Kneeling on the cold, hard mattress, the teardrop mole beneath my right eye glowed faintly under the screen’s bluish light.
The moment I saw the words “parent-teacher meeting” in the message, my knees instinctively tensed.
I kept staring at the “typing…” indicator at the top of the chat window, pressing my frozen fingertips to my lips to warm them before sending a reply to Uncle Yan: “Uncle Yan, I’m still awake. You can call me.”
No sooner had I hit send than the phone buzzed in my palm.
On the caller ID, a photo showed a man in an old military uniform grinning broadly at the camera—his smile overlapping with the last memory I had of my father, making my throat prickle again with that rusty taste of sorrow.
I lifted the phone to my ear. Uncle Yan’s voice came through, warm but laced with fatigue.
“Girl, sorry if I’m disturbing your rest, calling this late.”
Ever since Aunt Yan passed away from illness, Uncle Yan had raised Yan Dong and Yan Qiuzhi by himself.
The rest of his time was consumed by endless overtime work.
At this hour, he was probably just wrapping things up at the office, planning to sleep there for the night.
Even at his age, he was still trapped in a life of chaotic, irregular hours.
“No worries, Uncle Yan. I caught up on sleep during the day, so I’m feeling great now.”
I deliberately raised the pitch of my voice, trying to sound light and cheerful.
But in the small room, it only came out sounding thin and unfamiliar.
Staring at the new mold growing on the peeling wall, I kept my voice bright.
“Are you worried about the parent-teacher meeting? Don’t worry, I’ll take notes on everything. Once you’re back from your trip.”
“How’s your mother’s health lately?”
Uncle Yan’s sudden question cut off the lines I’d prepared.
The phone’s sharp edge dug into my ear, and I unconsciously clutched the white crystal flower of my jasmine hair tie.
But for a moment, I couldn’t get a single word out—only silence, while Uncle Yan continued speaking gently on the other end.
“Had dinner with Uncle Li tonight. We talked a lot about the past. Couldn’t sleep after that and wanted to chat with you.”
“Mom’s doing okay. The community clinic just gave her a new prescription.”
My long black hair fell forward, shielding my face, just like how tangled and unspoken my emotions were.
“But you should take care of yourself too. That cough last time.”
“Girl, you don’t need to pay the debt anymore.”
His voice dropped suddenly, the warm tone still present but graver now.
“Your dad took a bullet for me back then. Having you serve that brat Dongdong… I can’t sleep at night because of it.”
The howling northern wind outside abruptly fell silent.
The cheap scent of jasmine mingled with the bitter smell of herbal medicine from next door and churned in my nose.
I gazed at the faded family photo frame beside my bed—Dad’s arm wrapped around the “her” in a junior high uniform, while Mom stood on the left, smiling gently.
That photo was taken five years ago, before illness ravaged our lives.
Back then, the faces in the frame still radiated the warmth of the sun.
I honestly believed my life would always be that peaceful.
“Girl, I’m really sorry I couldn’t help your dad more. If I’d known earlier what your family was going through…”
Uncle Yan’s voice faded into another long sigh.
Honestly, Uncle Yan didn’t need to blame himself.
More than half a year ago, at the hospital payment window, when I was gripping that astronomical bill and contacting buyers, ready to sell a kidney to save Mom—it was Uncle Yan who pulled us both back from the edge of death.
A man with no blood ties to me was willing to go that far.
If I still couldn’t be grateful, then I really didn’t deserve to live.
I knew that, to me, the 20-year labor contract was a shackle I couldn’t escape.
But in Uncle Yan’s eyes, it was nothing more than a speck of dust, something that could vanish completely if I just nodded once.
But what’s weighed on my heart has never just been the debt that takes twenty years to repay—there’s also the favor I owe Uncle Yan, one I could never truly return.
I do want to return to a normal life.
But what exactly is “normal” for someone like me?
I don’t know.
I just hope that while delivering orders, I don’t get hit by a car before the debt’s paid off.
“If I really got out of the debt, my dad would probably smack me in a dream.”
I forced out a light laugh from my throat as my fingers gently rubbed the smiles on my parents’ faces in the photo.
“Besides, Brother Yan Dong’s been extra considerate lately, he even helped me with a calculus problem yesterday.”
There was a long silence.
The only sound left in the receiver was the soft rustling of turning pages, until a sudden coughing fit snapped me back and made me instinctively clutch my blanket tight.
“If Dong, cough, cough, Dongdong ever gives you trouble, just let me know.”
Uncle Yan’s stifled cough mixed with the sound of swallowing pills, making his voice sound a little older than before.
“Once I finish this merger case, I’ll introduce you to Professor Xu’s son. He’s a few months older than you, very steady. He’s working on a paper right now to submit to The Lancet.”
“That’s great. I can ask Brother Xu for academic advice then.”
I stared at the ticking second hand of my wristwatch. It was 1:17 a.m.
At this time, Yan Dong was probably still gleefully grinding game dungeons.
Who knows when he’ll finally stop giving Uncle Yan grief?
“If the paper passes peer review, there’ll be a presentation. Just so happens Qiuzhi’s also writing something lately—you two should find a time to go together.”
“Got it. I’ll definitely go.”
Uncle Yan yawned on the other end, his voice so raspy from fatigue it nearly faded.
He was clearly at his limit.
“That’s all, girl. Get some rest. Don’t stay up too late, you’re young.”
“Mhm, you too, Uncle Yan. Try not to stay up too late, especially with your health.”
After hanging up, I rubbed my heavy eyelids.
The city had long since gone to sleep, but before I could rest, I still had to learn how to tie my hair.
I couldn’t possibly go to a parent-teacher meeting tomorrow looking like a mess.
I grabbed the comb and tried to detangle the knots in my hair.
But by the seventh time I yanked at my scalp, I gave up in frustration.
The model in the tutorial video styled her bun so effortlessly, it looked as easy as drinking water.
Meanwhile, after over half an hour of struggling, I barely managed to tie a lopsided low ponytail.
Ugly.
The awkward curve of the unfamiliar girl’s lips in the mirror made me sigh.
I untied the hairband and gently placed it on the desk.
The red ribbon of the hair tie, adorned with a pure white jasmine flower, shimmered faintly under the warm desk lamp.
I massaged my throbbing temples.
When I finally couldn’t keep going, I dragged myself up and drew the curtains shut.
“Tomorrow…”
The soft, clear female voice that escaped my throat startled me enough to stumble backward.
My shin banged into the iron bed frame, and the metal groaned against the floor with a harsh screech.
Fabric rustled in the next room.
I froze, slapped a hand over my mouth, and held my breath.
Only when the sound of Mom turning over quieted did I let out a long, shaky breath.
What am I doing? I’ve been talking all day, why react like this?
The rusty iron bed let out a groan as I lay down.
I collapsed onto the jasmine-scented pillow, my eyelids too heavy to keep open anymore.
The unfamiliar rhythm of breathing in my ears, the unfamiliar softness on my chest, the unfamiliar strands of long hair brushing the pillow, and the unfamiliar gentle brows in the window’s reflection, every detail mocked my pathetic attempt to convince myself this was all just a dream.
“It’s not a dream.”
……
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