Chapter 1 (1/2)
Cry Me A Sad River - Episode One – Parts 1 to 7
01
The morning fog rose in the longtang*, the gradually brightening lights reflected cloud after cloud of yellow glow on the alleys.
The morning was not completely bright yet, in the cold blue of the sky, you could still see remnants of the light from stars.
The temperature had dropped quickly in the past few days.
Breathing turned into frost.
The river froze three feet deep.
The distant bright, clear and s.h.i.+ning day paused in the memories.
02
“Qi Ming, bring along the milk”, just as he was about to pull open the door, his mother rushed out from the living room, in her hand was a packet of milk freshly warmed from the rice cooker, the steam rose from the packaging, “Hey, you boys must drink more milk, do you know that, especially boys like you in the first year of high school, how can you not drink it.” After saying that, she pulled unzipped the backpack on Qi Ming’s back before shoving the milk in. As her height was quite a lot shorter than her son, his mother stood on her tippy toes for it. After putting in the milk, his mother pinched Qi Ming’s arm and started nagging again, “Hey, how can you dress so lightly in winter, this will not do, boys can’t just think about being handsome and nothing else.”
“Okay okay,” Qi Ming answered in a low tone as he pulled open the door, “Ma, I’m about to be late for cla.s.s.”
The dense fog rushed into the room.
Above his head was the pale daylight of mid-winter.
It was still the wee hours of morning; the light wasn’t strong enough to light up the entire longtang. Boxes, pots and rubbish bins piled along the sides of the longtang, only their grey outline could be seen through the fog.
Qi Ming closed the door along with his mother’s nagging. Only half of “Early after school” could be heard faintly before being cut off by the coldness of the winter day.
Qi Ming lifted the straps of his bag higher, his breaths hung white in the air before him, shrugging his shoulders, he walked towards the mouth of the longtang.
Two steps in and he saw Yi Yao who staggered out from her house, almost b.u.mping into him. Just as Qi Ming was about to open his mouth for a morning greeting, he heard the sharp voice of a woman call from within the house:
“Rush rush rush, are you rus.h.i.+ng for reincarnation, why don’t you die! b.i.t.c.h that causes me to lose money!”
Yi Yao raised her hand and her eyes met Qi Ming’s awkward expression. No expression can be determined on Yi Yao’s pa.s.sive face through the weak light of the winter morning.
In Qi Ming’s memory, Yi Yao’s expression as she met his eyes was a slow-motion scene that lasted the duration of an entire century.
03
“Fought with your mom again?”
“Yeah.”
“What happened?”
“Forget it, don’t mention it”, Yi Yao rubbed the bruise on her arm from her mother’s pinching the day before, “You know my mom, she’s mad, I can’t be bothered about her.”
“……Yeah. Are you alright?”
“Yeah. Fine.”
The morning of the mid-winter. The entire longtang was still silent. As if immersed by the dense fog, there was no sound at all.
Today was Sat.u.r.day, adults need not attend work. Yet highschoolers had no choice but to go for extra lessons on Sat.u.r.days. Hence, only the two of them walked unhurriedly in the entire stretch of the longtang.
Qi Ming suddenly remembered something as he dropped a bag strap and heaves his bag towards his chest, taking out the milk, he shoved it into Yi Yao’s hand, “Here.”
Yi Yao sniffled and took it.
The two walked towards the bright mouth of the longtang, disappearing together in the white fog.
04
How should the world they’re living in be described?
Above their heads were the intersecting antennas, segregating the sky that was neither light nor dark. The low clouds floated on the long strip of sky. The disjointed clouds were the colour of pencil lead, casting alternative shades on the longtang pathway.
Every single day when they went to and from school, they’d always pa.s.s by the walkway resembling the corridor of time. Atop their heads were clothes hung by other families, they never dry in the monsoon season, yet the clothes were always there. Since young, they were taught to never walk under a hanging woman’s pants for it was unlucky.
A variety of objects piled at the sides of the longtang, engulfing the small s.p.a.ce day after day.
Quarrels always broke out in the shared kitchen.
“Oh yo, why are you using our water?”
The person who had been discovered could only laugh awkwardly as they pretended to not know what had happened before saying “Sorry, we used the wrong one.”
The damp grounds and walls.
Small windows. The light so weak that they barely hit them. Curtains pulled to the side so that more light could enter, letting the house seem slightly brighter.
A world like this.
He lived here for sixteen years. He had lived her, at ease and justified, content and comfortable. Just like a cotton sweater, inexpensive but a cooling feeling of reliance. Although this was an article of clothing that makes a boy seem very unattractive in winters, yet the moment autumn arrived, even if the temperature was still boiling, his mother could prepare it in advance, nagging at him to put it on.
He lived just like this for sixteen years. Yet everything was ending soon.
Four years ago, his father had quit his office job and turned towards business. He was now the owner of a large restaurant. Customers come and go daily, his business exceptionally good. They were doing so well that they could arrogantly say that “I’m sorry, we are no longer accepting reservations” when people called in to reserve a seat.
The new house of theirs was in a high-cla.s.sed district. Multi-storied apartments with a beautiful view of the river.
They only needed to wait till the summer before the handover of the apartment; they would leave this frustrating and damp longtang. They could even use the word ‘escape’. Like pulling their sinking feet out entirely from quicksand.
His mother became more and more proud awaiting the move. Her conversations with neighbours often steered towards “Aiya, after moving my rheumatistic leg would be so much better, this house is way too damp, all forms of illness would grow” or “I think you guys should move as well.”
Words like this often attracted admiration and envy, and the last sentence they’d always say would be “You’re so fortunate. Not only does your husband know how to earn money, but your son lives up to your expectations as well, always the top scorer in exams. Unlike our little coffin, aiyo.”
At times like this, Qi Ming only listens from a distance, sitting in front of his window doing his homework; occasionally he’d raise his head to see his mother surrounded by a group of women with outdated perms, her look of pride and arrogance unable to be suppressed.
Actually, there have been many times when Qi Ming heard malicious debates on his way home from school, such as.
“That woman from the Qi family, she’s going to die from arrogance, she’s going to fall sooner or later, I hope it hurts.”
“I think so too, men all turn bad after getting rich, don’t look at her being all boastful now, maybe in the future she’d be black and blue from being beaten by her husband.”
“Her son though, she must have done a lot of good thing sin her past life to have a son like him.”
“I heard that he already clinched first prize for a national mathematics compet.i.tion right as he entered school.”
A world like this, day after day, like spinning silk, forming into a transparent coc.o.o.n. Vanity and envy lived in the heart, thick and dark ink being poured in on a daily basis.
The stench was overwhelming.
05
When he pa.s.sed by Yi Yao’s house, he’d often see her cooking in the kitchen with an ap.r.o.n around her waist.
Her mother, Lin Huafeng, would be eating sunflower feeds or flipping through the newspaper every single afternoon at the door.
He’d hand a notebook to her through the kitchen window, “Here, I helped you copy everything.”
Yi Yao lifted her head and wiped the sweat on her brow before saying, thank you, but my hand is dirty right now, pa.s.s it to my mom.
When Qi Ming handed the notebook to Yi Yao’s mother, she would always take it and throw it into the room. Qi Ming could always here the slap of the notebook against the floor.
A few more steps and it would be his home.
Before the key was even in the hole, his mother would have pulled the door open before taking his bag from him, tugging him to eat diner.
Halfway through his diner, he’d hear Yi Yao saying, “Ma, diner is ready” from across the wall.