Love For You - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: If You Dare to Tell, I'll Kill You

Before the age of eight, Miao Jing lived in Z Province. Her hometown was a small township nestled in the mountainous region where the north and south met. The mountains stretched endlessly, the four seasons were distinct, and the winters were cold while the summers were scorching.

Her parents had long since divorced. The only family photo they had was taken when she was two years old—a family of three standing stiffly in front of a studio backdrop. She was a tiny bundle wearing a tacky peach-pink tulle dress with a red dot painted between her eyebrows, staring blankly at the lens. Flanking her were her parents, their faces blurry, though one could still discern the raw, youthful handsomeness and beauty they had possessed.

The family fell apart after that photo. Miao Jing lived with her mother, Wei Mingzhen, and before long, she was taken to her grandmother’s place in a small village, where she was raised.

Her mother had married due to an accidental pregnancy in her early twenties. Back then, she worked as a clerk in a clothing store in town; she was pretty and loved to have a good time. Whether she was married or divorced, she never lacked suitors and had absolutely no heart to spare for her daughter. As the tide of migrant labor surged in later years, Wei Mingzhen followed her boyfriend to work in the coastal regions. Every time she returned, she was dressed in fashionable, flashy clothes and would give her mother some living expenses. It wasn't a large amount, but it was plenty to cover Miao Jing’s needs.

In truth, there should have been child support from her biological father. For the first two years, it arrived, but later her father went to Xinjiang, where he married and had children. Being too far away, he gradually severed all ties with his hometown, and the news and support payments ceased. There were other relatives on her paternal grandmother’s side, but they were too overwhelmed by their own lives, and contact had long since been cut off.

Miao Jing raised herself. Wei Mingzhen was always away. When her grandmother passed away due to illness, Miao Jing was about to enter preschool and then primary school, so she was packed up and sent to her aunt's house in town. Her aunt had a daughter and a son, both close in age to Miao Jing. The three of them attended the same school and were, for all intents and purposes, playmates.

The time she spent relying on her grandmother had been warm but brief, and because she was so young, she couldn't hold onto many memories. Living as a guest in her aunt's home, Miao Jing began to form lasting memories. Whether it was because she was too sensitive or for other reasons, it wasn't a particularly happy experience.

Her aunt was not harsh or abusive toward her; it was just that the family’s situation was average, and they were always worried and struggling to make ends meet, which naturally created a sense of estrangement and neglect.

Her cousins both had house keys hanging around their necks, but Miao Jing did not. If there was no one at home, she had no choice but to sit at the door and wait, no matter the time.

What she remembered most vividly was the time her aunt’s family of four returned to the countryside for a funeral. They forgot that Miao Jing didn't have a key. She came home from school, sat at the door on an empty stomach until nine at night, and was finally spotted by a neighbor, an auntie who took her in for the night. When her aunt's family returned and learned she had stayed with the neighbors, they didn't offer a single word of comfort.

When the family ate and talked, she was never allowed to get a word in, and the good food never reached her plate. Sharing a room with her cousin, Miao Jing was more like a personal servant; she was always expected to take second place, fetch this and carry that, wash dishes, and sweep floors. When the siblings fought over TV shows, she could only watch from the side—she had no say in the matter at all.

After her grandmother died, Wei Mingzhen returned even less frequently, but the support money she sent was substantial. Miao Jing always wore her cousin’s old clothes and shoes—in a family with two daughters, it was only natural for the younger to wear the elder’s hand-me-downs. Fortunately, that winter, Wei Mingzhen returned home. She herself was polished and glamorous from head to toe, but when she saw the pair of old cotton-padded shoes on Miao Jing's feet—so worn out that they were full of holes and squeezed her toes—and saw that her cheeks, ears, and small hands and feet were covered in frostbite, she felt a pang. People always said Miao Jing loved playing with cold water and hated wearing enough clothes, but the mother and daughter were two of a kind; they were both terrified of the cold. The winters in their hometown often brought snow, and without heating or air conditioning, they had to rely entirely on burning coal stoves to survive the depths of winter.

Although they were not close, seeing that cold, drooping little face, she was still her mother, and it would be a lie to say she didn't feel a sting of heartache.

Wei Mingzhen had been picky about men for years and hadn't remarried. Her work life was mostly supported by men, and she lived comfortably, though she hadn't saved much, and her looks weren't as fresh as they were in her twenties. However, she knew how to dress—applying lipstick, wearing trendy dresses—and had a very feminine allure. As she aged, she had ideas about finding a good man to entrust with the rest of her life. Looking at Miao Jing, she changed her mind; she had to bring her daughter with her, or else she feared Miao Jing would grow to hate her.

