struggle

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Part 1

Many years ago, I had a relationship with my mother that felt like love. But it wasn't love.

I don't know what it's like for others who have had similar experiences.

My initial state was one of fear; I knew this kind of thing was unacceptable to society and would be
condemned . However, having my mother brought me immense pleasure, both physically and mentally. This feeling
persisted even after marriage and prostitution, but I never found that same connection with any other woman.

My mouth is dry, my heart is pounding, and my calves are tight. A single gesture, a single glance from my mother, and I know her
thoughts. Even after many years of marriage, I haven't achieved the same level of understanding with my mother.

Let me clarify here: if you have any doubts, please treat this as fiction. I'm not trying to prove
anything to anyone. If you have similar experiences, I'm willing to discuss them with you.

When I was four years old, my parents divorced, and I lived with my father. My mother went back to her hometown alone. It's
simple : in that era of strict household registration, my mother had a rural household registration, while my father had an urban household registration and worked for a state-owned enterprise.

The household registration policy at the time was that children followed their mothers. The household registration policy back then was appalling. Rural residents couldn't get jobs;
almost all industrial occupations excluded them. The only way for rural people to escape this was to study hard and get into university.

University admission rates were very low, and success required immense effort. Urban residents, on the other hand
, had many more job opportunities. Of course, young people today might not understand, but that was
the era.

My parents were ten years apart in age. They met through an introduction and married quickly.
I was born in 1980, when my mother was 21. I have a few photos of my mother holding me from that time;
she was beautiful, radiant, and happy.

Soon it was time for me to start school; at three, I was to be sent to kindergarten. That's when the problem arose. Because of my rural household registration, I couldn't attend the kindergarten at
my father's workplace. I had to go to the town kindergarten.
If this household registration issue couldn't be resolved, it meant I couldn't participate in my father's workplace's recruitment process,

meaning I wouldn't have a normal job. This problem worried my family greatly. My grandmother
persuaded my mother to divorce my father and transfer my household registration to his name. Once this problem was resolved, my mother
and father would remarry.

My mother initially refused, but after my grandmother's repeated persuasion and considering the practicalities, she
finally However, she never returned.

My mother divorced and returned to her hometown, and my household registration was successfully changed to an urban one. There was also a second uncle and
a , and the housing was always cramped. Around this time, a colleague of my father's introduced him to a woman
from a different department. That woman's husband had passed away, and she had a child. Most importantly, she owned
a house .

Soon, my father moved in with me. I had a stepmother and a "
brother .

This stepmother soon gave birth to another child for my father,

and I gained a younger sister. Perhaps because I wasn't talkative, my stepmother didn't like me. I was often
bullied by my brother. Whenever I had free time, I would run to my grandmother's house. Only she and my aunt truly cared for me.

And so, I stumbled and struggled until I was fourteen. In my second year of junior high, one day my homeroom teacher
called me out of the classroom during class and took me home on her bicycle. When my grandmother saw me, she cried
and hugged me. My second uncle and aunt were also devastated. Then, an accident happened at my father's workplace. My father perished in the accident.

My mind went blank. I didn't know what to do. My aunt, who was studying in another city, rushed back later. After handling
my father's funeral, I was lost. I didn't know where to go.

My stepmother's house? I didn't want to go there. With my father gone, I wanted to go even less. My second uncle's family also had two
children , and my grandmother still lived with them. My aunt, who wasn't married yet, shared a room with my grandmother. I wasn't old
enough for my workplace to hire me. My grandmother, having no other choice, had my aunt write a letter to my mother, asking if
I could come and stay with her for a while.

My aunt led me off the bus, and I saw a young woman standing there. My aunt nudged
me: "Wang Zhi, your mother! Call her 'Mom'!"

I hadn't seen my mother for ten years. She hadn't changed much compared to the photos I'd seen of her. She still had
her bangs, an oval face, and big eyes. She was a little shorter than me, wearing a white shirt and
black leggings that showed off her long, shapely legs. She smiled gently at me.

I lowered my head shyly. My mother, whom I had dreamed of countless times, was now standing in front of me,
waiting for me to call her "Mom." But for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to say it. I

just kept my head down, like a primary school student who couldn't recite his lesson in front of the teacher. My aunt nudged me towards my mother
and secretly pinched my arm. "Wang Zhi, call her Mom!"

she said again.

