Hunting the Mother？

Mom was deceived by Dad into the mountains.

Life in the mountains was unbearably harsh. Mom fled, leaving me and my brother behind.

Years later, one of us went mad, and the other died.

My brother hated Mom with a passion.

We were reborn on the day Mom ran away.

Covered in blood, he excitedly said, "Sister, I've brought Mom back.

Part I

I opened my eyes and saw my brother looking several years younger.

He was trembling with excitement.

I, however, was so terrified that I kept backing away.

“Brother, please, I want to live. Brother, please…”

I remembered that I was dead.

The smell of blood filled the entire room, even overpowering the stench of chicken manure.

I was lying in the chicken coop, taking my last breaths, when I saw my brother go mad.

Soon after, he died as well.

I closed my yes in despair but also with a sense of relief.

Good, they’re all dead, all of them.

But why is he standing in front of me again, with such a young face?

Have I been reborn?

Seeing my confusion, my brother excitedly came forward to grab me.

I hurriedly tried to escape, and hit my head against the wall.

“Don’t be afraid, Xiaoling,” he said. “We’ve all been reborn!”

I looked around and found myself sitting in the kitchen. The old things had somehow turned new again.

I stood up and saw my reflection on the glass cabinet.

I wasn’t looking at the face of an eighteen-year-old girl, but rather… the face of the eight or nine-year-old me, a little girl.

My brother said, “I just woke up too. Guess what? I heard Mom’s voice.”

Mom.

Such a strange word.

Since the year I was eight, when our mother fled the mountains, we hadn’t heard that word again.

I stared wide-eyed as the woman from my memories walked into the kitchen.

Mom was wearing that severely pilled gray-blue top and carrying a chunk of pork fat as she entered the kitchen.

She seemed in a good mood and said, “Your dad finally decided to buy something for the house.”

Dad was outside, grumbling and cursing, saying Mom only knew how to spend his money.

Mom’s face fell into shadow again as she put the pork fat aside and said softly, “Xiaozhao, Xiaoling, can one of you help me start the fire? My back hurts, and I can’t bend over.”

I remembered that in my previous life, as soon as my brother heard about work, he would turn and walk away.

But this time, he said, “Mom, I’ll do it!”

Even Mom was startled, her expression seeming to say, “The sun must have risen in the west today.”

The fire was soon started.

My brother and I looked at each other, and I even held my breath.

Mom began to render the pork fat, and Dad was about to enter the kitchen.

A look of despair appeared on my face, and my brother whispered, “You’re stupid. Just avoid letting that thing happen!”

I nodded, reached out, and removed the soy sauce bottle from beside the pot.

My brother sighed in relief. “That’s great.”

Mom looked at me in confusion. “Hasn’t this soy sauce bottle always been here? We’ll need it for cooking later. Why did you take it away?”

I said, "Mom, you're rendering pork fat. It's too risky to have the soy sauce bottle here. If it accidentally falls into the pot, we'll ruin the pork fat and lose the soy sauce."

Mom gave a bitter smile. "Xiaoling understands how hard things are at home and thinks about these details. Just wait, Mom will help you and your brother get through this toughest time..."

My nose tingled, and tears started flowing.

I wanted to say, "Mom, actually, I haven't seen you for eight years."

Luckily, Mom was busy and didn't see me wiping my tears.

Dad walked in.

My heart leapt into my throat.

Luckily, nothing happened. Dad saw that Mom was rendering the fat quickly and well, then he walked out of the kitchen.

Our kitchen was small and narrow, and of course, there was no exhaust fan.

Mom got a bit smoked by the oil, turned to the side, and coughed repeatedly.

She changed the direction of the spatula stirring the pork fat.

But nothing happened.

Mom recovered and continued rendering the pork fat.

My brother and I exchanged glances, showing relief.

On this day in my previous life, Mom was smoked by the oil while rendering pork fat. As she coughed and turned to the side, the spatula in her hand hit the soy sauce bottle on the stove.

The soy sauce bottle fell into the pot with a clatter, and the lid came off. All the soy sauce spilled out.

Without the soy sauce, the pork fat also changed color.

My brother had gone upstairs, and I retreated in fear of getting splashed.

Mom panicked, trying to fish out the soy sauce bottle, but she couldn't lift it out and got splashed with oil instead.

Just then, Dad walked into the kitchen and saw the scene. He immediately slapped Mom.

"Fine, you useless thing, really a waste of my money!"

