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墨書 Inktalez
Every day when I step outside, I keep my head down, quickly dodging the gazes of my neighbors. Their looks are filled with discrimination, disdain, and arrogance, surrounding me like a shadow along this stretch of Lane.
I always hurry past these people, turning the corner of Lane with quick steps, my heart pounding violently in my chest. Yet, the lingering sense of inferiority still haunts me, subjected to relentless criticism from behind.
"Xiao Ning has it pretty tough! That poor child," one neighbor remarks.
"Yeah! With parents who fight every day, how can they raise Xiao Ning well? How can a child be educated in such an environment?" another chimes in.
"I can't stand the noise from that family every night!"
No matter what misfortunes befall our neighbors, they all seem to blame it on us. Our family appears to exist solely to alleviate the frustrations of the gossipy women in the neighborhood, becoming known as the "Problem Family" in everyone’s eyes.
Amidst the red bricks and black tiles, only the morning sunlight accompanies my small shadow as I walk through this arduous Lane and endure this bitter time. The light and shadow seem to carry a hint of helplessness and sorrow.
When I entered high school, as the only student from a disadvantaged background in my class, I was destined to have no friends.
Friendship at school often begins with brand names.
During breaks, groups would gather in the classroom, eagerly chatting about fashion trends, their faces glowing with youthful energy and material aspirations.
"Wow! Those shoes are brand new!"
"They were brought back by my dad from Hong Kong; they aren't even available in Shanghai yet!" As the girl boasted, she established her social standing, her eyes gleaming with pride and satisfaction while her shoes sparkled under the sunlight.
"Your dad really cares about you!"
"Next time, I'll have your dad bring me some cosmetics from Hong Kong..."
As for me, I had long been suffocated by the hardships of life. Just having my father appear at dinner time, bringing along some extra dishes, was enough to stir a ripple of vanity within me, filling my heart with warmth and satisfaction.
But in this environment, my thoughts were slowly eroded by worldly notions—comparison, boasting, showing off. Each conversation with classmates about these topics felt like torture, as if countless little bugs were gnawing at my insides.
I found myself wanting a pair of Nike shoes more than ever before, despite not even owning a pair.
Rather than saying I wanted the shoes themselves, it was more about the pride of having a pair worth hundreds of dollars beneath my feet. I yearned to blend into this group and gain a sliver of recognition and respect.
Perhaps it would even catch his attention.
I had secretly thought this in my heart; every time I thought of him, my cheeks would flush slightly, and my heart would unconsciously race.
He was neither fat nor thin, neither tall nor short. A hint of wisdom shone through his words and actions. It was this ordinariness that emboldened me to develop feelings for him, allowing me to see a splash of color in my otherwise gray life.
He had a well-known student ID number in our class—number 13, just one digit away from mine.
Every month, he and I had two opportunities to be alone together—during our after-school duties.
Each time, he took great care of me. He would single-handedly flip all the chairs onto the desks and then smile as he assigned me lighter tasks like watering the plants. That smile was like the warm sun of spring—comforting and kind.
When we had duty together, we spoke very little. We never discussed the latest fashion brands or the latest celebrity gossip. Occasionally, we would argue over a problem, our voices low but our gazes filled with seriousness and determination.
As he swept the floor, I would quietly sit at my desk, looking down at his earnest efforts, watching the beads of sweat forming on his forehead, and a different kind of feeling would well up inside me.
I enjoyed this tranquility. In his eyes, I sensed a rare sense of composure and sincerity that young people seldom possess. His gaze seemed to have a kind of magic that drew me in deeply.
In the glow of the setting sun, amidst the floating dust particles in the clear air, his flushed face glistening with sweat became my first love. That image was like a beautiful moment frozen in time, etched deeply in my mind.
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