard. She counted her heartbeats for a moment, and after confirming that Huang Sulan wouldn’t suddenly come out, she tiptoed to the stove.

The embers in the firebox still glowed a dark red. She skillfully used the tongs to part the ashes and gently rolled a few potatoes in. These were wild potatoes she had secretly dug up in the back mountains. They were small, their skins still caked with dirt. Qiao Xiaoxiao carefully covered them with charcoal, afraid that any smoke would attract attention.

After doing this, she curled up in the shadow of the stove, her arms wrapped around her knees. The warmth of the fire seeped through her thin clothes, slowly bringing feeling back to her frozen fingers. In the darkness, she heard the faint crackle of the potato skins in the high heat and couldn’t help but swallow.

As Qiao Xiaoxiao was staring at the fire, lost in thought, she suddenly heard the bell at the door jingle three times. The crisp sound made her whole body tremble, and she instinctively glanced back towards the inner room.

She tiptoed quickly to the door, which creaked softly.

In the darkness, Wang Ning stood holding a lunchbox wrapped in old cloth, looking anxiously into the house.

Wang Ning lowered her voice and asked, “Is she asleep?”

Qiao Xiaoxiao shook her head, her voice almost inaudible. “Still watching TV.” She turned sideways to block the crack in the door, afraid the light from inside would leak out.

Wang Ning quickly thrust the lunchbox into Qiao Xiaoxiao’s arms. “My grandma said she saw you standing in the market all day without even a sip of water, so she asked me to bring this for you.”

She said this tactfully. What Grandma Wang had actually said was, “That child Xiaoxiao, she’s had such a hard life. I saw her at the market, her clothes were covered in mud. She must have fallen. When she gets home, she probably won’t even have a hot meal. Go take the dumplings to her.”

Qiao Xiaoxiao stood frozen, holding the lunchbox that had been suddenly thrust into her arms. Before she could react, Wang Ning had already turned and run off into the night.

After standing there for a while, Qiao Xiaoxiao returned to the stove and carefully lifted the lid of the lunchbox. Steam instantly blurred her vision. About twenty plump, white dumplings were neatly arranged inside, their edges glistening with oil. She took a trembling bite. The fresh fragrance of wild vegetables mixed with the savory taste of pork exploded in her mouth. The scalding juice burned her tongue, but she couldn’t bear to spit it out.

How long had it been since she had tasted something like this?

Qiao Xiaoxiao swallowed the last dumpling, her fingertips gently caressing the edge of the lunchbox. This warmth, she would hold it tightly in her heart. When she was able in the future, she would definitely repay the sister and grandmother.

The application for the national student grant went exceptionally smoothly, something she hadn’t dared to hope for. Everyone on the village committee knew her, so the proof was issued quickly. She mulled over every word on the application form, afraid that a single misplaced punctuation mark would cost her this opportunity.

While other students were enjoying their post-exam vacation, Qiao Xiaoxiao’s summer was still a whirlwind of activity. She went to the back mountains to gather herbs before dawn, washed dishes at a small restaurant in town at noon, and rushed home in the evening to feed the pigs and cook.

Huang Sulan had thrown a few more tantrums about it. She still didn’t want her to go to high school, wanting her to stay home to cook and take care of the child. Her sharp voice was piercing to the ears. It wasn’t until the day Qiao Wanshan slammed his bowl and chopsticks down that things got a little better. The usually quiet man had lost his temper for once, his veiny hand hitting the table so hard that the tea in the enamel cup splashed out.

A week before school started, Qiao Wanshan suddenly fell ill with a high fever. He lay weakly in bed, his forehead burning, his body drenched in cold sweat. A check-up at the health clinic revealed it was a viral flu. He struggled to get up, the veins on his arms bulging, but after pushing himself halfway up, he fell heavily back onto the bed.

Qiao Xiaoxiao knew he was worried. “Uncle, I can go by myself.”

Qiao Wanshan gasped for breath, his cloudy eyes full of worry. “You’re young and unfamiliar with the place, you…”

Qiao Xiaoxiao interrupted him, “I can do it.”

On the morning of her departure, the courtyard was eerily quiet. Huang Sulan stood at the entrance of the main room, holding her young daughter, her gaze deliberately avoiding the ready-to-leave Qiao Xiaoxiao. Only Nuonuo, in her mother’s arms, secretly stretched out a small hand and signed clumsily.

—Go, Sister.

Qiao Xiaoxiao’s nose tingled, and she quickly bent down to tie her shoelaces. On her worn-out sneakers, the marks where she had carefully stitched them up looked like scars. When she stood up, she took one last look at the courtyard she had lived in for five years: the mottled earthen walls, the crooked clothesline, and the clump of wild chrysanthemums she had secretly planted in the corner.

