Her mother-in-law doted on the child and micromanaged everything, leaving Tong Jiaqian feeling helpless; her father-in-law and grandmother favored boys over girls, treating the child with cold words and a frosty demeanor, which also filled Tong Jiaqian with indignation. The challenges of raising a child, decisions about their savings, and how to handle their in-laws—all these issues came one after another…
Her mother-in-law doted on the child and micromanaged everything, leaving Tong Jiaqian feeling helpless; her father-in-law and grandmother favored boys over girls, treating the child with cold words and a frosty demeanor, which also filled Tong Jiaqian with indignation. The challenges of raising a child, decisions about their savings, and how to handle their in-laws—all these issues came one after another…
Chapter 1: Liu Yiyang, I Want a Divorce If I had known earlier that having a child would mean parting ways with the child’s father one day, I don’t think I would have had this child. Or rather, if I had known earlier that marrying this man wouldn’t mean living happily ever after with him, but instead spending every waking moment with his parents and his father’s mother, I don’t think I would have married him. Or perhaps, if I had known earlier that getting pregnant was so easy, and that getting married immediately after getting pregnant was so natural, then I think, no matter what, I would never have let him lie on top of me without a condom that day. That day, I was two months shy of turning twenty-four, while he was already twenty-four and two months old. That day, he was in Shanghai on a business trip, and I secretly followed him, taking a flight two flights later than his. When I knocked on the door of his hotel room, and he opened it to face me—his face brimming with surprise, like water coming to a boil, almost ready to bubble over—he scooped me up in his arms, tossed me onto the bed, and then lay on top of me. Unfortunately, despite my usually meticulous nature, I hadn’t thought to buy a box of condoms before flying from Beijing to Shanghai. Fortunately, he hadn’t brought any of those things with him either. Otherwise, I might have brandished a gleaming kitchen knife: “You bring condoms on a business trip? That’s such a hassle. Why not just leave your manhood at home from now on? It’d be so much easier.” Afterward, I blamed heaven, earth, and the hotel: Why weren’t there condoms on the bedside table? How much would that have cost you? Do you have any idea that by skimping on a few pennies, you’ve pushed me straight into the raging inferno of becoming a mother before a wife? A year later, I stand at the front door, feet planted shoulder-width apart, arms crossed over my chest, shouting into the house: “Liu Yiyang, what are you doing? If you don’t want to go, just say so. Don’t think you can get away with it by dawdling.” Unfortunately, my loud voice didn’t coax my husband—my daughter’s father—out of the bathroom; instead, it drew the ire of my mother-in-law. She poked her head out of the bedroom, holding my daughter: “Yangyang can hear just fine; you don’t need to shout so loud. It’s early in the morning—where are you two going? Little Bao will wake up soon and need to be fed. Will you be back in time?” “Mom, I’ve pumped some milk and left it in the fridge. Just warm it up and feed her when it’s time. I’ll be back in two or three hours.” I said this, but my eyes were fixed on the tightly closed bathroom door. “And Mom, don’t bundle Jinjin up so tightly. She’ll break out in heat rash in the middle of winter, and the doctors will laugh at us at the hospital. And another thing—her name is Jinjin. Don’t keep calling her ‘Little Treasure.’ It’ll mess with her sense of self.” “If you ask me, her nickname should just be ‘Little Treasure.’ ” With that, my mother-in-law bounced my three-month-old daughter back into the room. Throughout the whole exchange, I didn’t catch a single glimpse of Jinjin; all I could see was the cotton robe wrapped around her and the cotton hat on her head. Liu Yiyang finally emerged. His freshly washed, clean-shaven face had fewer pimples than when I first met him nine years ago, but it bore several small pits left behind by those pimples. It was just like my love for him—it had lost some of the passion of youth, but gained a pinch of the ashes left behind after that passion had burned out. “Did you pack everything? ID card, household registration book, marriage certificate, and the agreement.” Liu Yiyang stepped into our tiny eight-square-meter room and emerged holding his overcoat and car keys. “Agreement? Do we need an agreement to get a divorce? Who’s going to write it?” I furrowed my brow. “I think it’s required. Never mind, let’s go. We’ll figure it out once we get there.” ” Liu Yiyang led the way down the stairs. Before