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The disdainful glares exchanged between the two made Li Yanhong feel somewhat uneasy, and Xu Li noticed it clearly.
On the way back, Li Yanhong bought two watermelons. These watermelons were sweet and juicy, with very few seeds. Their family always enjoyed these kinds of melons, and the price was not something they considered.
After finishing lunch, he returned to his bedroom, planning to play a bit of the popular private server of "Legend." Meanwhile, Li Yanhong reluctantly took Xu Lei to a nearby elementary school to register.
“Why do I have to register in the afternoon? It’s so hot outside,” Xu Lei complained.
Li Yanhong glanced at her son in the rearview mirror and pursed her lips. “Because your older brother is starting middle school, which is a crucial learning phase. You’re only in second grade; does it make a difference whether it’s morning or afternoon?”
“There’s no sun in the morning! Just look how hot it is outside,” Xu Lei retorted.
From the small refrigerator in the car, Xu Lei pulled out a can of cola, opened it, and took a sip. “I really don’t understand why Mom favors him so much. Everything goes to him first. Am I not your son too?”
“Because your dad gave you the best!” Li Yanhong replied while driving. “Xiao Lei, your brother accommodates you in every way. What more do you want? Your brother has been lectured by your dad so many times because of you!”
“Who asked him to accommodate me?”
As a spoiled child, Xu Lei couldn’t stand anyone saying he wasn’t special, so he turned his head away and ignored his mother.
The man would be back from abroad in a few days; he had gone to Siberia for some project inspection, but it hadn’t gone well.
After school, Xu Li glanced at the man resting on the sofa before looking at his younger brother playing with a handheld console. He pursed his lips and picked up his backpack to head back to his room to do his homework. However, his mind was all over the place lately; he couldn’t even remember what the teacher had said in class, let alone complete his assignments.
It wasn’t until after the first parent-teacher meeting of the second year that the man sat on the sofa with a sullen face, smoking. Li Yanhong didn’t seem to blame him; she gave him a look suggesting he should go back to his room for a while.
“Stop right there,” he said as he flicked off some ash from his cigarette. “What have you been thinking about this semester?”
“I don’t know; it’s all a mess,” Xu Li replied succinctly. “Maybe I’m just not cut out for studying.”
With that, he returned to his room on his own. “I won’t be having dinner.”
“Hey—”
Watching Xu Li’s slightly thin figure dart away, the man felt a surge of frustration and lowered his right hand. Xu Lei was about to say something when Li Yanhong shot him a glare; he sulkily lowered his head and continued playing his game.
Back in his room, Xu Li quickly grabbed a broken picture frame and returned to the living room. “Who did this?”
Li Yanhong glanced at the frame and noticed Xu Li had accidentally cut his finger on the glass. She hurried over to take the frame away and check his finger but was pushed aside by Xu Li, who stumbled back and sat down on the sofa.
With blood dripping from his right hand, he still held the picture frame, tears welling in his eyes as he choked out, "Who did this?"
"What’s wrong with me? It’s just a picture frame. Is it really that serious?"
Xu Lei threw down his handheld console and stood in front of his mother, who was seated on the sofa. He glared at Xu Li in anger. "I was bored after school and accidentally flew my remote-controlled plane into your room. I didn’t do it on purpose!"
For the first time, Xu Li felt the urge to hit this unruly younger brother of his. But thinking of how Li Yanhong had always cared for him, he clenched his teeth, set down his left hand, picked up the damaged picture frame, and returned to his room, slamming the door shut with a loud bang.
As the door closed, Li Yanhong struck Xu Lei for the first time, slapping him to the floor, her body trembling with rage. "Go apologize to your brother!"
"He hit you; why should I apologize to him?" Xu Lei retorted before running back to his own room.
In the living room, the man remained silent throughout. Li Yanhong looked at the blood dripping onto the floor and felt guilt wash over her again. Biting her lip, she took out a tissue and wiped away the blood before heading to prepare dinner.
The man stood up and walked to Xu Li's door, gently knocking. "Can I come in?"
The door creaked open slightly as Xu Li gripped his right fist tightly, his eyes red as he looked at the man. "So your brother is still just a kid? Should I let him off easy?"
Xu Li stared expressionlessly at the man, biting his lip as he closed the door again, shattering any remaining hope he had.
This man had never spoken a word for him and couldn’t even remember kneeling by their mother’s bedside, holding her frail hand while sobbing those promises.
That night, the house was unusually quiet. The man sat on the sofa, taking sips of alcohol and puffs of smoke, remaining there all night long. Meanwhile, Li Yanhong sat in front of her vanity mirror in the bedroom, lost in thought.
Before going to bed, Xu Lei plotted how to take revenge on this person who dared to push around his mother.
Xu Li wrapped a band-aid around his finger and carefully cleaned the bloodstains off the photo of himself and their mother. He tucked it under the glass on his desk and picked up a solo picture of their mother. Leaning against the headboard, he softly sang:
"Up above there's only mother,
With a mother, a child is like treasure.
In mother's embrace,
Happiness can't be measured.
Up above there's only mother,
Without a mother, a child is like grass."
Leaving the embrace of his mother, where could happiness be found?
This was a song he learned as a child, following along with the older sister on television, word by word. It was also his mother's favorite song. Whenever she felt unwell, he would sing it, and she would say that her pain had eased.
Back then, while he sang, the man would beat time for him with red-rimmed eyes. The hospital room didn’t feel so oppressive then. As a child, he didn’t understand what oppression meant; he only knew that every time he entered that room, he felt completely out of place.
Now that he understood, it was too late. Tears streamed down his face as he sang over and over again until he could no longer keep his heavy eyelids open and slowly drifted off to sleep.
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