Chapter 7 – Elementary School Student

Cradling a rabbit in one arm and gripping a baguette in the other, Wang Jiexiang stood still in the darkness.

She tilted her head, listening intently. It seemed like someone was speaking, the voice coming from far away—she couldn’t make out the words.

“Did you hear that?”

“Yeah.”

Feeling their way through the dark, they walked in the direction of the sound.

Suddenly, the arm holding the rabbit felt lighter, and at that moment, Wang Jiexiang kicked something—a plank.

“Yin Xian?”

No response. It looked like last time—he was no longer here.

Her freed hand reached out and touched something round, like a handle.

She grabbed it and turned it to the right. Sure enough, it was a door. It opened.

Taking a deep breath, Wang Jiexiang stepped inside.

The door opened, then shut. The voices nearby grew louder.

The overly bright light inside made it hard for her to see. Shielding her eyes, Wang Jiexiang needed a moment to adjust.

A man and a woman were quarreling not far away, voices clashing, punctuated by the crash of things being thrown to the ground.

Wang Jiexiang looked at her palm and the small baguette she was holding. She realized she had once again shrunk down to a little kid.

Where was she?

She looked around: an immaculately clean room, a single bed, a bookshelf, a desk.

She walked to the desk and placed her hand on the surface. The desk was wooden, topped with a layer of glass. Between the glass and the desk were a class schedule and a tabletop filled with award certificates.

The nearest certificate read: [Congratulations to student Yin Xian for being named the Class Three Merits Student of the Year].

This must be Yin Xian’s room.

So who were the people fighting?

Wang Jiexiang walked to the door and quietly opened it a crack to peek outside.

A boy, who looked like an elementary school student, sat with his back to her at the dining table doing homework. The door to the room beside him was closed—that was where the arguing came from.

Wang Jiexiang found it strange. Were the ones arguing Yin Xian’s parents? If so, how could he just sit there doing homework so calmly while listening to them fight? Normally, he should try to stop them, right?

Bang!!!

Something slammed to the floor and rolled noisily. Suddenly, the room fell silent.

Half a minute later, a woman’s voice said:

“I’m done talking. Yin Zhengming, if it weren’t for Yin Xian, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s still so young, I would’ve divorced you already.”

The man didn’t reply.

The door opened from inside, and Wang Jiexiang instinctively stepped back.

A tall woman came out, not sparing the child doing homework a single glance. She walked straight to the main door, opened it, and slammed it shut behind her.

The boy’s pen paused for a beat at the loud noise, but then he buried his head and continued writing.

Not long after, the man in the room also came out.

There was a slap mark on his face. He was unshaven and looked completely drained. Reaching the dining room, he slumped onto the sofa and angrily turned on the TV.

The old television played a melodramatic drama, the actors’ smiles unnaturally wide. The man stared at the screen, silent, detached.

Even hidden in Yin Xian’s room, Wang Jiexiang could feel the oppressive air outside.

After a long while, Yin Xian put down his pen and slowly turned around.

Wang Jiexiang saw his face. Elementary school-aged Yin Xian had wide, frightened eyes. His bangs were too long, partially covering them; his lips were pale and thin. Compared to last time, he had grown, but his demeanor was the same—he reminded her of a little sparrow soaked in a typhoon. Yin Xian was just like that.

“Dad…”

He spoke cautiously to the man.

“Should we go find Mom?”

The man grabbed the remote and started changing channels. Without waiting for the screen to switch, he kept pressing the button.

The images stuttered across the screen.

“How many times have I told you? Kids shouldn’t meddle in adult matters. Focus on your studies.”

Yin Xian dropped his gaze and turned back to the table.

“Did you finish those math problems I told you to do? You’ve got your mom’s personality—dragging your feet over the tiniest thing.”

The man muttered as he stood up, snatched the workbook from the boy’s hands.

He scanned a few lines, then his brow furrowed. He slapped the booklet onto the back of Yin Xian’s head.

“You got the third question wrong again.”

The book smacked down on the boy’s head, again and again. He sat stiffly, not dodging, taking the hits in silence.

“Wrong again. Always wrong.”

“You’re so stupid I wonder if you’re even my kid. How can you be this dumb?”

Wang Jiexiang watched in horror.

She had a weapon in her hand, yet she couldn’t decide what to do next—whether to rush out and help Yin Xian.

She had planned to lie low and figure out who posed a threat to Yin Xian. Once they showed up, she’d sneak behind them and land a blow. She hadn’t expected this. This was family. This was his father. It wasn’t something that could be solved with a few words or a quick swing.

Yin Xian was crying. His lips were tightly pressed together, tears falling one by one.

He must not have wanted to cry—his eyes were red from holding it in. As soon as tears welled up, he quickly wiped them away.

But that only brought more scolding from his father.

“Crying again. All you ever do is cry. Crying is useless—only weaklings cry.”

The workbook was shredded, and still, his father wasn’t done.

