Chapter 4 — The Price of Contempt

The next morning, at eight o'clock, Phuong Vien Chau went to work. Before leaving, I told him:

"After these few days, take care of things and bring your mother home. Mr. Liu will come next Wednesday, don't ruin things."

I smiled and nodded:

“Don't worry.”

He left satisfied. Mother-in-law went out to dance in the square. Phuong Vien San is still sleeping. I started to take action. First, go to the police station and complete the procedures to transfer Tieu Nien's household registration. Moving address: old town resettlement area east of the city. Tieu Nien's household registration was originally in my name. Phuong Vien Chau complained, from the time of making the birth certificate to the following procedures, she pushed everything on me. The birth certificate is always with me. He never cared about these "trivial" things. The household registration book is in my hand. Birth certificate in my hand. The house I moved into was property in my mother's name. The procedure went more smoothly than I thought, it was done in one morning. Leaving the police station, I went home. Don't bring many things. Just took a few clothes for me and Tieu Nien, powdered milk, and the teddy bear he liked the most. My mother's things... are even less. A cloth bag, inside were a few old clothes she brought from her hometown. Two years ago, her entire fortune was packed in just that bag.

“Mom, let's go.”

My mother looked at me, a little panicked: "An Ninh, have you really thought about it carefully?"

“Think carefully.”

“But I'm gone, what about Tieu Nien, who will I do when I leave…”

“Mom.” I interrupted. “Tieu Nien comes with us.”

My mother opened her mouth slightly, looked at the house she had lived in for two years, her eyes glanced through the living room, through the kitchen, stopped at the storage room door, in the end she said nothing more, just bowed her head and carried her bag. I carried Tieu Nien, my mother carried her bag, the two of them quietly left this building, without arguing, without slamming the door, without any drama, just like the day she arrived two years ago, so quiet that no one noticed. The taxi stopped at the beginning of the old eastern neighborhood, got out, my mother knew the way and led me in. On both sides were neat rows of six-story resettlement houses. Downstairs there was a shoe repair man, some old people displaying flags, and a baked potato seller pushing a cart past. The neighbors saw my mother and called out loudly in a country accent: "Tu Chi is back, is this my grandchild, already this big?" My mother smiled and replied: "I'm home, this is Tieu Nien." The countryside accent sounded naturally, no one found it strange, because the whole area spoke the same language, this was where my mother belonged. Up to the third floor, opening the door of the three-room house and one living room, sunlight poured in from the window, making the whole space bright, the furniture was not much but clean and tidy, the floors were newly tiled, the walls were pure white.

"I left this house empty. I didn't have the heart to rent it out. I thought in case you wanted to move back in the future."

She spoke softly.

“Mom still keeps it for me.”

I stood by the window holding Tieu Nien, looking out less than fifty meters away at the number one experimental elementary school, the gate hung with a red banner "key school in the whole city". Phuong Vien Chau struggled for half a year, spent 30,000 yuan thanks to an acquaintance, but could not get a spot, and now that school is right in front of my house. Tieu Nien in my arms raised her hand to point at the school, babbled in a country accent learned from my mother, and I burst out laughing. After settling down, it was already two o'clock in the afternoon, my phone began to vibrate continuously, Phuong Vien Chau called nine times, the messages were pouring in.

“Trinh An Ninh, where have you gone?”

“Why is there no one at home, Tieu? Where's Nien?"

"My mother's not here either, the kitchen is cold."

"You're off work today, the company told you to take a leave of absence."

"Trinh An Ninh, what's wrong with you? Where did you take your child?"

Ten minutes later, my mother-in-law also texted.

“An Ninh, Vien Chau said you took Tieu Nien away, where are you, why didn't you say a word?”

A moment later, Phuong Vien San also texted.

"Where are you going, sister-in-law? I woke up and saw that the house was empty and no one was cooking."

After reading it, I didn't reply, just looked at Phuong Vien Chau's last message twice.

"You don't have to take your child to your mother's hometown, calm down, you let my child live there."

I put the phone face down on the table, stood up to make milk for Tieu Nien, in the kitchen my mother was cooking, singing softly, the melody of the country voice was slow and peaceful, this scene was true life. Near evening, Phuong Vien Chau finally called and I picked up.

“Where are you?” His voice was both urgent and angry.

“At my mother's house.”

“You…” He took a deep breath, trying to hold back. “Quickly take Tieu Nien home, what conditions does that hometown have to raise a child?”

“Vien Chau.” I'm calm. "I changed Tieu Nien's household registration today."

The other end of the line was silent for exactly five seconds.

“What did you say?”

“I changed my household registration to my mother's name.”

Silence again. This time his tone changed completely, no longer angry but confused.

“Change to your mother's name, is your mother… at home?”

“What house, where is it?”

I don't answer.