Chapter Fifty-Four: Who Am I?

A long silence.

“What’s this now? Brother Lin Yan, as the master of your own house, can’t you even command your own wife?”

“Let it be—your wife seems exhausted, Brother Lin Yan. Best to let her rest.”

“What kind of talk is that? Gentlemen, your presence at this banquet is already an honor to me! How could I let you lose your spirits so?”

A crash—the sound of a table and chairs overturning.

“Tsk, Brother Lin Yan, you really are ruthless.”

“It’s nothing! Women don’t know the rules—I’m just teaching her. She can drink now!”

“Hahaha, seven years, isn’t it? Even after all this time, your wife still hasn’t learned your rules, Brother Lin Yan!”

“Enough with the nonsense! Let’s drink! Drink! Wife, you too!”

“How nostalgic. Seven years ago, didn’t we drink just like this, not stopping until we were all drunk?”

“Not stopping? We were so drunk, we couldn’t tell night from day!”

“Yes, yes, and if I recall, there were even more of us that night.”

“Let me think—Brother Guo, Brother Pan, Brother Chen—ah, too many! Far too many! Best not to dwell on it!”

“Why, sister-in-law, how is it you have such a low tolerance for drink? Only a few cups and you’re already so flushed.”

“It must be the heat, surely the heat. Come, take off your outer robe. Let’s keep drinking!”

“Skin fairer than snow—truly, madam, you are a celestial beauty. Hahaha.”

And then, all that followed were filthy words, and the occasional choked sobs of his mother.

“Brother Lin Yan! Brother Lin Yan! How have you passed out? How dull!”

“But Lin Madam is still here, isn’t she?”

“Madam, let’s move to the bed and drink a little more slowly—”

“Brother Wang, don’t be reckless.”

“Reckless? What hypocrisy! Seven years ago, were you not laughing right along with us? What, do you regret it now? Are you afraid?”

“You’re drunk—out of your mind. What are you saying?”

“Nonsense? What nonsense! I remember exactly what night that was.”

“It was a wedding night—Brother Lin Yan’s wedding night!”

“Hahaha, yes, yes! None of us shrank back then, did we? We did everything that needed doing.”

“And you were so happy at the time—so what now? If you’re afraid, lie down and be done with it. As for me, I’ll drink heartily with Lin Madam!”

“With things like this, once is never enough. Brother Lin Yan is lying there, being so polite. We can’t show weakness, can we?”

“That’s right. We’ll see to everything he asked, and the rest—he never forbade anything, did he?”

“Madam, come now, don’t refuse. We’re not strangers; after all, seven years ago, that crimson stain, that long night—I’ve never forgotten.”

“Wait—wasn’t there a child outside?”

“A child? Oh, Lin He? Ignore him—who knows whose son he really is?”

“Hey, watch what you say. That boy can hear you.”

“So let him! Since when were you so timid, fearing even a child?”

“Exactly!”

“Lin Madam, even your resistance is enchanting. You’re the one who lit this fire, who tempted me.”

“That’s right—so, don’t blame us.”

The voices grew smaller and smaller, fading away.

Whom to blame, whom to hate—no one knew.

Seven years passed, and seven years before, nothing had changed.

One phrase after another, on and on. Six-year-old Lin He stood outside the door, his face—expressionless for so long—now alive with anger and fear.

His fists clenched so tightly that blood began to drip. Lin He bit hard into his arm, wanting to make a sound, but unable.

He wanted—how badly he wanted—to kick that door open, confront that so-called father, and those wretches, to question them, to punish them.

He wanted to kill them.

But he could not—could not take one step forward.

Why—why had he become just like that man?

No—I will not become like him! Go in! Go in! Save her! What am I afraid of?

His feet felt weighed down with lead. When had he stopped walking?

And even if he did go in, what role would he play?

Guo? Pan? Chen? Or—Wang?

Who was he, truly? Why was he here in this world? Whose blood ran in his veins?

Outside, the depraved noises from within still seeped through, yet Lin He heard nothing from her.

Snow began to fall from the sky. Yes, the day he was born, it had snowed too—so beautiful.

His vision blurred again—dim, then dark, until he could see nothing, hear nothing.