I closed the door, I caught a glimpse of my father-in-law just stepping out of the kitchen, his scrutinizing gaze fixed on the doorway. Perhaps he’d heard the word “divorce” slip from my lips, but chances are he’d assume he’d misheard it—after all, he had no idea that Liu Yiyang and I were getting divorced today. For now, this matter is known only to heaven and earth, to me, and to Liu Yiyang. By the time I reached the bottom of the stairs, Liu Yiyang had already started the engine. Or, to be more precise, he had started his motorcycle—a vehicle barely any bigger than an electric bicycle. Over the years, I’d teased him countless times: ““You’d be better off getting an electric bike—at least it would reduce noise pollution.” And Liu Yiyang always retorted, “No, at least this one runs on gas. It’s not much different from a car.” Not much different? Ridiculous. One is “meat wrapped in iron,” the other is “iron wrapped in meat.” I took the helmet Liu Yiyang handed me and put it on without a word. In the past, I would have grumbled about it: “If I wear this thing, will I even have a hairstyle left? Will I still look like an intellectual, a city lady?” But now, between getting pregnant, giving birth, and breastfeeding, it’s been a full twelve months since I last curled or dyed my hair. My hair was a solid mass of plain black, casually tied back in a bun—wearing a helmet might actually hide the mess. I pulled my calf-length down jacket up a bit, just as I was about to straddle the back of that gas-guzzling motorcycle, Liu Yiyang spoke up: “Take it easy, be careful not to rip your pants.” So I stomped my foot down on his supporting leg: “Where do you think all this extra weight came from? It’s all because I had a child for you.” Liu Yiyang let out a couple of loud yelps, and the motorcycle wobbled three times: “The child was born for me? No way! Didn’t you say that after the divorce, the child would be yours?” “Stop blabbering. I carried that child for ten months and gave birth to it in agony—if it’s not mine, whose is it? Do you really think it should go to your Liu family and be ruined by them?” I angrily straddled the bike, accompanied by the sound of the seam ripping. “What did I tell you? Take it easy.” Liu Yiyang’s words were laced with obvious schadenfreude. I got off the bike and walked toward the building entrance: “We’ll get the divorce tomorrow.” Because today, I had to go get my only pair of presentable pants mended first. “Well, I’m off to work.” Liu Yiyang’s casual remark came from behind me, followed by the roar of his motorcycle’s engine. Just as I opened the front door, I caught my father-in-law’s sarcastic remark: “She’s just a little girl—and you’re still holding her every day?” He was speaking to my mother-in-law, who retorted, “I love both boys and girls. Who’s like you—so old-fashioned and stubborn?” I slammed the door shut on purpose to let them know I was back. Then I walked over to my in-laws’ bedroom door: “Mom, Dad’s right. You shouldn’t be holding Jinjin all the time. It’s not good for her development—she can’t even stretch her arms and legs.” My mother-in-law continued to bounce and pat my Jinjin: “I can’t put her down. She cries the moment I do.” “Isn’t that because you’ve spoiled her?” I turned and walked back to my room; no one heard what I said. Anyway, I was leaving Liu Yiyang, leaving the Liu family, and leaving this three-bedroom apartment, so I might as well keep my mouth shut and enjoy a few last days of peace. “Why are you back so soon? Where did you go? Did Yangyang go to work?” My mother-in-law’s questions came one after another. I dodged the issue: “Yeah, he went to work.” Just as I was taking off my stained pants, Liu Yiyang’s grandmother—who had also been injured not long ago but had recently been recovering—came back. The old lady opened the door with a shakiness in her hands and shuffled in, panting heavily. Not long ago, early on the morning of Jinjin’s birth, she had missed a step while descending the last two stairs and had fallen. At the hospital, the doctor had said, “It’s nothing serious—a real stroke of luck in the midst of misfortune.” After two months in bed, she had recovered completely, just as before: eating and sleeping soundly, looking plump and content, and getting up early for her morning strolls, come rain or shine. But at nearly eighty years old, climbing five flights of stairs inevitably left her breathless. “Grandma, I’m back.” I had just changed into my house clothes and popped my head in to say hello. “Mm-hmm.” Grandma’s reply was barely louder than her heavy breathing. Then, her plump frame wobbled as she made her way into her room. It was in this three-bedroom, one-living-room apartment—built in the late 1980s and originally belonging to my father-in-law—that the highly respected Grandma