Chapter 73: 73 Because We Were Family 10

When I finally awoke, I had no idea what time it was. I sat up quickly and held a hand to my throbbing head. After a moment of dizziness, I opened my eyes to look around the room, expecting to see the young ghost boy laughing at me again. My mouth opened in surprise when I saw where I was.

I was laying on the side of a busy road. Pedestrians streamed past, hurrying in and out of shops and hailing taxis. I recognized the road as the busiest shopping street in Linhai. I’d never been here before, but I’d seen enough tourist pictures online to feel familiar with the area. A giant sign at the end of the road confirmed my guess with the words “Welcome to Pedestrian Street, Linhai.”

I stood up with some difficulty. I was surprised to realize that although the road was eerily quiet, everyone around me was talking excitedly with each other, their mouths and hands moving without any sound. However, not one person looked in my direction.

I stretched out my hand hesitantly in front of a man talking on his phone nearby. No response. I tried again, more boldly this time, as a couple approached me on the sidewalk. Rather than dodge my hand, the couple continued forward at the same pace, and I watched as my hand went through the man’s suit jacket. I felt my knees go weak. Did I become a ghost? Or is this a ghost city?

Suddenly I heard a single sound—a shaking, rage-filled voice croaking out, “Go…go…go away!”

I looked toward the source of the voice immediately. An older man, probably around sixty, was scolding a middle-aged couple who were both crying. A twelve-year-old boy stood next to them silently. As I watched them, I felt a deep pang of loneliness that seemed to emanate from the boy.

The little boy seemed disconnected from the adults he was with. He stood motionless and stared off into the distance, but after a few moments I registered resentment and anger in his eyes. I shuddered.

The middle-aged man started to approach the older man, then stopped and said, "Dad, we..."

The grey-haired man exploded at his son, nearly frothing at the mouth as he shouted, "Jiang Kun, Jiang Ping! Go away, and take that bastard! Now!"

Jiang Kun and Jiang Ping. Those are the names of the people who died in the fire… Suddenly, I realized who I was looking at. So, that little boy must be Jiang Mingming.

Suddenly, Jiang Kun kneeled, pulling Jiang Mingming down with him, or trying to at least. Although Jiang Mingming stumbled, he didn't kneel. Jiang Kun didn’t notice; he was too busy trying his best to kowtow to his father, leaving a bloody spot on the ground where his forehead hit the concrete.

After a few moments, Jiang Kun looked up and said sadly, "Dad, please save Jiang Ping. She can’t wait any longer for the operation."

Jiang Kun cried and said in a low voice, "Dad, she is your daughter."

In response, the old man picked up a coat hanger and tried to beat Jiang Kun, but a nearby man jumped in to stop the assault. The old man screamed over the stranger’s shoulder, "Bastard! She is your sister. How! Dare! You! You brought a bastard into the world!"

Jiang Ping, crying more noisily now, uttered the words, "Dad, we really love each other."

As soon as he finished those words, noise flooded into my ears from every direction. The pain in my ears was unbearable as the voices of everyone on the street became audible at once. From all directions, I heard judgment, contempt, and anger.

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I realized now why that child had always murmured strange words like, "Dad is not my dad."

The old man’s voice became louder and sharper over the noise of the passers-by. I’m surprised those words aren’t banned by the government, I thought as I listened to him fire curse words at his son. Jiang Kun looked utterly defeated, then he slowly turned to look at the young boy who was still standing expressionless nearby. Suddenly, Jiang Kun flew at Jiang Mingming, striking him to the floor and hitting him repeatedly with his hands.

Jiang Mingming's clothing ripped under his father’s hands, and I saw bruises and scars between the fresh red marks his father was leaving. Now the young boy was crying.

Jiang Ping, who had been silent this whole time, tried to run to her child to protect him. However, she moved stiffly, and I remembered the earlier mention of a needed operation. As she approached Jiang Mingming, she fell, but she was able to pull him under her and shield him from his father’s blows.

The old man laughed with tears streaming down his face, shouting ceaselessly, "Kill the bastard. It is he who destroys you."

I looked at the young boy, now lying in his mother’s embrace. He was staring at the sky, once again expressionless, but then he snapped his head towards me and stared into my eyes.

“You see? Nobody stopped him.” The young boy sounded disgusted by the adults’ behavior. “I destroyed them? They destroyed me. They gave birth to me.” Jiang Mingming’s tone was flat yet decisive.

I opened my mouth, but I didn't know how to respond.

Jiang Kun continued to try to pull the boy from his mother’s arms while she struggled on the floor. The old man was now sitting on some stairs, crying and slapping his chest.

"They cannot live together, because we are true family. I am a bastard because we are true family." Jiang Mingming’s tone was peaceful, and the coldness it had had a moment before had disappeared. However, I felt a deep sadness, as though I was feeling his feelings.

The love between his parents was not permitted. Why? Because they were siblings and it was immoral. Still…

I know Jiang Kun isn’t right, but is his love really wrong? And why was Jiang Mingming blamed for anything? He’s just a child. Why is Jiang Kun treating him this way if he loves Jiang Ping?

I had mixed feelings, and could not distinguish who was right. All I knew at this moment was that Jiang Kun clearly didn't like his child.

Suddenly, blood sprayed out of Jiang Mingming’s mouth and I watched in horror as his father twisted his arm out of shape. Onlookers began to mutter amongst themselves and many took out their phones to record.

I looked around. Many people actually seemed to be shocked and saddened by the scene. I felt strange as I watched them turn away in shock and cover their mouths with their hands; no one had shown even the slightest amount of sympathy for the boy before.

I saw two middle-aged women cry and clutch each other with grief. I remembered them from earlier, when I’d seen them shouting at the family in disgust. Why are they crying now?

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