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墨書 Inktalez
Mother appeared helpless, exhausted from the long journey she had taken. She had intended to go back and rest, but upon hearing Wen Hao demanding food again, her heart ached. She couldn't understand why her own child had to be this way. Sometimes, she felt that her husband didn't care about her feelings either. She glanced at Wen Xin with a touch of pity. With cracked lips that barely moved, she struggled to express the inner pain that words could not convey. All she wished was for others to understand her plight and consider her feelings. The evening breeze rustled the treetops and stirred fallen leaves in the yard. Mother's graying hair danced gently in the wind.
"I'll go make something for Big Brother!" Wen Xin looked up at her mother.
"You should get some rest too! You've worked hard enough!" Mother gently caressed Wen Xin's cheek, her tone warm. Sometimes, she even felt that this daughter was better than her own flesh and blood. Even Wen Sheng couldn't compare to this girl.
"What are you going to eat at this hour? You won't even eat when it's ready!" Wen Sheng turned away from Wen Hao.
"I'm hungry now; I wasn't hungry then!" Wen Hao argued reasonably.
"Mom! Don't make anything for him!" Wen Sheng turned to look at their mother.
"Just leave it be and go to sleep! You have class early tomorrow. Keep your spirits up!" Mother said with a hint of sadness.
There were many things that remained unclear and unexplainable. As for why? Perhaps no one knew! What reasoning could there be?
Wen Sheng lay on the bed, suppressing his frustration as sounds from the kitchen filled the air—Wen Xin working the stove, accompanied by the clinking of dishes that pierced through the silence.
Wen Sheng listened intently to the noises coming from the kitchen, finding them somewhat grating on his ears. Neither Wen Xin nor their mother spoke much; Mother prepared a bowl of noodles for Wen Hao, adding some tomatoes and an egg, filling it more than halfway because she knew Wen Hao couldn't eat much.
Wen Xin carefully carried the bowl with both hands over to Wen Hao and placed it on the table beside his bed. "Eat up, Brother!"
"Isn't there any vegetables?" Wen Hao looked at Wen Xin with wide eyes.
“I’ll go get you some pickles!” Wen Xin said, a hint of concern in her voice.
“I don’t want pickles! Just stir-fry some vegetables for me, even cabbage will do!” Wen Hao replied, putting on a good act.
Wen Xin fell silent and lowered her head as she returned to the kitchen, where she saw her mother. “Mom! My brother wants stir-fried vegetables!” Wen Xin’s voice was barely above a whisper, like the hum of a mosquito, because she noticed her mother’s eyes were slightly red and her face looked a bit haggard.
“Oh dear! What sin did this child commit in a past life?” her mother sighed gently, shaking her head.
“Let me cook!” Wen Xin said softly to her mother. “Why don’t you eat something too? I’ll have it ready soon!”
“I’m not hungry!” Wen Sheng's Mother closed her eyes with a hint of helplessness, reflecting on the hardships of these past years. Tears began to fall, sliding down her cheeks and pooling at the corners of her mouth, salty against her skin. Her hands had some rheumatic issues that occasionally caused her pain; she only bought cheap ointments to ease it. Her husband had never taken her to the hospital for a check-up, not even offering a kind word. Sometimes she wished he would show just a little concern for her, take her to see a doctor, even if it was just for some inexpensive medicine. Even if it didn’t cure anything, it would still be a comfort to her heart! But there was nothing—never anything!
Sometimes she would casually mention to her husband that her hands hurt, but he would always dismiss it with, “It’s nothing! Just put on some ointment!” She couldn’t understand what he deemed important in his eyes! The children’s matters didn’t seem important; neither did hers! Even the issues concerning Wen Sheng's Grandmother didn’t seem significant! Was it only his own pride that mattered? She didn’t know—she couldn’t grasp it.
“Mom! What’s wrong? You’re crying!” Wen Xin asked gently.
“It’s nothing! Just smoke in my eyes!” Her mother’s voice was slightly choked. “Wen Xin, eat something! I’m not hungry! You finish eating and then go to bed! Tomorrow I’ll discuss with your father about whether you can go back to school!”
“I’m not tired! I can just cook for my brother! Why don’t you go rest first?” Wen Xin said, feeling sorry for her mother.
Her mother gently stroked Wen Xin’s hair with her rough yet tender hands, saying nothing. She simply held her tightly in an embrace.
Outside in the yard, a rooster perched on the gnarled old jujube tree stretched its colorful neck and crowed. Soon after, many roosters in the village joined in. The once quiet night was suddenly filled with their cacophony. Her mother couldn’t help but look outside again! It was still dark; the starlight appeared dim. The rooster’s crowing seemed to signal that it was late; they would continue to crow for a while longer before dawn broke.
Wen Hao was served some stir-fried cabbage, simply prepared with a sprinkle of scallions and oil. After he finished eating, Wen Xin cleared the dishes. She washed them for her mother and neatly stacked them on the wooden table beside the stove. The table had been in use for many years, its paint completely worn off. It was low, just reaching the top of Wen Xin's thighs, sturdy and practical. She tidied up the scattered leaves and droplets on the table, making it look clean.
Her mother filled a bowl with noodles for Wen Xin, adding the remaining bits of egg into her bowl while serving herself half a bowl, taking her time to eat.
Wen Xin remembered when she was not yet married; she had heard many villagers praise their husbands for being good men, noting that their family conditions were decent. At first, he was quite capable with farm work but enjoyed playing mahjong and drinking. She had tried to persuade him against it, and even her mother-in-law had argued with him about it.
However, many young people in the village would often play mahjong after finishing their farming tasks, which became his convenient excuse. Gradually, she got used to it. Fortunately, life at that time was manageable—neither too good nor too bad. When the children were young, household expenses were not high.
Little did she expect that after waiting for her children to grow up, life would come to this point.
Perhaps the roosters were tired of crowing or felt it was time to rest. They all drooped their heads and went to sleep, and the night fell silent once more, with only the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze breaking the stillness.
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