Chapter 1

The story of Yan Yang and I had a most clichéd beginning.

At the age of thirteen, I was brought home – or rather, I was brought into his home.

Back then, I had been wearing a neighbour's old unwanted clothes while he warmly pulled me along by the hand in a pristine outfit.

For a long time afterwards, that image was what agitated me the most.

Yan Yang was my younger brother. From the moment he was born, I knew of his existence, but it was only when I walked into his home did I then see, for the first time, exactly how this brother of mine from a different mother looked like.

When I was two, my parents divorced. I went with my psychotic mother and only found out that I actually had a living father when I was six.

But when I found out, my dad already had a new family. A new wife, one who was mentally sane, as well as a son three years younger than me.

My father didn't talk to us, but every month he would send us money to be used for our living expenses.

The amount of money the court had ruled for my father to pay was really a bit small considering the cost of living at present. Moreover, after the divorce, my mother was in a half-psychotic state. The fact that I was still alive and managed to graduate middle school was all thanks to the kindness of my neighbours.

My mother never properly made meals for me. I was practically raised on the food of a hundred families, but of these 'hundred families', not a single one was my father's.

Since young, what I ate or wore or used were all picked up from what others had left behind. There was a boy two years older than me in the neighbouring household. Everything he didn't need anymore was all sent to my house.

I never wore new clothes. During the New Year[1], other children would wear new clothes and go out to play. Of course, I knew that the playing part was just a guise – showing off was the main point. I, on the other hand, was wearing other people's old clothes and keeping an eye on my mum to make sure she didn't destroy anything in the house.

I spent my days like that for thirteen years. I got used to it, so it didn't feel like much.

But then my mother died. She had jumped off the roof. That day, when I came home after school and walked to my block, the uncle from the family next door ran over to cover my eyes.

Those neighbours all cared for me quite a lot, but my own family had never done the same.

Since my mother had died, I needed a new guardian, so my father finally took me back.

In the past, I always thought we definitely lived very far away from each other, to the point where even after so many years he still couldn't come and pay us a visit.

Later, as I sat in his black car, did I then discover that there was only a thirty-minute car ride between us.

Between a dark swamp and a beautiful garden, was just a thirty-minute car ride.

Because of this, I was filled with a burning hatred.

It really is very easy for a person to learn how to hate. You just need to tell them that they could have avoided living a bitter life.

On the day my dad came to fetch me, I packed my luggage. It was very simple; there was only a school bag and a few articles of clothing inside.

My dad said, "Just take your school bag with you. Don't keep those shoddy clothes anymore."

Shoddy clothes?

They were indeed shoddy. They were what I had relied on to conceal my shame.

In the end, I still brought them along. Because of that, my dad complained the whole way there.

Not only did he complain about the shoddy clothes being put in his car, he also complained about the ones I was wearing.

They were old. The shirt cuffs had been spoilt by friction, and my pants had random stains from god-knew-where and dirty water marks.

I said, "I don't know where they came from either. They were there already when I got them and can't be washed off."

Some things simply couldn't be washed away, such as the hatred I had for my father that started to ferment from that moment onwards.

With that being said, while hatred was hatred, I wasn't someone who didn't know what was good for me.

I had always been good at reading people's emotions. I knew how to gain people's favour, act as the situation warranted, and what expressions to use with what kind of people if I wanted to survive.

So in front of my dad, I pretended to be pitiful to show him that my crazy mother and I were entirely different breeds of people.

I was obedient and respectful. I would become a good son of his in the future.

He brought me home. Before entering the house, he even said, "Your Auntie Xue[2] and Didi[3] are both waiting for you."

I acted timid, "Will they dislike me?"

My dad probably liked seeing me so subservient. He laughed as he ruffled my hair, "Tomorrow, I'll have your Auntie Xue bring you to go buy some clothes and get a haircut."

Then he opened the door.

The first time I saw Yan Yang, he was ten years old, wearing a white blouse and bow tie like a little grown-up.

This younger brother of mine looked quite similar to me, especially in the eyes.

The moment he heard the door open, he ran over. When he saw me, he seemed a little nervous. He first turned back and called for his mother, then faced me and stretched his hand out, formally introducing himself, "Gege, my name is Yan Yang."

He was called Yan Yang [4].

A bright sun high in the sky, a field of blooming flowers.

I was called Yin Ming [5].

A gloomy storm, a string of calamities.

My dad exclaimed, "This name of yours needs to be changed! What kind of crap name did she carelessly give you!"

I held onto my younger brother's hand and nodded my head in response to his words at the same time.

I didn't like this name either, because in my household register, my old name had been Yan Yang.

Footnotes:

[1] ‘New Year’: Referring to Chinese New Year. It’s customary to wear new clothes, as a way to welcome the new year.

[2] ‘Auntie Xue’: Not literally an aunt. In Chinese culture, it is respectful to call an older woman (related or not) ‘auntie’. In this context, ‘Auntie Xue’ is his stepmother.

[3] ‘Didi’: Means younger brother in Chinese.

[4] ‘Yan Yang’: The characters are 晏阳. ‘Yan’ is his surname, meaning peace, quiet, and comfort. ‘Yang’ refers to the sun.

[5] ‘Yin Ming’: The characters are 殷冥. ‘Yin’ is his surname, meaning abundance, and ‘Ming’ means gloom, the underworld.