Chapter 2 — The Day My Father Remarried

I stood there in utter bewilderment, my mind struggling to process the sudden turn of events.

Uncle, why are you doing this?

Do not ask questions.

His tone was absolute, brooking no room for negotiation or argument.

If you agree, I will transfer your tuition fees tomorrow morning.

If you do not agree, it matters not either. We will simply pretend I never received this phone call today.

A chilly breeze swept across the surface of the lake, carrying the damp scent of reeds and earth. A sharp, stinging sensation bloomed behind my eyes, blurring the horizon. My thoughts drifted back to my father's voice, cold and utterly devoid of patience. They drifted back to the harsh words Liu Meiling had casually tossed my way:

It is about time you learned how to earn your own living.

My own flesh and blood of a father would rather spend his hard-earned money buying expensive imported milk powder for a stepdaughter who shared not a single drop of his blood than fund his biological daughter's final years of higher education. Yet my uncle, my father's own flesh and blood brother, was stepping forward to shoulder the entirety of my four-year college tuition. None of it made any rational sense to me. But in that desperate moment, I possessed neither the luxury nor the privilege to hesitate.

Uncle, I agree.

Good.

A faint shadow of a smile seemed to color the edge of his voice.

Van Van, remember every single word you have spoken to me today.

Three years.

Not a single day shall be missed.

He instructed me to send him my bank account details, promising the funds would arrive by the following morning. After the line went dead, I remained standing by the shores of the lake for a very long time. The bruised, fading light of the dying sunset stained the rippling water a deep, melancholic shade of red and gold. The screen of my mobile phone continued to glow softly in the gathering dusk. The call log displayed only two stark words: Eldest Uncle. My fingers tightened around the plastic casing of the device until my knuckles turned white. Inside my chest, a heavy mixture of bitter grief and suffocating sorrow churned relentlessly, defying any proper description. A vague, unsettling intuition began to take root in my mind: my father's second marriage was far more complicated, far darker, than I had ever dared to imagine.

The following morning, precisely at seven o'clock, the phone chimed with an incoming banking notification. The account balance had grown by five thousand six hundred yuan. In the memo field provided by the sender, two simple words were written:

Tuition fees.

I stared at that digital message for a long time. My uncle had not even bothered to ask me the exact cost of my tuition before sending the money. Yet the sum transferred was down to the exact fen, completely accurate. In those days, the banking system lacked the instantaneous, real-time sender visibility common today, yet I knew with absolute certainty. The person who had wired the money was undeniably him. I composed a short text message and sent it off:

Uncle, I have received the money safely. Thank you so much.

His reply arrived almost immediately:

Focus entirely on your studies and do not let your mind wander to trivial worries. Should you find yourself short on living expenses, simply let me know.

I stared fixedly at the glowing screen, a sudden, burning ache seizing the bridge of my nose. An overwhelming urge to type out another expression of gratitude washed over me, yet the words felt so terribly inadequate, so featherlight in the face of such profound kindness. In the end, I simply typed back a single, quiet response:

Understood.

The looming crisis of my tuition fees had somehow been resolved, but the daily cost of survival remained my own burden to bear. My uncle had told me not to overthink things, but I was hardly shameless enough to take his generosity for granted. He had already rescued my education; such a monumental favor left me deeply indebted, and I could never bring myself to open my mouth and beg him for living expenses on top of it. Consequently, I marched straight to the university student employment center and registered my name for part-time work. During that turbulent period, my roommate Jiang Wen noticed that something was terribly wrong with my demeanor, relentlessly pressing me for answers over the span of several days until I finally broke down and confessed the entire saga. She hailed from the northeastern provinces, possessing a personality as direct and unyielding as a straight highway. Upon hearing the full story, she slammed her palm down hard on the dormitory desk.

Tu Van! How on earth can your father live with himself after pulling something like this? Does he care so little for his own flesh and blood simply because he took a new wife?

I offered a bitter, self-deprecating smile.

It is fine. Regardless, I will figure out a way to survive on my own.

What sort of way?

She glared at me, her eyes flashing with indignation.

Why don't you come work with me at the bubble tea shop? The manager is currently looking for extra staff. Twelve yuan an hour, and we can take the evening and weekend shifts.

I quickly calculated the numbers in my head. Twelve yuan an hour. Twenty hours a week would bring in two hundred and forty yuan. Nearly a thousand yuan a month. Though hardly a fortune, it would barely be enough to keep me afloat if I exercised extreme frugality.

Alright, I will do it.

From that day onward, my routine settled into a grueling rhythm. My days were consumed by lectures and textbooks, while my evenings and weekends were spent behind the counter of the teahouse. Clearing tables, scrubbing ceramic cups, operating the cash register—I threw myself into every menial task available. The manager turned out to be a kind-hearted woman in her early thirties. Noticing my industriousness and quiet efficiency, she eventually went out of her way to arrange daytime shifts for me whenever possible, and on the nights when closing duties ran dangerously late, she flatly refused to let me walk back alone.

At the end of my very first month, my wages were tallied.

Nine hundred and eighty yuan.

As I stared at the digital figure glowing on my phone screen, an indescribable wave of emotion surged upward from the depths of my heart.