A suitable man wasn't easy to find, especially with her requirements and outlook. Wei Mingzhen spent a few months in her hometown before suddenly leaving for a place called Teng City. She had met a man from out of town through a mobile chat app. It was a city further south than Z Province, with a better economy. They hit it off quite well, almost like soulmates. The man had good prospects: he lived in an apartment building, had a stable "iron rice bowl" job, was educated, and was quite handsome. Miao Jing had seen photos; he was a very refined, delicate-looking middle-aged man.

Wei Mingzhen stayed in Teng City for a month before returning, radiant and jubilant. She happily packed Miao Jing’s luggage. She discarded all the old cotton-padded jackets her cousin had left for her. Teng City had a good climate; the summers were long, and the winters weren't cold, so there was no need for cotton jackets. She dumped these clothes in front of her aunt, whose face turned beet red. To save face, she went to the mall and bought Miao Jing a beautiful, expensive dress as a parting gift.

Mother and daughter packed their few belongings and boarded a train to an unfamiliar city and an unfamiliar family. It was Miao Jing’s first time on a train and the first time she had ever left the province. As the green-skinned train sped through dark tunnels deep in the mountain ranges, she held her breath and waited patiently, waiting for that sliver of light to lead her toward an unknown and vast expanse. Miao Jing became obsessed with the feeling of travel: the diverse crowds, the accents from all corners of the land, the fragrant smell of instant noodles, the peanut and sunflower seeds sold on the small metal carts, the slowly pausing platforms in foreign lands, and the speed that made everything blur as it slipped away.

Teng City

The greenery in this city was exceptionally gnarled and robust, oily green and lush. Everything that grew on the ground seemed to flourish easily, and the flowers bloomed long and vibrant. The humid, sweltering air held a peculiar scent, and when the wind blew, it brought with it a faint, clear, sweet floral fragrance.

Miao Jing tugged at her dress, feeling her skin baked dry by the heat, only to be instantly wrapped in a suffocating, sticky sensation like a thick poultice.

No one came to pick them up. Mother and daughter took a taxi and finally got off in a bustling residential area. Wei Mingzhen held Miao Jing with one hand and dragged the suitcase with the other, head held high, walking toward a five-story residential building amidst the whispers and side-glances of passersby.

Miao Jing still remembered that scene. Everyone stopped to stare. Her mother had dyed her hair yellow and was wearing a leopard-print dress, black silk stockings, and high-heeled sandals, like a strutting peacock. She herself had a ponytail adorned with two shiny, round pearls on the hair ties, wearing a white sleeveless dress with tiny purple flowers and a silk bow tied at her lower back. The skirt had three layers, with the edges rolled in a thick purple wavy trim. When she looked in the mirror, even she had been stunned.

Wei Mingzhen led her to knock on the door of the second-floor apartment.

Someone opened the door—a rather frail, thin man with a high nose bridge and prominent double eyelids. Seeing the mother and daughter, he smiled gently and helped bring the luggage inside. "You're here. Welcome, welcome."

Wei Mingzhen secretly gave Miao Jing a push.

"Hello, Uncle."

"Oh, what a good girl."

It was a two-bedroom, one-living-room apartment. The two bedrooms were side-by-side facing east, the balcony faced west, and in the middle were the kitchen, bathroom, and living room. The layout was quite spacious. Miao Jing had always lived in single-story houses and had never lived in an apartment building. Looking at the yellow wooden floor beneath her feet and the refrigerator outside the kitchen door, she felt a strange sensation in her heart.

In the bedroom, there was a white machine box with a keyboard and speakers; thundering music blared out. Seeing Miao Jing staring in curiosity, Wei Mingzhen explained with a touch of pride, "Your Uncle Chen is a computer nerd. Once he sits in front of the computer, he can't pull himself away."

Wei Mingzhen had scouted this home for a month and acted quite at home, pointing out to Miao Jing where to change shoes, wash her hands, sit on the sofa, and go to the kitchen to boil water and make tea with the air of a lady of the house. She asked what they were having for lunch—she could cook, or they could go out to a restaurant.

The man was very polite. He turned on the television, shoved the remote control into Miao Jing’s hands, and chatted a bit. His name was Chen Libin, and he was a clerk at the power supply bureau. His ex-wife had passed away a few years prior, and he had a son named Chen Yi, two years older than Miao Jing, currently in the fourth grade. Since Miao Jing was coming with Wei Mingzhen, he helped arrange the transfer paperwork so she could attend the same primary school as Chen Yi.

Miao Jing blinked her clear, limpid eyes, nodding again and again, obediently saying, "Okay, I understand, thank you, Uncle."

