I was the eldest child in my family, but the third born. The first two were girls. Because they were the "wrong" gender, my parents got rid of them before they were even born. The shady clinic doctor swore up and down that I was a boy. Unfortunately for them, when I came crying into the world, I was still a girl. 1 I was a girl. My parents were bitterly disappointed. But they didn't give up. Hiding like fugitives from the authorities, when I was five years old, my mother finally gave birth to my little brother. Because they had exceeded the legal child limit, my father lost his job. The authorities came and emptied our house of anything valuable to pay the fines. My mother lay on a makeshift bed of two wooden doors pushed together, looking at my baby brother in his swaddling clothes and laughing. "At least I don't have to get pregnant ever again." My grandmother held my brother, beaming from ear to ear. "Another son! Now when our little Precious grows up, he'll have brothers to back him up." "Precious" was the name they picked out while I was still in the womb. Now, they finally got to use it. Overjoyed at finally having a grandson, my grandmother carried him all around the village to show him off. After showing him off, she dumped him back with my mother. She had bullied my parents into having a son, but she refused to help raise him. With my father out of work, money was incredibly tight. During my mother's postpartum recovery, my father snuck into my grandmother's chicken coop to steal two eggs for her to eat. My grandmother chased him around the yard, screaming at him all day. "You think she's some delicate princess?! When I had you, I was back in the fields working three days later! I lived on watery porridge every day, and I turned out just fine..." My father sheepishly put the eggs back. My mother cried as she nursed my brother. I walked over to wipe her tears, but she just stared at me blankly and muttered, "If only you had been a boy. I wouldn't have had to suffer through this." The next day, I went to the barber shop at the edge of the village and had my long hair shaved into a buzz cut. I ran home happily and told my mother, "Look, I'm a boy now." My mother and grandmother took turns screaming at me. "Your hair was so long! I could have sold it for twenty bucks! Are you stupid?!" "Even if you shave your head bald, you'll never be a boy." After cursing me out, my grandmother stormed off to the barber shop to demand the hair I had cut off. After a loud argument with the barber, half the village knew what happened. The kids my age mocked me: "Not a boy, not a girl. Maya Miller is a little freak." After the New Year, my brother turned six months old. My parents decided to move to California for work, leaving me behind with my grandmother. Right before they left, my mother held my hand, looking guilty. "I can't let your dad go out there alone, I'd worry. And your brother is too young; I don't trust your grandmother to take care of him." "You be a good girl at home. When I come back, I'll buy you candy." 2 I cried and begged her to let me come, promising I would never eat candy again if she just didn't leave me alone with my cruel, vicious grandmother. She grew impatient, frowning deeply as she shook off my hand. "Why are you being so disobedient!" "There's no time, I have to go." I ran after the old, beat-up Greyhound bus for as long as I could. In the thick cloud of dust kicked up by the tires, I lost sight of my parents. There were a lot of "left-behind" kids in our village whose parents worked out of state. But I was probably the most miserable one. I took over all the household chores. Cooking, washing clothes, feeding the pigs and chickens, cutting grass for fodder... I even had to wash my grandmother's underwear. I walked on eggshells, terrified of provoking her. But if she lost at bingo with the neighbor ladies, she'd still take it out on me. She poured scalding hot water from the kettle over my head. She stripped me naked, shoved me out into the yard, and beat me viciously with a bamboo broom. On freezing winter days, she made me wash her feet with ice-cold water scooped straight from the outdoor rain barrel. ... After she finished torturing me, she'd go back out to play bingo. I slept alone in that massive, drafty brick house. The night wind howled through the trees on the hill behind us, sounding like a low moan. I wrapped myself tightly in two heavy quilts. Curled up into a tiny ball. Fighting against the pain, the loneliness, and the fear. At first, my mother would call the neighbor's landline every Saturday night around 7:00 PM. I would finish my dinner by 5:00 and go wait at Mrs. Davis's house. I could never get out more than a