Ch1 - A sheet of insincerity

What is freedom?

Before I was sixteen, freedom to me was like birds soaring in the sky; fish swimming in the sea; precious enough that Sandor Petofi said he would be willing to give up his life and love for. An abstract, yet uniform existence. 

After I turned sixteen, freedom had a more tangible definition. It became beyond my reach, it was the world outside high walls, a goddess like being that had King Chu Xiang wrapped around her little pinky.

I waited a whole ten years, to obtain it again.

 

 

The day I left prison, I brought with me only simple luggage and stood behind the metal gates that slowly opened. It was only one wall that separated me, but the sky appeared to be more vividly blue, the air faintly sweeter.

I greedily sucked in a gasp of air, ready to greet the new life I had been waiting for so long. 

“Lu Feng…” The prison guard, Old Huang called after me. It wasn’t a cold, apathetic string of numbers, but rather my name.

 

I went into prison at the age of sixteen for voluntary manslaughter, for ten whole years, aside from being at the juvenile detention centre for the first two years. The last eight years I had stayed at Qing Wan City First Prison to serve my sentence. Old Huang at that time was already fifty something, so if I added everything up, after sending me out he should be at the age to retire.

“Don’t turn around”, he said immediately, seeing that my body was inclined to turn back. “Keep walking forward, and never come back again.”

Thinking back, it’s strange. Knowing that I was free again didn’t bring tears to my face, but this one simple sentence from Old Huang made my nose run and brought about a sense of melancholy.

 

I blinked away the wet heat circling my eyes and sent him a wave with my back facing him, before moving through the metal doors in big steps.

“Let’s leave everything here and never see each other again, Old Huang.”

I’m not sure what expression Old Huang had behind my back, but I was smiling pretty happily. An excitement I had never had for ten years bubbled within me, and each step I took had a spring to it.

 

“Di di di… Di di di….” 

An incessant buzz woke me from my sleep, as I opened my eyes to see the faded and cracked ceiling bathed in dim light. It took me some time to fully come around, as I belatedly realised that I was no longer in the First Prison facility anymore.

There was no longer the sky splitting snores coming from the room which Number 67 lived in, nor the stench of sweaty feet. There was no need to wake up early in the morning to carry out physical labour tasks, or the need to live through each day like a never ending cycle of shifts.

Even if I had left the prison for three months, sometimes when I was in deep sleep I would still think I was trapped inside that building that was like a metal cage. Somewhere even the sun rays could not pierce, where despair lurked, heavy and suffocating.

I slapped the alarm to turn it off and rubbed the bridge of my nose. I stole a few more minutes of rest on my bed, before sitting up and shaking the sheets off to get out of bed. 

After half a month of continuous light showers, today the heavens finally decided to be supportive and bring about fluffy white clouds spread amongst a bed of brilliant blue skies. The sun was so bright that it was hard for one to open their eyes, all in all it was a rare day of great weather.

I quickly brushed my teeth and washed up before putting on a leather jacket and leaving the house. I bought two Tianjin pancakes, one cup of soybean milk and walked to a bus stop a hundred metres out. I waited for around five minutes before getting on the bus.

There weren’t many people taking the bus on a Saturday morning, so after an hour when it was the third last stop, there was only me on the bus.

The driver asked if I was getting off at the last stop, as if there was no one at the next stop, he would just keep driving. 

“Yeah, I get off at the Good People’s Nursing home”

The driver looked at me through the rearview mirror, “Visiting a patient there?”

 

I continued sucking on my soy milk, despite the cup being almost empty. I nodded my head casually in response, “My mother.”

The driver let out an expression that was sympathetic and regretful for a minute second, before letting out a long sigh. 

We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.

“What a pity.”

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My mother has Lymphoma cancer and it was diagnosed a year ago. When it was found out, she was already in the late stages. 

Back then, I still had a year before I was done with my sentence. Before, she was always very keen in visiting me and would always speak about the wonderful life that was awaiting me after I left the prison. She would even envision my married life when I was far from it, where every ‘odd’ day she said she would take care of the kids, and every ‘even’ day would be the in-law’s on babysitting duty. When she suddenly stopped coming, I realised something was wrong.

Then my mother’s friend came along, and at first she still tried to hide it, saying my mother had appendicitis and was in the hospital, so she wouldn’t be able to come visit for a short while.

After being in prison for so long, I didn’t pick up many things, but the one thing I became great at was examining the expressions of others. When I saw the way she talked, I knew that everything about the appendicitis was a lie. With greater insistence from my side, she spoke the truth, as I expected.

Faced with a foreign cancer name I had never heard before, I was startled for a long time, to the point where I didn’t even know when my mother’s friend had left. 

That night, I used my leisure time to go to the library and borrow two books related to medicine. I spent a whole week fumbling through the contents before I realised that my mother had gotten a terminal illness, and unless Jehovah himself descended upon this earth to cheat my mother out of her fate, there was no way to help her get better.

