Xiu Lan

It was always the word’s mysterious power that somehow held her back every time the idea of simply giving up germinates in her heart, every time she felt homesick, every time her employers blamed her on things that she didn’t do, and every time she was reminded of her ever-closer retirement after a tiring day of work.

Tonight, like thousands of nights before and thousands of nights in the future, her heart was bitter from the employer’s mother’s words. “Did you put that piece of cloth there? I told you not to do so! No, don’t talk like that, it must be you who kept forgetting things.” still did those echoed in her mind, like an ancient phantom haunting a world that it shouldn’t belong to. She had tried explaining how she had done things in manners the grandma wished such as placing a piece of cloth in a specific place, washing a dish in a special way, watering a plant at 8’o clock and another at half-past 10...... yet the grandma can always find someway to rebut her reasoning, and stare at her in such a way that it reminds her of an angry goat she saw when she was young. The thought of the angry goat amused her a little, and the frowning eyebrows relaxed a little. Yet the amusement was short-lived: a message from her son. “When will you come home, Mama?” It was already late-January, only two weeks until the spring festival, yet she still couldn’t get a high-speed train ticket at a reasonable price.

Startled by the idea of unable to went home this year, she signed again: at the tomorrow that always seems to be nothing but a copy of today, and at her life - mixture of bitterness, tiredness and unfriendliness, and at the picky grandma that she will always need to face tomorrow, and at how she needs to turn a pot of plant towards the east, another at west, and the rest towards north tomorrow - part of today’s daily “teaching” of the grandma.

She took another sip from her worn water bottle- the very one that she bought at the railway station a decade ago when she entered the city of Shenzhen. “How young and vigorous I was”, she thought “unlike this old woman who in a few years is about to become a grandma of her own grandchildren”. It was a little more than a decade ago when she first came to Shenzhen, seeking a job that could earn enough for her family. She took the job of a domestic worker since it was common in her home town, HeYuan, a small city that is almost three hours by car from Shenzhen.

She didn’t imagine to get a wonderful job where she can earn a lot, for her education only went as far as primary school: she would have loved to continue the education, but simply her family at that time couldn’t afford more. The thought of her education led to another deep sign: her son will marry in a few years’ time, and her grandchildren must get a decent education. “The wheel of society is ever moving forwards, and those that couldn’t keep up will be crushed by the wheel, and the only way to be ahead of the wheel is education.” That was something that she heard from a short video online after she went to Shenzhen, and something that herself had experienced: it did not feel good to get crushed by the wheel. She is going to retire within a decade, which may seem to be a lot, but the education of a children nowadays cost a great deal, so she must save up her earnings. It was always this sense of duty, this sense of not letting the same tragedy that had already happened to happen to her children, that turned the balance of thoughts every time the idea of returning to HeYuan arise in her heart.

Another sign, another sip from the almost-empty bottle. She checked the time: already 23:30. Still bothered by the idea of unable to support the education of her grandchildren, she climbed into the bed, rather slowly to avoid agitating the tired back. She then spent the next ten minutes staring at the ceiling. “How blank, just like my life. Colorless, featureless, nothing of significance.” she whispered to herself, just as she typed the response to his son: “It was hard to get a train ticket these days, but I will be back home on time.” She knew very well that her message is just something to convince both her son and herself she will be coming back home. The reply was instant: “Mom,” her son replied, “It’s raining in HeYuan”. Her actions stiffened a little, and after a long pause, “It was common to rain these days.”

Her eyelids can no longer stop the tears that had grown inside her eyes ever since her first reply. She allowed a little sob, that soon turned into a quiet crying that was both a mourning for the lost Home that she had not seen in almost a year, and the anguish towards all those in life that seems so wrong: scornful grandma, ever more expensive tickets, the 12-hour working every day, insomnia, cold food, naughty children of the employer, and above them all, the ever-closer retirement that means no more money coming from her to the family back at HeYuan.

The new day soon starts, and her crying gradually ceases, and the only trace of the tears-two dark spots on the sheets was dried by the warm air in the room as she drifted into a dream - the only place that she can be shielded away from the worries.