AnYi 安亦

This is a translation of 归点. I made the necessary adjustments based on a first draft translated by ChatGPT.

Lu Jianbai spent her twelfth birthday in the wardrobe. Her birthday was unlucky, falling on April 4th in the Gregorian calendar, and therefore combined the celebration of life with mourning for death. She had been associated with the number “four” since childhood, and others inevitably brought it up in conversation, so Lu Jianbai knew how to write “bad luck” from a young age.

When she was four years old, her father died. She didn’t have much of an impression of the event. Of him, she only had a vague memory of the scent of cigarettes and the prickly stubble on his chin when he occasionally held her. There was also a time when she was sick in bed with a fever, and he told her the story of the little match girl. When the girl died at the end of the story, Lu Jianbai felt even worse. He had been at the end of his wits, so he resorted to getting her baby brother, who was not much more than a ball of flesh at the time, to play with her. She eventually fell asleep while holding her brother, and when she woke up, her father was nowhere to be found.

Later, she learned that her father had been a workaholic, addicted to staying late at work to revise his drawings and blueprints. One day, in a moment of excitement, he had a cerebral haemorrhage and collapsed onto the keyboard of his computer, which instantly took his life. He wasn’t found until the next morning by the cleaning staff.

When Lu Jianbai was eight, her mother died too. By then, she had matured enough to realize that she had become an orphan. She imagined a tragic scene where she and her brother were sent to an orphanage and described it in detail to Lu Xiao’ai. They were overheard by their aunt passing by, who scolded her. “What nonsense! None of us is heartless here in the family. No one’s sending you to any orphanage.” Then, remembering the children had just lost their mother, she sighed at their misfortune and patted each of them on the head, as some kind of comfort.

There was a family meeting to decide who would take in the siblings. Lu Jianbai remembers sitting tightly next to Xiao’ai on a small stool in the living room of their grandmother’s place, surrounded by relatives, waiting for the adults to announce their fate. Their grandmother’s old age and poor health made her an unlikely candidate to take care of the two children, not when she needed a care nurse herself. Their mother’s cousins only attended to be polite, and they couldn’t possibly take them back home. This left only two options: their mother’s sister and brother.

She suggested taking one child each, and before anyone can interrupt, announced, “Xiao’ai is still young and may not adapt well if he goes to a different city. Let him come with me, I have enough space. “

Their maternal uncle raised disapproval. “Jianbai is a girl. She won’t be able to get along with our son. Let me take Xiao’ai. He can keep his cousin company.”

Suddenly, their third great-aunt interjected, “Oh, doesn’t Sisi also have another son? He must be quite big by now, right?”

Their aunt rolled her eyes. “Yes, he’s studying in high school out of town and won’t be back until tomorrow. We don’t need to worry about him. His biological father will pay for his university education. He already has a green card in the United States, and he’s far richer than us.”

Xiao’ai took this opportunity to speak up from his small stool. “Can we go with our big brother?”

Uncle tried to persuade them with patience. “Your big brother has to go to school and can’t take care of you. Xiao’ai, why don’t you come with me? Your cousin can play with you in the future.”

Jianbai suddenly shouted, “You’re not even asking me! Don’t you even think about separating us!” Xiao’ai was still so young that he burst out crying, holding onto Jianbai tightly as if his life depended on it.  Alternating between his uncle and his aunt, he wailed, “I want to be with my sister, I want to be with my sister!” An unusual sensitivity rose in Jianbai, and she instinctively knew that neither her uncle nor aunt really wanted her, and that both wanted to take her brother away from her. Her anger overwhelmed all other emotions, rising from the soles of her feet to the top of her head, and then exploding in her chest.

The two children made a big scene and refused to be separated on any condition. Aunt initially wanted to say that this was not up to them to decide, but Xiao’ai only screamed and pounded the ground, while Lu Jianbai held her brother tightly and had a look of determination as if she were ready to die for him. Such an expression was always daunting on the face of an eight-year-old child.

Grandmother had been silent all along, but she looked at Jianbai for a while, her eyes filled with tears, and she choked out, “Look, this girl is just like her mother.”