few words before I started crying, asking when she was coming back. She always said, "Be sweet and work hard. Don't make your grandmother angry." Maybe she found me annoying. Gradually, the calls went from once a week to once every two weeks. When the weather turned cold, it became once a month. But she still promised that she'd come back for Christmas and buy me new clothes. She also promised to bring me the best candy from California. I counted the days and nights until Christmas Eve arrived. My mother finally called. My heart was bursting with hope. "Uncle Tommy and Uncle Dave already came back! When are you coming home, Mom?" "Maya, tickets were too expensive and sold out too fast. We couldn't get any. We'll come see you after the holidays." The freezing winter wind outside seemed to travel through the phone line, drilling straight into my ear and freezing my heart. I couldn't control myself anymore. I yelled, "You promised! You said you would..." My mother offered some half-hearted comfort. In the background, my brother started crying and fussing, slurring, "Milk, want milk..." I heard my mother's voice instantly soften. "Be a good boy, sweetie, don't cry. Mommy will buy it for you in a second." I called out, "Mom..." She was already impatient. "If we can't get tickets, we can't go back! Your dad and I have no choice! Do you think we want to spend Christmas away from home? "Can't you just grow up and be a little understanding! "Alright, your brother is hungry. I have to hang up." Mom, I actually wanted to say: It's okay if you don't buy candy or clothes. You and Dad work so hard. But. You didn't care at all. After Christmas, when tickets were easy to get, they still didn't come back. Since the holidays were over, coming back probably seemed pointless to them. I wasn't a priority they kept in their hearts. My grandmother lost money at bingo every day during the holidays and cursed me for being a jinx. She hit me hard over the head with an iron spatula. The lump on my head took over ten days to go down. The swallows returned in the spring and built a nest under my window. While cutting grass for the pigs, I found an abandoned black puppy. I fed him scraps and leftovers, and he slept faithfully by my bed every night. In the mornings, he would wag his tail and walk me to the school bus stop. After school, he'd be waiting for me exactly on time at the edge of the village. My life was full of sadness and misery, but there were also these small, fragmented moments of warmth and discovery. But. I no longer looked forward to sharing them with my mother. Two more years passed. They finally managed to get tickets home. Everyone in the village asked me. "Your mom, dad, and little brother are coming back! You must be so happy, right?" 3 No. Perhaps my hopes and joy had been ground down to dust a long time ago. A few days before Christmas, my parents arrived lugging huge bags and suitcases. She bought me a bag of candy. I had just opened it and taken one piece when my brother ran over and tried to snatch the bag. I gripped it tightly and refused to let go. My mother said, "You're the older sister. Let your brother have it." "He won't even eat yours; he's sick of candy anyway." Sure enough, after he snatched it, he ate one piece and threw the rest on the floor. The reward I had waited years for was just garbage to my brother; something he wouldn't even look twice at. I also saw a photo album in my mother's suitcase. I thought it was a book she had bought for me. When I opened the cover, inside was a photo of my parents and my brother, smiling happily and leaning against each other. Oh. It was a family portrait. A family portrait without me. My mother bought me a red winter coat and couldn't wait for me to try it on. It was huge. The hem went down to my ankles, and the sleeves hung past my hands like a costume. My mother looked a little embarrassed. "Mary's daughter is eight too, and it fits her perfectly. Why haven't you grown at all?" My grandmother happily tried on her own new clothes and shot me a dirty look. "It's good to buy kids' clothes big. They can wear them for a few more years." On New Year's Eve, wearing my new coat with the sleeves rolled all the way up my arms, I tripped over the raised threshold. I busted my lip open, bleeding everywhere. My grandmother immediately started screaming: "Are you blind?! Tripping and bleeding on New Year's Eve is terrible luck! Are you hoping I die early?!" My brother jumped up and down, laughing hysterically. "You're so stupid..." He stepped over the threshold, squatted in front of me, pointed at the blood on my face, and kept laughing. "Stupid, stupid..." My mother looked at him affectionately. "No one even