SES Chapter 63 Part 2

With that feeling in her heart, she tossed and turned countless times before finally falling asleep.

Tonight, she’d surely have a sweet dream.

She did dream—but not of Luo Ren.

She dreamt of a shabby little room and a little girl, around three or four years old, quietly pushing open the bedroom door. Clothes lay scattered on the floor—women’s bras and underwear, men’s boxer shorts, belts, and a pair of worn-out red heels.

A man snored loudly, and if you listened closely, you might hear the faint breathing of a woman beside him.

The little girl turned and wandered toward the tiny living room, her hair in twin pigtails tied with a stretched-out elastic that had begun to fray.

She stood on tiptoe, reached for a cookie tin atop a chest of drawers, opened the lid, and peeked inside.

It was empty—except for a few crumbs in the corners. She stretched her fingers in, collecting what little she could, eating it bit by bit, until even the tiniest crumb was gone.

Then she carefully replaced the lid and put the tin back.

Suddenly, Mu Dai realized—

That little girl was her.

A long-forgotten childhood memory had returned, vividly unfurling in a dream.

She saw herself pacing in the living room, straightening the fabric on the sofa, brushing off every last speck of dust, then picking up a broom as tall as she was, sweeping the floor. Something had rolled under the coffee table. She bent down, butt sticking out, cheeks red from the effort, reaching and reaching for it.

Time passed—from noon to sunset. Finally, there was movement in the bedroom. A man emerged, pulling on his pants, yawning, heading straight for the kitchen to rinse his mouth at the mossy sink.

The faucet made a loud buzzing noise; the water pressure was poor.

Then the man noticed her and said, “Hey, little squirt.”

He pulled some money from his pocket and threw it on the table. Then he handed her a 50-cent coin. “Buy yourself some candy.”

She stared at the money, palms sweating. He tucked the coin into her little apron pocket—a half-circle pouch.

Long after the man left, a woman finally stirred, yawning as she got up. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, and sat at her vanity, caking on thick foundation to cover her dark circles and fine lines.

She noticed the money, counted it, and smiled faintly.

Mu Dai seized the moment and said, “Mom.”

The woman grunted and opened a tube of dried mascara. She muttered something, poured water into the tube from a teacup, shook it, and finally got some color on the brush.

She squinted into the mirror and carefully coated her lashes. They lengthened but clumped together, looking heavy.

Mu Dai said, “Mom, I’m hungry.”

The woman replied lazily, “Didn’t I buy you cookies?”

“They’re all gone.”

Her mother’s expression darkened instantly, like storm clouds soaked in ink.

“I told you to ration them! You eat like that—how am I supposed to afford you?!”

Tears welled in her eyes. Her mother jumped up, grabbed the cookie tin, opened it, and slammed it down. A finger jabbed into her forehead.

“Eat, eat, eat—that’s all you do! You don’t do anything around here! Even a dog can guard the house. I feed you, clothe you, for what? Huh? For what?!”

With each word, her finger jabbed harder. Mu Dai’s head wobbled with the force, but she didn’t dare move. Tears streamed down her face.

Her mother shouted, “Don’t cry!”

She grabbed her apron to wipe her eyes, sobbing quietly. Her mother ignored her. She went back to the couch, curling into a corner.

She had tried to ration the cookies. She soaked them in water to make them swell—one thin cookie could double in size, though it lost all flavor.

She crouched in the corner, watching her mother put on makeup, do her hair, grab her purse, and leave.

Before leaving, she said, “Stay home. Don’t go anywhere.”

The door slammed.

Her stomach growled. So hungry.

She lifted her apron and tightened the waistband of her pants, cinching them tight over her belly. If she squeezed hard enough, maybe she wouldn’t feel the hunger.

Darkness fell. She crawled onto the sofa, pulled up a blanket, and drifted off.

She woke later to noise. A dim bulb dangled from the ceiling, casting a dark halo of soot. The cord swayed, making her dizzy.

Her mother was there, in pajamas, hair a mess. The bedroom door was ajar, smoke curling out, mixed with an impatient cough.

A fat auntie stood in the room, holding a little boy whose forehead was swollen, bandaged with tape and gauze.

The woman barked, “I gave him a meat pie, and next thing I know, he’s crying. Not only did your daughter snatch it, but she hit him too! Look at this lump—we’ll have to take him to the hospital. If it’s a concussion, this won’t end here!”

Her mother laughed, voice turning sharp: “A kid like mine, smaller than yours, snatched something from him? Please.”

She turned to Mu Dai: “Did you go out tonight? Did you take someone’s food?”

Mu Dai shook her head timidly. “No.”

Trying to prove herself, she quickly pulled out the coin. “I have money! I can buy food! I don’t need to steal!”

Her mother smiled victoriously—until the fat auntie grabbed Mu Dai’s hand.

“Look at the oil on her fingers! Smell that—meat, isn’t it? Like a thieving cat that forgot to wash its paws!”

Her mother’s face turned stormy. She slapped Mu Dai hard and shrieked, “I raised a thief! A liar!”

Mu Dai reeled from the blow. The auntie pulled her mother back, trying to calm her.

Eventually, they left. Her mother’s shrill sobs still echoed in her ears.

Behind the closed bedroom door, her mother cried, “Send her away. Just send her away.”

The man’s voice piped up, “Come on now, don’t ruin the mood…”

All the noise faded, replaced by the moans of lust.

In the dark, Mu Dai crept to the sink, stepped on a stool, and turned on the water—just a trickle. Any more and her mother would yell, “You think water’s free?!”

She found a piece of foul-smelling soap and scrubbed her hands, again and again. After a few scrubs, she lifted her arm and wiped her tears.

Then she kept scrubbing, murmuring: “I didn’t steal anything.”

Swish—the curtain moved.

Sunlight tickled her face.

Mu Dai opened her eyes. Yan Hongsha leaned in, cheerful.

“Wake up, Mu Dai. We’re going home today.”

[End of “Guided by the Immortal’s Hand”]