On June 8, ten years later, Li Xiaoman ran into Xue Ling at a class reunion. Xue Ling had built the life she'd wanted and become a respectable figure. The look in her eyes hadn't changed: still alert and gentle. Li Xiaoman couldn't help remembering how those eyes had lingered on her for so long. Her thoughts felt jumbled, her arms heavy. It was as if everything had been drained from her, leaving only a body behind. The stubborn eczema brought on by her self-loathing, gone for years, returned once more.
Under Xue Ling's gaze, Li Xiaoman wished she could plug her ears, cover her lips, shrink to the size of a thumb, and escape into the cracks between worlds. But at the sound of Xue Ling's voice, she could find nowhere to run.
Li Xiaoman's wandering spirit floated near the ceiling, greedily searching for a chance to look at Xue Ling openly, laughing and crying at her. In her mind, her spirit shouted aloud: Xue Ling, I wish you happiness. I hate you.
(Based on real events, recorded and adapted.)
(With thanks to Xue Ling, my mother, and the world. Dedicated to Xue Ling, my mother, and myself.)
(After this work is published, please do not disturb the author or the author's family in any way. Do not dwell on the past or on hurt in any way. I wish you well, and thank you.)
Theme: Reveal the violence and control entwined with the ambiguous love of youth, and show how the cycle of intergenerational trauma can be broken
