Deep within Jiangxi Province, nestled in its countryside, stood a modest junior high school.
Mr. Bai, a teacher in his fifties, served as both a Chinese language teacher and homeroom teacher at the school.
This usually taciturn old man, however, was known for something far more remarkable.
His son, the one with whom he had a falling out, who had gone on to become a world champion.
Because of this very matter, Mr. Bai often found himself the subject of teasing from other teachers; even his students would use it as an example to retort against him during class.
“If you don’t study now, what do you intend to do with your life!”
“Who’s to say I’m not some undiscovered world champion myself!”
“You, who can barely comprehend your textbooks! You can’t even beat the top student in gaming! What makes you think you’re fit to be a world champion?”
Seven or eight years had since passed, and few truly knew what had transpired back then.
All that remained were exaggerated legends, passed down and embellished with each passing year.
With age, Mr. Bai still couldn’t let go of his small plot of land (TL Note: A traditional Chinese idiom referring to one’s own small piece of land or personal domain).
His back had hunched, resembling a walking stick, with a prominent hump.
His eyesight had dimmed, necessitating reading glasses.
A photograph was always affixed to his desk: a cherished family portrait.
It depicted a robust Mr. Bai and his beautiful wife, a young girl in the prime of her youth, and a small child, all beaming with radiant smiles.
After work, if there were no farm chores awaiting him, Mr. Bai would slowly make his way home.
His wife, a teacher at the neighboring elementary school, had now also become an elderly woman with silver hair.
On New Year’s Eve, the Bai household was not as lively as others.
The firecrackers were set off merely as a formality, after which Mr. Bai, alone, joined the boisterous crowds to pay respects to their ancestors.
Upon his return, his wife’s New Year’s dinner was nearly ready.
The two, whose combined age now surpassed a century, sat facing each other, silently partaking of the lavish spread before them.
They had spent the New Year like this for two consecutive years.
Ever since their daughter had married and moved out, the already quiet atmosphere of their home had settled into an even deeper silence.
There were no smiles, no words, only the unspoken understanding between two elderly individuals.
After the meal, Mr. Bai took out his cigarette pack and sat by the doorway, smoking.
He had been addicted to cigarettes for seven or eight years now, and quitting was no longer an option.
His wife, her hands clasped behind her back, walked over and said, “Old man! I want to go see Xiao Sha.”
Mr. Bai, puffing on his cigarette, replied dismissively, “I’m not stopping you.
If she’s willing to see you, then go ahead.”
Bai’s Mother fell silent.
The last time mother and child had met was in Bai Sha’s second year away from home, and the purpose of that reunion had been to sever their ties.
“One can never truly empathize, not even with oneself.
The person you are now will never fully comprehend the person you once were.”
Mr. Bai exhaled a smoke ring, then rose to return to his room for a nap.
“Since you’ve done it, don’t expect her forgiveness.
Appearing before her now will only cause her more grief, nothing more.”
Bai’s Mother wiped away tears from the corners of her eyes.
She knew this truth, which was why she had been consumed by regret ever since returning that year.
How could she not understand that it might have been the last time mother and child would ever meet in this lifetime?
“I just want to… see her again…”
Outside, firecrackers boomed, celebrating the joyous arrival of the New Year.
Inside, a small world of silent desolation prevailed.
The old woman wept, the empty dining table long deserted.
The seats remained, yet the person who once filled them would never return.
****
“Mom, what are you doing?”
On the second day of the Lunar New Year (TL Note: The second day of the Chinese New Year, traditionally a day for married daughters to visit their birth parents), Bai Qing returned home.
Her mother, pulling her aside, couldn’t stop talking about Bai Sha.
Bai’s Mother cautiously asked, “What if I were to go see your younger brother…”
Bai Qing quickly interrupted, “Mom, look at me! Haven’t you seen enough of your grown daughter? Why are you always thinking about my brother’s affairs?”
Previously, Bai Qing generally refrained from getting involved in the conflict between her parents and her younger sibling.