My mom's years of accumulated aggression exploded all at once.

“I've bought all the oil in the house over the years, how many times have you bought it? It's not easy to buy lard once, you don't boil lard yourself, you let me do it, and you still scold me, don't you?”

My father pushed her, “Is that how you talk to me?”

My mom threw the spatula: “Xu Chengbin, I want to divorce you!”

My dad's neck turned red: “Divorce me? You're going to divorce that old man, aren't you? Do you want to serve him? You slut!”

My mom said, “You're full of shit! I get all my rumors from you! You can say whatever you want! I just want to divorce you! Even if I die in the middle of the road, I'll run away from here!”

The oil is heating up again. The oil in the pot was sizzling.

My dad picked up the spatula and scooped up a shovelful of oil.

Eight-year-old me rushed up and tried to stop my dad.

But I was too late.

Part II

"My dad splashed hot oil on my mom's face and neck.

My mom screamed and ran outside, using a hose to douse herself, but she was still badly burned.

She scraped together some hidden money and bought burn ointment, hiding from my dad while applying it.

That night, she muttered, 'Xiaoling, Xiaochao, Mom is useless. Take care of yourselves.'

I hid in the corner, heart aching for Mom, crying uncontrollably.

But my brother and I thought then, as we had many times before, that this was just another instance of Mom's despair.

We both believed that no matter how tough it got, Mom wouldn't leave.

After all, they say women can't leave our village.

Little did we expect that Mom would disappear that very night.

Dad cursed and searched, treating her like a lost animal, planning to punish her when she returned.

He took out a whip and left it outside, waiting for Mom to come home.

My eyes were swollen from crying.

In truth, in my heart I thought, Mom, if you don't want to come back, just don't.

Later, Mom really didn't come back, and my brother and I grew up in that difficult household.

My brother attributed subsequent tragedies to Mom leaving that time.

'She's really selfish! She's the most malicious woman I've ever seen!' my brother often said.

The pressures of life diluted my longing for Mom.

Faced with a failing life, I sometimes wondered if things would be better with Mom around.

Our rebirth gave us hope to change our lives.

My brother temporarily set aside his resentment and tried to prevent another incident like the hot oil.

Naively, we thought that would keep Mom from leaving.

Dad said this batch of lard was rendered very well.

He scooped out a big bowlful.

Mom grew wary: 'Xu Chengbin, what are you doing?'

Ignoring her, Dad took a plastic bag and carefully packed the lard, heading in the direction of Luo Ping's house.

Mom got anxious and rushed to grab the bag from him.

Dad wouldn't give it, and Mom wouldn't let go.

'Xu, if you like her, go chase her, go hug her. But you can't touch the things in this house, you still have two kids to raise...'

Seeing this scene, memories from a previous life rushed back, leaving me breathless.

Last time, Mom knitted me a sweater. Luo Ping said it looked nice, and that same day, Dad took the leftover yarn away. Not long after, Luo Ping was wearing a scarf in the exact same color as my sweater.

Mom painstakingly dried sweet potatoes to sell, half for the family to eat, half to sell. Unexpectedly, the half left at home quickly ended up in Luo Ping's mouth, and the money from selling it was taken by Dad, who bought beer at the store and drinks for Luo Ping.

On my birthday, Mom cooked longevity noodles for me, with two eggs specially added. Dad said, 'Isn't this extravagant? Are you trying to be a mom?' He took out all the eggs and ate them himself.

On Luo Ping's child's birthday, Dad was gone the whole day, returning in the evening with a small cake, all smiles as he handed it to Luo Ping.

...

Mom must have felt so wronged.

Dad openly and covertly favored Luo Ping.

Luo Ping's husband, who hardly spoke and worked outside for years, accepted Dad's kindness towards her without question.

Those rumors didn't just reach Mom's ears; even the kids heard them.

My brother and I attended the village elementary school, often ostracized and bullied.

Everyone knew I'd talk back if provoked, but when they said Dad and Luo Ping were having an affair, or that Mom was being cuckolded, I'd lose all strength, face burning, unable to say a word.

My brother and I were reborn, but we forgot that while the lard was rendered well, Dad was still the same bad person.

Their arguments grew louder and louder.

I sensed danger and rushed forward.

'Father, calm down!'

Dad pushed me away, and I fell, my head throbbing.

Mom helped me up, glaring at Dad, even more furious.

My brother ran over, telling Mom, 'Let it go, let it go.'

