My 15, Most Beautiful, Most Painful

1

“Doctor, the psoriasis on my hand is always itching and painful, and it’s getting bigger.”

“Under what circumstances does it usually flare up?”

“When I think of him, or when I think of them.”

Them, referring to my parents who don’t love me and my deceased younger brother.

2

Seeking shelter under the rain by the locust tree, Skyler swiftly hopped onto the still-unsteady taxi.

“Driver, head to the North City Bus Station, and please drive fast.”

Raindrops outside drummed on the car window. The glass reflected Skyler’s pale face. Due to her haste, the umbrella was left on the office desk.

Several raindrops clung to her long, dense eyelashes, and a trail of tears emerged from the corners of her eyes. They intertwined, eventually falling onto Skyler’s wrist.

The mottled and dry psoriasis crawled slowly from the back of her hand towards her wrist. She incessantly scratched to alleviate the itching, and a trace of blood seeped from the scratched skin, leaving long marks.

In the quiet cabin, aside from the occasional humming murmurs of the driver, the only sound was the scratching of nails against the skin.

The vehicle halted at a crossroads, and the red traffic light stood out in the dim rainy weather.

The driver in the front pulled out his phone, glanced for a few seconds, and turned to Skyler with a smiling squint, “After this ride, I’m done for the day. My daughter is coming back from out of town, and I need to pick her up.”

Skyler stopped her scratching, looked at the driver after a moment of daze, and said, “You must love your daughter very much.”

True joy from the heart cannot be concealed.

Though not showing his face directly, the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, the upturned cheekbones, and the rhythmic tapping of fingers on the gearshift were enough to indicate that the person he was thinking of at that moment brought him great joy.

“Young lady, what you said… Is there any parent who doesn’t love their child?”

His words were like a mix of sugar and needles, something Skyler longed for but also pierced her deeply.

The green light lit up, and the car, like a released arrow, sped away.

Arriving at the North City Bus Station at six in the evening, Skyler covered her reddened and stinging left hand, hurrying towards the pick-up area.

Rainwater flowed into her eyes from above, blurring her vision. She vaguely saw two people standing ahead with several bags at their feet.

Rubbing her moistened eyes, she clearly recognized them as her father Jack and mother Lydia.

They stood motionless, their hair wet against their scalps due to the rain, staring fixedly ahead.

The overwhelming pressure made Skyler quicken her pace. The sadness on her face instantly turned to self-blame. Standing in front of them, she felt awkward, lips tightly sealed.

Jack handed the luggage to Skyler and walked ahead without a word, leaving behind, “Couldn’t you have been a bit later? Come after we’re dead!”

Beside him, Lydia, with a slouched face, glared at Skyler who stood silently with bowed head.

After years of separation, the first words upon meeting were both unfamiliar and familiar.

Skyler picked up the luggage from the ground, also taking Lydia’s nylon bag without saying a word, and walked toward the roadside.

In the rain, the three stood. Taxis passed by, and no matter how Skyler waved, it seemed like the world intentionally made her invisible.

Finally, amidst Jack’s curses, a car slowly approached. Skyler stuffed the luggage into the trunk, held the nylon bag, and squeezed into the back seat.

“I don’t know why you didn’t come earlier, making us stand in the rain for nothing,” Lydia said just as Jack in the front seat let out a disdainful snort.

Skyler awkwardly replied, “I could only take an hour off, and I was already in a rush.”

“You’re impressive, huh? The company would go bankrupt without you.” For a man who was prematurely laid off for causing trouble, these words were undoubtedly mocking.

Lydia took out the wet ticket from her pocket, stuffed it into the storage compartment on the car door, and timidly glanced at Jack in the front seat. “In my opinion, you just can’t make it. You don’t know how to handle things.”

These familiar words were the educational tools her parents had always used since childhood, to the point where Skyler had accepted them. Even after starting to work, she always humbled herself, admitting that she “couldn’t handle things well.”

“What can I do then? I can’t quit my job just to pick you up.”

Jack suddenly turned around, a hint of surprise flashing across his face.

After years of separation, the daughter in front of him was no longer the person who used to allow him to scold her at will. She had learned to talk back.

Before he could speak, Lydia slapped Skyler on the back. “Try talking back again.”

Dusk settled in. The roads were crowded with vehicles, and pedestrians with umbrellas crowded the streets. Under the colorful umbrellas, there were feelings of hesitation, confusion, sorrow, and happiness…

Skyler’s umbrella was gone, and the last barrier was finally broken.

3

Fifteen years old, a time of youth that should be one of the most beautiful stages in life. It was meant to be rebellious, colorful, filled with boundless vitality.

However, for Skyler, fifteen became the source of her pain — unforgettable and inescapable.