Liu Yiyang moved about in the largest, sunlit room. Meanwhile, Liu Yiyang’s parents, who were more for show than in spirit, occupied another south-facing room. As for Yiyang himself and his wife—me—we used the north-facing room, cool in summer but even colder in winter, as our marital chamber. Jinjin’s arrival, however, threw this delicate equilibrium completely off balance. Her crib, surrounded on all sides by bars, now stood in the center of my in-laws’ room—the only spot spacious enough to accommodate the bed, warm enough to keep her from getting too cold, and close enough for her to be watched over. Just a few days ago, I watched Jinjin wail inside her crib, flailing her limbs as if trapped. As I watched, I suddenly felt as though the bars surrounding her were encircling me too, making me feel as if I were living in a prison—restricted, confined, and cut off from the light of day. Then my mother-in-law came running over, snatching my Jinjin from my arms: “How do you look after a child? She’s wailing like this and you don’t even care—it’s a sin.” The “living room” in this three-bedroom apartment is more of a dining room, since it’s just big enough to fit a dining table and six chairs. As for entertaining guests, we had to make do with the sofa and coffee table in my in-laws’ bedroom. But anyway, we didn’t have many visitors in this house. Just then, the phone on the dining table started ringing. By the time I put down my needle and thread, my father-in-law had already answered it. Then he knocked on my door: “Jiaqian, it’s for you.” Just then, my little Jinjin burst into tears—first a shrill “Ah!” followed by rhythmic “Mmm” sounds. My heart sank. Sure enough, my mother-in-law’s scolding came down on me like a ton of bricks: “How many times have I told you not to let your cat-and-dog friends call the house? Look what you’ve done—you’ve scared the child.” I ducked to avoid her piercing glare and answered the phone: “Hello.” “Hello, Tong Jiaqian, what do you mean by ‘cat and dog friends’?” On the other end, Chen Jiaojiao’s voice was as cheerful as a little bird. “It means ‘bad company.’ ” “Oh, I see. Your mother-in-law’s vocabulary is really trendy.” “Stop teasing me. What do you want?” “Nothing. Wait—you still can’t use your phone?” “I can, I just forgot where I put it. I’ll have to look around.” Ever since I got pregnant, following the principle of putting the baby first, I’ve cut myself off from all modern technology that emits radiation—and that naturally includes my cell phone. Although it’s been three months since I gave birth to Jinjin, I’ve long since grown accustomed to this peaceful life without a phone. After all, my maternity leave isn’t over yet, so the company won’t be contacting me, and with those extra 18 pounds still hanging off me, I don’t want my “cat and dog friends” to track me down either. “Just look at you—how much have you sacrificed for the baby? Freedom, beauty, curves, and the right to enjoy your youth—you’ve truly let it all go.” “Oh, come on. Beauty was never mine to begin with. As for curves, they’re still there—just two sizes bigger.” “Ugh, hearing how your mother-in-law treats you, I really feel sorry for you. I actually thought that since you gave the Liu family a baby, they’d be putting you on a pedestal.” “Do you ever have anything serious to do? I’m hanging up now—I need to feed the baby.” Jinjin’s cries filled the air, accompanied by my mother-in-law’s soothing coos: “Oh, oh, good little one, don’t cry, don’t cry, oh, oh.” “Go on, go on. I’ll be waiting for you at Linglong at noon. You’re coming, whether you want to or not.” ” With that, Chen Jiaojiao slammed the phone down and fluttered away like a little bird, vanishing without a trace. My father-in-law put on his down jacket, fastened his woolen hat, and headed out the door. Meanwhile, in my in-laws’ room, I undid my buttons, exposing my breast. Jinjin dove right in, her pink, wet little mouth instantly latching onto my nipple. I leaned down and gazed intently at her, watching her little face—flushed from crying—gradually return to its pale, delicate hue, watching her eyelashes tremble slightly, and her half-closed eyes curve ever wider with contentment. She was so beautiful, so heartbreakingly precious to me, it felt as though my heart might shatter. After she’d had her fill, Jinjin released my nipple and nestled limply in my arms. The corners of her mouth turned up in a smile, and milk dripped from the corners of her lips, too much for her to swallow in time. I pressed her face against my chest, letting her listen to my heartbeat—that thump-thump-thump that seemed to beat just for her. Then my mother-in-law, who had been standing by the whole time, walked over and held out her arms to me: “Here, give her to me. I’ll put her to sleep.” “I’ll do it, Mom. I want