Aunt suddenly choked up too. The whole room fell silent. The grownups had a lengthy discussion, each with a glass in their hands, until their tea turned from green to colourless, but no one had any ideas. In the end, they had to draw lots, and Jianbai and Xiao’ai ended up with their aunt. The real estate industry in Huaiping had just begun to emerge at that time, and Aunt’s new home was spacious enough. The two children didn’t have many belongings. Even including their bunk bed, it only took one trip to move all their things into the corner of the study.

They lived there for four more years.

To be fair, over the past four years, they have never lacked food or clothing. Whenever there were parent-teacher meetings at school, Aunt took turns going with her husband. During festivals and holidays, the children get new clothes too as were traditions, and the clothes were no worse than those given to their cousins. Now, Lu Jianbai was curled up in the corner of the wardrobe, her face next to the new down jacket. The jacket cost several hundred yuan and was very warm, although it was a bit ugly — a bright, dazzling peach-pink colour that made her look like a distant cousin of a flamingo when she wore it out. The wardrobe was shared by the siblings and there was limited space to crouch inside. Lu Jianbai leaned against the wall with the back of her head and pulled away the clothes in front of her with one hand, but she still had to have intimate contact with the flamingo jacket, leaving only half of her face out for breathing.

It was her twelfth birthday. Aunt and uncle took Xiao’ai to sweep the graves. They used to take her with them too, but the night before, she overheard Aunt say to Uncle, “Don’t take Jianbai tomorrow. This little girl doesn’t know what’s good for her. Every time we go to her mother’s grave, she acts as if it kills her to say a few nice words. Do you remember the scene she caused last year? There were dead people all around, and she still dared to make such a fuss. Everyone watched us. People thought we were abusing her.”

Uncle made a sound of agreement, “Let Xiao’ai go with us.”

“Take him then. It’s not right to leave them both behind. After all, it’s their mother.” Aunt sighed heavily, “He’s also troublesome, but at least not as stubborn as Jianbai. Besides, I won’t feel at ease leaving the two of them at home alone.”

Lu Jianbai curled up in the wardrobe, repeatedly chewing on this conversation between her aunt and uncle. Her heart was filled with injustice. Aunt and Uncle simply didn’t understand – they couldn’t understand. Adults never make sense, and they never listen to children. Xiao’ai was usually her ally and comfort, but today he abandoned her too — for Xiao’ai, grave sweeping was not so different from a spring outing, and of course he wanted an outing. She vented her frustration by biting her own sleeve in the darkness of the wardrobe, full of bitterness and resentment as if they were tangible, rushing and surging in her heart, almost tearing her small body apart.

How can one have such strong emotions? Lu Jianbai thought angrily, not knowing that Lu Sisi used to ask herself this question a lot too.

Yes, how could a person have such strong emotions? Aunt and Uncle obviously had an answer to this question. Aunt harboured a fear of repeating Lu Sisi’s tragedy, which made her extra cautious when Jianbai’s sensitivity and stubbornness showed from a young age. Her husband wasn’t interested in raising children; he would buy them treats and toys when he was in a good mood, but wouldn’t speak to them for days when he wasn’t. These two couldn’t fulfil Jianbai’s naturally vigorous emotional needs. She loved her younger brother so passionately, as passionately as how she hated her mother. These two emotions almost filled her entire childhood. Jianbai tried hard and was determined to love her aunt and uncle, but after four years of effort, she could only manage to feel a little gratitude. She thought that anyone who heard someone say that they were naturally jinxed and would only bring bad luck to their family would find it difficult to develop any liking for that person. “When they talk to me, it’s like I’m just a cat or a dog. I can only meow and woof, instead of using human language, and nor can I understand their words.” Jianbai muttered to the flamingo down jacket. “Why can’t adults understand what children are saying?”

Father — perhaps he could have understood her. The sporadic memories left of him were coated with a layer of soft light by his death. But the image of her father was close to virtual, and she found it hard to seek comfort in it. Jianbai pulled at the white feathers inside the sleeve of her down jacket, recalling another conversation.

“When will Ah Min come back this year? ” Uncle asked during dinner last night.

“Don’t know if she will come back for May Day. She just found an internship,” Aunt said, “Xiao’ai, don’t fidget while eating. Her workplace is in Jicheng. I told her to contact Lu Cang and meet up.”

