Chapter 7 — Behind the Door is Still Home

The world was once again eerily quiet. Only the sound of firecrackers and fireworks continued to explode outside the window. The same nudge messages constantly pop up on the computer screen in the work group.

"Tri Dao, is the color palette done yet? The customer is pressing."

“Tri Dao, are you there?”

“If you see it, answer it.”

I sat on the chair, not moving. Eyes look forward but completely out of focus. His face was wet and cold. I raised my hand to wipe away the mess. It's tears. I don't know when it started flowing down. Yet I cried. Because of those people. It's truly ridiculous. I pulled the corners of my lips up to smile. The result is even more unsightly than crying. The phone screen goes dark. Reflecting my current struggling figure. Hair is messy. Red eye sockets. His face was as white as paper. At that moment, the phone on the table suddenly vibrated. A buzzing sound passed through the table, like someone stubbornly knocked on the door and refused to stop. The screen lights up. Blinding white light tore open the dark room. Show incoming call: I stared at those two words. Look at the photo taken between me and my mother on the screen. That photo was taken a few years ago, when I took my parents on a trip around the ancient city of Xi'an. In the photo, my mother smiles a bit awkwardly but her eyes are very bright. But right now... That light seemed to penetrate through the screen, becoming something I didn't dare face. I didn't pick up the phone. Let the phone vibrate continuously on the table, sliding from side to side. Until the screen went dark again. The room fell into darkness again. Not long after, the phone lit up again. This time it's the message notification tone. The screen light flickered on and off, illuminating my expressionless face in bright and dark. I finally moved. Raise your hand to hold the phone. Unlock with fingerprint. At the top of WeChat is my mother's profile picture. Show three unread messages.

"Tri Dao, why did the call suddenly disconnect? Are you okay?"

"I received the money, thank you, daughter. Remember to buy good food to eat when you're alone outside."

"Are you asleep? Then rest early, happy new year."

The time displayed is ten minutes ago. The last message was sent thirty seconds ago. I stared at those two sentences.

“Buy delicious food to eat.”

“Happy New Year.”

I recognized every word. But put together it looks like a ridiculously clumsy sarcastic dialogue. I slightly moved the corner of my lips, wanting to answer something. My finger stopped on the message input box for a long time, but I couldn't type half a word. What is the answer?

“Mom, I heard everything.”

“Mom, are you planning to turn the room I've lived in for more than ten years into a children's room?”

"Mom, everyone is planning to secretly transfer the house with 80,000 yuan of my money to Tri Tinh, but still want to hide it from me?"

“Mom, why?”

Each question mark is like a knife. Stab my heart first. Then he stabbed the people on the other side. I suddenly threw the phone back on the table like I was throwing a block of iron that burned my hand. The touch screen of the computer moves and lights up again. Messages in the work group keep popping up.

“Tri Dao???”

"Are you still online? Customers are going crazy!"

“If you see it, answer immediately!!!”

I took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. As if wanting to expel all the cold and fishy air stuck in my chest. Then, I sat up straight and put my hands back on the keyboard. Continue typing.

“Here, here, here, the computer crashed so I restarted it, the color chart is sent right here.”

Open the color correction software. Drag the color bar. Adjust parameters. Each movement is mechanical and decisive, without any emotion. Like a machine that has been wound up. Only I know... Somewhere in my chest is collapsing little by little, crumbling and turning into ash. After sending the color palette, the client threw in a new editing request. I sat in front of the screen, editing each item one by one. My mind is filled with work, temporarily blocking all other sounds and images outside. Only the RGB color code, line curvature, pixel spacing remain. That's just self-protection. It's just like running away. When I sent the final version, the other person only replied with a dry "OK" and the clock on the wall showed three o'clock in the morning. Outside the window there has long been no more fireworks. Even the occasional sound of cars passing by disappeared. The whole city of Guangzhou seemed to be in a deep sleep. Only my tiny rented room still had a white light on. I turned off the design software. Turn off all chat windows. The desktop screen displays a simple landscape photo with blue sky and white clouds. I looked at that fake green space for a long time. Then open the banking app on your phone. Enter password. Check transaction history. Cold fingertips slid across the screen. I drag each line forward. Then found it. Three years ago. August twelfth. Transfer spending: 80,000.00 yuan. Recipient: my father.