Until, in a world of darkness, the snow began to fall—a strange snow, a red snow, as beautiful as ever, so beautiful he could no longer tell blood from snow.

Blood stained the earth, and before his eyes a lily bloomed—pure white, flawless—so beautiful it took his breath away.

But the snow didn’t stop; gradually, the white faded, and the world before him was only black and red.

A lily’s language is that of great love, but now this lily was stained with blood, not a trace of white remaining.

“Lin He, you and your mother are both so lowly—so filthy!”

He remembered those words.

At last, his world turned to night.

Fake! Fake! It was all a lie! Everything was false!

That man was false! This family was false! Now, even he himself was false!

Why—why—why!

What had I done wrong?

Six years. Today, he turned six. What had these six years meant to him?

He screamed in silence.

The darkness around him shattered like glass, but where he expected light, there was only more darkness—no color at all.

When Lin He came to, he found himself already running through the deserted street outside the Lin family estate, alone, utterly alone.

Empty! Empty! Everything is empty!

Cold! So cold! Bone-chilling cold!

Who—who am I?

Wrong! All wrong! Everything is wrong!

No one—there’s no one left! No one in this world anymore!

A six-year-old child crouched in a corner, his face twisted as he glared at the world, his eyes filled with coldness. He bit into his arm again and again, until the snow around him was stained with blood, blending together with no boundary.

The world had always been cold to him—always had been, and always would be—with not a hint of kindness.

“You seem very afraid?” A hoarse, unfamiliar voice, neither man nor woman.

Lin He did not reply, nor did he look up. He stared ahead, his world already deaf to all sound.

“What is it you fear?” The voice was tinged with confusion.

“Ah, you fear yourself. But what is it about yourself you fear?” As if suddenly understanding, or perhaps utterly bewildered.

“Are you afraid you’ll become like your father?”

“Timid? Servile? Forever hesitating?”

“Or perhaps, for your own future, offering your mother as a bargaining chip again and again?”

“Foolish child. He knows—he’s always known. Even now, he’s only pretending to be drunk.”

“He has never considered you or that woman his wife or son.”

“When you weren’t looking, when you didn’t know, do you realize how many times this scene has played out?”

“No, you don’t. You never knew.”

“Don’t be afraid. There’s no need to fear anymore. From now on, forget them—leave them behind.”

“From now on, I will always be by your side.”

The voice grew softer and softer, fading away. The figure crouched beside Lin He, gently stroking him with both hands.

“Who are you? Who are you!”

Startled, Lin He jerked awake, slapping the hand away, roaring and resisting the figure before him—dressed in dark robes and wearing a black mask.

“I don’t know you! I don’t know you! I want my mother—I have to find her!”

Lin He staggered to his feet, nearly stumbling, and crawled forward, struggling, on the bloodstained, snowy ground—a sight both absurd and tragic.

“Find her? For what? So she can keep hurting you?” The figure in dark robes rose, voice empty of feeling.

“Hurt me? What are you saying? I don’t believe you—I have only her left! Only my mother!”

Lin He mumbled to himself, his body stiff from the winter cold, yet still he struggled on, even as his blood froze.

“She loves you? Look—what is this? Wounds, scars all over you! Where do you think these came from?”

The figure grabbed the child, yanking open his clothes. Beneath, his body was covered in countless wounds and scabs—not a patch of unspoiled skin.

“Stop lying to yourself. That woman is just like your so-called father—she never considered you her child!”

“She is a wretched woman, through and through, and you—a bastard, through and through!”

“She loathes you—hates the blood that runs in your veins.”

“Every time she sees you, she remembers that night—the so-called wedding night! You’re nothing but her outlet for anger!”

“You’re lying! You’re lying! Why should I believe you? She’s all I have—my mother is all I have!” Lin He screamed, refusing to remember, refusing to accept the truth in front of him.

“Think! Think how that wretch treats you—think of all the times you’ve given in!”

The figure released him, tossing Lin He onto the snow, then lay back, looking up at the dark night.

Tears streamed down Lin He’s face as he grabbed handful after handful of snow, clutching them tightly, unwilling to let go.