Grandpa was the bond between him and that family. When Grandpa was around, after all, he was an elder, and also Uncle’s biological father, so there was still some concern. Only Auntie would scold, saying she had married into this family and had eight lifetimes of bad luck, that they were all “dragged oil bottles” [拖油瓶 – derogatory term for a child brought into a new marriage, i.e., a burden from a previous relationship], big “dragged oil bottle” bringing along a small “dragged oil bottle”, and so on.
Uncle would speak up for Grandpa, and Auntie would scold him along with it—“useless thing,” “good-for-nothing who can’t earn money.”
When Grandpa was gone, Auntie became even more unrestrained, and Uncle also no longer had the scruples he had when Grandpa was around, joining in the scolding.
Song Qing could only work even more days to slightly ease things. The bits and pieces of money he earned doing handcraft work and tutoring others all went to Uncle and Auntie. If he didn’t turn it in on time, they wouldn’t pay his tuition.
He couldn’t produce a large sum for tuition, so he could only endure it like burning lamp oil during a power outage—endure, and endure again.
At that time, he wasn’t yet a registered poor household on subsistence allowance \[贫困低保户 – designation for low-income households eligible for government aid], and he also didn’t have a file established. Couldn’t get it approved—registering as a poor household needed connections to get in.
Establishing a file and record was useful for transferring from vocational to undergraduate programs. Plenty of people fought to send bribes just to get a slot, but he couldn’t get one.
He didn’t have inside connections.
The country’s policy was good, very considerate toward the poor, but the people implementing the policy weren’t any good—passing the buck like playing kickball. One day this one says you’re unqualified, next day it’s the other one.
If you really wanted to get it done, there was still one method—make trouble, stir up a ruckus everywhere. Even a mosquito’s meat, no matter how little, is still meat, especially when it came to poor subsidies for Uncle and Auntie’s family.
Auntie dragged him to the service window to cause a scene, rolling on the ground, blocking the staff from leaving, splashing feces and urine, seeking out village officials, and so on—eventually, they still got it done.
When the trouble can no longer be covered up, he actually did meet the conditions for low-income and file-establishment.
After getting the subsistence allowance status and file registration, he also applied for the school’s poverty aid. The first year, he was still squeezed out. Li Xiufang came to the school again to make a scene, blocked his homeroom teacher and other teachers, even stopped the principal several times, harassed them even during their move, ranting everywhere about how unfair it was, that the school had inside dealings, etc.
As long as one was a normal person, they would be afraid of someone like her, and so, as she wished, it got approved.
Although the money didn’t go into his hands, once it was approved and money was available, Uncle and Auntie’s attitude toward him eased a bit. Life became slightly better than before.
But it was only temporary. Very soon, he found that Li Xiufang was getting more irritable by the day—because many people said she was stupid, dumb, raising someone else’s son.
Other people’s sons just couldn’t be raised to loyalty. Once they grew up and their wings hardened, they would fly away the first chance they got. The promises and signatures back then would become a joke—not even recognizing her.
Because of these words, Li Xiufang kept a close eye on him. His ID card and household registration book, and the bank cards left behind by his parents, were all taken away. If he came back late from tutoring others, he would be mocked with cold sarcasm—“Did you settle down outside?” “Not planning to come back anymore?”—those kinds of words.
Turns out those people were right—really can’t raise someone else’s son. Raise and raise, and they just fly off.
Maybe because of that, she pushed him hard to do this and that—wanting to get her return on investment before he came of age.
High school was already heavy in coursework. He had also been suddenly forced to skip a grade in middle school, his foundation wasn’t that solid, and he still had to constantly do housework and take care of the child. He could only recite texts, read books, and solve problems amid the noise and crying.
Grades inevitably slipped, but still okay—he could maintain a front rank.
In high school, Li Xiufang still wanted him to skip. One more skip and he’d have to take the college entrance exam in second year and enter a youth class.
At that time, he basically took care of all housework, looked after the child, went tutoring during free time, and was occasionally called to do handicraft labor. Too many odd jobs—his studies couldn’t keep up. He couldn’t skip, so he just told Li Xiufang that high school couldn’t be skipped.
Li Xiufang didn’t know any of that. After cursing him a few times for being a money-losing good, she still paid his tuition.
By then, the family already couldn’t do without him. If he went out for a few days for competitions, the household would be in chaos—chickens flying, dogs jumping \[鸡飞狗跳 – idiom: complete mess]. Uncle and Auntie would nag every day about when he was coming back. If they didn’t pay his tuition, he had no reason to stay.
His only requirement was to go to school. Uncle and Auntie knew that too. They might skimp on everything else, but on this point—at most they’d curse him a few times: “What’s the point of studying,” “Still end up earning two or three thousand a month outside,” “Waste of money,” and so on.
Actually, the various scattered bits of money he brought back each year could basically sustain his tuition. Plus, his labor force freed up their hands to go out and earn money— they only gained, not lost— so they didn’t exploit him more in that aspect.
Soon it came to his university years. Those scattered bits of money were still taken by them, and he still couldn’t afford the big chunks of tuition.
It was equivalent to borrowing money from them, then paying back every cent and every dime.
Of course, borrowing money came with a price and interest. His uncle and aunt demanded that he must bring back a certain amount of money every month. That money included what was written in the contract he previously signed— a lot. If he didn’t give it, they would go to his school and make a scene, calling him an ungrateful white-eyed wolf.