Since giving birth to Skyler, Lydia wore a constant frown. To have a son, she consumed more medicine than water. Whether it was through proper medical channels or unconventional methods, after enduring more than a decade, she finally got her wish.

Skyler remembered it vividly; it was a gloomy day when Lydia, risking her life, gave birth to Zachary, leaving herself in the operating room for resuscitation. Jack eagerly received his son, surrounded by excited relatives.

Meanwhile, Skyler held a bowl of chicken soup anxiously waiting for Lydia to come out.

On Zachary’s full moon day, their house was bustling with guests. Despite Lydia’s blood loss and exhaustion, she forced herself to entertain.

The relatives filled the entire room, offering congratulations and praise, drowning Skyler out of the spacious area.

She sat in the yard, holding a freshly picked locust leaf, chanting, “He loves me, he loves me not,” as each leaf fell until it settled on “He loves me.”

Excitedly, Skyler ran towards her mother’s room with the last locust leaf in her hand. “Mom, look, you still love me.”

With a round, chubby face, tinged with a touch of pride in her cutesy tone, Skyler’s joy was evident.

Lydia knelt on the bed, accompanied by her mother-in-law. Nervously rubbing her hands, she gestured urgently for Skyler to leave.

Skyler stared at Lydia, never having seen her mother in such a state, cautiously and yet finding delight in it.

In her grandmother’s arms, holding Zachary, she cheerfully praised her grandson to the relatives around the bed. “Look at his eyes, so much like Jack’s, and these big hands. They say big hands mean he’ll be prosperous.”

“Yes, ma’am, you’re truly blessed.”

“Your family has preserved this surname. Who would have thought that Jack, in his forties, would still be so capable? It’s truly admirable.”

Skyler’s words drowned in the flattering remarks; no one cared about what she said, and no one heard what she said.

Though her grandmother was delighted, she couldn’t resist mocking Lydia a bit: “It’s just that this child came too late. In my time, I gave birth precisely once, and my status in my husband’s family skyrocketed.”

Lydia, still recovering from the surgery, couldn’t stand straight and had beads of sweat on her pale lips. She trembled, “This time took half of my life, but thankfully, Zachary is safe.”

The old lady scornfully glanced at her and said to the relatives in front of the bed, “Tsk tsk, people nowadays are becoming more delicate. In our time, we could get back to work right after giving birth, sometimes even with one on our back, and still manage everything.”

Lydia fell silent, following the relatives’ chorus of agreement.

In the crowded room, Skyler, squeezed among people, stared blankly at Lydia. A sense of sadness crept into her heart, for herself and for her mother.

That night, after the guests left, Skyler cleaned up the remnants of the celebration alone. The smell of food and alcohol lingered in the house, refusing to dissipate.

The master bedroom emitted a dim light, and Jack, too excited, had already drunk himself to sleep without sending off the guests. Zachary’s crying irritated him, and he occasionally muttered complaints.

Lydia unbuttoned her shirt, soothing the continuously crying Zachary. Sighs slipped through the door and reached Skyler, who was washing dishes.

The cold water from the faucet chilled her to the bone, accompanied by the sound of sighs that flowed into Skyler’s heart.

“Finish your work quickly and go to bed. The noise from the clinking dishes is keeping people awake.”

Lydia came out of the bedroom. The scar from the cesarean section pressed down on her, preventing her from standing upright. Every step she took pulled at the wound, causing pain. She lowered her head, fastening the buttons on her clothes, without looking at Skyler.

The rushing water sounded even more piercing under Lydia’s urging.

Skyler turned around, standing under the kitchen light, looking at Lydia in the darkness. With a heart full of compassion, she asked, “Mom, is your wound still hurting?”

“You’ll experience it someday.”

4

Not long after the full moon celebration, Lydia was eager to visit her parents’ home. With Jack’s approval, she quickly packed her bags and left with the child.

Skyler couldn’t recall many memorable things about her grandmother. She was a rural woman, deeply rooted in superstitions. If there was anything to mention, it was her name — Emery.

Skyler once asked Lydia why the name sounded like a boy’s. Lydia remained silent for a while before saying, “This is not her name; it’s her destiny.”

The journey didn’t tire Lydia; when they entered her mother’s house, Skyler saw a newfound confidence and excitement on her face.

In the small living room with dim lighting, Emery sat by the window, shelling beans. Upon Lydia’s arrival, she eagerly ran to the door, took Zachary, and scrutinized him.

“Well, well, it’s finally fulfilled. This is your blessing, Lydia.”

Lydia sat on the sofa, relaxed all over, speaking with a tone as if holding her breath, “Yes, my mother-in-law looks at me with gentler eyes now, and Jack doesn’t blame me anymore. These days are much better than before.”

When referring to the past, Lydia meant the time when only Skyler was there. Though young, the sensitive Skyler immediately grasped the meaning behind Lydia’s words.

