A little girl stamped out of the room and started running towards the dark hill in the distance, not knowing what was there. Her thick, long pigtails shook off raindrops like brushes. The slammed wooden door trembled and made a squeaky complaint. Cries of heavy rain covered a ragged young man's deep, irritated grudges. Memories flashed on as cold early spring rain caressed her pale skin and mixed with her desperate tears.

Red and yellow lanterns were hung high on the edges of tiles, couplets were stuck on both sides of the doorframe, and the choking spices of peppers and thumping sounds of pots wafted out of the kitchen with smoke from the cooking fire. Groups of relatives and friends holding boxes of chickens killed and cleaned early in the morning were chatting merrily, traversing through the narrow streets and visiting each household with a handful of gifts and interminable new-year wishes. It was another regular Spring Festival at a self-sustaining small town in the 1970s when agriculture and stock farming were still the primary sources of income.

Watching the iridescent horizon changing colors, the little girl with brown-black curly hair leaned on the coarse surface of a wooden desk. “Endless rounds of dinners flowing like wavelet…Boring.” Her eyes were grayish like singers in the historical sites of Casablanca, and her hair was so distinct among the crowd of pure black and straight ones, especially the curls that highly vexed the locals.

“Inauspicious!”

“Doomful!”

“Snappish!”

She couldn’t keep track of the many whispers filled with contempt she’d heard. Her name was also given to offset the notorious properties she was considered to possess. It was kindly given as a blessing---Xuemei, or wintersweet, told her to stay calm and genial. She didn’t care much about the name or the comments of others. They were not something that could make her family get rid of poverty or equip her with the capabilities to enter the world she had not yet had the opportunity to see.

Little Min, her sister, and Little Binbin, her little brother, turned festivals into loads of chores instead of delight. Despite being born and raised here, she didn’t fit in due to her unique appearance and inner nature. The little girl often suddenly paused the work in hand and surveyed around, examining each detail she should have been familiar with, and realized how everything failed to resonate with her.

Click clack, click clack.

“Oh no…I still have homework.”

Click clack, click clack.

The little girl forced her body up with her hands, her pigtail flailing from side to side. She slightly stumbled over the high threshold and called as she stamped towards the kitchen, “Mom! They’re coming. Heat the dishes.”

Click clack, click clack.

“How do you know?” The woman in her forties had silver threads in her bushy hair. She rose from the couch and asked, confused.

“I heard their heavy tread. The whole corridor is filled with their laughter.”

“Anyway, keep up with your good hearing. Now, come, help me clear the table. I can’t believe I haven’t finished cleaning up the previous round, and here comes another…” Words kept rolling out of her mouth while her hands swiftly traversed between the dirty dishes and chopsticks.

Rat-tat! Rat-tat!

The woman rushed to the door, tucked her loose, scattered bangs behind her ears, put on her hospitable smile, and welcomed the crowd to the huge round dinner table. The room was instantly steeped in voices wishing “Happy New Year.” The little girl ensured everyone was satisfied with their seat and went into the bedrooms.

“Little Min! Little Binbin! Come and meet the relatives!” Two little heads craned from the corners of the aisles, followed by each of their round bodies covered in cotton-padded overcoats. The two sides of the clothes were joined together by thick twines on their waists.

The girl couldn’t remember how long the greetings, chatter in the living room, and the sizzles of hot oil and clangs of cauldrons lasted, but each spring festival day was the same: long talks and busy evenings. The boiling water, specifically the sounds of fizzing bubbles and scalding feeling on the fingers, kept memories of those nights in her mind. “If something can be reused, it should not be wasted. Staying frugal is important.” Her mother always reminded her. Dishwashing liquid was not affordable, so boiling water in the steaming pot was used instead to dissolve the cooking oil. Later, she developed makeshift gloves from scraps of leftover clothes she saved. Even though it was not a good insulator, it, at the very least, prevented her from suffering from the extreme heat in the kitchen and frigid outside.

“Mom, I’m finished!” She yelled in fatigue. Silence was the only response.

“Mom! Mom? Where are you?” She checked each small room for signs of her mother, frowning until she saw a stooped back beside the bedside cupboard. Her impatient words were blocked right at her tongue when she saw the woman deftly counting the money sheets inside each red packet.

“How much for this year?”

“About two hundred.” The woman did not raise her eyes.

“You know, I hope one day the red packets can serve their actual purpose when given to children with elders’ sincere blessing and spent on buying New Year sweets and snacks.” The little girl stood by the window, scattered moonlight sparkles on her face reflecting her sorrow.

