Even in the slums, there is a difference between the imperial capital of Luojing and the remote northwest border town. Although the slums in Luojing are dilapidated, there are at least well-planned streets and old brick-and-tile buildings. In contrast, the slums in this unnamed small city at the northwest border are just a temporary gathering place for a group of vagrants, with simple wooden shacks haphazardly clustered together. The dusty yellow earth, once rain falls, turns into a muddy mess—the climate in the northwest has its moments like this too. Such an environment can be deemed truly terrible, especially for a child growing up, like this eight-year-old whose scope of activities has never left this small city.
As the wandering musician mother often sold her art in the city's taverns, often staying out all night, leaving Hualing alone. In a place where even the guards couldn’t be bothered to enter, a child at home was no different from prey for slave traders. Fortunately, Hualing had somewhere to go. He was the only person Huaning knew and trusted in this city, specifics of names and relations with Hualing's mother were never mentioned, only that his mother referred to him as Uncle Mo, an elderly gentleman who had served as a military doctor in the border army. When Huaning was born, he had assisted in ensuring the safety of mother and daughter.
Uncle Mo's house was probably the only place Huaning felt comfortable letting her daughter go. Even if the empty shacks attracted thieves with ill intentions, Huaning didn't mind. After all, the poverty of this mother and daughter pair, even in the slums, was well known, and the rundown house contained nothing of value.
Hualing, just waking up from a nap, got out of bed and reached out with small hands to grab his little cloth shoes. They were a gift from his mother last Chinese New Year, already a bit worn but well cleaned, with a small embroidered flower as decoration, giving the same feeling as the neat and orderly shed he lived in. Hmm... it seems like a very long dream during the nap.
Rubbing his sleepy eyes, Hualing arrived at the only rough wooden table in the shed and eagerly drank a bowl of water poured from the kettle into a pottery bowl. The water quality in the northwest was not good, bitter from the well, although the water had been left to settle in a tub for a long time and thoroughly boiled by Huaning, the taste still had a hint of bitterness. However, for Hualing, who had long been accustomed, the bitter taste actually helped clear his still groggy head.
He could see the sunlight beginning to wane outside the window, indicating afternoon had arrived, and his mother was likely already off to the town where she usually played. Normally, at this time, she would tidy up the house and then go find Uncle Mo, as the slums were just too dangerous after dark.
Although only eight years old this year, little Hualing was already quite adept at housework, especially since his mother often left early in the afternoon and only returned in the morning, leaving him to do most of the cleaning.
"All done... Huh?" After washing the dishes left by his mother after lunch, Hualing prepared to leave but accidentally noticed the guqin his mother often played placed on the only storage box behind the door. "Did mom forget to take it?" Hualing walked to the box and carefully picked up the large western region instrument, which was a bit too big for a child's body.
This guqin was brought by Huaning from her extinct homeland that had been devastated in tribal warfare. It had been with her since she roamed to the Western Chu Empire and adopted her new name, serving as her final memory of her homeland. Hualing knew that his mother cherished this instrument greatly. Even if she occasionally played a few tunes before bedtime, she was very careful. She would diligently clean it, and even sparing money from their meager resources to find a master craftsman to wax and repair the instrument.
Even the only time her mother lost her temper was because she accidentally left a mark on the table while playing the qin. So why would she forget? Huang Ling's little head couldn't figure it out, and her first thought was to take the qin to her mother right away. What she didn't know was that Huaming left the huqin at home because the boss of the usual venue suggested that she play the guqin. After practicing for a while, she finally reached a level where she could perform, so she decided to leave behind the old huqin today. But Huang Ling was unaware of this. In her mind, her mom was a talented musician. But without the qin, even if she was talented, how could she perform? Without performing, she couldn't earn money, and without money, she couldn't buy food or have oil for lamps. Though such thoughts might be too realistic for a child her age, for Huang Ling, this was what she had to think about and worry about every day.
So she decided to take it to her mom. After a brief thought, Huang Ling naturally came up with this simple conclusion. The distance from home to her mother's workplace wasn't far, and she knew the way. As long as she returned in time, neither her mom nor Uncle Mo would be angry.
