Chapter 1 — My Daughter's Iron Box

The day her stepbrother began his elite cram school classes, Shen Zhiqiang did not hesitate to swipe his card for thirty thousand. As the register spat out the receipt, the instructor of the advanced coaching center beamed warmly.

The foundation of He Jiahao is quite solid, and joining this intensive class will virtually guarantee his admission to a premier high school next year.

He Jiahao stood nearby, clutching a brand-new backpack while sporting a pair of spotless, unworn shoes. Tang Meiqin immediately snatched the receipt, smiling brightly. "Shen Zhiqiang, you are always the one who truly cares for the children." Shen Zhiqiang nodded in approval. He deliberately avoided looking at Shen Anan, who lingered quietly in the background. Anan wore a threadbare gray backpack, its zipper long since broken, forcing her to clumsily secure it with a safety pin. At fifteen, she was painfully thin, the cuffs of her school uniform washed to a ghostly pallor. Jiahao turned his head to glance at her, then purposefully shook his new bag.

"Sister, is that old backpack of yours still holding together?"

Anan remained silent. Tang Meiqin frowned lightly.

"Jiahao, do not speak nonsense." "Your sister is sensible; she would never fight you over such trivial things."

Hearing this, a faint prick of unease stirred within Shen Zhiqiang, though he quickly suppressed it. Jiahao was approaching a crucial academic transition, and spending money was unavoidable. Anan had always excelled academically, so a little frugality would do her no harm. Upon returning home, Tang Meiqin placed the new backpack onto the sofa and tucked the tuition contract away into a drawer. Anan stood quietly in the doorway.

"Father, the school requires payment for the boarding fees and study materials. It comes to two thousand six hundred in total."

As Shen Zhiqiang was changing his shoes, his movements faltered for a fraction of a second. From the kitchen, Tang Meiqin immediately chimed in.

"Why are they asking for money yet again? Did we not just give you five hundred last month?"

Anan shifted her gaze to her father. "That was strictly for my meal card."

Carrying a steaming dish from the kitchen, Tang Meiqin raised her voice. "Is five hundred not enough for you to eat?" "Your brother works hard at school and needs proper nutrition to keep his strength up." "You are a girl; surely you can manage to eat a little less?"

Anan's fingers tightened their grip around the straps of her bag. Shen Zhiqiang furrowed his brow. "Anan, household expenses have been heavy lately." Let the boarding fees wait a little longer. Tomorrow, I will speak with your head teacher.

Anan murmured softly, "The school said the fee had to be paid before Monday."

Tang Meiqin slammed her chopsticks down onto the dining table. "Your father just paid thirty thousand for Jiahao; you cannot pretend you did not see it." "Can you not show a little consideration for the family?" Besides, your grades are excellent; the teachers will not make things difficult for you over a small sum of money.

Anan looked toward the dining table. There was steamed fish, braised beef, and a rich nourishing soup prepared exclusively for Jiahao. In her own bowl lay only a half-portion of plain white rice. Shen Zhiqiang did not raise his head. He picked out a choice piece of fish belly and placed it in Jiahao's bowl. Eat up, Jiahao; you have afternoon classes to attend.

Anan stood still for a moment longer, then turned and walked into her tiny room. The space was an improvised enclosure on the balcony, freezing in the winter and stifling in the summer. She opened a drawer, revealing an old photograph tucked inside. In the picture, her mother was holding her while Shen Zhiqiang stood close by, smiling with youthful radiance. Beneath the photograph lay an envelope containing the meager savings she had accumulated. She unfolded the bills one by one, horribly crumpled and worn. She counted them three times over: nine hundred and seventy-six yuan in total. She was still short by more than sixteen hundred yuan.

From beyond the thin partition, Tang Meiqin's voice drifted in. "Shen Zhiqiang, do not let your heart soften." Her mother has been gone for years; you cannot spend the rest of your life feeling indebted to her. Jiahao is the one who will look after you in your old age.

Shen Zhiqiang muttered, "I know."

Anan's hand froze. She slipped the money back into the envelope.

At nine o'clock that evening, Shen Zhiqiang knocked and stepped into the room. He was carrying an old, discarded backpack in his hand. It was black, its corners scuffed raw, and its zipper covered in rust. "Your brother used this before." Just make do with it for now.

Anan stared at the old bag. "Father, what I need is not a backpack."

Shen Zhiqiang looked slightly annoyed. "I know you need money, but our house is not a printing press." "You are already fifteen years old; stop making things difficult for your father."

Anan slowly took the bag. She touched its frayed, crumbling straps. "I understand."

Hearing those words, Shen Zhiqiang felt an inexplicable tightness in his chest. Understanding is good. He turned to leave, but Anan's voice called out from behind him.

"Father."

Shen Zhiqiang paused and looked back. Anan stood beneath the dim light, her expression entirely serene. If one day I stopped being a burden to you, would you feel relieved?

Shen Zhiqiang was momentarily stunned. From the living room, Tang Meiqin called out, "Shen Zhiqiang, Jiahao's English tutor is on the phone!"

Shen Zhiqiang immediately turned away. "Do not let your mind wander with such thoughts; get to sleep early."

The door clicked shut. Anan placed the old backpack on her desk. She picked up a pen and wrote the first line in her ledger: Thirty thousand, Jiahao's tuition. Nine hundred seventy-six, all that I have. She closed the notebook, then gently placed the old photograph inside a small iron box. When the metal lid closed, the sound was barely audible, but her eyes had lost every trace of warmth.

On Monday morning, Shen Zhiqiang and his family left in a hurry. Tang Meiqin shoved a carton of milk and two boiled eggs into Jiahao's bag. Eat these on the way, Jiahao.

