Chapter 3 — You Raised Me, I'll Care for You When You Grow Old

She raised a hand to wipe the tears at the corners of her eyes, her voice choked. Yes, I said it. I sat between the two of them, gazing at their reddened eye sockets, and suddenly could not help but burst into laughter. It was a laugh utterly devoid of control, a smile steeped in bitter irony. After laughing for a moment, a wave of physical nausea hit me. The laughter caught in my throat as a violent spasm churned deep within my stomach. Stumbling blindly toward the bathroom, I caught myself on the edge of the porcelain bowl and vomited the meal I had just eaten. They both rushed in, one right after the other, trying to steady me. Finally losing all restraint, I violently shoved their hands away and shrieked in a hoarse voice:

Do not touch me!

Neither of you, touch me!

Bracing myself against the wall, I managed to stand and left behind a single sentence. I must have eaten something bad, I want to sleep. Without looking back, I slammed the bedroom door shut. Pulling the thick blanket entirely over my head, I suddenly felt like an utter coward. I had clearly seen everything; I had clearly deduced the whole truth. Yet I lacked even the barest shred of courage to fling the blanket aside and rush out to confront them face to face. I knew with absolute certainty that my older sister would gladly die for me, simply because I would do the same for her. The two of us would never hesitate to lay down our lives for one another, yet here we were, scurrying about like frightened mice, terrified to lay our cards on the table. But still... she could have simply told me. Ever since we were little, she had always given way to me. A single piece of candy, a brand-new dress, a trip to the amusement park—she would always smile as she stepped back, pushing me forward instead. And this time, it was merely a man. If she wanted him, I would have handed him over. Whatever she desired, I was more than willing to surrender. She was my older sister, after all—the kind of person for whom I would forfeit my very life.

Yet why, oh why did she insist on keeping it from me?

Huddled beneath the blankets, I could not stop myself from murmuring into the darkness, weeping until my entire body shook. I lost all track of how I had cried myself to sleep. When I finally woke, it was already the small hours of the morning. I lit up my phone screen to find a message from Professor Tran: Everything has been settled. I have booked the earliest flight for you tomorrow morning. I stared at the words for several long seconds before my freezing fingertips tapped out a single reply: Understood. Walking barefoot across the cold floorboards, I silently turned the bedroom door handle, intending to go out to the living room for a glass of water. Then, I heard the murmurs drifting from my sister's room. Through the thin paneling came a voice deliberately kept low:

Let go of me, we cannot go on like this!

It was my sister's voice, laced with tears and a panic I had never heard before.

Isn't this precisely what you wanted, Hua Lac Lac? Yan Zhou's voice was suppressed to a heavy, dangerous growl, resembling a cornered beast:

You took the money and vanished back then, and now you reappear pretending to be my girlfriend just to see me again—what sort of performance are you putting on this time? Have we not already done all of this before?

Choking back a sob, she stammered, In short... I am the one who wronged you, and wronged my younger sister. Let us pretend these past few days were merely a shared dream; it is time for this to end.

You say begin, and we begin; you say end, and it ends? Yan Zhou paused, and when he spoke again, his tone was laced with a chilling, mocking edge: Since you love money so much, if I hand you a pile of cash, will you agree to sleep with me?

Do not be like this... Yan Zhou, I am begging you, do not treat me this way. She broke down completely, weeping aloud.

What is there to cry about? Yan Zhou paused, his voice turning raspy as well. Never mind. Looking at you like this, I find myself too disgusted to even touch you.

After a brief, heavy silence, he spoke once more, biting out every single syllable:

This is the final chance I am giving you. Tomorrow, I will propose to your younger sister and spend the rest of my life loving her. From this day forward, you will forever remain my sister-in-law, and you shall never cross that boundary again.

My sister fell silent for a very long time, before finally rasping out: Agreed. It was always meant to be this way, never to cross the boundary. Quietly, I poured myself a glass of water and drank it down in a single breath. Then, fetching my handbag and phone from the room, I walked out of the apartment without a single backward glance. Propose? A faint, cynical laugh escaped my lips as I snapped my SIM card in half and tossed it into the murky roadside gutter:

Go propose to a ghost.

Seated on a bench in the airport terminal with my eyes closed, the announcement of an approaching flight echoed through the terminal. Flashes of countless childhood memories flickered across my mind like a revolving lantern. I had my reasons for refusing to hate her. We had never received any financial aid until after I turned eight, marking the day we finally started school. It was her first time being an older sister, and she knew only one rule: she had to save the absolute best for me. Every single day after classes ended, she would make me hurry home to do my homework. Meanwhile, clutching a tattered school bag full of holes, she would slip into the back alleys behind the school, rummaging through garbage bins to collect plastic bottles and discarded cardboard. Three days of accumulation would yield just enough loose change for her to run to the market and buy a tiny scrap of pork, which she would secretly bury at the very bottom of my rice bowl, ensuring I could eat just a little bit more meat. Later on, when the school mandated matching uniforms, I was the only student in the class without one. Driven to quiet desperation, she mustered all her courage to track down a senior student, humbling herself in desperate entreaties to purchase a second-hand uniform that had already grown too small. Bringing it back, she spent the entire night sewing with needle and thread to shorten the sleeves and hem, folding it neatly and placing it beside my pillow by the following morning. Yet she still muttered under her breath: It is hideous, I would never wear something like this. The truth was simply that she had nothing else to wear.