1.
“You’re a girl. We’ve already been generous letting you go to high school.” My mother came out of the kitchen wearing an apron, one hand on her hip, pointing a greasy spatula straight at me. “I told you, didn’t I? The more you study, the more cold-blooded and ungrateful you become. Now you even dare come home and accuse me of stealing money!”
My father sat stiffly on the sofa and cleared his throat. “We’re under a lot of pressure too, Song Ha. Can’t you understand your mother and me? Your younger brother, Song Zheming, is about to start high school too. We can’t afford to put two kids through college.”
“I don’t need your money. I just want the money Grandma saved for me.”
I stared intently at the shoes on Song Zheming’s feet. A rich kid in the neighboring arts class used to wear a pair just like them. I’d heard him brag that they cost 5,000 yuan.
Five thousand yuan. What a coincidence.
The money Grandma had saved for me by selling scrap came to exactly 5,000 yuan—not a yuan more or less.
“I said from the beginning that we shouldn’t have had her. Now she treats us like enemies.”
My mother kept cursing as she tossed vegetables into the pan. Oil crackled and splattered. She deliberately slammed the ladle against the pot, then turned her back to me:
“As long as I’m breathing, you won’t get a single cent from me. Ungrateful, heartless brat!”
“Song Ha, your mother’s health isn’t good. Don’t make her angry.” My father set down his teacup. “Your grandmother’s health isn’t good either. That day, your mother even brought fruit to visit her, and when she had a stroke, your mother called 120 for an ambulance. Why would you accuse your mother of taking Grandma’s bankbook?”
She was the one who took it.
Last month, my grandmother called to tell me she’d saved 5,000 yuan and told me not to worry about college tuition.
“My sweet girl, just focus on your studies. As long as Grandma’s alive, I’ll see you through college.”
I grew up with my paternal grandmother. My parents took my younger brother to make a living in the big city and left me with her in a small town.
When I started high school, I lived at school and only went back to my grandmother’s once a month. Yesterday, when I came home, the old man next door told me my grandmother had suffered a stroke and was lying unconscious in the hospital.
Now my grandmother was still in the hospital, and her bankbook had disappeared.
In the past month, no one but my mother had visited my grandmother’s house.
But I had no concrete proof.
I bit down hard on my lip, my eyes still fixed on the shoes on Song Zheming’s feet.
My younger brother, who was in middle school, finally looked up from his phone, glanced at me, then smirked.
“Sis, what’s the point of studying so much? One of my classmates has a sister who got married after high school. Her husband’s rich and always drives us around. It’s so cool.”
At the sound of her precious son’s voice, my mother softened and sneered:
“I don’t expect this girl to make something of herself. I just want her to stop making me out to be a thief.”
“Sis, is it really worth it? You came all the way back for 5,000 yuan. What can you even buy with that now? It’s not enough to get me a few outfits in my game.”
That was right. To him, 5,000 yuan was nothing.
But it was enough to make me clutch two steamed buns and a bottle of water and ride the train for three hours to get here.
I really needed that money.
Even if I couldn’t keep studying, it was money Grandma had saved by collecting scrap piece by piece.
The neighbor who ran a restaurant told me Grandma was so frugal she wouldn’t even buy vegetables, waiting until the market closed to ask for leftovers. In the middle of winter, she’d pedal her tricycle to the recycling depot with the scrap she’d collected and haggle with the buyers, telling them she had to put her granddaughter through college and begging them to pay a little more.
The air conditioner was running, and the freshly served braised pork smelled so good that, shamefully, it made me hungry too.
Dinner was set on the table. My mother ignored me completely and warmly called Song Zheming over to eat.
The three of them sat together in perfect harmony, as if I were an invisible intruder disrupting their family.
“Mom…”
I clenched my teeth and managed to force out one word.
Ever since I learned that she’d once planned to abandon me just because I was a girl, I’d never called her Mom.
“Please, Mom…”
My head slowly bowed.
It was humiliating. So humiliating.
“Could you lend me 5,000 yuan?”
Without money, I couldn’t finish twelfth grade. I had no idea where I’d get the money for books and exam fees.
I wanted to study. I wanted Grandma to see my college acceptance letter.
“I’ll pay you back after I graduate…”
Her hand, lifting meat for Song Zheming, paused. She shot me a look of contempt.
That look cut into my pride like a knife, forcing me to lower my head.
“Oh, you’re crying now too?” Song Zheming looked as if he’d seen something amusing and sneered. “You come begging for money and still act like you’re the one who’s been wronged.”
I felt my pride was like a frail branch, being crushed little by little.
“Mom, could I kneel and beg you?”
My voice was quiet but clear, as if someone else had spoken.
My knees struck the tile hard, and I heard my pride shatter.
Back in middle school, when I learned they planned to abandon me and have another son, I hid under the covers and cried for countless nights, swearing I’d never have anything to do with them again.
But when it came to money, pride wasn’t worth a cent. It really wasn’t.
She turned her back to me, set her chopsticks on her bowl, and couldn’t be bothered to look at me.
“Song Ha, let me make this clear.
