Night fell, and the city lights began to glow.
The city's neon illuminated the dark night sky.
Zhuang Zi'ang carried a strawberry cake to the apartment complex where his mother, Xu Hui, rented a place. He looked up at the myriad of lights, but felt no warmth in his heart.
Because not a single light would shine for him.
As he reached the stairwell, he encountered his mother, rushing downstairs with a suitcase.
Xu Hui, in her early forties, looked particularly haggard from toiling for a living day in and day out.
"Zi'ang, I have something to do. You can either make yourself some dinner or go back home!"
The "home" Xu Hui referred to was Zhuang Wenzhao's place.
Nominally, Zhuang Zi'ang's custody belonged to his father.
"Mom, are you in a hurry? Can you stay and eat some cake with me?" Zhuang Zi'ang's eyes showed a glimmer of hope.
"No time, I'll eat with you next time." Xu Hui glanced at her watch.
"Not even a few minutes?" Zhuang Zi'ang tried to persuade her again.
"No. You're eighteen now, an adult. You should be more sensible." Xu Hui said this and turned to leave resolutely.
Watching his mother's receding figure, Zhuang Zi'ang's eyes held endless loneliness and desolation.
What could telling her about that matter change anyway?
It would only make her sad and distressed prematurely.
After he took care of his own funeral arrangements, she would still be toiling through wind and rain.
Xu Hui had a male colleague at work, also divorced, who had been pursuing her.
Zhuang Zi'ang thought that if he weren't around, his mother might have even fewer worries and could find happiness again.
Someone could also take care of her in her later years.
I'm eighteen, an adult. Am I sensible enough?
After a difficult choice, Zhuang Zi'ang still decided to go home.
His tender shoulders couldn't bear such a heavy burden.
They say a father's love is like a mountain, always there to lean on in crucial moments.
Carrying the exquisite strawberry cake, he again tirelessly traversed half the city.
The night wind was slightly cold, sending a shiver through him.
Stepping out of the elevator, Zhuang Zi'ang found the front door ajar, with warm yellow light emanating from the living room.
"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…"
A cheerful birthday song echoed through the room.
Zhuang Zi'ang suddenly remembered that today was his younger brother Zhuang Yuhang's birthday.
According to the customs of their rural hometown, their birthdays were calculated by the lunar calendar.
But at school, teachers and students usually only remembered the Gregorian calendar and weekdays.
Zhuang Zi'ang and Zhuang Yuhang had a significant age gap, and their sibling affection was very faint, somewhat like an ancient concubine's son and a legitimate son.
In previous years, when Zhuang Yuhang celebrated his birthday, Zhuang Zi'ang would join for a meal if he happened to be there, and if not, it was no big deal.
In this home, he was like an outsider.
Zhuang Yuhang's voice came: "Dad and Mom, I hope our family of three is happy, and that you'll celebrate my birthday with me every year."
Sure enough, in their eyes, this family only consisted of three people.
Qin Shulan asked: "Husband, should we call Zi'ang and ask if he's coming back?"
Zhuang Wenzhao said indifferently: "No need, he's probably at his mom's. If he wants to come back, he'll know to come back himself."
The family of three happily shared the birthday cake.
Their joyous laughter was like knives, piercing Zhuang Zi'ang's heart.
At this moment, he felt truly superfluous.
His father was currently immersed in the joy of family togetherness; did he really have to be so insensible as to place a terminal diagnosis in front of him?
If he were gone from this world, it would simply complete their family of three.
He wouldn't have to periodically emerge like a thorn, pricking them.
Zhuang Zi'ang's heart was shrouded in gloom. Just as he was about to turn and leave, the door was pushed open by his stepmother, Qin Shulan, who discovered his distress.
"Zi'ang, you're back. Why aren't you coming in?"
Zhuang Zi'ang froze in place, like a thief caught in the act of spying on someone else's happiness.
He entered the room with his head down, timidly calling out "Dad."
Zhuang Wenzhao responded with a lukewarm sound.
Every time he crossed this threshold, he was trepidatious, as if walking on thin ice.
On the dining table sat a beautifully crafted large cake, piled high with colorful fruits and chocolates.
Compared to it, the small cake in his hand seemed very cheap, truly not presentable.
Zhuang Wenzhao said in a deep voice: "Today is YuHang's birthday. Wash your hands and come eat cake!"
Zhuang Zi'ang felt as if the air had solidified, stiflingly oppressive.
The originally harmonious atmosphere was severely disrupted by his appearance.
He stammered: "You all eat first, I'll go back to my room to get something."
After speaking, he fled back to his room, slamming the door shut, finally able to breathe.
To justify his earlier excuse, Zhuang Zi'ang retrieved a bamboo flute from deep within a drawer.
This was a prize he won in a music competition when he was little. He hadn't played it for many years and was long out of practice.
Not long after, Zhuang Yuhang came to knock on the door: "Mom and Dad told me to bring you cake."
Zhuang Zi'ang took a deep breath, opened the door, and said in a stiff tone: "YuHang, thank you, happy birthday."
Zhuang Yuhang squeezed into the room, his gaze falling on the strawberry cake with disdain.
Spoiled since childhood and not having the same mother, he felt little affection for his older brother.
His stereotype was simply a good student and a bookworm.
"Actually, you didn't have to come back. You don't like coming back, and I don't like you coming back either." Zhuang Yuhang, with hostility, was displeased that Zhuang Zi'ang had disrupted their family of three's happiness.
"I'm leaving now." Zhuang Zi'ang, holding the cake and flute, hurriedly left the bedroom.
Seeing this, Qin Shulan feigned concern: "Zi'ang, where are you going so late?"
Zhuang Zi'ang stopped, gazing deeply at his father: "Dad, my studies are very demanding right now, so living with my mom is a bit more convenient. Three months from now, will you come pick me up to come home?"
Zhuang Wenzhao was somewhat taken aback, finding Zhuang Zi'ang's tone of voice very strange today.
Three months from now, it seemed like he would be graduating.
"It's okay if you don't come to pick me up." Zhuang Zi'ang added disappointedly, then rushed out the door.
As soon as the elevator door closed, tears welled up in his eyes.
He truly envied Zhuang Yuhang so much.
He clearly had parents, yet it was as if he didn't.
A great misfortune had befallen him, and he couldn't find anyone to confide in.
Walking out of the complex, perhaps the intense emotional fluctuations triggered the illness lurking within him.
Warm drops of blood flowed from Zhuang Zi'ang's nose, falling onto the grey floor tiles.
The crimson blood was the same color as the tassel at the end of the bamboo flute.
Three months later, he should no longer be in this world.
Whether or not they picked him up to come home really didn't matter.
Where this body was burned to ashes and buried, or scattered to the wind, it didn't matter at all.
Life is so bitter, there probably won't be a next life, right?
Zhuang Zi'ang, holding the bamboo flute, walked aimlessly through the streets in the night.
Despite using many tissues, he still couldn't stop the nosebleed.
He suddenly remembered that he also had a nosebleed at noon when he was with Su Yudie.
That girl held the back of his head with her hand, her fingertips warm, and easily helped him stop the bleeding.
Thinking of Su Yudie's smiling face, his lonely, indifferent heart seemed to feel a trace of warmth.