taught you that. Where did you learn to curse at people?" My dog, Shadow, had been sleeping quietly in the corner. Suddenly, he charged out, baring his teeth and barking furiously at my brother. My brother was terrified. He jerked backward, hitting the back of his head hard on the wooden threshold. He started bawling, snot and tears running down his face. My parents panicked, rushing over to comfort him, calling him their precious baby. My brother pointed at Shadow, crying hysterically. "Kill it! Kill it!" Terrified, I quickly locked Shadow in the woodshed. He didn't understand what he had done wrong and kept barking confusedly. A few days later, several uncles and cousins came over to drink with my dad. Shadow smelled strangers and started barking again. My brother got scared and hid in my mother's arms, crying. My dad pointed at the woodshed and laughed. "That dog is too annoying. Let's catch it and make dog stew today!" 4 The men laughed and started walking toward the woodshed. The blood rushed straight to my head. Where the cowardly me found the courage, I don't know, but I flew out of the house and pressed my back tightly against the woodshed door. "Dad, please don't kill Shadow." "Please don't kill him!" Shadow sensed my panic and barked louder: "Woof! Woof! Woof!" My dad got impatient. "Move out of the way. Stop being annoying." "Dog stew is the best thing to eat in the winter. I'll save you a leg later!" He reached out to shove me aside. Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably as I screamed at my dad: "For the last few years, you bought my brother milk, candy, and clothes, and took him to take family portraits. "But you left me alone at home. Shadow is the only one who kept me company." I grabbed an axe resting nearby and shoved it into my dad's hands. "You might as well kill me too! You and Mom don't want me anyway!" The uncles looked awkward. "Forget it, forget it..." My dad's face turned beet red. He raised his hand and slapped me hard across the face. "What kind of nonsense are you talking about? Who doesn't want you?" "If it weren't for you and your brother, do you think your mother and I would willingly go so far away to work?!" Hearing the commotion, my mother came over to break it up. My grandmother spat out sunflower seed shells. "This daughter of yours has a terrible temper. If I hadn't beaten it out of her normally, she'd think she owns the place..." She rambled on and on. My dad looked at me with pure disgust. My mother also muttered, "It's just a dog. It scares your brother every day. Why are you defending it so hard..." The winter wind cut to the bone. No one supported me. No one cared about me. I pressed my back tightly against the woodshed door. I felt a furry paw reaching through the crack in the wood, pawing at my palm. It was Shadow. Through the old wooden door, he let out a low whimper. I held his paw, feeling like I was holding the only warmth left in the world. Shadow survived for the time being. But in my parents' eyes, I became the disobedient child. My mother scolded me. "Is a dog's life really more important than your brother's? How can you be so cold-blooded?" My dad was disgusted. "No one to discipline you every day, you've gone wild." ... But why did I have no one to discipline me? I thought Shadow was safe. But a month later, on the day of the Lantern Festival, I went to the village square to watch the parade. When I came back, I saw the local dog catcher dragging Shadow away on a three-wheeled cart. His legs and paws were bound, and he howled in despair. I chased the cart for as long as I could. But eventually, his cries were drowned out by the deafening sound of drums and firecrackers. I went home crying, screaming, and demanding answers. My dad said lightly, "It's just a dog. Next time we'll get you a more obedient one!" My grandmother rolled her eyes. "Should have killed it a long time ago. It was so annoying. Good thing we still got twenty bucks for it. At least we didn't lose money." It was in that exact moment. I finally woke up. They didn't love me. No matter how docile and obedient I was, no matter how well I did. They would never love me the way they loved my brother. So... Why was I still hoping? Why was I still trying to please them? The next day, my parents took my brother back to California. They wanted him to attend an expensive private preschool there. Before they left, my mother gave me money for school fees and living expenses. She counted out fifty dollars, thought for a second, then pulled a ten-dollar bill back and handed me the rest. "Your dad and I work hard for this money. You need to be careful how you spend it..." As soon as they left, my grandmother showed her true