“But I also suffer a lot. I’m not young anymore, and recovering from the surgery is especially difficult. I don’t know why, but recently, my back has been aching terribly. The milk supply is also pitifully low; I can only mix it with formula for feeding.”

Lydia shifted the conversation, revealing her own hardships. After all, this was her own family, and she didn’t need to restrain herself or flatter others.

“Then you need to take good care of Jack. The money for this child’s formula will depend on him.”

Standing between the two, Skyler looked at her grandmother with surprise, then shifted her gaze to Lydia. Although Lydia nodded and smiled, she couldn’t conceal the sorrow in her eyes.

Emery handed a basket of beans to Skyler, instructing her to clean them in the kitchen.

Just a few steps into the kitchen, Skyler heard Emery whisper, “You’re blessed, unlike me. I only have one daughter in my life, bullied by my in-laws, beaten and scolded by my husband. I won’t have an easy time even in the afterlife.”

These words entered Lydia’s ears, stirring a mix of emotions. She understood her mother’s suffering from not having a son and felt sad about it, but she couldn’t pinpoint where the sadness came from, as everyone around her had gone through similar experiences.

However, Emery’s words undoubtedly acted as a tonic for Lydia, reinforcing her belief that her hard-earned son was a blessing.

Since her visit to her parents’ home, Lydia’s joy couldn’t be hidden from her face.

Already having a child in her later years, combined with others’ praises and superstitions, Zachary was spoiled beyond measure.

While other kids started attending kindergarten at three, Zachary refused to go even at five. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to; Lydia couldn’t bear being away from him all day, fearing he wouldn’t eat well or stay warm.

When other children learned how to integrate into small groups, Zachary remained at home, expecting everything to be done for him. In his leisure, he would drape a towel over himself, holding a wooden stick, waving it in the air, shouting, “Kill, kill.”

When he was five, taking advantage of Skyler sleeping on the writing desk, he thrust a compass into her tiger’s mouth.

Startled awake by the sudden pain, Skyler covered her bleeding hand, looking at her laughing brother with anger, and swiftly rushed towards him, delivering a slap to his face.

Zachary found Lydia, crying and complaining, “I asked my sister to lend me a book, she wouldn’t, and she even hit me.”

Lydia, seeing the fingerprint on Zachary’s cheek, suddenly became furious. She immediately regretted giving Skyler a harsh slap and wanted to apologize but couldn’t find the words.

“Mom, it’s not my fault. It was my brother who used the compass on me.” Skyler said cautiously, suppressing tears and the fiery pain on her face.

Feeling remorseful, Lydia wanted to comfort Skyler, but Zachary was crying and making a scene. She could only console the younger one first, “Stop crying. When dad comes back, I’ll have him make you a new bookshelf. Whatever books you want, I’ll buy them for you.”

Then, turning to Skyler, she said, “He’s your younger brother; give in to him. What are you arguing with him for? If your dad finds out about this, he’ll surely give you a good beating.”

5

Not long after, Jack had a bookshelf made by the workers at the factory. The day it was brought home, Zachary happily bounced around, provocatively looking at Skyler standing at the bedroom door. However, disaster struck.

One afternoon, while Lydia and Jack attended a fellow worker’s child’s wedding, Skyler was reading in the bedroom. Zachary shouted, “Come out and help me get a book! I can’t reach it! Hurry up! Otherwise, I’ll have Mom and Dad beat you to death!”

Skyler got up, locked the bedroom door, pretending not to hear.

After a while, she heard a loud “bang.” She quickly walked to the living room and found Zachary lying on the ground, his head trapped under the bookshelf.

Zachary’s cries echoed through the scattered books and broken glass. Skyler rushed over, trying to move the bookshelf, but with her strength alone, it was impossible.

Kneeling down, she comforted Zachary under the bookshelf, moved the books blocking his sides, and discovered a thin piece of glass had pierced his neck. Blood flowed out in clusters, staining Skyler’s pants and shoes.

Terrified, she ran to the landline to dial the number she remembered but had never used — 120. Her index finger, stained with blood, trembled violently with each press of the keys.

After an unknown amount of time, Zachary’s blinking slowed. Skyler’s trembling voice echoed, “Open your eyes, don’t close them!”

Only when the noisy footsteps outside approached did Skyler feel a breath of relief in her chest.

When she ran to open the door, her heart sank — the door was locked from the inside.

The banquet venue was two streets away, and Skyler frantically called Lydia’s pager over and over again.

People outside tried various methods to get in, while those inside tried desperately to get out. These ten minutes were enough to cost Zachary his life.

It wasn’t until Lydia hurriedly arrived and opened the door that Skyler, covered in blood, was squeezed into a corner. Her eyes were vacant, and there was no time to clean the bloodstains as she rushed to the hospital.

At that moment, she felt that as long as Zachary was okay, everything would be fine.

