Chapter 7 — When He Believes the Outsiders

A sharp, metallic click echoed through the courtroom, signaling that the heavy iron shackles had been locked firmly around the ankles of To Lam. In the front row of the gallery, my parents helped each other to their feet, their movements stiff and weary.

Father, Mother...

To Lam dragged the heavy chains, stumbling forward a single step. His parched, cracked lips trembled, and from his throat emerged a desperate, broken plea. My father’s eyes turned a violent, bloodshot red, and he abruptly turned his head away. My mother stared directly at him, her gaze devoid of any warmth, colder than the tomb.

From this day forward, we no longer have a son in you.

We will go to the police station shortly to strike your name from our household register.

In the family registry of the To household, there will forever be only one name: To Van.

In that place, spend the rest of your wretched life paying the debt for your sister’s life.

Until the day we die, we will never come to visit you, not even once.

Having spoken, my parents turned away with cold, decisive finality. In that brief moment, they seemed to have aged twenty years. Supporting one another, their footsteps faltering and uneven, they retreated step by step, exiting through the grand doors of the courthouse.

Mother! Father! Do not go! Do not leave me behind!

To Lam finally shattered completely. He lunged forward in a frantic, wild attempt to pursue them, but he was pinned firmly to the ground by two towering judicial officers. He thrashed violently, his cheek grinding against the abrasive, cold floor. His bloodshot eyes scanned the empty gallery with a frantic, desperate intensity. He was searching for me. For twenty years, he had grown accustomed to the fact that whenever he turned around, the shy little girl who always hung her head and called him brother would be trailing right behind him. But that was over. There was no longer a To Van left, no longer someone willing to endure torment unto death just to earn a single scrap of his praise.

Seven days passed in the blink of an eye. In the morning, a light, misty drizzle fell. The Southern Mountain cemetery on the outskirts of the city was shrouded in a blanket of grey-blue mist, solemn and frigid. My parents held a funeral for me that was profoundly simple. They had not informed any relatives, nor had they held any grand ceremony. They stood alone, supporting each other before a cold, black marble headstone. In the photograph on the stone, I was smiling radiantly, my eyes curved in joy, overflowing with life. That was me at thirteen. In that year, I had not yet been ravaged by a severe ultraviolet allergy that stripped away my human form, nor had I been crushed under the weight of To Lam’s twisted obsession with "fairness" until I could no longer draw a breath. Back then, I would still tug at the corner of my brother’s shirt, naively believing that if I were only obedient enough, I could earn the love of my entire family.

Rainwater traced crooked paths over the gold-plated characters that read, Beloved Daughter To Van. My mother trembled as she placed a bouquet of white chrysanthemums before the stone. Her gaunt, withered fingers caressed the face in my photograph, her tears mingling with the cold rain. My father held a black umbrella, but he stubbornly tilted the majority of it to shield my mother and the headstone, leaving his own silvering hair and hunched back to be soaked by the chilling autumn rain. He gritted his teeth, his eyes filled with a bottomless, hollow despair. In the span of just a few days, they had lost the son they once took such pride in, and at the same time, they had permanently buried the daughter they had always disregarded. I floated silently above the cemetery, watching the heart-wrenching scene unfold.

To Van, find peace and leave this behind.

In your next life... be born into a better family, and do not come to ours to suffer ever again.

My mother choked back a sob, casting one last lingering look at the gravestone. Then, guided by my father, she turned with great difficulty. Their unsteady silhouettes grew smaller and smaller against the misty, rain-drenched landscape. Finally, they faded into two faint, dark specks that vanished at the end of the winding cemetery path. I hovered in the void, retracting my gaze to look up at the vast, leaden sky. The rain had ceased. A cold morning breeze stirred. My fingertips began to emit a faint, golden glow. Shortly after, the light spread rapidly across my entire body, bit by bit dissolving and unravelling my translucent soul. I closed my eyes, allowing myself to scatter into countless tiny specks of light that danced across the sky. The gentle breeze swept through. My final attachment to the mortal world vanished completely. I returned to the void, and to infinite, boundless freedom.