to hold her.” I looked up at my mother-in-law, tilting my face almost as if pleading. “Give her to me. You don’t know how to soothe her.” With that, she snatched Jinjin from me, leaving me with my arms still wide open in a comical pose. Jinjin’s brow furrowed slightly, and she let out two soft whimpers, her little arms still reaching toward me. Unfortunately, in the blink of an eye, she had drifted off to sleep. In that moment, I selfishly wished she would wake up, wished she would burst into tears, selfishly wanting her to want no one but me, her mother. But at this moment, she was already nestled in her grandmother’s arms, sleeping so soundly she didn’t know what day it was. I sat alone on the sofa, buttoning up my blouse one button at a time. When I was done, I felt like an unwelcome guest, sitting on the sofa in someone else’s living room, not knowing what to do with myself. So, stiffly, I stood up and walked toward the door. Finally, I turned back to look at my Jinjin and asked, “Am I your mother, or just your nanny?” Jinjin, of course, didn’t respond, while my mother-in-law looked at me in confusion: “What did you say?” “Mom, I want to buy an electric heater so Jinjin can stay in our room.” ““No way. Your room is too dark. How can an electric heater compare to sunlight? What if the child catches a cold?” She had a point. Anyway, I was about to leave this place soon—to leave that cold, damp room unsuitable for Jinjin—so why bother buying an electric heater? At 12:30, when I arrived at Linglong Café, Chen Jiaojiao was flipping through a so-called “trendy” magazine that cost thirty-eight yuan, making a crisp rustling sound. I have to admit, thirty-eight yuan is worth every penny—the paper quality alone is a pleasure to experience. I took off my down jacket and sat down across from her. She blinked at me with eyes lined in elegant gold eyeshadow, staring at my pale, plump cheeks, the double chin that had sprung up beneath my naturally pointed chin, and the worn, slightly pilled purple cardigan I was wearing, with its taut buttons and buttonholes. I really wanted to guide her under the tablecloth to take a look at my two swollen elephant legs. She hadn’t seen me in nearly half a year, and this plump appearance of mine was the result of years of accumulation over that time. “Oh my God, Tong Jiaqian, are you really Tong Jiaqian?” Chen Jiaojiao pointed at me with her index finger; the black-and-white floral pattern on her fingernail was far more elegant than her current flustered reaction. “Yes, it’s the Tong Jiaqian of the past, plus eighteen pounds of fat.” I took a good look at Chen Jiaojiao myself. She had a neat, short haircut—ear-length with a side-swept fringe—in a brownish-red shade with a metallic sheen. She had a round face—a feature she’d never be able to lose no matter how much she dieted. It was the part of herself she was most frustrated with, but I thought it made her look as if she’d retained her youth forever; even when she wore heavy makeup, she still seemed like a child trying to act grown-up. Chen Jiaojiao’s height lived up to her name—she was incredibly petite. Even when she exaggerated as much as she could, she could only claim to be 1. 58 meters tall, a full ten centimeters shorter than me. However, she was skilled at wearing heels around ten centimeters high, so when we stood side by side, we were often neck and neck. Today she wore a bright red V-neck sweater—thin and tight—that boldly revealed a deep, mysterious cleavage below the neckline. This was the part of her body she was most proud of. Draped over the back of the chair beside her was a beige-and-brown plaid coat. Judging by the meticulous way it was folded, I estimated it cost around four thousand yuan. By chance, I caught a glimpse of the magazine in her hand, which boldly proclaimed: “Fiery White Winter Days—Bright Red Is in Vogue.” And I could guarantee that on some page, someone was surely declaring: “This winter, plaid coats are also in vogue.” This is Chen Jiaojiao—she chases trends until she’s completely exhausted. “The Tong Jiaqian of the past was never late, but today,” Chen Jiaojiao said, lifting her wrist to check her watch, “you’re thirty-two minutes late.” “I can skip eating at home, but I have to cook the meal before I leave.” “What? You’re back in the kitchen so soon after giving birth?” “It’s been three months since I gave birth. Aside from being a bit overweight, I’m just like anyone else now. Besides, in our household, besides me, we’ve got a grandmother on crutches, a father-in-law who can wash pots and dishes but doesn’t know how to add water to cook rice or pour oil when stir-frying, and a mother-in-law who currently only knows how to hold the baby. Tell me, if I didn’t cook, how many people would end up dead?” “Haha,you really are still Tong Jiaqian—your