Chapter 1

My mother had only ever called me three times.

The first time, she told me to send home my salary card to pay my younger brother’s tuition.

The second time, she told me to give him the home I had bought for my own future marriage so he could get married himself.

The third time was today.

“Your brother hit someone while driving drunk. They’re not going to make it. Go and take the blame for him.”

She had cried herself hoarse. Anyone listening would have thought she was the most pitiable mother in the world.

I said no.

Her tone changed at once. “I’ll jump off the building right now. Then you can live with that for the rest of your life!”

I took a deep breath.

“Go ahead, then.”

I hung up.

The next day, the police came looking for me.

My mother had only ever called me three times.

The first was just after I received my wages.

There was 3,200 yuan in the account.

I was eating instant noodles when the phone rang. Before I could even set down my chopsticks, she began.

“Your brother’s two thousand short on next semester’s tuition. Remember to send your salary card home.”

She wasn’t discussing it with me.

She wasn’t asking, either.

She was telling me.

I chewed my noodles. Through the phone came the clatter of cooking, with my brother complaining that he was hungry.

“Mom, I haven’t paid my rent yet—”

“You live alone. Are you going to starve to death? Your brother’s still growing.”

I sent the card.

That month, I got by on five hundred yuan borrowed from a coworker.

The second time, I had saved for three years and put a down payment on a small apartment on the outskirts of the city.

The phone rang the evening I signed the contract.

“Your brother’s getting married. The bride’s family insists he own a home. Transfer that apartment into his name for now.”

I stood in the bare, unfinished apartment with the phone in my hand. Gray concrete underfoot. The measuring tape and notebook I had just bought lay in a corner.

“Mom, I saved three years for this.”

“What does a girl need her own apartment for? When you marry, you’ll live with your husband. If your brother can’t get married because he doesn’t have a home, are you going to let the Zhao family line end?”

I refused to transfer it.

So my mother brought my brother to the sales office and caused a scene for three days.

In the end, the developer took the apartment back. My mother took seventy percent of the refunded down payment.

With the remaining thirty percent, I had to start over.

The third time was today.

I had just finished showering when the screen lit up. Water was still dripping from my hair.

“Mom” flashed on the incoming-call screen three times before I answered.

The sobbing came first. The words followed.

“Your brother hit someone while driving drunk… they’re not going to make it… hurry up and take the blame for him!”

She could barely breathe through her tears. Her voice had lost its usual pitch.

I rubbed my hair with a towel. Water fell to the floor, drop by drop.

“No.”

The sobbing stopped for a second.

Exactly one second.

“Zhao Yanqing! He’s your own brother! If he goes to prison, his whole life is over! You’re a girl. You can do a few years and carry on afterward. He can’t. He has a family, a wife—”

“I have a life, too.”

“What life? You’re twenty-six and you don’t even have a boyfriend. What life do you have?”

I said nothing.

The towel hung around my neck. Water ran down over my collarbone.

For a few seconds, there was silence. Then her voice changed.

No more tears.

Cold.

“If you won’t go, I’m going up to the roof right now. I’ll jump from the sixth floor. I’ll make sure the whole village knows the Zhao family’s eldest daughter drove her own mother to her death.”

The heater gave a faint click. A car passed outside, sweeping light across the ceiling.

“Go ahead, then.”

Not a sound came from the other end.

“I’ll burn a few extra bundles of spirit money for you.”

I hung up.

Switched off the phone.

Tossed it onto the bedside table, turned on the lamp, and picked up the book I had left unfinished.

I turned two pages without taking in a word.

But I didn’t turn the phone back on.

Before bed, I checked the lock once more and drew the curtains shut.

My alarm was set for seven.

I thought that was the end of it.

At six fifty the next morning, before the alarm could sound, someone began pounding on my door.

Not knocking. Pounding.

“Open up! Police!”

I sat up in bed, still struggling to wake. Three more blows landed on the door.

Two uniformed officers stood in the hallway when I opened it. One older, one younger. The younger man held a notebook.

“Zhao Yanqing?”

“Yes.”

“You need to come down to the station with us. We have some questions.”

The older officer pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket. There was writing on it, but he didn’t let me see the whole page.