A Gilded Cage of Love - Chapter 8

After the high school entrance exam, I was admitted to the city high school as the top student in the entire school.

For the first time in 15 years, I nervously held my admission letter and made a request to my parents.

Wearing an ill-fitting short-sleeved top, its seams cutting into my shoulders, I stood in front of my silent parents and said softly, “Dad, Mom, I want to keep studying.”

They sat on low stools, heads bowed, saying nothing.

My dad was the first to react.

He tossed his cigarette to the floor. “Studying’s made you wild! You think you can just study because you want to? Where does the family have money to send you to school?”

I’d already guessed the outcome of this conversation, but still couldn’t help feeling wronged.

Tears welled in my eyes, and I shouted, “How is there no money? There’s always money for Ruan Zongyao to eat fried chicken, money for Ruan Zongyao to go out and play, money for whatever Ruan Zongyao wants-but not a cent for me to go to school!”

Ruan Zongyao already weighed about 100 kilograms (200 jin). He was cursing at his game off to the side.

When he heard me, he slammed the book he’d been using as a wrist rest. “You bitch, what do you mean by that!”

“You just can’t stand seeing me do well, can you!”

The very book he used as a cushion for playing games,

could have supported my future.

My dad was so angry he was panting like a bull. “You damned girl! Good-for-nothing! You think you can compare to Ruan Zongyao? How could you ever compare to him?!”

“If it weren’t for Ruan Zongyao, you’d leave the Ruan Family with no descendants-do you understand?!”

He shouted as he ripped up my admission letter.

I tried to snatch it back, but he threw me hard to the floor.

My mom said nothing, just went to cook.

She’d bought pork ribs early, because Ruan Zongyao wanted braised pork ribs.

Ruan Zongyao didn’t move a finger, yet he was already the winner.

He spat at me, and no one stopped him.

In that instant, they snuffed out my last bit of hope.

The scrapes left from the fall went untreated, and late at night, they still burned painfully.

I lay on my bed crying, biting my wrist to keep from making a sound.

The night was so dark.

In the countryside, it’s even darker-like there’s not a single ray of light.

Not long after, news spread at school that the top scorer in the high school entrance exam had given up on attending high school.

Everyone who heard just sighed.

“Well, she’s a girl.”

“A girl-what can you do. Girls just lack ambition.”

If girls don’t speak up, no one knows how they’re being strangled.

People will only say carelessly, “It’s just because they lack ambition themselves.”

A few days after the rumors spread, Teacher Zhou came to find me.

She led me to her office, sat me down, and looked at me for a long time before speaking.

“Ruan Yao, I’ve told you before, you’re very talented. Your stories are excellent.

“But… writing requires experience, requires life. On the page I read, you wrote you wanted to be a writer. How can you become a writer if you don’t continue your studies?”

All the grief pent up in my chest suddenly burst out, and I sobbed, unable to speak.

Sometimes what hurts isn’t the pain or reality of the moment,

but the fact that you once truly believed you could become the person you imagined.

“It’s not that I don’t want to go to school. I can’t. My father tore up my admission letter. He won’t let me go…”

I broke down, crying hard and tugging at Teacher Zhou’s sleeve. “Teacher, why can’t I go to school? Is it just because I’m a girl? Can’t girls go to school? Is there only one path for a girl?”

Teacher Zhou’s eyes softened, and she gave me a hug.

I thought that hug was the end of it.

I even started thinking: if I really have to go work in a factory, if I have to marry and have children, how will I ever break free?

Could I ever break free?

But I didn’t expect Teacher Zhou to come to my home.

She brought an envelope and placed it in front of my parents. “There’s ten thousand yuan in here.”

I was stunned.

So were my parents.

This was more than half a year’s wages for them. Because of Ruan Zongyao’s eating and drinking, they hadn’t managed to save anything in years.

After a while, my mom said hesitantly, “Teacher, this is?”

Teacher Zhou smiled and held my hand. “Ruan Yao came first in the high school entrance exam and brought honor to the school. This is a scholarship from the city high school-only the top scorer gets it. They said if Ruan Yao can go, all tuition and fees will be waived.”

I’d never heard of such a thing.

But I was no longer a child.

Almost instantly, I realized-

This money was from Teacher Zhou.

My dad glanced at the money, then at Teacher Zhou. “Going to school can make money too?”

Teacher Zhou shook her head. “Not for most people-only for those who are outstanding in their studies.”

“When Ruan Yao goes to university in the future, there’ll be scholarships, grants, and if the family is struggling, you can apply for student loans and pay them back after graduation. None of this needs any extra money from the family. Yaoyao is a promising child. After graduating from university, she’ll have great prospects. I hear you’re already arranging her marriage. In a small place like this, how much can you get for a bride price? How much could Yaoyao earn in the future? Can’t your family do the math?”

Teacher Zhou’s voice was gentle, but she stood firm in front of me.