words are as sharp as ever.” “Just wait and see. Lately, I’ve been eating with even more gusto. Oh? Have you ordered yet?” I waved down the waiter: “I’ll have the braised beef rice, orange-glazed cod fillet, a potato salad, a serving of your signature chicken wings, and—oh—a glass of apple juice, warmed up for me.” Chen Jiaojiao gulped, then craned her neck to ask me, “Have you given up on yourself? Throwing caution to the wind?” The waiter was rude—he actually burst out laughing when he heard Chen Jiaojiao’s words. I narrowed my eyes at him. “I’m sorry for the laugh. “But if I don’t eat this much, my milk supply won’t be enough, and my baby in swaddling clothes will go hungry.” Finally, Chen Jiaojiao ordered a vegetable salad and a glass of lemon juice, and the waiter withdrew, looking embarrassed. “The greatness of a mother’s love,” Chen Jiaojiao exclaimed, though her face was not without sarcasm. “You’ll understand once you become a mother yourself.” “I doubt that day will ever come. I can’t even be bothered to get married, let alone have children.” “You’re not too lazy to fuss over all those trivial matters—dressing up, putting on makeup—but you’re too lazy for the serious business of marriage? Be careful; you might end up driving yourself into a corner. Do you really think Cui Bin will forever grovel at your feet, coming when you call and leaving when you wave him away?” I wasn’t just talking nonsense. Just a few days ago, I ran into Cui Bin online, and he sent me a message: “I’m tired. Really tired.” As I pictured him sitting at his computer, chain-smoking and looking utterly exhausted, I asked, “Is it because of Jiao Jiao?” So he messaged back: “Aren’t you just asking a question you already know the answer to?” “Him? He won’t be going anywhere for at least three to five years.” “Don’t forget, he’s five years older than us. We’re twenty-five this year, but he’s already reached the age of thirty.” “A man is still in his prime at forty. At thirty, he’s not even a bud yet. Besides, he hasn’t established himself in his career—how can he start a family?” “Chen Jiaojiao, aren’t you being a bit too harsh on him? You and I are undergraduates at a top-tier university, while he’s a master’s student at the same prestigious school. How much do you make a month these days? After buying this coat, you probably can’t even afford to eat, right? But take Cui Bin—I’d conservatively estimate that with his salary, bonuses, and various allowances, he easily makes fifteen thousand a month. And you still have the nerve to look down on him? What does ‘establishing a career’ even mean? Does it require owning several properties to count as that?” “Give it a rest. Just because you’ve jumped into a pit of fire doesn’t mean you have to drag me down with you. Ask yourself: do you regret getting married and having kids so early? If you could live your life over, would you choose the same path? I’m not saying Liu Yiyang is a bad guy, but when it comes to material assets, he really can’t hold a candle to our Cui Bin. “Let’s not even get into the other stuff—just take the real estate. You’re living in his dad’s property. Do you have any personal freedom? Any space for happiness? I told Cui Bin: I want freedom, I want space. If he wants to keep me, he’ll have to give me a whole wide world.” “Stop beating around the bush. What do you mean, ‘a whole wide world’? Let’s be honest—don’t you just want a big apartment?” “Mind your own business. I’m doing just fine here—no need for you to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.” Chen Jiaojiao sucked vigorously on her straw, sipping the low-calorie lemonade, her eyes darting back and forth. And based on my experience, that meant she wasn’t being entirely sincere. Let her be. They say that when people talk, they lie once every ten minutes on average. Though I’ve always thought that figure was a bit sensationalist, maybe it’s just meant to illustrate human hypocrisy. And as a human myself, I’m naturally hypocritical too: “Aren’t you just worrying about me for no reason? Which eye of yours has seen me living a miserable life? Liu Yiyang and I truly love each other; all told, it’s been nearly seven years. Only with a solid emotional foundation can we build both material and spiritual prosperity—do you understand that? Now we’ve even reaped the fruits of our love, making countless lonely men and women green with envy.” As I spoke, I pinched my thigh. Tong Jiaqian, Tong Jiaqian, if you’ve got the guts, stop shouting about divorce. If you’ve got the guts, go ahead and live a happy life right under the noses of your in-laws and your mother-in-law’s mother. If you’ve got the guts, just laugh off the Liu family’s discrimination against Jinjin’s gender, ignore the fact that you and your biological daughter are “separated by a world,” and