Jack, still reeking of alcohol, was supported by colleagues into the hospital. It wasn’t until he realized Zachary had passed away that the alcohol in his system completely evaporated.

The long corridor emitted a green light. Lydia sat silently in a chair, tears the size of beans falling to the ground. Her disheveled long hair covered her face, making it impossible to see her expression.

In a corner, Jack cried loudly for a long time. As the tears ran out, he shifted his focus to Skyler.

His walnut-like eyes were bloodshot. He grabbed Skyler’s collar and repeatedly slammed her against the wall behind her, asking, “What happened? How did he die?”

“He was crushed by the bookshelf, and I couldn’t lift it,” Skyler explained, her occiput repeatedly hitting the wall, painful but persistent.

“He doesn’t have the strength to knock down the bookshelf!”

“Dad, it’s really not me. I wanted to save Zachary, but the door was…”

Before Skyler could finish explaining, Lydia on the opposite side let out a sharp scream, “Shut up!”

Shut up. Perhaps it would be good for everyone, especially for Lydia.

In the days that followed, Skyler was confined at home, forbidden to go near anything related to Zachary. She guessed how sad her family was and could imagine Lydia’s despair.

Since then, Skyler developed a habit of scratching her skin. The blood points at the tiger’s mouth turned into indelible black moles, as if mocking her mercilessly: “All this sin will follow you, and you can’t escape.”

Slowly, the black mole turned into a large patch of psoriasis, beyond control.

Lydia, immersed in pain, gradually weakened mentally. Her eyes were often swollen, as if veiled, looking murky and unclear.

About two months later, Lydia went to the hospital due to unbearable back pain and was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. The consecutive misfortunes left her haggard.

During that time, whenever she saw Skyler, she would start rambling, “If you were a boy, I wouldn’t end up like this. I lost my son, and my own body is falling apart.”

Jack, who had initially considered having another child, abandoned the idea when Lydia got cancer. He invested everything in smoking and drinking. Whenever he was unhappy at home, he would vent his frustration on Skyler with a beating.

During these moments, Lydia would lie in bed, close her eyes, pretending not to hear anything. She dared not intervene, fearing that Jack would take his anger out on her.

Until Skyler completed her specialized studies and secured a job in the construction industry in Jianghe City. Without hesitation, she left without looking back.

During their parting, Lydia hid in the bedroom and refused to come out. Jack threw a ledger at Skyler’s feet, his face dark and livid. “As long as the accounts are here, you won’t be able to completely break free from us.”

Skyler looked up at her father, his eyes, like black holes, staring intensely at her. Since Zachary’s death, there was no light in his eyes.

“Dad, take care of yourself and take care of Mom.”

In the years in Jianghe, Skyler immersed herself in work, keeping herself busy. At times, she even forgot about her parents and the brother who died in front of her. She thought everything would gradually fade away with the passage of time.

It was good not to be involved, but unexpectedly, they still came back.

6

Leju Yuan Community is a low-cost housing area, gathering most of the working-class residents in Jianghe City. Despite its average environment, it boasts affordable housing prices. In Skyler’s third year of work, she moved out of a shared rental and rented a one-bedroom apartment.

One month before her parents were due to arrive, Skyler made thorough preparations. She partitioned a small area in the not-so-spacious living room, placing a single bed for her parents, while clearing out the bedroom for herself.

As Lydia squatted on the floor packing luggage, she stood up to grab a bag, revealing a cigarette burn on her arm. Old scars crumpled into folds, and new scars layered on top.

“What happened to your arm?” Skyler asked, surprised and concerned. She knew she wouldn’t get a straight answer, but she couldn’t help asking.

Lydia abruptly pulled back her arm, casting a frightened glance at Jack, who was sitting on the sofa smoking. Quickly interjecting, she said, “How’s your job? You must be earning a lot.”

Jack scoffed, “Five hundred bucks a month. How much can you earn? I say you should get married. Wait until you become an old spinster; you won’t even be able to marry by paying money!”

Since entering the construction industry, Skyler relied on the fixed monthly salary and earned travel allowances by working on construction sites year-round. She took on tasks and travels others avoided.

She worked so hard just to clear the debts in Jack’s ledger as soon as possible.

Skyler squatted on the floor, packing her belongings, responding quietly, “As long as I repay what I owe you, that’s all that matters.”

“Nonsense!”

Jack grabbed the notebook from the coffee table and threw it at Skyler. The sharp and hard edges of the notebook hit the back of her head. Skyler, seemingly unfazed, stood up and looked at him, “Let me treat you to dinner.”

“You’re a real piece of work!”

Jack’s curses echoed through the entire room, like a cleaver hacking down on Skyler.

