Xiyun

The countryside in December was as cold as a forgotten cellar. The wind came in through the cracks in the windows and pricked the skin like fine needles. The flickering light of the dim butter lamp illuminated the cracks on the earthen wall like old scars. There was no quilt in the room, just a pitifully thin old sheet, which could not block the cold night air at all. The mother held the two children tightly in her arms, as if if she let go even a little, they would be swallowed by the cold. There were still red marks on her face, and her clothes were stained with dust, but she still took off her coat and gently covered the two brothers and sisters. Brother Zhuang Chenxia held his sister Zhuang Ruowei in his arms, but his little body stood upright, like a piece of grass that refused to be broken. The younger sister's face was blue from the cold, her lips were pursed tightly, and she even breathed very softly, for fear of provoking her father's anger again. The wind outside the house was blowing loudly, like roaring in the darkness, and the door panels were blown loudly. The room was eerily quiet, with only three people's breaths condensing into white mist in the cold air. The door was kicked open with a bang. Father stood at the door, wrapped in an old cotton-padded jacket, his face flushed by the cold morning wind, but his eyes were like knives. He glanced around the room and saw the mother still holding the child, and he suddenly became angry. "Did you hear that I asked you to work?!" He yelled, then raised his foot and kicked his mother. The mother had no time to hide and was kicked so hard that the child in her arms was scattered. Zhuang Chenxia fell to the ground, and his arm hit the edge of the cold earthen bed. The pain made his eyes black. Zhuang Ruowei was so frightened that she cried "Wow". "Cry?! You dare to cry?!" His father gave Zhuang Ruo his only slap with his backhand. That crisp sound was particularly harsh in the early morning air. Zhuang Chenxia froze. He never thought that his father would do something to his sister. The mother rushed over like a madman and protected Zhuang Ruowei in her arms. Her voice was crying: "Don't hit the child! Don't hit her! I'm going to work! I'm going now!" The father sneered, stretched out his hand to grab the mother's hair, and pulled her to the ground: "What were you doing so early?! You know how to pretend to be dead all day long!" Mother's forehead hit the ground, making a dull sound. Zhuang Chenxia looked at the blood slowly seeping out of his mother's forehead, his sister crying so hard that she couldn't breathe, and his father's twisted face - he suddenly felt that something in his chest broke with a "snap". That was the last bit of reverence the child had for his father. He got up and stood in front of his mother and sister, but his small body stood upright, like a piece of grass forced to stiffen by the cold wind. "Stop fighting." His voice was very soft, but with a firmness that he had never heard before. The father was stunned for a moment, and then he laughed angrily: "You little brat, how dare you control me?!" He raised his hand and slapped Zhuang Chenxia in the face. The mother screamed and rushed over, blocking the slap with her back. "Don't hit the child... Please... Don't hit the child..." She cried, her voice broken like paper blown away by the wind. Her father kicked her away in disgust and walked out cursing: "Go and work! If you don't finish the work, no one will be able to eat today!" The door was slammed shut and the room finally became quiet. But the silence was more suffocating than the beating and scolding just now. Purpose: To tell the story of a trafficked mother who used her life to pave the way for redemption for her children, to show the great maternal love in a dark and desperate situation, and how the brother and sister met the two most important people in their lives while supporting each other in suffering and persevering in their growth.