remain carefree and unconcerned despite your husband’s worries about you. I buried my head in the assortment of food, eating with little grace but great relish. Chen Jiaojiao clung to her small handful of vegetables, looking just like a rabbit. Chewing, I said, “Hurry up and eat. I have to go home to breastfeed.” “Breastfeeding again? You’ve practically become a wet nurse.” Chen Jiaojiao’s round eyes widened like grapes. Wet nurse. The word struck me like a cold arrow, piercing the most vulnerable spot in my heart. “Yeah, my baby eats seven or eight times a day, and each feeding takes twenty or thirty minutes. By the time I’m done feeding, the day is over.” I took a big bite of the chicken wing, my teeth clattering against the bone—it was so close to bringing tears to my eyes. “I’m really glad I have milk. Otherwise, I wouldn’t even be a wet nurse.” “Huh? What?” Chen Jiaojiao was completely baffled. “Never mind. Hurry up and eat. Otherwise, I’ll finish up and leave—you can pay the bill.” Now Chen Jiaojiao turned into a flustered rabbit, frantically munching on all sorts of greens. Paying the bill was the one thing Chen Jiaojiao dreaded most. Her family wasn’t wealthy, and her own meager income had long since been poured into her endless pursuit of fashion. Liu Yiyang arrived home right on the dot at seven o’clock. The advantage of riding a motorcycle is that, just like riding a bicycle or walking, it isn’t affected by traffic conditions. Whenever the streets were as congested as a parking lot, Liu Yiyang took pride in his motorcycle’s ability to weave through the traffic with ease. By the time I set the best dish—minced pork with braised tofu—on the table, Liu Yiyang had just finished changing his clothes and washing his face. This habit of washing his face as soon as he got home was a habit he’d picked up after Jinjin was born, so he could play “face-to-face” games with her without exposing her skin—so thin you could almost see her veins—to the city’s pollution. Grandma and Grandpa were already seated. Before Grandma even picked up her chopsticks, she said, “Why isn’t there any dried shrimp in this spinach soup?” I replied, “We ran out of dried shrimp; I haven’t had a chance to buy more yet.” But my father-in-law had already picked up his chopsticks: “This tasteless dish—how long are we going to have to eat this?” My mother-in-law poked her head out of the room, holding Jinjin: “I’ve told you so many times, Jiaqian is breastfeeding; she can’t eat too much oil or salt.” “Well, I’m not breastfeeding,” my father-in-law said discontentedly, slamming his chopsticks down with a sharp clatter. “All right, all right. From now on, we’ll just have Jiaqian cook her own meals separately,” my mother-in-law said, having calmed my father-in-law down, before pulling her head back inside. Liu Yiyang slowly poured a glass of Wuliangye and handed it to my father-in-law: ““Dad, Jiaqian is just looking out for your health. How about this: you choose. Do you want to eat lighter and have a drink, or eat something richer but give up the alcohol?” “Hmph.” My father-in-law grunted, picked up the glass, and simultaneously grabbed his chopsticks. Jinjin started crying; her timing was just as reliable as Liu Yiyang’s return home. So I took her from my mother-in-law’s arms and undid her buttons. My mother-in-law went to the dining table, while Liu Yiyang, as usual, stayed with me in my in-laws’ room, sitting across from me and watching me breastfeed. At first, my mother-in-law would always call out to him: “Yangyang, come eat first. “Jiaqian’s breastfeeding—what’s it got to do with you?” At first, Liu Yiyang would reply, “I’m not hungry. I’ll wait to eat with her.” Later, my mother-in-law would still call out to him, “You’ve been at work all day—how could you not be hungry?” Eventually, Liu Yiyang got the hang of it and answered, “I’ll stay with the baby for a while first. I haven’t seen her all day—I’ve missed her so much.” After that, my mother-in-law stopped calling him. Liu Yiyang held Jinjin’s tiny hand and examined it closely: “She’s really chubby. Look at this little hand—it’s just like a pig’s trotter.” “Is that any way to talk?” I shot him a disapproving look and quickly lowered my head to look at Jinjin. I dared not look at Liu Yiyang for too long. That faint scar at the corner of his left eyebrow—barely two centimeters long; those long eyes that seemed to see right through a person’s soul, with vision so sharp it wouldn’t deteriorate no matter how much he read, used the computer, or watched TV; that resolute yet slightly large nose; and those thin, well-defined lips that had stolen my first kiss—I dared not look at any of it for too long. It’s been seven years. I’ve loved him for seven years. I didn’t lie to Chen Jiaojiao; I’ve spent seven years with this man, who, in