"Don't Love" - Chapter 115

He has to leave for work tomorrow at 10 o'clock. That night, the two slept for a short time. Li Tong was in high spirits, repeatedly painting a beautiful picture of the future for her: a job, a promotion, an apartment, then spending money to get her household registration transferred to the city, then arranging a job for her, then their son going to school, then their son getting a job, then retirement, and both of them having pensions… She listened silently, feeling numb. His vision was too perfect, too far ahead. Life was too unpredictable. For a farmer like them, who knew what uncertainties lay ahead…
"It seems, Tong, you care a lot about having a rural household registration. Sigh, I've burdened you. I'm so sorry..."
A kind of sorrow, like many tiny insects, gnawed at her heart, and her tears flowed silently.
"Hey, what's wrong with you? Why? I'm leaving tomorrow. You should congratulate me and wish me well. You even think changing words is unlucky, so why are you crying again?"
He wiped her tears, kissed her, comforted her, and caressed her so tenderly.
“Tong, tell me what’s on your mind. Do you really care about having a rural household registration? Answer me.”
She didn't know where the pain came from; a deep sorrow shrouded her heart, refusing to dissipate, and tears streamed down her face.
"How could I not care? To say I don't care would be a lie. You and I, like everyone else, are human beings. Everyone has the right to aspire to a better life and strive for a better life. What does a rural household registration mean? It means working the land from dawn till dusk. My classmates who went to the countryside and returned to the city have described it to me more than once. They were never even full. It was a place of exile, so miserable. Who wouldn't care? We need to find a way to bring you and the child to the city. I've already made preparations. After the child is born, we won't register the household registration yet. It's very difficult to move both of us to the city at once. It's easier if we come one by one. There will always be a way to keep you out of the countryside. But I care even more about my wife, my beloved who has dedicated her youth to me."
As he spoke, he stroked her, sensing her tears welling up.
"The child, without a registered household, in the countryside, barely having enough to eat... Here, besides love and selfless devotion—purifying her body—she truly can't contribute anything material to this little nest... She has nothing..."
As she listened and thought, she longed to burst into tears, but she couldn't. After all, he loved her too much, a love that was flawless… She was leaving tomorrow, and she couldn't cry out loud. She bit her lip, but couldn't hold back the tears; her chest heaved…
The night was so short, the early morning so short. She wept all night, and the tears are still flowing now. She can't explain why; a faint sorrow and a deep grief tear and entwine in her heart. She holds him, wishing he would stay until tomorrow, to grant her one more night of warmth… He holds her, unable to express his feelings, unable to convey his love. He kisses her, sucking away her tears…
The clock struck eight... They had to get up...
At nine o'clock, he and she arrived at the train station together. There were many people, and they had to wait another hour. He held her hand and talked to her nonstop, describing the bright future and trying his best to make her happy and excited. She listened silently without saying a word, only feeling a strange sadness and sorrow, as if she was about to be alone in a vortex of sand and dust, an endless expanse of yellow dust... a chaotic kind of fear.
"Ying, answer me, do you believe I can give you something wonderful? I—I definitely will, answer me?"
He shook her shoulder, hoping she would offer a word of reassurance. In this final moment of parting, he wanted to hear the joyful sound of his and her hearts…
"Okay, Tong, let's talk about it as we go... I believe you..."
She bit her lip as she answered, tears streaming down her face again. She remained noncommittal, only bewildered and fearful.
"Oh, you're always like this, always like this, so lacking in confidence. You have to be happy, you—you absolutely have to be happy..."
He wiped away her tears, and the more he wiped, the more tears flowed...
The train arrived, and they squeezed to the door. He rushed forward, waving to her, "Take care, take care, write to me... Ah, goodbye, goodbye..."
The train started moving, and quickly disappeared with a roar, gone, gone. She silently turned back, "Goodbye, goodbye, is it goodbye? Is it farewell? Is it a final goodbye? Is it forever... Oh God, goodbye... Oh God..." she murmured, her heart trembling violently—a sense of foreboding, a feeling of impending death, pressed heavily on her heart...
Her love was gone, gone far away. That day, the entire day, the small rented room seemed to have lost half of its beauty. The sunlight dimmed, the air thinned, and she seemed to suddenly become dazed, sitting there blankly, lost in thought. She, a person repulsed by the city, seemed like a stray deer, hanging precariously from an old vine on a cliff, about to fall to the bottom in an unpredictable gust of wind… The desolation of being utterly alone, the loneliness of family estranged, she suddenly missed her mother, missed her so much, longed for her deceased mother to sit before her, scolding her gently. “Mother, have you forgotten your daughter too? Don’t you want your daughter anymore? Why don’t you even visit me in a dream…”
Life must go on. Sorrow cannot replace life. Let the past be gone. The lonely tree on the old green mountain lives its whole life, doesn't it? As for me, I still have him in my belly, my baby. This seed, I will watch it mature... nurture it to mature, and reap the fruit of my sacrifice. This is something I will not back down from, it is the only thing that sustains my life.