At night, the wind howled outside, and raindrops pounded heavily on the windows. Skyler, chilled to the bone, tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

Suddenly, she heard the curtain beside her being pulled open. Turning abruptly, she saw Lydia, disheveled, staring at her with sorrow. She mumbled, “If the one who died was you, we wouldn’t have to suffer like this.”

After a few minutes, Lydia turned and walked towards the bedroom, dragging a long shadow behind her. As the door closed, the shadow was cut off and disappeared.

Skyler covered her mouth with the blanket, her throat convulsing, tears streaming down her face.

Twice a year, Lydia would lose her sanity: on Zachary’s birthday and Zachary’s death anniversary. These two days were deeply etched in Skyler’s heart. She dared not open her phone because she would receive numerous messages of complaint from Lydia. She cried as she deleted the messages, occasionally a tear dropping onto the word “dead” on the screen, magnifying it, again and again.

Tonight, the person on the other side of the phone appeared nakedly in front of Skyler. It only reinforced how deeply Lydia resented her.

The next evening, after finishing work, Skyler returned home. As she entered, she was completely stunned. The once familiar home suddenly seemed strange. Her favorite throw pillow was gone, the pink sofa cushions turned into rough white linen, the TV was covered in white gauze, the transparent glass coffee table adorned with New Year baby posters, and in the center of the TV cabinet, there was Zachary’s memorial photo.

Especially that memorial photo, positioned in the center of the entire house, gazing solemnly at everyone inside. Skyler’s mood instantly became complicated. This was no longer her home; it was the place where she used to live. The past suddenly appeared before her, and Skyler felt an overwhelming sense of oppression.

Just as she was lost in thought, Lydia spoke to her, “Your father’s former colleague’s son is also in Jianghe, doing business. You’ll meet in a few days.”

“But I have no intention of getting married,” Skyler suddenly snapped back to reality and immediately explained. She stood awkwardly at the doorway, feeling like she had returned to the scenes of her youth when her parents scolded her.

Jack squinted, sitting on the sofa flipping through a small notebook in his hands. Skyler immediately recognized the notebook, filled with every penny she owed, including Zachary’s funeral expenses. He remained silent, just nudging Lydia with his elbow.

“We came for two reasons this time. One, we’re getting old, plagued by illnesses, and we need someone to take care of us. The other is for you to get married soon. You’re over thirty; don’t end up being unwanted in the end.”

Although this wasn’t Lydia’s idea alone, in any case, they had undeniably nailed Skyler to the pillar. To escape, she would have to pull out the nail, leaving her covered in blood and battered.

“I know how stifling it is for you to live under the same roof with us. If you have the ability, get married. Otherwise, you’ll never get rid of us for your entire life.” Jack provocatively glanced at her, smirking triumphantly.

7

A few days later, in the evening after work, Skyler returned home to find a mysterious man there. She suspected he was the son of their so-called colleague. Jack, standing straight in his attire, full of energy, introduced him to Skyler with a smiling face:

“This is our fellow villager, your Uncle Liu’s son. What’s his name?”

“Alex.”

The man, looking at Skyler with a silly grin, had a round belly resting on his legs. His yellowish teeth indicated long-term smoking, and his hands were stained black, with a deep scar on his ring finger. Alex seemed quite satisfied upon seeing Skyler. He scrutinized her, grinning from ear to ear, nodding continuously.

“What’s going on?” Skyler, filled with anger, looked at Lydia. However, Lydia just lowered her head without responding.

Seeing Skyler’s cold attitude, Jack gave a stiff smile to Alex beside him, “Don’t mind her. She’s in her thirties, not good in handling things. Mainly, we’re worried about her. You know, she’s still single at this age; who would want her?”

“No, no, being single is good. I like someone untouched,” Alex chuckled.

Listening to the conversation, an intense discomfort overwhelmed Skyler. She swallowed hard, suppressing the rising nausea, and retorted, “Are you out of your mind, bringing anyone home?”

“You…” Jack froze, about to unleash a torrent of curses, but realizing there was an outsider present, he held back his anger. “Watch your language, young lady. Your mother and I are getting old. It would be good if we could see you married before we die, right?”

Staring fiercely across at Lydia, Jack angrily yelled, “Say something, you mute!”

“Marry, it’s time to experience it. Listen to your father,” Lydia muttered timidly.

Skyler knew what kind of person her father was — creating trouble outside, being domineering at home. Not long after losing their son, he was laid off by the factory. Such a person could do anything outrageous, and Skyler was not surprised by it.

However, Lydia’s compromise felt like a dull knife, slowly grinding on Skyler’s heart until it wore her down.

“So, I deserve this? I deserve to be bullied by him for a lifetime! I’m so stupid, how could I sympathize with someone who willingly endures humiliation and stays by his side, unwilling to escape!”

“Girl, you can’t say that! Your parents are doing it for your own good. At your age, it’s time to get married and have children. I’m well-off enough to support a family,” said Alex, adopting a condescending tone.

