Cherishing You As Always - Chapter 3

Father seemed to have made up his mind. His face was grim. I didn’t know what would happen if I continued to anger him. He sat down again, breathing unevenly from anger. After swallowing, he saw I was still kneeling there and waved his hand. “Enough, enough. Get up. Go pack your things. I’ll have someone take you up the mountain first thing tomorrow morning.”

I rose slowly, nodded slowly, and backed away.

I stopped as soon as I turned the corner and a beautiful yet dignified lady stood in front of me. I bowed my head and whispered, “Mother.”

She must have just arrived — she was standing outside the doorway. She tilted her head at my dejected face and, smiling, brushed off some dust I didn’t even remember getting, then said earnestly, “Lanlou, your father is doing this for your own good. Your temper — it needs changing.”

I kept my expression downcast, scratched my head, and said, “Mother, why won’t you speak up for me?”

She patted my hand before answering. “Your father isn’t without reason to be angry. You’ve spent so many years playing around. You’re not like the other girls. You bear responsibilities. Your brother is useless; I’m only good at embroidery. You are different — you can read and write. Your father has always hoped you’d strive more. He’s been raising you like a son so that eventually the family affairs will all be yours. He wants you to study — to learn what books teach, to learn how to be a person. Even if you marry an unworthy husband, you’ll still be able to shoulder the Song family’s burdens. In the end, your brother and I will rely on you.”

I’d heard these words repeated many times. Why couldn’t I be like any ordinary girl — happily playing, happily meeting someone I liked, waiting for him to come with a grand sedan chair to carry me away? Responsibilities that shouldn’t belong to me had been placed on my shoulders.

I shrugged off my mother’s hand. Even if I didn’t listen to them, what could I do?

Thinking of my brother — that half-alive state of his was my doing. Now I was atoning. The things that should’ve been his to do were done by me instead. But I truly didn’t want this life.

I forced a smile for my mother. “Mother, I understand. I’ll go. I want to see my brother — I’ll be off now.”

In front of my parents I wore a mask, but only when I saw my brother did I drop it completely.

I knocked at the inner courtyard door and a little maid answered. She was my brother’s attendant, named Dong’er. She welcomed me inside with a worried look. “Young master hasn’t eaten again. Miss, I’m so glad you’re here — only you can calm him.”

Hearing that, I entered the bedchamber. There was only a simple large bed in the room. Nothing else.

I asked Dong’er, “Did my brother smash the furniture again?”

Dong’er returned from the outer room carrying a tray of food. “Yes. The freshly prepared dishes were ruined by the young master. Nothing’s really been set right yet.”

I looked at the person lying on the bed, half as if dead, and sighed. I took the tray from Dong’er and told her, “You may go. I’ll take care of things here.”

She left obediently. I steadied the tray in my hands and stepped into the chamber. The man on the bed gave no sign of life. I stood at the foot of the bed and waved a hand in front of him. “Brother! Brother, I know you’re awake. If you don’t eat, how will your body endure? If something’s wrong, tell me — don’t suffer alone!”

He still didn’t respond. I watched his gaunt back and sank into memory.

Seven years ago, during an outing, our parents took us up the mountain… I went to pick fruit and got separated from them with my brother.

We wandered in the mountain for a long time and couldn’t find a way out. Panic-stricken, I burst into tears, which drew wild beasts. Being so young, we didn’t know where to run. A pack of wolves circled us for a long time. I could not climb the tree well, so my brother helped push me up. Before he could climb up himself, a wolf bit his leg; I couldn’t hold his hand and he fell, hitting his head hard. I fainted from fright.

When I woke, my brother had been diagnosed as permanently disabled — one leg ruined by the wolf’s bite, forever impaired. His head injury made him sometimes lucid and sometimes childlike; he also became prone to hitting people.

A bitter lump rose in my throat. If I had grabbed his hand then, if I had known how to climb that tree, if he and I had died together — maybe things would be different. He cannot care for himself and cannot control his temper. Over the seven years, he’s hurt many attendants. Now only Dong’er is willing to stay and look after him.

My brother had once been the town’s prodigy: at seven he could compose poetry and speak with remarkable wit. He was clever beyond most children and handsome.

But that one disaster ruined him. Our parents poured their hopes into me.

I’ve been paying for that guilt, but inside I rebel. To be torn between contrition and defiance is unbearable.

I set the tray down and sat at the side of the bed, speaking softly, “Brother, I leave for another place tomorrow. Are you going to be like this with me today?”

He suddenly hurled his porcelain pillow to the floor — it shattered with a loud crash. I jumped and, startled, watched him struggle to sit up. His once-handsome face was swollen; no trace remained of the childlike charm. His mouth was slightly crooked. He tried to shout but lacked the strength.

“Lan… Lanlou! You — you’re leaving… what will I do? Look at me… like this, I’ve been so… humiliated by so many people. If I can’t… see you… I’ll go to pieces.”

All my life I’d been afraid to face my brother, afraid of what I’d find and of the guilt that would flood me. The guilt deepened day by day. I could not bear to read any book. I longed for a way to be free of this life.

But my brother’s frequent outbursts could be settled only by me or by Mother. If I were to leave, Mother would have to shoulder the burden of him. Sometimes I wished we had died together back then — to spare us now: one consumed by guilt, the other disabled.