She taught classes, finished class, returned to her rented room, ate, locked the door, went back to school, quietly went, quietly returned, quiet nights, quiet days, peace gave her several days of comfort. The hope in her belly grew stronger day by day. At night, in her lonely bed, she stroked her gradually protruding belly, imagining the baby's first cry after ten months, the baby nestled in her arms a few days later, gently suckling milk, that soft, warm, comforting warmth, kicking and scratching her, the sweet call of "Mom" after a year, then the clumsy, unsteady steps of learning to walk, the baby secretly rummaging through her books when he was two or three, playing with his little fingers at the door, babbling numbers like "two, three, four," then carrying his little schoolbag to school, accompanying her through sixteen years of days and nights. At that time, this little guy would sweep away all her sorrow. He would never look down on his mother for having an agricultural household registration, nor would he sneer at her. In ten months, this heart would be born—ten months, eight months—soon, very soon, there would be hope, a hope that no one could take away, a hope that belonged only to her… She thought, a sweet feeling quietly rising within her, anticipating the victory that was about to arrive…
Three days passed in silence and contemplation. How quickly time flew by; three days had gone by, three days he had been gone. One left for three days, the other stayed for three days. In those three days, the small rented room was less crowded day and night; the liveliness, the warmth, the whispers of family mingled less. But the sun still shone, the clouds still drifted, the wind still blew, the birds still sang, the tall buildings still stood, the roads still stretched out—nothing had changed, nothing had happened, everything was still functioning as usual. Perhaps I shouldn't be so downcast? Perhaps I was frightened by my own weakness? Perhaps the intolerable discrimination wasn't so…so stubborn… She pondered to herself, and her mind began to calm. No shock, no surprise, just calm as still water, a heart as still as still water. How wonderful this quiet was. This quiet was enough; the baby in her belly needed quiet. In another seven or eight months, this little one would be making noise. She stroked her cheek and smiled shyly…
On the fourth day, the tranquility was abruptly shattered. It was Sunday. After breakfast, she began preparing her lesson plans at the small wooden table. A dim light appeared at the doorway, and a person appeared—Li Tong's mother, her mother-in-law. She had seen this woman once before; her face held high with arrogance, her lips pursed in a haughty manner, looking down with disdain, like a towering mountain looking down on a pile of rocks also called a mountain. But today was not entirely like that day; a smile graced her face. She stood up timidly, unsure what to say. This cramped little room, with barely any room to sit or stand, seemed beneath her dignity. She fiddled with the buttons on her shirt, considering how to approach her. If she had nothing to say, she might as well wait for her to speak first; stillness was the best policy. She stood there blankly, realizing she owed her nothing. Standing up now was out of politeness to an ordinary visitor. Perhaps this was the attitude she desired; enthusiasm would only desecrate her urban sophistication.
Li Tong's mother stood at the doorway for a moment, seemingly waiting for some expected, humble plea, as if she already knew that such a wait was impossible. She took a step forward: "Ying, I've been busy these past few days and haven't been able to come see you, and you haven't come over either, um..."
Li Tong's mother glanced at her, said casually, and waved her hand behind her. A tricycle came by, the driver jumped off, and carried in vegetables, cooking oil, rice, and new bedding, one by one. It was quite abrupt and unexpected. Feng Ying was a little flattered and didn't know how to react.
"We have everything here, we don't need anything. Take it back, there's no room here, it'll break..."
Feng Ying hesitated and declined, her thoughts a jumbled mess.
"What? You don't accept me as your mother-in-law? You don't want to accept me?"
Li Tong's mother stood with her hands behind her back, looking at Feng Ying with arrogance and questioning her with dissatisfaction.
"How could that be? I think if I called you 'Mom,' you might not accept it. Would you accept it?"
She stood there, like a student receiving her reprimand, offering a kind and reasonable explanation in response.
"I'm your mother, why shouldn't I accept it? You won't call me that, are you going to make me feel like I'm invisible? Huh?"
Li Tong's mother smiled. It was a rare smile.
"Okay, Mom, it was my fault, I was wrong. Please don't take offense. Look, it's not easy for you to sit in this room."
Li Tong's mother wanted to go inside, but the house was too small. Feng Ying looked at her mother-in-law at the door and felt like she was sitting on pins and needles. She really wanted her to leave quickly.
"I won't sit here. Tong isn't home. If you need anything, just go home and let her know. Okay. I'm going to the market."
The old woman didn't go inside. She watched the tricycle driver busily carry the things into the small house, and then he drove off with the tricycle. The old woman stood there, stunned, watching him walk away, forgetting even to say goodbye.

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"Don't Love" - Chapter 115

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