colors. Over the slightest disagreement, she grabbed the fire tongs to hit me. 5 This time, I didn't just stand there and take it. I fought back, wrestling her to the ground. I grabbed the fire tongs and, imitating what I'd seen on TV, pressed them hard against her neck. I glared at her fiercely: "I will never let you bully me again. "I'm going to keep growing, and you're only going to get older. "If you hit me once, I'll hit you three times. If you strip my clothes off, I'll tear yours off too! "When you're old and bedridden, I'll feed you shit and piss!" ... The old hag was terrified. She let out a wail and started crying. She went around the entire village broadcasting my evil deeds. The older women and grandmothers lectured me from their high horses: "She's your grandmother. Being this disrespectful will bring down the wrath of God." I remained expressionless. "Well, I haven't been struck by lightning yet. Doesn't that mean God thinks I'm right?" They were speechless. That summer, there was a huge celebration in the village. Mr. Smith's daughter, Dawn, got into a very prestigious university. She had a younger brother, and her father favored him, refusing to pay for her education. She had fought tooth and nail just to be allowed to go to high school. The day her acceptance letter arrived, Mr. Smith paraded around the village showing it off. Us kids went to see the commotion too. I touched the gold-foiled envelope. The university buildings printed on it looked ancient and grand, making my heart yearn for it. I asked foolishly, "If you go to college, does that mean you'll make lots and lots of money?" Dawn patted my head. "Not necessarily, but if you go to college, you won't have to be like a lot of girls in the village, getting married and having kids super early." She crouched down and looked gently into my eyes. "Maya, you're only in fourth grade. If you start working hard now, it's not too late." She planted a seed of hope in my heart. I stopped zoning out in class and started listening attentively. After school, I stopped running around playing and started reading properly. The old hag laughed at me. "With your pig brain, you think reading is gonna make you bloom into a flower? Once you finish middle school, hurry up and go find a job in a factory. "Getting married early and collecting a dowry is the only proper path. A girl reading too many books is just a waste of money for her future in-laws!" ... I snapped back at her. "The more books I read and words I know, the better I'll be able to personally carve your name onto your tombstone when you die." The old hag almost had a heart attack. Back then, for kids in the village, studying mostly relied on natural talent. Not many worked as hard on their own initiative as I did. Most just drifted along, graduating in a daze. When I took the middle school entrance exam, I ranked first in my class. By that time, the population was already migrating toward bigger cities. The middle school in our township had been merged with the one in the larger town. Because it was far, boarding was mandatory. While other kids cried about it, I couldn't have been happier. The old hag cursed and swore, saying I shouldn't go at all, that I should just go work and earn money now. 6 She got chewed out by the town mayor. "The state requires nine years of compulsory education. If you stop her from going to school, you could go to jail. Do you want to go to jail?" The old hag instantly caved. My parents didn't care about my grades; they barely ever asked. But they specifically paid to get my brother into a good elementary school in California. They had to pull strings and pay bribes to get him in. "Precious is so smart, we have to nurture his potential!" I entered middle school with excellent grades, thinking I could really show what I was capable of. But the midterm exams in seventh grade dealt me a heavy blow. I only ranked fifteenth in my class, and over a hundredth in the grade. It was from that moment on. I realized that studying really did involve a degree of natural talent. My desk-mate slept through class every day and played basketball after school. But no matter what math problem he looked at, he only needed to see it once to grasp the underlying concept. I needed to recite an ancient poem fifty or a hundred times to memorize it, while he could basically repeat it after reading it three times. For a kid with no money, focusing on studying was exceptionally difficult. My mother gave me very little for living expenses. She was even more unwilling to spend money on study guides or prep books. I could only save money by cutting back on my meals. I bought fifty-cent packets of pickled vegetables and three one-dollar steamed