Yin Xian sat in his chair, his small back hunched. He couldn’t stop sobbing, so he curled up his face, trying to hide it from view.

“What right do you have to cry? Have I ever let you go hungry or cold? Have you lost your dad or mom? I’m strict because I’m training you, raising you, because I love you! I work my ass off for this family. You’ve got everything other kids have and more, and you’re still not satisfied? What are you complaining about? Who are you trying to guilt with that pitiful face?”

He grabbed Yin Xian by the hair, shaking him while ranting nonstop.

“Every time I come home and see your pathetic look, it pisses me off. Cry, cry, cry—can you not be so damn weak?”

“Hey!”

Kicking open the door, Wang Jiexiang swung her baguette like a sword, her words ringing out like a gavel.

“If you hit him again, I’m calling the cops.”

She couldn’t take it anymore. Even knowing her actions might be reckless, that her help might be presumptuous, she simply couldn’t watch a child being beaten and cursed.

In Yin Zhengming’s stunned gaze, Wang Jiexiang marched forward and shielded Yin Xian behind her.

“Who are you? Why are you in my house?”

The man towered over Wang Jiexiang, but she tilted her chin up, hands on her hips, glaring at him with a ferocity that matched his.

“I’m…” Wang Jiexiang lied without missing a beat, “the girl from next door.”

“Next door?” Yin Zhengming looked her up and down. “How’d you get in?”

“Through the window. The balcony.”

She tossed the baguette into his arms. “My mom told me to bring bread to your house. I’m taking Yin Xian out to play.”

Without waiting for permission, she grabbed Yin Xian’s hand and headed for the door.

“Wait a second.”

He called out.

Wang Jiexiang tugged hard, but Yin Xian didn’t move.

Yin Zhengming opened his wallet and pulled out a five-yuan bill, handing it to Yin Xian.

“Be like other kids. Smile every day. Go play, go laugh. So many kids in the complex ride bikes—I got you one too. Go ride it.”

He softened his tone. But Yin Xian was still recovering from the scolding and didn’t dare look at him.

That hesitant look reignited Yin Zhengming’s anger.

“You freak. Always with that sour face, sulking around at home. If you don’t want to go out, fine—get back to your problems.”

Yin Xian clutched the hem of his pants, head bowed.

“How can you talk to a child like that?”

Wang Jiexiang gave Yin Zhengming a shove, pushing him away from the boy.

She looked at Yin Xian—young, blank, ashamed. He bent down, picked up his workbook from the floor, and returned to the table piled with homework.

His small hands pressed down on the workbook, flattening the corners. His hair hung over his eyes. He began correcting the third problem his father said he got wrong.

Outside, the sun was shining, children laughing and running about.

Quiet, withdrawn Yin Xian sat in the dining room corner doing math. His body was forgotten by the light, a sliver of shadow wedged in the cracks of textbooks; gray creeping up his back, moss growing—he didn’t care.

“Let’s go. Come with me.”

She blocked his workbook and firmly intertwined their fingers.

Yin Xian shook his head and pulled his hand away.

Wang Jiexiang’s heart shattered.

“Look at me.”

She cupped his face. Their eyes met, and more tears welled up.

Those disobedient tears made the child panic again, and Wang Jiexiang gently comforted him. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“Listen to me, Yin Xian, Yin Xian.”

Meeting his teary gaze, she smoothed his bangs and wiped away the tears.

“It’s okay to cry. It’s normal. You’re not broken. You’re not a freak. Don’t be afraid.”

She hugged him tightly, her expression as solemn as a principal’s speech, like a stern school dean.

She earnestly told him:

“You don’t even know how good you are, how amazing—from head to toe, from beginning to end…”

“Yin Xian, you’re the best.”

“You are this!” Wang Jiexiang gave him a huge thumbs-up, pressing it to his face like a seal of approval.

“Everyone in the world should like you. Like they love holidays. Like they love getting paid. Anyone who doesn’t like you—they’re the problem. They have awful taste! Their brains are broken!”

Yin Zhengming already didn’t like her, and hearing her veiled insults gave him the excuse to kick her out.

“You’re really an unruly kid. Climbing in through the balcony, now teaching my son nonsense. Where are your parents? I need to take you to—”

Wang Jiexiang gave Yin Xian a look.

Now she could pull him. A gentle tug, and he followed her down from the chair to the floor.

“Yin Xian!”

Yin Zhengming bellowed, blocking their way.

Wang Jiexiang stomped on his foot, ducked under his arm, and led Yin Xian toward the front door.

“Running away again.”

The wind brushed her ear, and she could’ve sworn she heard grown-up Yin Xian speaking.

That familiar, half-smiling tone said:

“Can’t you come up with something new, Wang Feifei?”

She looked back.

Only elementary-school Yin Xian clung tightly to her hand.

Without realizing it, they had run down from the third floor. He was exhausted, gasping for breath.