“Yeah, yeah,” echoed Jack, “When you give birth to a son for someone else, it will also make up for the regret in our family.”

“Uncle, you’re thinking the same as me. My ex-wife couldn’t bear a son. Isn’t it annoying? I have so much industry, and I need a son to inherit it.” Alex appraised Skyler, “But you look like you can bear one.”

His gaze lingered on Skyler’s buttocks.

“I’m so glad your ex-wife left you. Disgusting creatures like you, with your fat brains, should let your industries rot and stink!” Skyler pointed at the dumbfounded man, “Get out of my house! Get out!”

Jack was so furious he couldn’t utter a word, coughing uncontrollably. He walked up to Skyler, covering his chest, and raised his hand to strike, but Skyler grabbed it firmly.

“If you dare hit me again, take your son’s memorial photo and get out. Don’t blame me for not giving you a proper burial!” Skyler, after shaking off his hand, picked up her bag and walked towards the door.

Jack, shaken off balance, almost stumbled and fell. Unwilling to give up, he gasped for air behind her, “Someone offered a dowry of a hundred thousand!”

Bang! Skyler slammed the door shut, abruptly silencing the nauseating and filthy sound. She walked dazedly on the bustling street, surrounded by the hustle and bustle, lights from countless homes seeming irrelevant to her. The inner loneliness and helplessness bound her like heavy shackles.

8

As the weather gradually turned colder, Jack’s long-standing lung problem flared up. Despite the violent coughs that shook his entire body and saliva unconsciously flowing from the corner of his mouth, he never let go of his cigarette.

The sound was like a sword piercing through the eardrums.

Although Skyler endured their oppression, seeing Jack occasionally turning red in the face from suppressing a cough prompted her to take him to the hospital. The doctor recommended immediate hospitalization, but Lydia disagreed. She insisted on bringing Jack back home, openly stating her reason for doing so.

“When I gave birth to Zachary under high-risk conditions, it brought me illness, and no one cared about me, right? Our family members are tough; as long as it’s not an accident, they won’t die.”

Skyler didn’t stop her; she knew Lydia lived in constant conflict. She both depended on and hated this man, afraid that if he died, there would be no one to support her, yet also afraid that if he lived, he would continue to oppress her.

Jack’s health deteriorated day by day.

The night before he died, Lydia knelt by the bedside window, hands clasped together, murmuring, “Son, take your father away, let him take care of you on the other side.”

Through the crack in the door, Skyler watched Lydia’s hunched figure, and behind her lay Jack, struggling for breath on the bed. He tried to raise his hand to summon Lydia, but she remained indifferent, kneeling on the floor.

“Do you want some water?” Skyler squatted by the bedside, placing a cup of hot water on the nightstand.

The light from the desk lamp illuminated half of her profile, and the other half fell on Jack’s wrinkled face.

Lydia, with her back to the bed, turned her head upon hearing Skyler’s voice. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her nose was red — clear signs of having endured a recent cry.

“You also have a pitiful situation. At the end of your life, not even someone to hand you water. Mom said let Zachary take you away, and I think it’s a good idea. Go reunite with him.”

Lying stiff on the bed, Jack stared with wide eyes, his mouth wide open. His Adam’s apple quivered back and forth, emitting a muffled, low growl.

“Why do you look so terrified? Is it because you’re about to die, and the only people around you are those who hate you, making you scared?”

Skyler moved closer again.

“If your son were still alive, how great would it be? He could mourn for you, but unfortunately, you killed him with the gift you gave him.”

Skyler pulled the blanket over Jack.

As she stood up, tears streamed down her face. Her nose wasn’t stuffy, and her heart didn’t ache. It seemed like shedding tears was something that had to happen at this designated time, flowing naturally.

Jack lifted his stiff arm, swept it across the bedside table, and knocked the cup to the ground. The shattered glass, sharp and merciless, scattered across the floor.

After a moment of silence, Skyler dialed that intimidating number again — 120.

Jack didn’t last long in the hospital; he stopped breathing.

Facing Jack’s departure, Skyler’s emotions were complex.

When Jack was alive, he often said, “Daughters are raised for others.” He also frequently berated Lydia, saying, “This worthless embryo can’t even give birth to a son. Are you trying to end my lineage?”

Every time Jack scolded Lydia, Skyler would playfully tease her with leaves she picked up. However, when Lydia saw Skyler’s face, she glared at her with resentment, snatching the leaves from her hands and crushing them underfoot.

It seemed that all the misfortunes Lydia experienced were attributed to Skyler.

9

After Jack’s death, only Lydia remained in the house.

Her health deteriorated rapidly. She often sat alone in the bedroom, staring blankly out the window. Occasionally, she would laugh or cry.

Skyler would stand outside the door, watching, understanding Lydia’s helplessness.

