Chapter 7 — The Day They Forgot Me

It was not the stern reprimand of a mother, nor the harsh scolding of a father. Instead, it was a sound, faint and fragile, like a stifled sob. It was the voice of Yao.

Big brother, I am sorry.

The voice was exceedingly soft, barely audible through the thick wooden door. I stood motionless in the hallway, my hand still resting on the cold brass knob. I did not turn it. I did not push the door open. This apology had arrived far too late, trailing behind years of neglect and indifference. Yet, at the very least, she had finally uttered the words. I hoisted my heavy backpack over my shoulder and walked away, choosing the dimly lit emergency stairwell on the opposite side of the building. I would not see them again. At two-forty in the afternoon, the high-speed train departed precisely on schedule. I sat beside the window, watching the emerald mountains and the glistening azure waters of Thousand Island Lake slowly recede into the distance, blurring until they vanished from sight. My phone buzzed gently against my leg. A message from my sister-in-law:

Little Bai, after your eldest brother returned, he remained completely silent, sitting out on the balcony alone for two hours. I do not know what passed between the two of you, but this is the first time I have ever seen him look like that. Please take care of yourself on the road, and let me know the moment you arrive safely at home.

I replied with a single character:

Understood.

A moment later, the phone vibrated once more. A message from Fang Hongyuan:

Little Chen, the contract has been thoroughly reviewed and confirmed without any issues. Aside from that matter we discussed earlier, I hope you will give it serious thought. I mean every word I say.

That matter. He wanted me to break away on my own and join him at his firm as a senior commercial partner. The base salary combined with performance commissions would amount to three times my current income. In the past, I had never even considered such an offer because my older brother and his business desperately needed me. And now? I slipped the phone back into my pocket. Outside the train window, the landscape shifted continuously, the undulating hills flattening into vast, sweeping plains. The bright daylight faded, the sky transitioning from a brilliant azure to a deep, bruised twilight. The interior of the high-speed carriage was remarkably quiet. I closed my eyes, letting the rhythmic clatter of the tracks fade into the background while my mind replayed Hongyuan’s parting words.

With your capability, there is no need to spend your entire life sewing wedding dresses for others.

Twenty-eight years. For twenty-eight whole years, I had been sewing wedding dresses for this family. Inspecting vehicles, carrying heavy luggage, pumping gas, purchasing medicine, running after difficult clients, and securing vital contracts. Every single grueling, dirty, and exhausting task fell upon my shoulders, while all the warmth, praise, and radiant spotlight were unreservedly reserved for my older brother and Yao. They had grown completely accustomed to it. So accustomed that they had long forgotten I was also a human being with feelings and limits. So accustomed that abandoning me at a random highway rest stop did not even register to them as a mistake. But starting from today, things would never be the same again. The automated announcement chiming overhead signaled our imminent arrival.

Respected passengers, the train is now arriving at Shanghai Hongqiao Station.

I opened my eyes, stood up with a fluid motion, and hoisted my backpack once more. The moment I stepped off the train carriage, the crisp night air of Shanghai rushed forward to greet me, washing over my face. It carried the distinct breath of a sprawling metropolis, a symphony of urban noise, the faint scent of engine exhaust and burning oil, and the deep, subterranean rumble of the subway system below. I drew in a long, deep breath. This was my city. This was a life forged entirely by my own hands, claimed through my own endurance. I needed no one's charity, nor did I require anyone's lingering remembrance. My phone chimed again. A new notification flashed across the screen. An official invitation for an interview regarding the commercial partner position from Hongyuan, complete with a schedule confirmation sent directly by his personal secretary. Next Wednesday at two o'clock in the afternoon. I saved the notification, securing the date in my memory. Then, I opened the messaging application. The most recent message in our family group chat had been sent by my father roughly forty minutes ago.

Second boy, have you arrived home yet.

A simple period. Not a question mark. He could not even bring himself to type out the punctuation of inquiry. I stared at the screen for three long seconds. I typed two characters in response:

Arrived.

And with that final act, I left the family group chat for good. I walked out of the cavernous hall of Hongqiao Station. The traffic outside flowed like a ceaseless river of steel and fire, carriages and dragons of light weaving through the concrete canyons. The city lights illuminated the towering skyscrapers layer upon layer, piercing the dark sky. I stood at the threshold of the exit, letting the biting wind sweep over me. I was completely alone. Yet, I had never felt so utterly grounded, so unshakably strong as I did at this very moment.