Chapter 8

As Yang Siqiong hurried home, Yang Bufan and Dad, having picked up the cake, happened to pass a newly opened milk tea shop.
Dad asked if she wanted milk tea. Yang Bufan painfully refused. Dad got persistent, kept asking.
She’d just filled four cavities. Mom had forbidden any sugary drinks.
The kind‑faced mom who’d visited her in Shenzhen had become the stern matriarch again. Lately her gaze seemed full of meaning. Probably had complaints about her idle daughter. Just hadn’t said the harsh words yet.
Yang Bufan didn’t want to push her luck. Shook her head. Dad was surprised. Why not? Just brush your teeth when you get home. Your mom won’t know!
So father and daughter happily went in. Ordered grass jelly, yangmei boba ice. Yang Bufan finished hers in three minutes after leaving the shop.
Dad opened the lid, poured her most of his cup, looked proudly at this greedy daughter taller than him, slurping milk tea loudly.
To parents, no matter how old the child, if they could eat three big bowls in one meal, that was a top‑notch good child.
Yang Bufan was thinking about other things.
She’d been very happy lately. But that happiness came with guilt about leaving the workplace, like she was sneaking around. Because one day she opened Moments, saw peers all running at high speed on normal tracks—work, overtime, gym, travel. Her photo album was all sheep, sheep pens, and herself tanned like Li Kui.
Being unemployed and this happy made her ashamed and uneasy. Maybe she was accelerating downward, sliding into an abyss without knowing it.
Like drinking milk tea now. Guilty pleasure. If Mom found out, who knew how she’d get scolded. But she drank it anyway.
Drinking and repenting. Secretly happy.
And in mainstream values, for educated young people, raising sheep—wind and sun, no six insurances and one fund, completely cut off from accumulated social connections—was basically social death. How could that be a young person’s pursuit?
In worldly terms, it was downward freedom. Otherwise why could even the village dogs gossip about her to Mom?
Yang Bufan was a little discouraged. People used to mock Kong Yiji for not taking off his scholar’s robe. Wasn’t she the same?
By the time they got home, it was dark. Mom sat under the tall four‑season osmanthus in the yard, silently drinking tea.
Yang Bufan just glanced at Mom through the dark night and thought: *Oh no.* She followed closely behind Dad, step by step, trying to lower her presence. Still heard Mom call: “Come here.”
Yang Bufan tugged Dad’s sleeve like a plea for help. Dad shook his head, said he’d make dinner. She could only tiptoe over, start boiling water, change the tea.
“Do you have anything to tell me?”
Yang Bufan licked her lips. Shook her head guiltily.
Silence.
Mother and daughter faced off. Hostility slowly solidified in the air, took shape.
“Guangyou Gong said you and Xiao Jiang broke up. He kicked you out? Did he bully you?” Yang Siqiong’s eyes were sharp. Crow’s feet like knife cuts.
“Did he wrong you?”
Yang Bufan zoned out, thinking how to confess about the breakup. Saw Mom’s hands—like tree bark, full of cracks, dry, rough.
Years of hard work had swollen and bent her fingers. Even at rest they were slightly claw‑like. Couldn’t straighten, couldn’t make a fist. Common rheumatism in eastern Guangdong.
But now, as she got angry, her hands clenched into fists. The cracks on them split angrily. Split into shocking, blood‑red lines.
Yang Bufan was surprised. Straightened up. “No. I broke up with him.”
She glossed over it. Said their economic status was too different, not suitable for long‑term. Work was tiring anyway. Things piled up. Jiang Qishen hadn’t done anything wrong.
After she finished, Yang Bufan saw Mom’s hands return to slightly claw‑like. Her expression eased slightly.
Today’s tea was honey orchid. Rich, domineering aroma. Sweet aftertaste. Mom’s favorite daily tea. Mother and daughter silently poured and drank. The matter seemed closed.
Yang Bufan picked up a tea snack, finished it, got up to go inside. Mom stopped her.