In college, there were fewer classes, more time. Tutoring money was also a bit more expensive. Plus, there were grants, national subsidies, etc., so he could barely manage.
He could also get scholarships, but scholarships were useful for further studies or graduate exams. He only got it once or twice before other parents found out about his background and contacted his uncle and aunt.
They definitely stuffed money in, anyway his uncle and aunt didn’t let him get it again.
He couldn’t get it officially anymore, but the money would be given privately— a bit more than the official scholarship.
He had no objections. What he wanted was money. As for taking graduate exams— he never considered it. Being able to attend university was already a luxury item for a poor student like him.
Going any further, he couldn’t take it anymore.
He was desperate to get out. He wanted to earn money and escape his current situation.
People who’ve never been poor definitely won’t understand that kind of feeling— being constrained in every way, layer after layer of cloth strips wrapping around you. Spending even one cent, eating a steamed bun, you’d get counted and picked on. If there was even the slightest thing that didn’t go their way, they’d curse you as a money-losing good, tell you to get lost from their home— those suffocating days.
He nearly couldn’t hold on countless times.
If not for the many people who supported him on this road, who reached out a hand to pull him up, he might have long collapsed halfway.
After graduation, he was almost nineteen by nominal age \[虚岁 xū suì – traditional Chinese age counting, adds one year], just turned eighteen on his ID. If he endured a bit more, he’d soon reach the legal working age.
He wanted to find a job first, settle down, and think about grad school later.
The idea was good— it was just that plans couldn’t keep up with changes.
He had been thinking all along about how to pay back what he signed back then, the money owed to his uncle and aunt, and break free from them. But before he had the chance— they thought of getting rid of him first.
When he was hospitalized, his uncle and aunt took advantage of his sleep and returned his ID, household registration book, and so on— except the bank cards.
Actually, he wasn’t asleep at the time. After experiencing such a major upheaval, his nerves were sensitive and fragile. He could no longer sleep straight through till morning like before. With even the slightest movement beside him, he’d wake up.
He practically heard with his own ears as they said: “This little bastard, we didn’t treat you badly. You wanted to study, and we let you. Now we’re giving your things back— don’t come clinging to us again.”
He opened his eyes and could still see the backs of the two quietly leaving in the dim hospital room.
They abandoned him at the moment he needed help the most. Once he was of no use, they threw him away. Did he hate them? Actually, compared to them, what he hated more were those chattering, fake relatives.
When his parents got into a car accident, to a child who was twelve by nominal age, it was like the sky collapsed. He was at a loss, panicked, and scared.
At that time, someone suggested adopting him. But soon after, another voice said: “He’s already this big. He can’t be raised. No matter how well you treat him, in his heart it’s still his biological parents who are the best. There’s no place for adoptive parents at all.”
“He won’t be as good as your own kids, and in the end you’ll get resentment. Why bother doing something so thankless?”
He finally managed to gain a foothold in his uncle and aunt’s house, and those people would then turn around and curse the couple too— saying they were stupid. That when he was still young in middle school, they should’ve taken him to dig coal. Now he’s older, understands more, and will be even harder to control in the future.
The contract was only good for scaring little kids. Once he becomes an adult, just see if he’ll acknowledge it— as soon as he reaches that age, he’ll definitely run. The world is vast—where would you even find him?
Even if you withhold his ID card, household registration book, and graduation certificate, it’s still not secure. These things can be faked— as long as the information is correct, who can say it’s fake? It doesn’t stop him from getting a job.
As for the bank card— once he’s grown, he’ll update the information and change it to his own card. Then they won’t be able to get the poverty subsidies anymore.
Li Xiufang and her husband were originally from the countryside, uneducated, couldn’t even write their own names, barely ever went outside. They were easily fooled and dazed by others’ coaxing, endlessly coming up with new ways to torment him.
Back at the hospital, it was also those people who egged Li Xiufang and her husband on— encouraged them to make him jump off the building to extort money from the hospital.
They said: “Like this, he might as well die. If he dies, it’d at least count as doing a good deed.”
At his hospital bed, they discussed the driver from back then. The second time wasn’t even out of panic or confusion— he deliberately wanted to kill him.
If he had just hit and killed him in one go, it’d be a one-time compensation. But with injuries like this, what follows is endless: all kinds of costs, lifelong care.
The driver was useless—didn’t crush him a few more times. Now he’s in this half-dead, half-alive state. He’d be a burden no matter where he went.
They heard that jumping off a building had cases where the hospital had to compensate 100,000 to 200,000 yuan, and under the temptation of money, the two were swayed.
Luckily, they had the heart of a thief but not the guts of one. Otherwise, he might really not have made it.
At that time, he could clearly feel that it was the most fragile period of his life. The slightest disturbance would make him fall apart. If someone kept egging him on to die, he might have really lost control. But he wouldn’t do it the way they wanted.
He’d borrow some money, rent a wheelchair, and die quietly in a corner somewhere— without troubling anyone, clean and neat.
These things— he originally intended to rot in his heart forever, never to speak of.
But for some reason—maybe because Nan Zhi talked to him every day about her childhood, about when she got older, her relationship with her parents, her troubles at work, private stuff, what food from which place is delicious, where is fun to go, and so on.
Among those were inevitably some awkward and unfair things, events that left her feeling resentful. After hearing so many of those kinds of things, he also seemed to develop a desire to open up.
He wanted to tell Nan Zhi about his own things.
He didn’t want to hide anything from her.