“Oh, the red packets are certainly for you, Min, and Binbin. It’s just that they have to be saved and put together right now. They will serve a greater purpose; one day, you will thank me. I hope you understand that what you said is not merely a dream. You can give red packets to others every year if you have the money.” She laughed at the end that the little girl could not tell whether she was being genuine or not and what the greater purpose meant, but either way, the little girl emphasized to herself that the only possible way for her to achieve a better living was by her hard work. The woman noted down the money and blew the ink dry. An uncomfortable silence filled the room, forcing the little girl to leave.  

The sun was dragged downwards until it was entirely out of sight, and immense black soon poured over the extensive canvas above, inlaid with dots of starlight. After running out of the room in a trance, the girl slowly adjusted the position of the dangling light bulb connected to the ceiling so she could see the words in the book. The yellow pages were rumpled and thin, and the printing was scoured dimly over time. She carefully flipped the last page and murmured, “Finally, farewell to Jane Eyre. I’ll have to return it to the neighbor by the day after tomorrow and see if I can borrow HOW TO WIN Friends and Influence People.” Putting it onto the to-do list, she heard a rough sound penetrating the walls that disrupted her ambitious thought.

“Xuemei has to learn some weaving skills. Other girls her age know how to make their sweaters and thick socks to withstand the cold, but she doesn’t even know how to use shuttles and needles!”

“Not so early. I can’t do needlework. But I make all the clothes for the family now that I’m married to you,” a determined voice replied.

The girl sneaked to the hallway beside the living room and curled against the wall, eavesdropping on the quarrel. Even though it was not so pleasant to hear, this wrangle was particular---rarely was a quarrel between her parents about her future.

“This won’t help her. I know it sounds conservative and traditional, but it’s reality.” The deep voice did not seem to reconcile. “Clothes shops are rarely seen on the streets and only raw materials are sold. She must make them herself. Plus, weaving is even a skill assessed when most families seek a wife. You know that more clearly than I do!”

“There are so many issues upon which I can take a step back, but not this one. My daughter is incredibly talented and independent, showing a level of maturity beyond her age. She has excelled in her courses at school, and all teachers see great potential in her. How could you just stand aside and see her inherent traits being wasted? She has to concentrate on her studies and cannot accomplish this with so many disturbances and burdens.” She calmed down with a deep breath and continued, “If she becomes successful enough in the future, trifle will not bother her. If she doesn’t become capable enough to let others do them for her, she will learn in time, but time does not offer her a second chance to remedy whatever education she would miss.” “Speaking of which,” the woman turned her head after the man was about to sit back on the couch, “Don’t touch the money in the red packets. It is for the children. College tuition is not a small number.”

The shadow behind the wall disappeared as the girl slowly walked back to her room and immersed herself in homework, but her mother's words struck her hard, and she found it difficult to focus. Education. “They will serve a greater purpose,” and that was the purpose her mother meant. It was heavy as gold laid on her shoulders, carrying her mother's expectations and indicating the only way out. She would never blame her father for his insistence on traditions. Her mother was one of the special people with a perspective and powerful mind reaching beyond the knowledge she was given and one who realized the significance of education. She lit the candle in her daughter’s heart and nurtured a seed that would grow into a colossal tree. It was the first time Xuemei felt so fortunate and privileged by destiny.

How much the girl hoped that she could pave the way to a brighter future with her mother, but the path was a single-log bridge through the briar patch.

Wham! A raspy smash of broken ceramic chips scattering on the floor exploded in the kitchen, but what alarmed the entire family was the groan that soon followed.

“Mom! Are you alright?” Xuemei rushed into the kitchen. Tripping over the high threshold did not hinder her from approaching her mother’s side. “Dad! Help! Mom’s injured!” The girl immediately panicked after seeing her mother lying in the corner with blood oozing from her palms. Her forearm was covering her stomach, which seemed to convulse as she moaned in pain.

In the countryside, there were no traffic jams on the avenues after ten o’clock. The tranquility amplified the humming of the tires of the tricycle moving up and down on the bumpy, sloughy road. Everyone had a leaden weight in the heart. “Doctor, please help my wife. She said she suddenly had a stomachache that spread to her back. Her arms trembled, so she dropped a bowl, and the fragments cut her palm.” The man told the girl to hold her mother’s arms tightly, giving her something to hold on to.

“It’s hard to determine the exact reason for the pain, possibly due to raw food and cold—no need to worry. She will get better soon if you pay more attention to daily hygiene. Now, go to the counter and pay the fee.” The doctor frowned impatiently as he spoke.

“Thank you for your time, doctor. I will keep that in mind. Now we should better go. I’ve got chores to do.” The patient interrupted Xuemei, who just attempted to ask for more advice. “Don’t worry, child. It’s not a big deal, as the doctor said.” She shook off her daughter’s arms and walked before all others to prove she was healthy.

Back home, the woman entered the kitchen and dismissed the concerned children. “Mom, remember to wash your hands!” Xuemei added as she returned to her desk.