“I know you have your own ideas. Many things you don’t want to tell me. But today, I heard others say my daughter was having a hard time outside, being bullied. I knew nothing. It felt terrible. I’m your mother. In that situation, I couldn’t even refute. No matter what really happened, but I gave birth to you, raised you, not so you could suffer silently, watch people’s faces, let people laugh at you.”
Yang Bufan froze.
“Ling Yi’s A‑Zhu calls home for an hour every day, tells her mom everything. Honestly, as a mother, compared to her, I’m a failure. Not close to my own daughter. Something this big, I had to hear it secondhand.”
“Many times I wanted to ask, but was afraid you’d think I was nagging.”
Yang Siqiong paused. “Not asking you to chat an hour every day. I just don’t want to learn about my daughter from other people’s mouths. If you’re going to make an important decision, tell Mom first. Even just the gist. That way when neighbors ask, I can answer. If they say bad things about you, I’ll know how to refute.”
Yang Bufan’s tears fell. “Sorry, Mom.”
“I know I should’ve said it earlier. I was just embarrassed.”
“Always felt I was too useless. Achieved nothing. Love, work—couldn’t do anything right. Really afraid you’d be disappointed, think I was shameful. I feel like I let you down.”
Yang Bufan had always been ordinary. Not smart enough, not hardworking enough, not brave enough.
Average in every way. Never achieved anything great. But her parents never asked her to strive upward.
They didn’t pressure her to get high scores, didn’t ask her to make money, never compared her to anyone. But unconditionally met her needs. What she wanted, she got.
They just simply hoped she’d be healthy and happy. Silently supported her. Then when necessary, drained themselves to sacrifice for her.
Night wind fell into this small yard. Moonlight flowed silver across the ground in the wailing wind.
After hearing this, Yang Siqiong was quiet, low. Like a tree shadow unmoving in the moonlight.
The light at the door suddenly came on. Xu Jianguo came out with a plate of stir‑fried squid, a plate of oyster omelet. Set down the steaming, scallion‑scented plates. Handed chopsticks to mother and daughter.
He looked at his red‑eyed daughter. Thought: Compared to Guangyou Shu’s family, Yang Bufan was very ordinary career‑wise. Greedy too. All her flaws came from him.
But she was still his most precious daughter. Ordinary was fine. Who said he wasn’t a tiny, insignificant dad?
On the other hand, the child had always been so thoughtful. Didn’t even have a rebellious phase. Today was her mom’s birthday. She’d bought a gold necklace in advance, secretly ordered a cake at the village entrance. She wasn’t the kind of child who only knew how to take. Now the family lived together, pulling in the same direction. What more could you want?
Xu Jianguo sat down. Urged: “Eat first. It’s no good cold.”
When mother and daughter picked up their chopsticks, Xu Jianguo smiled. “Last night I watched a short video. Zhuangzi told a story. A carpenter went to the forest, saw trees and cut them. Some made tables, some built houses. But one day he saw a crooked‑neck tree. Tall but misshapen. Couldn’t make anything. The carpenter was angry.”
“Guess what Zhuangzi said?”
Mother and daughter looked at him.
“Zhuangzi said: The use of the useless is the greatest use. The crooked‑neck tree was useless to the carpenter, so it escaped, wasn’t cut. People are like that too. People useful to others are often cut down, sacrificed. A tree that looks useless, can’t build houses, can’t make chairs—but it grows tallest, biggest. It doesn’t have to be a table or chair. It just is a tree. Free. Itself.”
“The use of the useless is the greatest use.”
Yang Bufan was comforted. Held back tears. Remembered something she’d seen long ago: proving yourself had no end. Proving you were doing well, useful—that was just obsessing over your instrumental value. But people weren’t tools. People were people.
Obsessing over that would only alienate you from yourself.
She chewed the crisp, tender squid. Collagen springy and soft. Exploded with scallion freshness in her mouth. Delicious.