She continued to show filial piety to her parents while offering help to her younger sibling.
If her parents were willing to admit their mistake, and if her younger sibling were willing to forgive, that would naturally be ideal.
But things were different now.
‘My goodness, Mother! Your beloved eldest son has become a daughter!’
Not only has she become a daughter, but she’s also brought you a plump granddaughter! Oh, and a son-in-law, too.
While the Bai family parents weren’t particularly biased towards sons over daughters, the impact of this change in offspring was simply too profound.
Mr. Bai, playing chess with his son-in-law nearby, remarked nonchalantly, “Just take her.
Let’s see if she has the nerve to call out ‘son’ to her face.
After one attempt, she’ll give up.”
Bai’s Mother turned around and retorted, “My son! Why would I be ashamed to call him that! Even if I have to apologize and kowtow, I still want to see him!”
Bai Qing instantly developed a headache.
‘What a mess this is!’
Mr. Bai scoffed at Bai’s Mother’s words.
“If apologizing and kowtowing were effective, what would we need the police for?”
“You threw the seeds outside, and now they’ve blossomed and borne fruit.
You insist on digging those seeds back up? You’re truly muddled with age!”
“But he should still get his inheritance!”
Mr. Bai also felt a headache coming on.
With his daughter and son-in-law right there, she was still speaking like this.
“Do you think she cares about your meager pension? As I’ve said, leave it all to Xiao Qing!”
After their daughter’s family departed, the Bai household once again descended into a silent, death-like stillness.
Bai’s Mother remained despondent, while Mr. Bai was either working in the fields or squatting by the doorway, smoking.
As the Spring Festival drew to a close and those who had returned home gradually left, the village became quiet, with three out of ten households empty (TL Note: An idiom describing a deserted village).
Only then did Bai’s Mother’s spirits begin to lift.
Someone had once taught her how to watch Bai Sha’s matches on television, and she used to see her on screen every year.
But now that Bai Sha had retired, Bai’s Mother’s only means of getting updates was by phone, as Bai Sha hadn’t even added them on WeChat (TL Note: A popular Chinese multi-purpose messaging, social media, and mobile payment app), making video calls impossible.
Elderly people usually slept early, yet every night, a light would flicker outside the Bai family’s bedroom—Mr. Bai, smoking.
“Nothing is a given; everything is deserved.
Bai Anguo, you deserve this.”
His choked sobs were swallowed by the night, and his silver tears vanished without a trace.
Perhaps this was a man’s final act of stubborn pride.
****
One day, no one knew precisely when.
Mr. Bai rose early as usual, only to find the person beside him already gone.
Her phone was unreachable.
Her figure was nowhere to be seen—not in the fields, not at the small shops or supermarkets, nor in the school classrooms.
Mr. Bai, growing anxious, hurried about, only to learn that she had taken leave long ago.
Mr. Bai rushed back home, frantically rummaging through drawers and cabinets, and, as expected, discovered that the passbook was missing.
He then sat down on the bed, continuing to smoke.
“Why bother?”
On the train bound for S City, He Lichun carried a small bag, her fists tightly clenched.
She was immensely nervous, yet as she stepped onto the train, there wasn’t a hint of anticipation; her heart was simply brimming with anxiety.
She merely wished to see her child, even if it meant being struck or scolded by her; as long as she could catch a single glimpse, He Lichun believed it would be worth it.
She was a person who had made mistakes, yet she was also a mother.
The old green-skinned train (TL Note: Refers to older, slower, often un-airconditioned trains common in China, known for their distinctive green exterior) slowly chugged into the distance.
Everything ahead was unknown; He Lichun had never been to S City, a completely unfamiliar metropolis.
However, she still had her phone, and a younger brother who had settled in S City.
In her bag, she carried money—the capital to survive.
But what about Bai Sha eight years ago?
She had nothing, arriving alone in an unfamiliar city, her only aid being the few hundred yuan her older sister sent each month.
One could never truly empathize; she would never understand his suffering.