After understanding the situation, I didn’t really feel much sadness. I was just numb, memories of each passing day becoming like fog, indiscernible from the other, and as if each moment was a dream.

A few days after that, my call to a number I could not reach finally went through and the first thing my mother said was that she was fine, and she told me not to worry about her.

“You have cancer, do you think it’s something that will be fine if you say it is?” The fact that my immediate family was sick, but I couldn’t even stay by their sides made me beyond frustrated. 

My mother was silent for a moment, and when she spoke again her tone had completely changed, no longer being overtly carefree.

“I have a few credit cards here and I’ve changed all the passwords to your birthday. If something does happen to me, don’t forget to withdraw the cash. This illness has slim to none chances of being cured, so even though I’ve accepted the doctors treatment proposal I know this is just a way to extend my remaining life.”

A while ago she was still speaking so enthusiastically about the future, and now she was conveying her will. She spoke naggingly about many things, where the pass books were placed, where the land certificates were and even the basic steps of how she wanted the funeral to be arranged when she passed.

At last she said, “Son, I will try my best to hold out until you leave prison, then, let’s go home together.” 

I’ve forgotten most of my feelings back then, and it isn’t something I want to recall. I just remember after the numbness… was shockingly excruciating pain.

My mother ended up carrying out her promise and saw me leave prison through sheer willpower. Even the doctors who predicted she would only have half a year left were amazed. However, she was never able to accompany me home, as the condition of her body was still too weak, and so she was sent to Good People’s Nursing Home shortly after I left prison.

 

Using the doctors words, that place had good conditions, good facilities and could let patients leave this world with greater dignity and comfort.

The surroundings of the nursing home was truly a great environment, and coupled with the fact that today had fine weather, all the windows on the buildings seemed to sparkle, and the facilities radiated cleanliness. The light coloured marble floors mirrored the reflections of the people above, and were so clean one could roll about on the floor. 

With the Tianjin pancakes in my hands that I had brought for my mother, I entered the ward and found that there was no one inside. The blankets were all folded up neatly, as if no one had ever laid there. I looked quizzically at the name on the sickbed, Lin Xiang Ping, so there was no doubt it was my mother.

A sense of claustrophobic unease rose in my heart as I feared something might have happened to her. As I was heading out to look for staff I could reach out to, a voice came from the door of the ward.

“A-Feng, you came…”

I turned around and saw that my mother was well and accompanied by the nurse who was walking her inside. Seeing this, I was able to suppress the panic that had gripped me earlier. 

“Where did you go so early in the morning?” I asked, as I hurriedly went over to help my mother get on the bed.

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“The weather was good, so I went out for a walk.”

She was worn down by the illness, evident with her skin taking on a less healthy appearance and with all the weight that she had lost. Anyone who saw her would not think she was attractive, but the nurse who accompanied her would always tell me that Lin Laoshi had an unique charisma, the most captivating out of all the terminal patients she had encountered.

My mother had been strong for her whole life, and she was always the most afraid of people seeing her in a fallen, ashamed state. Even as her own son, I never got to witness many times when she truly lost her composure. 

The only time I did witness it was when the ruling of my case was being announced. When the time of ‘ten years’ left the judges lips, she rose abruptly with uneven breaths and her expression terrifyingly sombre.

I thought she would curse at me furiously for bringing disgrace for the family, or she might mercilessly aim a shoe straight for my head.

But she didn’t say anything, her mouth was tightly clenched, and she just gave Sheng Min Ou a loud, resounding slap.

That sound of the slap was so deafening that even the Judge shook uncontrollably in response. A hand shaped imprint was left on Sheng Min Ou’s handsome face, like a beautifully crafted porcelain vase now ruined by an ugly red mark, abrupt and jarring to see. 

The court officials accompanied me when I left the courtroom, and the whole time I was looking at my mother, but I eventually sneaked a look at Sheng Min Ou.

His eyes were cast downwards and he said nothing at all, seemingly unmoved by the slap my mother gave him, nor did he respond to the gaze I gave him.

The crowd started rising and left the courtroom in order. My mother’s eyes were red as she pushed against the wave of people to reach me, disregarding the court officials who were blocking her path as she tried to see me once again.

Sheng Min Ou still sat there motionless. At that time, I thought it was because he was afraid to face me, and that he was blaming himself for his negligence in this case. Later, I realised that I was truly too naive. 

He was able to remove two figures that he found annoying, how overjoyed he must be sitting on that bench, so why would he care about that slap my mother gave, when the pain would disappear in the next few minutes?

He wasn’t looking at me, not because he was hit so hard by my mother that his soul had left his body, but rather because he was afraid that if he met my gaze, he would be unable to control the glee that lurked in his expressions.

 

“Last time didn’t you want to eat Tianjin pancakes? I bought it for you today, but it took a while to get here so it might be cold already, I can heat it up for you.”

I let the nurse accompany my mother, then I headed towards the tea room in the kitchen to heat the Tianjin pancakes. 

It was still early, so apart from each ward letting out coughs and murmurs of gentle conversations there were no other noises. The tea room was even more devoid of anyones presence.