Xu Jianguo looked at the worried Yang Siqiong. Said: “Life keeps getting better. The three of us together is great. I think those gossips are just jealous. Besides, young people breaking up and getting back together is normal. That Jiang kid had no luck. Didn’t deserve our daughter.”
Then looked at his daughter. “We’ll find someone better later. I think that Jiang kid wasn’t much. Always had a long face, like he’d shit his pants. Talking to him scared me.”
Yang Bufan didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Nodded.
Yang Bufan picked up some oyster omelet for Mom. “Mom, today I secretly drank milk tea.”
“I’ll brush my teeth after eating.”
Yang Siqiong was silent a long time. Seemed like she didn’t take it to heart. Said something that didn’t connect:
“The day I went to Shenzhen, I should’ve brought you back.”
Before bed, Yang Bufan was called by Dad.
“Know why your mom went to Shenzhen to see you?”
“Endoscopy.”
Xu Jianguo shook his head. “That’s what she told you.”
“One night she had a dream. Dreamed you weren’t doing well. Rushed to see you. That was just an excuse.”
Xu Jianguo added: “Your mom’s most afraid of you being bullied.”
Xu Jianguo was a live‑in son‑in‑law. Not two years after he moved in, Yang’s parents passed. Actually they’d had two sons. Both died in a car accident.
The old couple were devastated. Depression became illness. Never recovered.
Two brothers died unexpectedly. Parents weak and sick. Yang Siqiong, a girl, held up the whole family. One blow after another shaped her increasingly patient, resilient character.
Back then the family was poor, no male heirs. She got lots of cold looks and exclusion. Didn’t even think about marriage.
Later, when Yang’s parents were too sick, they thought about finding a son‑in‑law. Chaoshan men rarely became live‑in sons‑in‑law. So Xu Jianguo, an outsider, got the chance.
It was by chance, through an introduction. They met, hit it off immediately. Xu Jianguo didn’t care about being a live‑in. As long as two people were compatible, where they lived didn’t matter.
After marriage, their life was harmonious. A bit poor, though.
Earlier, Chaoshan hadn’t changed customs, was still clannish and exclusionary. He got called “speaks Putonghua” a lot. Plus the family had few male heirs. Yang Bufan was a girl. Behind their backs, they got endless taunts about “can’t have a son.”
Yang Siqiong faced lots of son‑preference discrimination. After giving birth to Yang Bufan, she made a bold decision: never again!
She didn’t want her daughter to suffer what she’d suffered. Didn’t want her daughter bullied by a son. Wanted to give all the family’s love and resources to her daughter.
At the time, this was unbelievable. The whole village tried to persuade her. But she did it.
Xu Jianguo supported it, of course. He didn’t even mind being a live‑in. Naturally found the narrative about needing a son to carry on the family line boring. Sons were symbols of empty power. Far less precious than a living daughter’s happiness.
Xu Jianguo looked at his daughter. “Life not going your way is normal. Your mom and I have lived most of our lives. Don’t we know? You have a long life ahead. Temporary setbacks will pass. Our family isn’t rich, but we always have food. Afraid you’ll eat an extra bowl? Every parent loves their child. Our child doesn’t have to be a big shot outside to be successful. Coming back to her parents—how is that not success?”
“Thanks, Dad.”
This was the day Yang Bufan felt the highest concentration of home and love since coming back. Parental love really had no reason, no origin, no conditions.
They seemed born with the talent to love. Geniuses of love.
In this family atmosphere, anxiety, workplace pressure were distant things. Her parents lived in the present calmly, didn’t worry about how to control the future.
They cherished everything at hand—family, lambs, tea and food on the table. Even if the future was stormy, their hearts would never be cold and empty.
In that moment, she was hit by such strong emotion she didn’t know what to do. But she also gathered courage, straightened her back, blurted: “Dad, this time I really want to stay home. I want to run the sheep farm well. Make it big, make it strong. Build a huge farm. Give you and Mom a better life.”
“Dad supports you!”
And Yang Siqiong, silently, began preparing. Because she had something huge to do.