All I could do was look at the seam that had come undone on her clothes and let my tears fall.

The memory of that day always returns to me.
I remember my dad finally let go.

I remember my mom hurriedly took the money, spitting saliva onto her fingers and counting each bill one by one.

I remember later, when I walked Teacher Zhou out, she held my hand and led me to the doorway.

Only when she saw no one was following did she secretly hand me a card.

“Why are you crying? No crying. You just focus on your studies and move forward bravely. Teacher Zhou has discussed it with her family. We’ll cover your university expenses for now-think of it as a loan. You’ll have to pay it back in the future, do you understand?”

I wanted to study so much.

Clutching the bank card, I nodded, tears streaming down my face: “I understand.”

A gentle smile hung on Teacher Zhou’s lips as she patted my head.

Ahead, the lights twinkled.

Behind me, the night stretched endlessly.

I stood on the boundary between light and shadow, wailing with all my might.

In my heart, I made a silent vow: I must never let anyone down, never betray the trust placed in me.

High school life was even harder.

But the good thing was, I chose to live on campus. I didn’t have to do all those house chores or farm work, didn’t have to face my Parents and my brother, those three faces. I could put all my energy into studying.

On regular days, I threw myself into my studies.

During the holidays, I worked hard at part-time jobs.

Teacher Zhou would regularly transfer money to that card. When she saw I spent so little, she even called to remind me not to be so frugal, telling me to buy what I needed and not to save unnecessarily.

I knew Teacher Zhou had a son in university, and her husband was also a teacher.

Both of them taught in a small town, and their salaries were not high.

Being able to attend high school was already more than I could ever ask for. How could I bear to spend more of their money?

High school wasn’t just for kids from the town; there were many city girls too.

Their faces were full of innocence and vitality. Only when I saw them did I realize that the saying “youth knows no sorrow” was truly real.

While they were busy figuring out how not to wear school uniform pants, which brand of clothes looked best, which milk tea tasted best, I was running around trying to print test papers from big cities.

Gnawing on dry steamed buns as I studied, wishing I could chew up the books in front of me too.

When I was exhausted, I’d write my wild, imaginative thoughts into my diary, stroke by stroke.

That was the sweetness in my bitter life, recording my hopes and dreams for a better future.

Those were three years of not fitting in.

Three years without friends, deeply ostracized.

Three years of youthful confusion and longing, yet ruthlessly suppressing myself.

Studying was hard, but was it harder than life?

I thought of that dim home, of my tiny room half the size of Ruan Zongyao’s, of him with his greasy face, munching on snacks, cursing and playing video games-the negative, terrifying things I didn’t want to face also drove me forward, screaming at me to keep going.

Telling me, don’t look back.

Three years passed in a flash.

On the day the college entrance exam ended, I realized the leaves had all turned green.

A lush green.

The ordinary, tree-lined streets of my high school were a beautiful sight I hadn’t had time to appreciate in three years.

Facing the sunset, I shed tears among a crowd where I didn’t belong.

Teacher Zhou stood at the east gate of the school, waving at me from afar.

I ran over and gave her a big hug.

The exam results came out quickly.

I scored 688.

A liberal arts score of 688-something I never dared dream of.

I immediately went to share the good news with Teacher Zhou, sobbing so hard I couldn’t speak.

By then, Ruan Zongyao, now a second-year high schooler, weighed over 220 pounds and spent every day lying in bed playing games.

His sheets were dark and grimy, his clothes stained with snack and fried food grease that wouldn’t wash out.

No one knew how many days he’d gone without bathing. My mom fussed over him, only to be met with a single “eyesore” from him.

I couldn’t understand why, even so, my brother was still their treasure.

And no matter how hard I tried, my efforts were completely ignored.

I applied to Hong Kong University, just across the river from Guang City.

People from the city and the village came to congratulate me. Local entrepreneurs, competing for media attention, all offered scholarships named after their companies.

All of it went into my Parents’ pockets. They were overjoyed, bragging everywhere about how wise their decision was to let me continue my studies.

I wasn’t surprised at all.

Before the semester started, Teacher Zhou invited me to dinner.

She was as gentle as ever, constantly serving me food.

The silver strands in her hair made my heart ache. After hesitating for a while, I softly called out, “Auntie Zhou.”

Teacher Zhou’s hand paused.

Under the light, she looked at me, her eyes clearly moist.

I repeated myself, this time louder.

“Auntie Zhou.”

“Yes!” Teacher Zhou replied.

My Parents somehow heard about it.

They said I’d become wild from studying, that I’d surely neglect the family in the future.

They sternly ordered me to send home ten thousand yuan every year after starting university.

Otherwise, they’d make a scene and let all my classmates know I was an ungrateful child who didn’t care about my Parents.

My brother laughed smugly on the side.

I just replied coldly, “Got it.”

It wasn’t time yet-I wasn’t strong enough.

Sooner or later, I would break free from the cocoon of my original family and become a butterfly.