One evening, Skyler walked into the bedroom with a bowl of porridge. After placing it on the bedside table, she prepared to leave.

Lydia lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. It seemed like she hadn’t spoken for a long time, her voice muffled as if stuffed with cotton.

“Lately, I always feel like Zachary is still with me, a mischievous child, lively and active.”

Skyler paused by the bed, leaning over to look at her. “You might be having hallucinations. He has been dead for a long time.”

“No! He shouldn’t have died; he should still be alive!”

These words pierced Lydia like a sword. She suddenly sat up, raising her hands to smash the bed forcefully.

Due to the force, Lydia’s eyes turned red. Her head swayed lightly, teeth tightly clenched, emitting a creaking sound.

Skyler gently lifted the blanket covering Lydia’s lower body, revealing an unpleasant smell.

Staring at Lydia’s swollen legs, Skyler remained calm. “Dad is gone now. You should feel relieved.”

Lydia remained silent, turning her head away.

“I think you should feel relieved. After all these years, you’ve been living under his oppression.”

“What’s the use of feeling relieved? I don’t have much time left.”

“But I have a long way to go, and you haven’t apologized to me yet.”

Lydia turned her head in surprise, looking at Skyler with a half-smile. “What apology do you want?”

Skyler looked at her, feeling that her mother, though present, was distant. It was like a clash between new and old thoughts but more like a daughter yearning for her mother’s understanding.

She hadn’t decided what kind of apology she needed from Lydia — whether it was tearful confessions of years of indebtedness or a straightforward “I’m sorry” as if from a stranger.

In Skyler’s heart, the lost affection could never be compensated for. Giving birth to her but not loving her became an everlasting knot.

“Let’s eat.”

Skyler turned and left, leaving Lydia sitting on the bed, bewildered.

At the end of the year, the workload at the office increased. When Skyler finished work, it was already ten at night.

Exhausted, her legs numb and body weak, she felt as though a slight push could make her collapse, never to get up again. From the moment she left her office chair, she forced herself to prepare to go home, too fatigued to exchange greetings with colleagues. Speaking even one more sentence would drain her completely.

In a daze, she reached the door of her home. She fumbled in her bag for her keys, pressed her ear against the door, and listened for a while. There was no sound inside the house.

Upon finding the keys and pushing the door open, Skyler was met with darkness. She fumbled in the dark, searching for the light switch. As the light illuminated the room, she saw Lydia sitting on the sofa, her gaze vacant.

Ignoring Lydia, Skyler walked straight to the bed, took off her coat, and drew the curtains. Silence enveloped the room, with only the sound of wind outside and occasional car honks, Lydia’s heavy breathing mixed in.

“I’ve been thinking these days. What do you want an apology for? I gave birth to you and raised you, fulfilling my duty,” Lydia suddenly spoke, her voice slow and hoarse.

Skyler turned over, unwilling to engage in the conversation. However, Lydia continued as if oblivious to her presence.

“Since I gave birth to you, I was scorned by my in-laws, scolded by my husband. I felt no love, no one loved me. Until Zachary came along, everyone smiled at me, praised me. They said at my age, giving birth to a boy was a blessing.”

Lydia’s words carried a hint of resentment and a hint of satisfaction.

“But he died, taking my blessing away. I should have enjoyed the second half of my life, but instead, I’m back to square one.”

Skyler sat up, and through the curtain, she sneered, “You don’t feel unloved; my love is worthless to you.”

“It’s not worthless. I’m also a daughter; I also love my mother. But what can I do for her? I can’t rescue her from suffering, nor can I endure the humiliation for her. Everyone around me has experienced this. What makes you different from them?”

Skyler remained silent for a long time. She lifted her head, holding back tears.

Her left hand, affected by psoriasis, was slightly painful. She bit her lip, exerting pressure on her right hand, refraining from touching that sore spot.

“So, can you understand my helplessness? Is it because you think this is something I must go through? So, when Dad was desperately beating me, you could lie in bed, pretending not to see?”

“Is it because you’ve experienced it, I must go through it too?”

“What should I do? If I say I shouldn’t have given birth to you, suffering the hatred and hardships, is it better than this? At least, Zachary wouldn’t have to suffer like this,” Lydia pulled up her sleeves, wiping away the tear stains on her face.

Skyler froze. She hadn’t expected that the uncontrollable event of her birth could become such an absurd excuse.

“If you insist on an apology, the only thing I can think of is that on the day Zachary died, I didn’t say it was me who locked the door, letting your dad misunderstand and resent you all along.”

Lydia was now choked with sobs, unable to control her shaking shoulders, constantly wiping her damp eyes.

“Mom,” Skyler called softly.

Lydia looked toward the bed, squinting. She could only see Skyler’s dark shadow behind the curtain.

