Chapter 7 — Listening to the Rain to Read Hearts

The woman who had used a rope to bind my hands and feet when I was six years old was Chu Que Phan. Phuong Tu Chi let go of her grip and sat back up straight.

I am your eldest aunt, your mothers older sister.

I looked at her without uttering a single word.

Last year your mother fell ill, a liver affliction, and spent two months in the county hospital. Even after being discharged, she never stopped asking for news of you.

Why would she ask about me?

She said she wanted to see you.

What is the point of seeing me now? Back then, she sold me for twelve hundred yuan; why didn't she ever think of seeing me then?

Phuong Tu Chi expression shifted slightly, but she quickly regained her composure.

That... Later on, your mother deeply regretted it. After the blind man took you away, she made a scene for years, fighting endlessly with your father. Later, your father died in a traffic accident, and your brother turned out to be good-for-nothing. Your mother bore everything alone all these years...

What does that have to do with me?

She is your mother.

No, she is not.

When I spoke these words, I was exceptionally calm. So calm that Phuong Tu Chi was momentarily caught off guard.

I only had one family member, and that person is dead. Go back and tell her not to look for me ever again.

Phuong Tu Chi left. Before departing, she placed a scrap of paper on my blue cloth spread, on which an address and a telephone number were scrawled.

You can change your mind whenever you wish.

I crumpled the slip of paper and tossed it into the nearby trash can. Yet that very evening, I fished it back out of the bin. It was not out of a sudden softening of my heart. Rather, I was unexpectedly reminded of something my grandmother used to say:

There is a trial in your fate; if you can endure and pass through it, you will find peace.

Perhaps this was that very trial. Following that encounter, I enjoyed a few days of tranquility. I continued to set up my stall as usual, though my mind remained distracted. One day, while I was packing up my wares, Shen Zheng appeared. This time he was not merely passing by; he had come with a deliberate purpose. He stood before me, gazing at me in silence for a long moment.

What is it?

What do you mean, what is it?

You haven't been yourself lately.

How would you know?

He offered no answer. I gathered the corners of my blue cloth, rose to my feet, and stared at him.

Have you been following me all this time?

His expression remained unchanged.

Just passing through.

Passing through every single day?

This neighborhood falls within my jurisdiction.

I let out a cold hum, choosing not to expose his flimsy excuse. After taking a few steps away, I abruptly turned back.

Shen Zheng.

Hmm?

If you knew someone who sold you away when you were six, and then reappeared when you were eighteen claiming they wanted to see you, would you go?

He fell silent for a brief moment.

It depends on what you hope to gain from the encounter.

And what if I want nothing at all?

Then do not go.

His voice was steady and resolute.

Yet if that matter continues to haunt your heart, refusing to go means the rest of your life will be consumed by the torment of it.

I studied him for a long time.

Why does the way you speak sound so much like my grandmother?

The corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly, a fleeting movement far too brief to form a genuine smile.

Hurry home now, it is getting dark.

08

In the end, I went. On a weekend in April 1999, I rode a minibus for two whole hours, returning to that familiar little town. The town had not changed much. The ancient willow tree at the entrance still stood, the main street remained unpaved earth, save for a few newly opened sundry shops lining either side. The address Phuong Tu Chi had given me was situated in the western part of the town. It was a row of low brick houses with stone-piled courtyard walls that appeared exceedingly old. I stood outside the gate, reluctant to knock, lingering there for some five minutes. From within came the sound of coughing—intermittent, feeble, and utterly devoid of strength. I pushed the gate open. An apple tree stood in the courtyard, and beneath its branches rested a rattan chair draped with an old cotton-padded jacket. The main room stood wide open. I stepped inside. A woman sat by the bed. She was emaciated beyond recognition, her cheekbones protruding sharply, her eye sockets deeply sunken, her hair more than half-white. At that time, she should have been barely in her forties. Yet she looked closer to sixty. The moment she raised her head and caught sight of me, every conceivable emotion welled up in her eyes. Astonishment, panic, guilt, and sheer disbelief all swirled together.

Wu... Is that little Wu?

I stood near the doorway, not moving an inch.

You have come...

She attempted to stand, but her legs were weak, and she nearly collapsed to the floor. Instinctively, I reached out a hand to steady her. But it was only a single steadying gesture. Immediately afterward, I withdrew my hand and stepped back a pace.

I came to take a look. Once I have looked, I will leave.

She parted her lips, unable to speak for a long while as silent tears streamed down her face. I stood there, gazing at this woman. Memories from before my sixth year had grown exceedingly vague. I only recalled the biting pain of the rope cutting into my flesh, the suffocating darkness inside the fertilizer sack, and the sound of my father counting money. Yet I could not remember her face. The face before me now was withered, aged, and utterly unfamiliar. I could find no trace of a mother within those features.

Are you living well?

Fairly well.

Where are you living? What do you do for a living?

In the county town. I do a bit of small business on my own.

She nodded, nodding repeatedly, before bursting into tears once more.

Good... As long as you are doing well...

I stayed for less than twenty minutes. Before I left, she pulled a cloth bundle from beneath her pillow. Unfolding it, she revealed a thick stack of banknotes.

Take this. Mother saved this up...

I refused to accept it.

I do not need it.

Take it with you...

I said I do not need it.

Her hands trembled uncontrollably. As I turned and walked away, the sound of weeping followed me from behind.