I heated up the Tianjin pancakes in the microwave for half a minute, then I took it out when it was lukewarm.

Even though she had specifically mentioned that she wanted to eat it, with the current conditions of my mothers body, it was difficult for her to summon an appetite to eat the food. The most she could do would be just getting a taste of the food, eating a few bites before putting it down.

I carried the bags and took them back with me, and when I was nearing my mothers ward, there was a ‘Ding’ as the lifts came to a stop on this floor. 

I didn’t stop in my footsteps as I continued walking forwards, until from the elevators a tall figure wearing a suit walked out and obstructed my path.

Even though I hadn’t seen him in ten years, I recognised Sheng Min Ou in an instant.

In his left hand, he held an abundant fruits basket, and he was holding a phone with his right hand, having a conversation with someone.

“I didn’t forget tonights date, I’ll be there on time.” When he was speaking, his tone was measured and controlled, despite his brows furrowing in a telltale sign of his impatience. 

As I stood in his sight, being an adult now, there was no way for him to miss my presence.

He spared me a look from the corner of his eyes and didn’t seem to think much of it at first, but after exchanging a short few words with the person on the other side of the line he stopped abruptly, and slowly, as if he had seen a ghost in daytime, turned to look over at me.

He had finally recognised me.

“I have some matters to attend to now, I’ll call you back later.” He hung up the phone, placed his hands in his pockets and looked at me square in the eye. 

He was sizing me up, seemingly assessing whether I had staged an escape from the prison, and whether that hand he had tucked in his pocket should be calling the police at this instant.

“When did you come out?”

While he had been assessing me, I had also evaluated him.

Ten years had passed, I grew taller, he had not, but I was still fucking shorter than him, by almost half a head. 

“I’ve been out for about three months,” I replied. Even though I didn’t know how to smoke, I really wished I could get a cigarette, light it up and press it to his face. I wonder how he would still pull of such an arrogant, condescending expression in that situation.

He let out a seemingly disinterested ‘oh’, before handing over the fruits basket to me. “Then you can deliver this, I’m afraid that if Ms Lin sees me again she will scream and make a huge deal out of it. Being too emotional is bad for her body.”

 

I took a glance at the luxurious and almost delicate fruits basket he brought, before accepting it and giving him a word of thanks.

“If there’s anything that’s difficult in the future just give me a call, the nurse should have my contact details.” 

His phone was in his right pocket, and it wasn’t like I was a primitive caveman who didn’t have a phone of my own. Just the thought of exchanging our own contact details was tedious to him, to the point where he told me to reach out to the nurse to get his phone number if there were any issues in the future.

On the surface level, he had perfected his polite mannerisms and courtesies. The only thing separating his true desires for me to never interact with him again until I died was just a sheet of insincerity, fake as can be. If I used one finger, one sentence, I could poke through it and expose what laid beneath, but in the end I said nothing.

I smiled and accepted it, “Okay.”

Ten years ago, I would have not hesitated in exposing him, but now I had grown up. The adult world was like so, where even if there is a translucent sheet of paper, barely covering up what was beneath, it was still better than seeing the ugly truth for what it was in it’s bare form. 

He turned around and pressed the button for the lift to go down, and bid his farewells to me half heartedly, “I still have things to do, so I’ll be going first.”

A weak breeze came by during this movement, and a cold scent was brought forth. It was  leather accompanied with sandalwood, and in that one instant the dominating scent had filled up my entire nasal cavity.

“Don’t you have anything to say to me?”

He tilted his head, his gaze lowering slowly to my face, then slowly shifted away again, stopping for only two seconds. The elevator arrived, and he stepped inside without a word, as if he had automatically filtered out my question just then. 

Bewildered, I realised that this probably meant ‘no’ from him.

I watched him enter the elevator, and in this space where no one else occupied, he seemed to no longer need to uphold the facade he had kept going, and revealed some of his true colours.

The tightly knit eyebrows started to relax and with his half lidded eyes, he exuded a sense of unrivalled arrogance. Anyone in his eyes would just be a talking pig, and even a casual remark or conversation with him would be the greatest gift they received.

Heaven knows how he suppressed the urge to vomit whilst talking to me just then, it must’ve been hard for him. 

With Tianjin pancakes in one hand and a fruits basket in the other, I returned to the ward.

“You just went to heat up breakfast, how come you returned with a fruits basket?” My mother stopped her conversation with the nurse and asked me, a questioning gaze evident in her eyes.

I placed the fruits basket on her bedside drawer, and picked a delectable pear out as I planned to wash it first and then give it a taste.

“Sheng Min Ou just dropped by…” 

I hadn’t even finished speaking, when all the fruits in that basket, aside from the pear I was holding, were hurtled towards the floor. The action was done so fast it could be aptly described as both swift and violent in its nature.

She was panting, the hair around her temples a mess. “Tell him to get lost!”

 

My mother rarely loses her composure, yet now she uncaringly threw a fit, speaking callously at her previously adopted son to “get lost”.

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