Chen Jiaojiao’s eyes, isn’t particularly outstanding. I’ve never denied it: I still miss him, even when he’s just gone out to work, even when we’ve been apart for only eleven hours. “These little hands look just like yours. What a pity they didn’t take after me.” ” Liu Yiyang released Jinjin’s hand and placed his own over mine, which was holding her. His fingers were slender, long, and straight—indeed more elegant than mine. “How was your day?” Liu Yiyang leaned back on the sofa, tilting his head to rest his neck. Staring at a computer all day had made his neck as stiff as rebar. “I had lunch out with Jiaojiao.” Liu Yiyang once summarized the similarities between him and Chen Jiaojiao: he was my greatest gain during my high school years, while Chen Jiaojiao was my greatest gain during my college years. Back then, he was my boyfriend, and Chen Jiaojiao was my closest female friend. I once said: I never want to be apart from the two of you. “Oh? How has she been lately?” “Same as always—meticulous on the outside, but just coasting through life deep down.” “So have you told her we’re getting a divorce?” Liu Yiyang’s neck craned back and forth, cracking with a loud pop. “No. Family matters shouldn’t be aired in public.” “Are your pants mended? Going tomorrow?” “Yeah, first thing tomorrow morning. The sooner we’re divorced, the sooner I’m free.” Whoa. Jinjin suddenly let go of my nipple and burst into tears. Her features all scrunched up toward the center of her face, and a red flush of anger seeped between her eyebrows. My milk was still spraying out, splashing onto Jinjin’s face—which looked utterly aggrieved—making me even more flustered. Liu Yiyang acted quickly, covering my breast with one hand while gently patting Jinjin’s back with the other: “Poor Jinjin, you understood what Mommy said, didn’t you? You know Mommy and Daddy are going to separate, don’t you?” My mother-in-law burst into the room: “What’s going on? Did you make the baby cry while breastfeeding?” “Mom, Jiaqian has plenty of milk, and Jinjin couldn’t swallow fast enough—she choked.” Liu Yiyang spoke up for me: “It’s nothing. You go back to eating.” “I’m done.” My mother-in-law leaned against the headboard: “Oh, my back! That little one really wore me out.” “Mom, you’ve worked so hard,” Liu Yiyang said. I held my Jinjin tightly. As she gradually calmed down, she took my nipple back into her mouth and began to suck greedily. I paid no attention to the conversation between Liu Yiyang and my mother-in-law, nor to anyone else besides Jinjin. It wasn’t until Jinjin had finished feeding and my mother-in-law reached out her arms to me that I emerged from my own little world back into this vast, crowded, and oppressive world—one far larger than my own. And so, I quietly slipped out of my in-laws’ room, leaving Jinjin with my mother-in-law, who was already “exhausted.” Grandma and Grandpa finished their meal one after the other and returned to their room. Just before heading back, my rosy-cheeked father-in-law asked me, “How long are you going to keep breastfeeding? Every time you feed her, I have to go hide. This doesn’t feel like my home anymore.” ““I’m sorry, please bear with it for two more days.” I said only those two sentences, keeping the rest to myself: I’m about to divorce your son, and I’m taking my Jinjin back to my parents’ house. This time, I’ll never come back to your Liu family again. At the dinner table, it was just Liu Yiyang and me. He said, “The company is launching a new program.” ““So?” I poked at my rice, half-heartedly picking up a bland piece of vegetable. “So I’ll be pretty busy for a while.” Liu Yiyang wolfed down his food. All along, whether it was raw or cooked, salty or bland, as long as the food came from my hands, he would always praise it, pretending to savor the finest delicacies: “But the bonus will be bigger too.” “Oh.” I finished my meal first and stood up to go to the kitchen. Whether he’s busy or not, whether he earns a lot or not—it all seems irrelevant to me now. No matter how busy he is, he won’t have the energy to help me look after Jinjin or ease the worries in my heart. And no matter how much he earns, he won’t be able to buy a property anytime soon. Chen Jiaojiao was right: without freedom and space, our happiness will eventually suffocate. After washing the dishes, I peeled an apple and took it to Grandma’s room. The timeless classic Journey to the West was playing on TV, and the old lady was watching it intently. “Remember to buy dried shrimp tomorrow.” Grandma took the apple, just as the Monkey King on TV was eating a peach. “Oh, I’ll remind Yiyang.” “Hm? What did you say?” “Nothing, I said to buy it.” I’ll have Liu Yiyang buy them. Tomorrow, as his ex-wife, I’ll remind him that Grandma likes her soup with dried shrimp. In bed, Liu Yiyang wrapped