“You…” Lydia started to say the first word, but Skyler couldn’t control her tears. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “From childhood to adulthood, have you ever loved me, even for a moment?”

“I don’t remember. Whenever I think of you, I feel resentment in my heart.”

“In fact, if you just say you loved me, it might have healed my entire life. Even if it’s a lie.”

Skyler closed her eyes, and her nose twitched with a painful ache. She thought of the answer, but hearing it from her biological mother was unbearable. She hated herself for humbly hoping to get the answer she wanted.

She took a deep breath, exhaling years of tangled emotions. She then smiled:

“Since I understood things, I’ve been searching for the feeling of being loved. I’ve gone crazy, trapped inside, unable to break free. Even if you and others are cruel, I still hold a bit of fantasy.”

Skyler paused, reminiscing slowly:

“I remember the day Zachary was killed. He mumbled something unclear.”

Lydia, moving her heavy body, stepped closer to the curtain behind which Skyler stood. She trembled, pulling aside the curtain, her voice rough, “What… what did he say?”

Skyler raised her eyebrows, looking at her. “Mom, save me.”

Moonlight shone through the window onto Lydia’s pale face. Her pupils dilated, a glint of darkness passing through her eyes. Her heart felt like it had been struck by a sledgehammer, and she slumped to the ground, unable to move.

10

After the New Year, Skyler returned to her hometown with the ashes of her parents. In this place where she no longer had any relatives, returning brought a mixture of heaviness and relief, reminiscing about the past as she looked at the familiar streets.

She rented a car, drove up to Muhuashan. While Lydia was still alive, she had bought the plot next to Zachary’s grave. Skyler was happy to fulfill her mother’s last wish. After many years, Zachary’s tombstone was covered in dust, and the chrysanthemums tied on both sides wrinkled in the wind and sun. With a light pinch, they turned into powder, scattering in the breeze.

Workers opened the graves, placing Lydia and Jack’s ashes inside. Once everyone had left, Skyler sat on the steps in front of the tombstone, hugging her legs and burying her head.

She knew it was all over. She no longer needed to face her parents’ malice and the lingering shadow of her brother.

Days of exhaustion weighed on her, and even in this eerie graveyard, she felt remarkably at ease. A gust of cold wind passed, making her shiver. Wanting to grab some clothes from her bag, she realized it was missing.

Suppressing her drowsiness, she opened her eyes to see a figure approaching in the distance. As the person came closer, Skyler recognized her — it was Lydia!

Skyler stared at Lydia in surprise. Lydia looked so young, as if she were in her teens, with two braids, skipping towards her.

“Why are you sitting here? Aren’t you cold?” Lydia’s voice was clear and pleasant. She curiously looked at Skyler, her face showing innocence.

Skyler tried to answer but found herself unable to produce any sound.

“You must be lonely too. Otherwise, why would you be sitting alone in the graveyard?” Lydia lowered her head, a trace of disappointment flashing in her eyes.

She bent down, picking up a locust leaf from the ground, and smiled bitterly, “This thing is not accurate. I’ve tried it. The last leaf always gives you the answer you want.”

She held up the leaf in front of Skyler, asking, “Do you think it’s accurate?”

Skyler shook her head.

“Ah, when I grow up, I won’t be as heartless as my parents. I’ll love my child very, very, very much.” Lydia said, and then giggled foolishly.

Skyler felt as if someone had tied a cloth strip around her mouth, rendering her speechless and immobile. She blinked, tears rolling down her cheeks.

She struggled to make a sound but only heard herself calling “Mom” in her heart. Lydia patted her happily and ran off into the distance.

A gust of wind passed again, and Skyler gradually woke up. Her neck was sore, cheeks dry and unbearable, and a chill crept up her back.

Skyler touched her face, realizing that tear stains had dried on her face, leaving a cluster of tear marks on her jeans.

After sitting in a daze for a long time, she turned and walked to Lydia’s tombstone. Her hands gently brushed over Lydia’s photo on the tombstone.

“You were an independent woman, but you turned yourself into a product of patriarchal society, always seeking dependence on your husband and son. You knew we experienced the same things, you clearly felt the despair and pain of not being loved, yet you chose to cruelly force me onto the same path.”

“I won’t let this cycle close. Your love is no longer important to me.”

Skyler looked in the direction where Lydia had come in her dream and murmured, “Rather than humbly seeking love, it’s better to learn to love yourself.”

This statement was addressed to the young Lydia, but it sounded more like Skyler talking to herself.

The graveyard was cold again, colder than the human heart. In the corners of this world, many invisible victims hid, burdened with unfair pain from the moment of their birth. If physical injuries make people unspeakably bitter, the wounds of the soul push them into an abyss of endless despair.

And those who harm them never admit their guilt until death, even scorn the cries and helplessness of the victims.

Fate gambled on a locust leaf, but it could never deceive the coldness of this world.