As Huang Ling stepped out of the house, the sun had gradually sunk below the horizon. As the dark enveloped the land, the chaotic and dim parts of the slums began to stir. A child running with a qin slung over his back naturally became their target. Huang Ling noticed the thin man behind her following with ill intentions, his narrowed eyes filled with a disdainful gaze that repulsed her. She tried to walk faster towards crowded places, but this was after all a slum, ruled by all kinds of thugs, rogues, and bandits at night. During the day, children playing in groups and women chatting and relaxing in front of their homes had all retreated indoors. Places where Huang Ling could find refuge were dwindling. The man trailing her was familiar enough with the terrain, confident enough to keep a distance and slowly but steadily corner Huang Ling.
Eventually, she found herself blocked in a narrow alley on the border between the slum and the city. "Hey, little girl, don't be in such a hurry,” the man sneered, approaching. His narrow-cheeked face already screamed "bad guy," but Huang Ling had no room for resistance – the only way out was behind the man, and how could an eight-year-old child possibly resist an adult? He wasn't inherently evil or extremely vicious, just a street ruffian, a thug at best, who enjoyed drinking and fighting, not even engaging in gambling. His companions couldn't even get him interested in visiting the brothels in the city's pleasure quarters. He once thought himself a sage who shunned female company, until one day when he saw Huaning playing and singing in front of her house. It was undeniable that Huaning was a rare beauty, a fact known to all in the slums. However, there was another strange rumor – anyone who tried to harm Huaning disappeared the next day. But this didn't matter much to him as his attention was not on the beautiful woman playing the qin, but on the little girl snuggled next to her. Oh, what lively and innocent eyes she had, once prompting him to exclaim about his light of life, his desire, his sin, his soul. In that dark alley, the man grabbed the girl's shoulders fervently, pressing her down on the ground, passionately kissing her neck. He tore her clothes mercilessly, revealing her tender body, snow-white skin tainted with dirty mud spots, like a flower about to be defiled before blooming.
What happened next? In Hualing's mind, there was a blank slate, memories becoming fuzzy and unclear. She only remembered the heavy thud of Huqin hitting the ground, the beautiful dark red body of the instrument cracking, and the tuned strings snapping with a jarring sound...
Following that, she lost consciousness.
When she woke up again, she found herself lying in Uncle Mo's house, beside her on the bed was her mother, who should have been out selling their art.
It was from Uncle Mo that she learned she was unharmed, all thanks to her mother who bravely protected her. In that dark alley, the delicate musician engaged in a life-and-death struggle.
A weak woman could never overpower an adult man, even if that man was just a thug from the streets. After a fierce battle, the man eventually brought Hua Ning to the ground. According to Uncle Mo, just as that man was eyeing a mother-daughter pair for who knows what, a mysterious figure appeared and saved the two, instructing Uncle Mo to bring them back.
The origins of this mysterious figure remain unknown, but following this incident, the life of the mother and daughter took a sharp turn. Hua Ning, having taken a kick to the chest during the struggle, weakened by nature, contracted a lung disease that only worsened with time, especially in the harsh winds of the northwest.
With her health failing, it became difficult to continue playing music for a living. The family's financial situation deteriorated rapidly, relying on Uncle Mo's assistance to barely sustain the most basic necessities. But plain porridge and dried vegetables could not fill their stomachs, let alone aid in recovery.
Despite Uncle Mo providing medications, Hualing could only watch as her mother's condition deteriorated day by day.
It wasn't until one early morning that Hualing woke to find the constant coughing that had plagued her mother throughout the night had stopped.
That morning, her mother seemed to have regained some strength, and with the scant rice, vegetables, and dried meat left at home, she prepared a rare sumptuous meal.
Mother and daughter quietly enjoyed this lunch, but after Hualing finished washing the dishes, she found her mother lying weakly in bed.
To her, a woman who often exuded immense strength, a mother who had raised her alone, was now crying like a child.
"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." she repeated.
"I'm truly sorry... Xiaoling..."
"Mom really wanted to see you grow up... find someone you love... get married, have children... not end up like mom..."
"Xiaoling... you must live well."