“Lu Cang is about to graduate too, right?” Uncle drank his soup slowly, and nodded towards the siblings, “Do you remember your older brother?”

“Yes!” Xiao’ai answered eagerly, while Jianbai remained silent and took a few bites of rice. As far as she remembered, her older brother only came back to Huaiping when their mother died. Little did they communicate with him, as the two of them were pushed and shoved around by adults too much to have any chance. At eighteen, Lu Cang was still skinny, and his facial features had not fully developed into their later shapes, but in the eyes of Jianbai and Xiao’ai, he was already a capable adult. Lu Cang did not shed a tear and hardly spoke at the funeral, only looking very tired. Jianbai remembered him standing in front of Lu Sisi’s portrait, biting his lip and softly saying, “Ma, no one is torturing you now, stop torturing us either.” Before anyone could react, Xiao’ai’s loud crying echoed through the mourning hall the next second – he couldn’t help but move around and stepped on their third great aunt’s new shoes, and she slapped him for it.

“Lu Xiao’ai! I’ve told you to stop fidgeting! You’re like a piece of chewing gum!” Aunt glared at her and knocked on the table, bringing Lu Jianbai’s attention back to the dinner table. Lu Xiao’ai grinned sheepishly and started to eat his rice with a slurp. Aunt’s attention shifted back to Jianbai and scolded her for eating too slowly and wasting food, before answering Uncle’s question.

“He’s graduating. Doing some foreign PhD, I hear. He’s going to America. The kid is quite good at studying. I’ll tell Ah Min to learn a thing or two from him.”

“Different fields are different worlds. They’re not even doing the same subject. ” Uncle casually remarked.

“What do you know? If you know so much, why didn’t you raise your daughter to get into Jicheng Uni?” Aunty rolled her eyes and then looked at the two siblings. “You two troublesome brats, if Lu Cang was a few years older, you might have gone to live with him. Your uncle and I wouldn’t have to suffer this every day.”

At the time, this remark was hurtful, but now Lu Jianbai’s mind was focused on Aunt’s unfinished assumption. If she and Xiao’ai could really live with their big brother… Of course, that was just a beautiful daydream, but Lu Jianbai crossed her legs and happily dreamt on. If there were good and rational adults in the world, then Lu Cang must be one of them. At the very least, he would be able to understand her pain when she had nowhere to turn to. When those things happened, Xiao’ai was too young, but Lu Cang had gone through the same as she did, and even more. If Lu Cang was there, she might be able to try and release the emotions that were about to burst out of her body. In Lu Jianbai’s imagination, her big brother would never mock her or aggressively dismiss her. As long as someone could listen to her and truly hear what she wanted to say, that would already be enough. She would be able to express her thoughts and feelings, without fear of punishment.

The small wardrobe was perfect for constructing such a sweet dream. Lu Jianbai dreamt for a good half hour inside the wardrobe, before a sudden inspiration struck her: she could write a letter to him! In an era when mobile phones had just begun to grow common, for primary school student Lu Jianbai, letters still held an indescribable sense of mystery and charm. Lu Jianbai was always quick to come up with ideas and had exceptional initiatives to act on them. She immediately opened the wardrobe door and jumped out, rummaged through a drawer for an exercise book, grabbed a fountain pen and a hardcover book, and also took a flashlight torch, before quickly jumping back into the wardrobe. With the light from the torch, she spread the exercise book on the hardcover book and began to write the letter.

Although there was no one else in, Jianbai still liked to create some dramatic atmosphere, imagining herself completing a top-secret mission – for example, a bullied undercover warrior secretly passing a message to a disciple of her sect in the deep palace courtyard, only able to write by candlelight when there was no one around. Jianbai was very satisfied with her entire character design, and she contemplated her posture and emotions for two minutes before starting to write.

“Brother Lu Cang,

“By the time you read this letter, you may have forgotten who Jianbai is. But I still want to write to you. I haven’t written to anyone else before!

“I think writing to you is better than writing to anyone else, for two reasons. First, I don’t know anyone else, and second, I have a hunch that you’re willing to listen to me. And right now, I’m very frustrated because I can’t find anyone to talk to.