The boy yawned widely. "Mother, is the driver picking us up today?"

Tang Meiqin glanced at Shen Zhiqiang, who simply said, "I will take you."

Anan stood by the front door. "Father, my school is on the same route."

Tang Meiqin immediately intervened. "Your school is not far; just take the bus." Today is Jiahao's first day in the intensive class; he cannot be late.

Shen Zhiqiang picked up his car keys. "Anan, go by yourself."

Anan nodded. She hoisted the old backpack onto her shoulders. The worn strap instantly gave way with a sharp tear, the fabric coming apart at the seam. Jiahao let out a mocking laugh. "Sister, that bag of yours really has a historical charm to it."

Shen Zhiqiang's expression darkened. "Jiahao, that is enough."

Yet even after saying this, he made no move to offer Anan a replacement. A chilly morning wind blew through the doorway. Anan knelt slightly and tied the broken strap into a rough knot before stepping out into the street.

When she arrived at school, morning study hall had already begun. The head teacher, Teacher Jiang, was waiting for her outside the office door. "Anan, your administrative fees still have not been paid."

Anan lowered her gaze. "Teacher, I am here to submit my paperwork today."

Teacher Jiang blinked in confusion. "What paperwork?"

Anan handed over a single sheet of paper. An application for withdrawal. Teacher Jiang's eyes scanned the bold heading, and all the color drained from her face. "Are you out of your mind?" You rank in the top three of your entire grade, you won first prize in the municipal Olympiad, and your name is already on the early admission list for the premier high school. And now you want to drop out?

Anan's voice was barely a whisper. "I cannot continue my studies."

Teacher Jiang grabbed her wrist tightly. "Is your family refusing to provide the tuition?" "I will go speak with your father."

Anan shook her head. "Do not look for him." He is too busy.

Teacher Jiang grew so angry her eyes flushed red. "No matter how busy he is, can he be too busy for his own daughter's education?"

Anan did not answer. She pulled a neat stack of documents from her battered bag. "Teacher, these are the copies of my Olympiad certificates." "This is the completed practical report." And here is the class library log--I have organized all of them properly.

Teacher Jiang stared at the girl. "You have prepared everything so thoroughly... you have been thinking about this for a long time, haven't you?"

Anan nodded. "The school clears out student records in ten days; I simply completed the paperwork ahead of time."

Teacher Jiang slammed her palm down onto the desk. "I refuse to approve this."

Anan looked up at her teacher. "Teacher, if I do not have my guardian's signature, can I apply for a temporary suspension instead?"

Teacher Jiang was cornered by the question. "You can apply for a deferral, but you must bring a parent here."

Anan offered a faint, fleeting smile. He will not come.

Suppressing her fury, Teacher Jiang reached for the telephone. Anan raised a hand and pressed down on the receiver. "Teacher, please do not call." "I am begging you."

Teacher Jiang's hand hovered in the air. Anan had never begged anyone for anything. She was a brilliant student, quiet and enduring, bearing every grievance in silence with a quiet smile. But right now, there were no tears in her eyes--only the hollow, absolute calm of someone standing at the very edge of a cliff. Teacher Jiang's voice grew hoarse. Then tell me, where do you plan to go once you leave this school?

"I am going to find work first, Anan said. Once I save enough money, I will take the exams again."

Teacher Jiang struck the desk in despair. "What kind of work can a fifteen-year-old child do?"

Anan pulled her hand back. "Teacher, I have no other path left."

Outside the office, a few curious students poked their heads in to look. Anan kept her head bowed, unwilling to let anyone witness her defeat. Teacher Jiang closed the door and lowered her voice. "Does your father know about this?"

Anan shook her head. When the time comes for him to pick me up, he will know.

Teacher Jiang stared at her in disbelief. "Has he ever picked you up from school before?"

Anan remained silent. She began pulling her textbooks out of the old bag one by one--Mathematics, Physics, English. Every page was dense with meticulous handwritten notes, some edges curled and warped where rain had once soaked through them. Unable to bear it any longer, Teacher Jiang turned away to wipe her eyes. "Anan, I will pay the fees out of my own pocket first."

Anan immediately shook her head. "There is no need." "I would never be able to pay you back."

Teacher Jiang grew frantic. "Who said anything about paying me back?"

Anan placed a thin, worn ledger on the desk. Every debt I have ever incurred is recorded here. "I do not wish to owe anyone anything more."

Teacher Jiang looked down at the ledger, her fingers tightening into a fist. The first page read: meal card, five hundred. The second page: exercise books, thirty-two. The third page: class fund, twenty. Every single entry was marked with a precise date. The final page bore a single sentence: If I leave, please do not blame the teacher.

Teacher Jiang snapped her head up. Anan!

Anan had already picked up her withdrawal form. She bowed deeply from the waist. Thank you for everything, Teacher.

At ten o'clock in the morning, Uncle Feng, the elderly security guard at the school gates, watched as Anan walked out. She carried only a single plastic grocery bag containing a few books, a small iron box, and a single school uniform washed thin with age. Uncle Feng furrowed his brows. Little girl, where are you off to?

Anan paused in her steps. Uncle Feng, I am not going to school anymore.

Uncle Feng panicked. "Do your parents know about this?"

Anan looked out toward the bustling street beyond the gates, where endless streams of vehicles rushed past without a single one slowing down. My father will come.

Uncle Feng let out a relieved breath. "That is good, then." "Wait for him to take you home."

Anan held out the small iron box. If he actually comes, please give this to him for me.

Uncle Feng was startled. "Can you not give it to him yourself?"

Anan shook her head. "I am afraid I will not be able to wait that long."

Uncle Feng's heart plummeted. Child, do not try to scare me like this.

Anan smiled softly, her expression calm and untroubled.