buns from the cafeteria. A dollar fifty was enough to survive a whole day. Sometimes at night, I was so hungry I just guzzled tap water. Water was free. I bought a pair of fake designer shoes at the flea market for ten dollars and wore them every single day. When the soles cracked, I bought superglue to stick them back together. I glued them repeatedly until one day, during gym class, the entire sole completely fell off. My toes and the holes in my socks were exposed to the air. I finally had to throw those shoes away. I was already going through puberty. But my mother refused to buy me a bra. "Little girls wearing grown-up clothes, looking like sluts." So I could only sew and re-sew cheap, two-for-five-dollar camisoles, making them tight enough to bind my chest so nothing would bounce when I moved. Compared to the embarrassment in my daily life, the struggle with my studies made me even more desperate. Maybe I just wasn't born to be a scholar. I just couldn't grasp concepts quickly like other people. I couldn't memorize a text after reading it seven or eight times. Even though I never slacked off for a second, my grades were stagnant. I frequently dreamed I was in an exam hall. Unable to solve the problems. And then I would wake up, drenched in sweat. By the time I reached eighth grade, some classmates were already coming back to the village pregnant. The outside world was too big, and the temptations too many. They had never been deeply loved by their parents, so when they suddenly stepped out into society, they were easily seduced by a few sweet words from boys. They had kids and got married in a haze. Living out their lives in a daze. I was so terrified. So afraid that I would turn out like that too. I went to my homeroom teacher, Mr. Harrison. I shamefully admitted my struggles, unable to lift my head. But he didn't scold me. He just asked, "Do you have any extra money for living expenses?" I waved my hands frantically. "I still have twenty dollars. It's enough for next month." Mr. Harrison's hand paused, his gaze turning serious. "You only spent twenty dollars last month? Less than a dollar a day?" "So you've never eaten meat? Never been full? Never had a snack? Never bought any clothes or shoes?" "It... it doesn't matter. I've lived like this for three years." "Of course it matters!" Mr. Harrison's voice rose. "You're growing. Studying burns a massive amount of calories. If you don't have enough nutrition, your brain can't keep up. "Saving this tiny bit of money now is destroying your future. "Starting next month, you must have meat for at least one meal a day. You have to eat an egg and drink a glass of milk every day. "And you need to buy the clothes you need to buy." He gently patted my back, lowering his voice: "Like bras. If you don't take care of it now, you won't be able to fix it later in life. "Don't feel guilty about spending money now. Because this is an investment in your future. "You deserve it, and you should spend it." After winter break, I went back to school. I went to buy milk. After comparing prices, I ended up buying powdered milk. It was cheaper than cartons. Every morning, I ate a meat bun and a hard-boiled egg. Sometimes I had soy milk. For lunch and dinner, I had one meat dish and one vegetable dish. Before bed, I drank a glass of milk. Every weekend, I went to the bakery to buy the leftover crusts—they were very cheap—so I could fill my stomach if I got hungry between meals. My body was no longer in a constant state of starvation like before. About half a month later, I felt my mental energy was much better. I was originally one of the shortest kids in the class. Barely five feet tall. But during that time, I felt like bamboo, shooting up section by section. My pants were visibly getting shorter. Perhaps because my nutrition was keeping up, my mind was also clearer than before. Wearing clothes that fit properly, I no longer had to hunch over and slouch like I used to. I gathered my courage and started asking teachers and classmates how to solve problems. I tried my hardest to find patterns between different types of questions. I stopped sacrificing sleep to study. I told myself not to be anxious. You can't become a genius overnight. By the final exams of my sophomore year, I ranked six hundredth in the grade. There were over eight hundred students in our grade. Even though it was still a below-average score, at least it wasn't at the very bottom. I was pretty happy. But when my brother found out, he scoffed. "Six hundredth? That's garbage! "Is your brain full of shit?" My parents also frowned. "You're really not cut out for studying. Maybe you should just quit."
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