“Aunt always says that children shouldn’t talk too much, but she talks so much herself. I can’t believe she suddenly took a change like this after she grew up. I can’t even imagine what Aunt was like when she was little. I think she must be always like this, either gossiping about other people’s families or complaining about me and Xiao’ai. Xiao’ai talks a lot too, but Aunt scolds him less. She mainly dislikes him having too much energy, saying that he’ll get lost one day if he keeps running around. I really don’t like Auntie saying things like that. Xiao’ai did get lost once when he was little, and I almost thought he’d never be found again. I cried for a long time, feeling very anxious. Luckily, he was found by the broadcast at the amusement park. I’m afraid that if he gets lost again, he won’t be so lucky. Although Xiao’ai assures me that he’s grown up and won’t get lost again, he’s still only ten years old. Although I suppose in your eyes, twelve is not much better than ten.

“Today I turned twelve. No one remembered my birthday, but I’d rather not have had it anyway. It’s not because it falls on the same day as the Qingming Festival, although my aunt always says that it’s unlucky to be born on that day. When mother was still alive, she would celebrate my birthday, but every year she would say, ‘I wish I never gave birth to you,’ or ‘If only I hadn’t had you.’ It made me unable to enjoy the birthday at all. I really don’t understand why she would have had me if she didn’t want me in the first place. It’s not something I could decide on. At first, when she said those things, she looked very angry and fierce. I was scared that she would hit me or scold me since she would always find an excuse to hit me when she was in a bad mood. So, although Aunt isn’t always in a good mood either, at least she doesn’t hit people for no reason. She’s only hit me and Xiao’ai when we did something wrong, and even then, it was only a few hits and without any tools. Later on, when mother said those things again, she didn’t look as angry. She would let out a heavy sigh and say, ‘When you grow up, never, ever have children. I really regret having you lot.’ I think at that point, she was just full of sadness and exhaustion.

“Brother, did she say those things to you when you were little?

“Although no one has said these things in front of me since she died, every year on my birthday, I can’t help but remember the way she looked when she said those words. At this time, I really want to die myself or hide on a deserted island where no one could find me, but Aunt said that children cannot speak like that, so I never said it in front of her again. One time, I accidentally overheard her and Uncle say that if it weren’t for me and Xiao’ai, mother might have died even earlier. She held on for a few more years for our sake. This should have been a good thing to hear, but when I heard it, it only brought more pain. In my memory, she hardly ever showed us a smiling face in her last two years. Every day, I worried that she would suddenly go crazy and throw the remote control at my head, or lock Xiao’ai on the balcony, even though he is so afraid of heights. I felt like I should protect Xiao’ai, but sometimes I couldn’t even protect myself.

“But Aunt and Uncle think I shouldn’t speak ill of her anymore because she’s already dead, and living people can only say good things about her. Actually, I was sad for a long time when she died. I didn’t even know why I was so sad, because every day I hated her. I hated her so much that my bones felt like crushing, but when she really died, I felt like a piece of my heart had been dug out. It wasn’t a very big piece, just a little bit, but it was right in the centre. I don’t think I miss her, but the things she said and did often appear in my mind, disturbing my life. Like today. Every time Aunt says that I got her temper, I get really angry because I absolutely do not want to become someone like her. But if I get angry, Aunt will say, ‘You’re just like your mother.’ So I have to learn to hold back my temper, but that’s also very uncomfortable. Sometimes I really feel like I’m going to explode if I continue living with Aunt. But she really is good to us and even cleared out Cousin Min’s old room for us to live in. Aunt says I’m an ungrateful brat because I often talk back to her, but I don’t want to be like this either. It’s just that she’s really good at saying hurtful things. Of course, nothing hurts more than the things mother said.

“Aunt’s biggest problem is that she treats children like small animals. She doesn’t understand my feelings at all.

“Brother, sometimes I really wonder if we would have been happy if we had left with you back then. But maybe kids from families like ours are destined to be unhappy. I heard you’re going to America to pursue your PhD, and I’m really happy for you! What a romantic life it must be – I’ve only seen it in novels and on TV. Brother, I envy you being able to live so freely as an adult. I wish you all the best in your studies!

“Your sister, Jianbai

“April 4th

“PS: I hope that one day I can do a PhD too.”