I winced in pain from the pinch; she was probably in a bit of a hurry and pinched a little harder.
I looked up at the woman in front of me and called out, "Mom!" She responded crisply, "Yes," and then
reached out pull me up, still smiling, saying, "You're taller than me now!" Then I reached out and took
the luggage from my aunt's hand. It was actually just a small suitcase containing some of my change of clothes. I carried my own backpack.

There wasn't much else. Mom put the suitcase on the back rack of a bicycle and tied it up.
As she tied it, she said to us, "Let's walk there, it's not far."

Mom pushed the bicycle ahead, and my aunt followed closely behind, calling out, "Sister-in-law!"
Mom stopped. She

said, "Just call me by my name."

My aunt said, "I need to go back now, I have a lot of things to do at home." Mom said, "Now that we're here,
we should at least sit down and have a drink of water." I also pulled on my aunt's arm and said, "Auntie, let's
go ." My aunt said, "Okay, I'm dizzy from sitting on the bus all day."

We crossed the station, then followed Mom around a street corner. There was a large vegetable field. Mom said
this was their village's land, and we lived in the area ahead. She pointed, saying there was a small river in front, with a small bridge over it.
Beside the bridge stood a large banyan tree, and around it were several rural-style courtyard houses. I don't know which one Mom was referring to.
It was that particular house. It was about a ten-minute walk from the street corner to the small bridge. I don't have a watch, so I can only estimate. Over
twenty years have passed, and this place is completely unrecognizable. The town has expanded, swallowing
everything that was before. The river has been renovated, with riverbank walkways and railings built along both sides. The once endless vegetable fields have become
high-rise commercial districts. When

we reached the courtyard under the banyan tree at the small bridge, my mother stopped, parked her bicycle, and pushed open a gate,
calling out, "Teacher Zhou, they've arrived!" Then we heard a burst of hearty laughter coming from inside the courtyard
. Several people came out. Laughter brings a sense of warmth. My unease immediately subsided
. The person called Teacher Zhou jogged up to us, taking the bicycle from my mother and
saying , "Coming, coming, come in quickly!" His face was beaming. The other two stood behind the door.

One was a boy, who seemed to be about my age. The other was a girl, who seemed younger than me. They smiled
at us too. Entering the courtyard, I looked around at this place where I would begin my new life.
The , about a quarter the size of a basketball court, had a row of houses on the left. I could hear many chickens
clucking, as if they kept a lot of them. On the right were several more houses; I saw a stove and cooking utensils in one of them, and
in the middle was another row of four rooms. As I was looking around, my mother pulled me over. Teacher Zhou was
parking his bicycle in front of one of the middle rooms, untying the rope from his suitcase. My mother pulled me in front of him. "This
is Uncle Zhou," she said. "Wang Zhi, you'll call him Uncle from now on." She then called over the two children who had been standing to the side.
Pointing to the older boy, she said, "This is Zhou Zhihong, you'll call him Brother Hong. This is Zhou Wenjuan, she's older than you, you'll call her Sister Juan."

I greeted them one by one.

Then my mother introduced them to my aunt. Teacher Zhou untied his suitcase and invited us to sit down in the main living room.

It was only then that I noticed the main house was actually a two-room house, with a large living room in the middle and
two bedrooms on each side. There was also a small courtyard outside the main house, and beyond that was the small river. Only then did I
turn around and carefully observe the people I would be living with.

Teacher Zhou was about forty years old, wearing a gray short-sleeved shirt and gray trousers, and
about . He laughed constantly. Brother Hong was taller and more robust than me. When I looked at him, he was also
looking at me, and our eyes met. He smiled and nodded.

Sister Juan was rather thin, about the same height as my mother. She seemed a little awkward. When our eyes met,
she smiled, but the smile quickly faded. They all went to the town's middle school. Teacher Zhou taught physics at the school, Brother Hong
was a junior in high school, and would be a senior next semester. Sister Juan was a freshman. My mother raised chickens in the yard, hundreds of laying hens. That evening
, after dinner, I was arranged to stay with Brother Hong temporarily. That night, Brother Hong asked me carefully about my past. He was also saddened to hear of my father's
passing .

The next day, my aunt was leaving, and I was very reluctant to see her go. I saw her off at the station. On the way, she told me, "We left some of your father's
pension for your grandmother, and the rest for your mother. It's for your tuition and living expenses.
Study hard and try to get into university. Write to her if you need anything." She gave me her address.

I watched my aunt's car drive away, feeling a deep sadness, and tears welled up in my eyes. I hadn't cried much when my father
passed away, but today I cried.

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