his arms around me from behind, his hands cupping my breasts—which had grown even more voluptuous from breastfeeding. “Are you ready for it today?” I brushed his hands away. “No.” “Didn’t the doctor say it would be okay after three months?” ““Three months is fine, but not for a couple about to get divorced.” “You said it yourself—we’re about to get divorced. As long as we’re not officially divorced, you still have an obligation to me.” Liu Yiyang clung to me shamelessly once more, his nimble fingers twisting to undo a button on my nightgown. But I brushed his hand away again: “At the same time, I have the right to refuse you.” “Jiaqian, just think about it—how long have I been abstaining? If I keep this up, I’m bound to make a mistake out there.” Liu Yiyang nipped at my ear from behind: “Just have a little mercy on me.” I was determined not to give in to him, fighting with all my might to keep my body—which was already beginning to stir—from surrendering to this man who had always done as he pleased with me. “Rest assured, once tomorrow comes, no matter what you do, it won’t be considered a mistake.” Liu Yiyang let out a long sigh and lay back down obediently. “Are you really sure about this? Do you want to divorce me? Won’t you regret it?” Today was really strange. Chen Jiaojiao asked me if I regretted getting married, while Liu Yiyang asked if I’d regret it if we divorced. Could it be that ever since I got pregnant, I, Tong Jiaqian, have become all bust and no brains? Could it be that I, Tong Jiaqian, am so prone to straying off the right path that everyone around me can’t help but worry for me? No, I’ve never regretted marrying Liu Yiyang. At the very least, I’ve loved him for seven years, and at the very least, he gave me Jinjin. So I believe I won’t regret leaving Liu Yiyang either, because as far as I’m concerned, my life right now couldn’t possibly get any worse. I’ve already hit rock bottom. “Why? Why, exactly?” Even as Liu Yiyang asked the same question twice, his tone remained as gentle as ever. “It’s precisely because you don’t know why,” I replied cleverly. “I know. But I still have to ask why. Is it because I didn’t give you a house? Is it because we have to live in my parents’ house? “But do you remember what you said before we got married?” Liu Yiyang took my hand and stroked it, his tone and touch so tender it felt as though we were lying on the rooftop, romantically counting the stars, rather than discussing divorce and cold, hard reality. “I remember. I said I didn’t care. I said that as long as I could be with you, even if I had nothing but a single tile over my head, I wouldn’t care.” “But now you say you don’t want to be with me at all. How can you bear to leave Jinjin without a father?” “But can you bear to leave me without Jinjin?” “Jiaqian, don’t exaggerate. Just because Jinjin can’t sleep beside us right now doesn’t mean we’ve lost her. Besides, you must see how much Mom loves her. You must also see how much time and effort she’s put into helping take care of Jinjin.” “But I’d rather she be like Grandma and Dad.” My mind was flooded with the image of Jinjin nestled in my mother-in-law’s arms, giggling, as sweet as sugar and honey. As her mother, I was consumed by jealousy. “By saying that, are you blaming Grandma and Dad too? “Don’t take it personally. They’re just stubborn; they’re just venting. Don’t let it get to you.” “You’re right. I do blame them—maybe even more than I blame Mom for hogging Jinjin. What gives them the right to be so cold and harsh toward her? Look at this family—I blame everyone. So please, don’t ask me again why I want a divorce.” “So you blame me too?” “Yes, because you clearly know where it hurts, yet you don’t understand why it hurts. Instead, you think I’m making a mountain out of a molehill, stirring up trouble over nothing. This isn’t the Liu Yiyang I used to know. The Liu Yiyang of the past would always put himself in my shoes, treating my smallest worries as if the sky were falling.” Jinjin started crying again. Her loud, pleading wails had to travel through the walls and the door before they reached my ears. I crawled out from under the covers into the chilly air and quickly pulled on my clothes: “Liu Yiyang, do you have any idea what goes through my mind every night when I go to breastfeed, standing there with my chest exposed, facing Dad’s back?” I set off once more to feed the baby, leaving Liu Yiyang alone in the warm quilt, lost in thought. By the time I’d buttoned up my coat, parted from Jinjin again, and returned to the room, he had already fallen into a deep sleep. His sleep was not peaceful, for his brow was furrowed with worry, and his lips were pressed tightly together. But he was asleep after all, just as he was every day—falling asleep before me, leaving me to toss and turn alone.