Qiao Xiaoxiao’s pace quickened until she was almost jogging. The morning wind whistled past her ears, making the hem of her clothes flutter. She was finally… finally leaving the cage that had imprisoned her for five years.

The low adobe house behind her gradually disappeared into the morning mist, along with the daily scoldings, the endless chores, and the pillow she secretly cried into at night—all were ruthlessly left behind.

But when she stopped and looked up at the winding mountain road that stretched into the distance, the elation surging in her chest suddenly froze.

Beyond the mist-shrouded mountains, what awaited her?

Qiao Xiaoxiao tightened her grip on her schoolbag strap, her knuckles turning white from the force. The woman she had met only once was now just a silhouette in her mind—the hem of an elegant qipao, a gentle jade bracelet on her wrist, and those eyes that seemed to see right through people.

Growing up under someone else’s roof had long taught her to swallow any words of help. In truth, Qiao Xiaoxiao could have gone to the village chief, Song Qiu, for help, but in the end, she didn’t.

The last time she went to Chu Xinrou’s house, it was in the village chief’s car. She had silently memorized the route along the way. But when she was actually transferring buses alone and searching the unfamiliar streets, those memories suddenly became fragmented.

To make matters worse, the weather turned. The rain came without warning. At first, it was just a few scattered drops, but in a flash, it turned into a downpour. Qiao Xiaoxiao had no umbrella. Her thin clothes were quickly soaked, clinging to her body. The bag on her back grew heavier and heavier. It contained all her belongings—a few faded clothes, a milk powder can full of loose change, and her admission notice, wrapped tightly in oil paper.

When she finally found the small courtyard from her memory, rain was already streaming down from the tips of her hair.

Under the gray sky, the dark green courtyard gate was tightly shut. Qiao Xiaoxiao raised her hand to knock. The sound of her knuckles on the wooden door was quickly swallowed by the rain.

She knocked three more times, each time harder than the last, but the only response was the rustling of the rain.

Qiao Xiaoxiao hugged her bag and slowly sat down on the stone steps in front of the door. The chill of the bluestone seeped through her soaked pants, making her shiver.

At that time, she was still a fifteen-year-old girl who had rarely left the village and had seen little of the world.

Qiao Xiaoxiao didn’t know if her sudden arrival was presumptuous. She just waited foolishly at the door.

Chu Xinrou usually didn’t go out on rainy days. But on that particular day, when the rain suddenly started, she lit a stick of sandalwood incense and felt a sudden urge to paint. She had also run out of tea at home, so she went out with an umbrella to buy some.

When she returned with the tea, she saw Qiao Xiaoxiao at her door.

She was such a small bundle. Rain dripped continuously from her messy hair, tracing tiny streams down her pale cheeks. Her thin clothes clung to her slender frame, clearly revealing her shoulder blades, which were trembling from the cold.

Chu Xinrou was slightly stunned for a moment. She walked over quickly, tilting her umbrella to shield Qiao Xiaoxiao.

The scent of sandalwood mixed with the cool clarity of the rain drifted over. The wind and rain that had been raging just a moment ago suddenly seemed distant.

Qiao Xiaoxiao slowly raised her head. In the shadow cast by the umbrella, she saw Chu Xinrou’s rain-soaked cuffs and those eyes filled with surprise and pity.

That kind of look… Qiao Xiaoxiao hadn’t seen it in a long time. It made her eyes turn red. She knew it was rude to be like this in front of a stranger. She frantically wiped her face with her hand and explained in a small voice, “I’m sorry… I don’t have your contact information. I didn’t mean to, I—”

She was afraid her sudden arrival would be an annoyance.

The No. 3 High School only offered boarding from the second year. Besides Chu Xinrou’s place, she had nowhere else to go.

Before Qiao Xiaoxiao could finish, a warm hand suddenly took her cold fingertips. Chu Xinrou leaned down, her long, waterfall-like hair cascading down, a faint fragrance lingering in its strands.

“It’s okay,” she said, her voice soft, gentle, and reassuring. “Come, I’ll take you inside.”

【Author’s Note】

The grown-up Qiao Xiaoxiao has shed her low self-esteem. Holding a cup of tea, she reminisces about the past.

“When I was little, from as far back as I can remember, people around me always told me ‘you have to do this’ or ‘you should do that.’ No one ever said to me, ‘It’s okay.'”

“Later, she said it for a lifetime, and I was spoiled for a lifetime.”