Mom kept asking if I was hurt.

I said, 'No, let's go inside.'

Dad took the opportunity to leave, but Mom was still fixated on that bowl of lard. The lard we usually couldn't bear to eat.

Mom often said to me and my brother, 'You're both too skinny.'

During those days when we barely made ends meet, she always quietly wiped away her tears.

My brother and I thought the storm over the lard had passed, so we went inside together, discussing our next steps.

Little did we expect Mom to leave the house and go to Luo Ping's for the first time in so many years.

When Mom came back, her forehead was swollen and bleeding.

Both my brother and I realized something was terribly wrong.

In desperation, I ran to the village store on credit, but the medicine I bought was only makeshift, and even the gauze to dress her wound was barely adequate.

Mom watched me proficiently, far beyond what an eight-year-old could handle, her face filled with shock.

Weakly, she said, 'Xiaoling, you've grown up. You'll take care of Mom now. I thought I wanted to die, but seeing you, I want to live...'

She hadn't finished her words before she leaned on a chair, vomiting uncontrollably.

My brother hid in the shadows, equally anxious.

I approached him quietly, 'Brother, go buy some medicine in town! Please, I beg you, Brother. They never let women leave the village, and I don't even know the way.'

My brother hesitated for a long time.

I asked Mom where the money was, and she said, 'That's for your education, can't touch it.'

I couldn't find it no matter how hard I looked, so I stole some from Dad, but not too much.

I said, 'Brother, hurry, save Mom.'

In that moment, his eyes were particularly fierce. 'You have to watch Mom closely,' he said. 'Don't let her run away. Last time she left on a night like this, you have to keep her tightly.'

I nodded vigorously, 'Mom's injured like this, where could she go?'

My brother went to town.

Mom felt a bit better, lying down beside me, breathing evenly.

Several times, I trembled, trying to feel her breath.

My tears just wouldn't stop.

This was the Mom I missed.

She was right beside me now. As long as she didn't leave, I'd always have Mom.

Maybe I wouldn't be stoned by village kids, called 'poor thing' or 'motherless bastard.'

Maybe I wouldn't die, and my brother wouldn't go crazy.

Feeling Mom's warm hand, I felt both happiness and despair.

Mom was still here. But what would happen next?

Mom woke up.

Old man Yang, who raised cows, happened to walk by with a cart, thinking Mom would chat with him as usual. He said his cow had died, so he had to take it to town to sell that night.

Mom didn't respond, and Old man Yang left.

But suddenly, her eyes lit up.

That night, Dad came back from Luo Ping's, drunk.

He asked Mom, 'Lazy thing, not making dinner?'

Mom lifted her head, expressionless, and glanced at him. 'Still not full?' she said.

Dad's temper flared, and he slapped Mom.

Mom spat out blood.

He looked at the blood, roaring, 'That's not an excuse for slacking off!'

I screamed.

Dad slapped me too.

My mom's head tilted to one side, her face filled with despair.

My dad told me to cook, tears streaming down, he went back to his room and lay down, smoking.

But suddenly I remembered my mom, still sitting by the door.

I ran over and found the chair in front of the door was empty.

Frantically, I searched the house.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

She was gone.

Again, in this life, my mom had left.

But she couldn't have gone far.

I remembered again, how her eyes had briefly lit up just now.

Last time, the day my mom left. Old Yang, from the village, had also passed by, exchanged a few words with her.

She didn't respond, but she seemed lost in thought as she looked at Old Yang.

Suddenly, a voice echoed in my mind: "I know where my mom went, I know where my mom went, I know where my mom went..."

If I don't hurry, it will be too late.

The pot is heating up, I should start cooking... Or should I chase after mom, beg her to come back?

But I couldn't move.

My brother returned, I saw his figure from afar.

My mind was buzzing.

He came closer, asking me, "Where's mom?"

I felt like I was in another world, my thoughts drifting away.

He threw the medicine on the ground, shaking my body.

"I'm asking you, where's mom?"

My gaze was blank, I shook my head.

He slapped me.

Memories from the past flooded back, tears blurred my vision as I looked at my brother.

He slapped me again: "Useless bastard!"

With a shout, he ran towards the village's exit.

The pot was boiling hot, the food still not cooked, and from the other side, I heard dad cursing and muttering.

I had to go back to cook.

In my mind, that voice from the past came back again, exactly the same: "Mom, run. Run, mom!"