“Even if you die here today, I won’t give you any money. I don’t have any now, and I never will.”
“Even if I did have money, it would belong to your brother. Everything in this house is his.”
“You have nothing to do with it. Don’t even dream about it.”
2
I don’t know how I left that house.
I stood waiting for the train at the station, dazed.
The train on the opposite track screamed toward me, and I suddenly mocked myself: “If I got into an accident here, they probably wouldn’t even furrow their brows.”
Lost in thought, I was suddenly yanked back by a hand. When I came to, I realized I’d crossed the yellow safety line. A railway employee was shouting angrily:
“Hey, girl! Are you trying to get yourself killed?!”
I returned to the dorm, exhausted. My aunt texted me, telling me not to worry and to focus on my studies; she’d take good care of Grandma.
My roommates had just returned from evening self-study. Seeing how I looked, they all understood and didn’t ask much. Vi Vi, our room leader, heated some water to help me make instant noodles. Tiểu Quang, whose bed was across from mine, set a practice test on my desk. Văn Văn reminded me:
“We have an English spelling test tomorrow.”
Perhaps because they were afraid I’d feel awkward, my roommates made an exception today: they got into bed early and turned out the lights right away.
Left alone, I held the cup of noodles and stared at the practice test, its mistakes carefully marked. The tears I’d been holding back all day suddenly burst out like a broken dam.
At first, I tried to hold them in, but soon I couldn’t stop sobbing.
I don’t know how long I cried. My roommates didn’t ask me a single question.
Until I finally spoke:
“…What score do you need to get into college for free?”
Văn Văn, the weakest student in the group, was the first to sit bolt upright:
“If you get into Tsinghua or Peking University, you definitely won’t have to pay. Those schools even compete for students.”
My throat tightened. With my current grades, I’d be lucky to get into some mediocre school.
Vi Vi, who was a year older than us, turned on the light. After hearing what had happened during the day, she sighed.
Tiểu Quang, the class vice monitor for math, had a fiery temper. She snapped:
“Song Ha, we have to work hard! We have to get great scores and show them who really comes out on top!”
I suddenly remembered when I was in elementary school, after I got perfect scores in both subjects and brought my certificate home. My paternal grandmother had hugged me and said:
“Our Song Ha has such a gift for studying.”
“When Song Ha gets into Tsinghua or Peking University, I’ll walk down the street setting off firecrackers to celebrate!”
Later, when I started middle school, my grades slipped a little. But Grandma wasn’t in any hurry:
“Whatever school our Song Ha gets into, I’ll be proud.”
“Don’t put pressure on yourself. All I want is for you to live a happy life.”
I remembered my aunt telling me that when I was born, my parents had planned to give me away so they could have another son. But Grandma had cried and pleaded with them, refusing to let them send me away.
I remembered Grandma, bent over as she secretly collected recyclables without letting me know. I remembered her proudly saying she’d saved 5,000 yuan. I remembered her lying in a hospital bed, frail and haggard.
My hands clenched tight.
This time, I wanted to make Grandma proud.
3
My grades in the humanities were decent, but I was terrible at the sciences. I’d never even gotten an average score in math.
I’d fallen behind in math ever since trigonometry in my first year of high school. And that was before things like sequences and derivatives.
Just looking at the numbers gave me a headache. I couldn’t understand how the teachers could explain only a few basic formulas, yet the problems were several times harder. I had no idea which formula to use to solve them.
“I got a little too much rice. It’d be a waste if I couldn’t finish it. Song Ha, can you help me polish it off?” Văn Văn set her lunchbox on my desk. Tiểu Quang picked up my math test and said:
“Looking over your mistakes? Go ahead and eat. I’ll take a look for you.”
The school in our county didn’t have the best resources. The top-track classes aimed for admission to 985 and 211 universities, while students in regular classes like ours were either badly unbalanced in their studies or just average. Getting into a second-tier college was already considered good.
In our dorm room, Tiểu Quang was great at math, but she relied on guesswork in English and was lucky if she got even a few questions right.
Văn Văn was preparing to study abroad, so she often helped everyone in the dorm with chores, saying she had nothing better to do when she was free.
Vi Vi, our room leader, was average in every subject, with no particular strength to boost her grades.
“You’re solving these trigonometric function problems on pure enthusiasm.” Tiểu Quang chewed on the end of her pen and pointed at my test. “Let me show you a trick. If the calculations get too complicated, you’ve probably chosen the wrong formula. That’s not what the problem is testing.”
“Don’t focus on one number. Hold the test a little farther away and you’ll see they’re just different forms of the formulas.”
“There’s a pattern to how they write the tests, too. I can tell you’ve never paid attention to it.”
Tiểu Quang’s sharp words seemed to snap me out of my daze.
“You never stop talking when you teach math, but you’re all tears when it comes to English,” Văn Văn teased.
Just like her name, Tiểu Quang was quick as a flash. She snatched up my notebook of mistakes and said she’d help me figure out where I was going wrong.
“Don’t waste your time on me. Just circle the mistakes, and I can look them over myself,” I said shyly.