Before long, Chen Libin went into his room and sat down in front of the computer. A while later, Wei Mingzhen brought him a cup of tea, leaned in toward the computer, and sat on the arm of his chair. The two whispered a few words to each other before the bedroom door was closed, leaving Miao Jing alone in the living room to watch TV.

She carefully examined the room. The housework was a bit sloppy, but the details revealed certain clues—the teapots and cups were elegant and refined, the dust cover on the TV was hand-embroidered with delicate tassels, and on the wall hung a hazy, colorful painting she couldn't understand. In the dusty, empty cupboard remained a few cute porcelain dolls—in the minute details, she could vaguely feel the residual presence of the former mistress.

Wei Mingzhen opened the bedroom door and came out, fluffing her chemically treated curly hair. Chen Libin was still sitting in front of the computer. Wei Mingzhen explained that he was day-trading stocks and asked Miao Jing if she wanted to go out with her; she was going downstairs to buy some pre-cooked food. Miao Jing stared at the TV screen, silent. Only after the fact did she hear the door close, realizing her mother had already gone downstairs.

They had their first meal at home, consisting of pre-cooked food, stir-fried dishes, and a bottle of white liquor. The table was set, and just as they were about to eat, someone opened the door and returned—a boy, covered in sweat from playing, stood at the entrance to change his shoes. Seeing the people in the room, he blinked, not looking the least bit surprised, and went about his business, grabbing a bowl and sitting at the table.

He was a very handsome boy wearing a white short-sleeved shirt, covered in dust, with the back of his shirt stained yellow. When his long eyelashes were lowered, one inexplicably felt that the boy looked clean. But when he lifted his eyes, she saw a pair of unruly, indomitable, rock-hard eyes—not the kind of character you wanted to mess with among children.

"This is my son, Chen Yi."

"Hello, Brother."

"Just call her Miao Jing."

Chen Yi chewed on a piece of roasted chicken bone, his cheeks bulging, and spat the bone shards onto the table with an air of lawlessness. Chen Libin kept his head down, sipping his liquor in a measured, unhurried manner, while Wei Mingzhen enthusiastically steered the conversation, inviting the family to eat and drink.

Back then, Miao Jing didn't look very good; her hair was dry, yellow, and unkempt, her body was thin and withered, and her temperament and appearance were like a numb, listless little old woman. But those eyes were beautiful, like a pool of clear, serene spring water. Unlike Wei Mingzhen’s tacky, gaudy appearance, her nose and mouth revealed the makings of a beauty—it just required time for her to slowly grow into it.

Miao Jing was eight, and Chen Yi was ten. Miao Jing was in second grade, and Chen Yi was in fourth. The two were separated by two years—or rather, less than two years, only sixteen months. Chen Yi’s birthday was December 24th; she remembered it so clearly because, later on, Christmas Eve became a de facto Valentine’s Day in China. Miao Jing was born on April 19th two years later. Chen Yi had started school a year earlier than her; she heard it was because when he enrolled in primary school, he was too smart during the interview and was granted an exception to start school a year early.

There were only two bedrooms in the house, so Miao Jing had to share a room with Chen Yi. Fortunately, the room was rectangular and not small. They moved in a single bed, and between the two beds was a desk, with a curtain drawn in between. Miao Jing took the inner side by the window, and Chen Yi slept on the outer side near the door. At night, when the curtain was drawn, it was just enough to get by. Other furniture in the room—the wardrobe and the desk—was shared, half for each, with territories clearly divided.

After the adults had finished assigning the space, Miao Jing organized her few clothes and odds and ends, intending to put the stationery and notebooks from her schoolbag into the drawer next to her bed. Chen Yi was also in the room. Watching her pull open the desk drawer, he lunged forward in two quick steps, his eyes cold and vicious, and kicked her calf heavily. She whimpered in pain and curled up, her entire leg twisting against the corner of the table, her mouth twisting in a silent cry of agony—before Chen Yi quickly clamped his hand over her mouth, stifling the scream beneath his palm.

Chen Libin and Wei Mingzhen were chatting in the living room. Miao Jing smelled his palm: a mix of rust, mud, acidic garbage, grass roots, and roasted chicken—it was repulsive, and she couldn't escape it fast enough.

"If you dare to tell, I'll kill you," he whispered close to her ear, his teeth gritted, the words scraped from his throat, chilling her to the bone.

Miao Jing’s frail body couldn't stop trembling.

At night, after showering, everyone went to bed. The doors to both bedrooms were long since closed. Bathed in moonlight, Miao Jing slowly rubbed the purple bruise on her leg, lying stiffly in bed, unable to sleep. She turned over, and through the gap in the curtain, she saw Chen Yi lying on his side, his head covered, back toward her. He was wearing a white undershirt and knee-length shorts, his body curled up, his shoulder bones gaunt and jagged, like a silent mountain.