“Do your homework and stop nagging! The weak old woman in your mind is standing here, alive and energetic.” Her mother replied hastily. Her father gave a perfunctory nod and went back to work.

Unfortunately, the talons and fangs of death were not terrified by her mother's resilience but provoked. Her mother’s steps were entangled and trapped by the tentacles sticking out of the ground, moving more slowly and feebly. Her belly, which used to be full and round and was seen as a blessing of affluence, instantly dropped flat. Her skin became corrugated like tiles on the roofs due to a loss of fat and muscles, making the bones look especially white and the lining of cyan blood vessels appallingly distinct. Groanings were frequently heard on midsummer nights when extreme humidity and heat put a rock on everyone’s lungs. She was left with skin and bones, and it hurt to roll over on a straw mat, but she always put her shivering hand over her mouth to stop the sound from spreading, or else it might wake the others. Kind-hearted as she has been throughout her life, illness did not treat her with benignancy, nor did death pay her back with mercy. Xuemei’s wan light was fading away.

Rustle, rustle. Pieces of torn paper flew like white, handwringing snowflakes fluttering without a destination. Faint whimpers that were heavily controlled escaped through the narrow gaps at the door. Hearing the increasingly loud footsteps, Xuemei wiped away her tears until there were no more signs of crying and swept the debris of the torn TOEFL book to the side. “Sister, are you alright?” It was Little Binbin. “I see no future. All the money was used to purchase medicine. There’s no money left for the family to send a child abroad. I’ve been learning English for months to take the TOEFL test, and all efforts were futile. I just need to take another step forward so I no longer have to lean on this creaky wooden chair. I'm tired of pondering why it rains so heavily in the summer, preventing me from enjoying the Spring Festival with more than just endless chores and chattering relatives. I want to explore the unknown and learn about those I have trouble envisioning but know their existence. However, Mom’s condition is irreversible, and we cannot afford major surgeries,” she yelled in despair with red eyes and a tremulous voice. After seconds of struggle, Xuemei exhaled a large breath and said, “It’s not something for you to worry about, Little Binbin. I’m fine. Just leave me alone.” Little Binbin was frightened by his sister’s stern tone. Suddenly, the whole family was engulfed under a gigantic shadow with no boundaries. His sister’s words were with pinpoint accuracy---the family saw no future.

Six years exhausted the mother’s hope for life as she tranquilly lay on the bed in the emergency center. Slowly and silently, she had the most pleasant and comfortable sleep in years, fighting against the tumors and chemical treatments. Xuemei could not stop her tears. Her mother’s last words were still reverberating in the crowded room. “My savings are for my children and their education. Twenty thousand must go to Xuemei, Little Min, and Binbin with not a penny less.” Education was given the utmost value in her heart because it was what she longed for but failed to receive and because she knew that with skills and knowledge, her children and later generations could have the chance to experience the world outside this small town surrounded by fields and muddy tracks, to walk out of the countryside where development has been stagnated by poverty and conventions, and to free their young and vibrant souls on bigger platforms.

Rat-tat! Rat-tat!

Nobody in the room could spare time to answer the call, but the door opened with an acute and annoying squeak. The girl, who was nearly dehydrated from crying, raised her hand and saw an obese man move into the room. She remembered that he was one of those relatives talking uncivilly when drunk. “I’m so sorry about your misfortune,” he began, “I hope you can soon recover from the woes. As one of her close kins, I believe that part of her savings belongs to…”

“Savings?” The girl, irritated, could endure no more. “My mother is still here, speaking her last words minutes ago, and you are thinking about how to exploit your relationship as an excuse for getting money while you clearly understand how much you have borrowed, without paying back, already in her lifetime?”

“Little Xuemei, I see today how your unsightly curly hair represents your character.”

The girl resentfully glared at the man and shook her father’s hand, “Dad, say something! You have more authority than I do.” Silence rang the desperate death knell and extinguished the glimmer of the candle in her heart. She took a last glance at the people beside the bed, imprinting their appearance in her mind, pulled off the wedding ring on her mother’s pale finger, and rushed out of the hospital.

Piercing spring rain accompanied by roaring wind hit her face like thick needles, and her pigtails were regularly splashing water into her clothes, but she crashed into the darkness regardless. With the ring clutched in her hand, she ran towards the other side of the hill---she would take her mother out of this cage that had imprisoned her and out of this place with no hope.

---

“Mom, is this grandma?” A little girl asked with her tender voice in amazement, pointing at the black-and-white photo as the clock struck twelve.

“Yes, darling. Her unremitting enlightenment in my upbringing broke down the barriers I was told to comply with and helped me to get educated.”

A woman with brown curly hair stood in front of the gigantic window wall, hearing the flow of traffic that was unique to Shanghai.

“She’s who made me who I am today.”