Stolen Jade | Chapter 65 | The Echo of a Tsk | Novela.app

Bai Shi often wondered afterward if his life would forever be haunted by that single "tsk." Even much later, after he had personally removed his mother’s womb—destroying the very place from which he had entered the world—he still frequently recalled the sound of that day. Strangely enough, one would expect his memories to anchor themselves to deeper, more agonizing moments, but that wasn't the case. It happened during his second year of junior high. He had secretly gone to Bai Yinhua’s private school, taken a test paper, mingled with the other students to hand it in, and received a perfect score. He felt a flicker of happiness that day and rushed to the back garden to show his mother. She was sitting in a rattan chair drinking tea, her brow furrowed—she was always frowning—as she picked rose petals out of her cup. They had been cut too coarsely, which she loathed. The maid who had served her since childhood stood by, fanning her. Bai Shi remembered it vividly. The weather that afternoon was beautiful; sunlight filtered through the lush trees of the courtyard, casting dappled shadows across the ground and onto people’s skin. The air held a warm, mellow scent. His mother was a beautiful woman. She leaned back lazily, her blue lace-trimmed gown pooling at her feet, her bare toes touching the ground. Her wavy hair shimmered like burgundy wine in the sun, curls bouncing on her shoulders, reflecting shades of bright or dark red depending on the angle. Bai Shi approached her, raised his voice slightly, and held out the test paper. His mother shifted her gaze, looking at the score on the paper without any expression. Then, she let out a "tsk." It wasn't a sound of disgust, nor was it dissatisfaction. It was the sound of finding something a nuisance. For a woman of her upbringing, even things she detested were rarely met with such a blatant expression. When dealing with the various people and favors that came through their doors, she always maintained the family’s dignity, greeting everyone with a smile. Whether it was an ambitious man or a complicated female companion, she liked none of them, yet offended no one. But this time, she truly found it bothersome. It was the same sound she had made—light, airy, and full of irritation—after spending three months picking out a Western-style painted faucet for the house. It was a sign that she didn't want to deal with it. Sure enough, after that sound, she turned her head away. Bai Shi remained there, holding his paper, staring blankly at her and then at the standing maid. He was met with the thing he was most familiar with: being treated as if he were invisible. Bai Shi stood there for a while before folding the paper and returning to his room. His head throbbed. As he walked from the courtyard back to his room, every servant he passed looked right through him. It was as if he didn't exist. He was more than used to this kind of neglect. But this time felt different. If he had to put a reason to it, perhaps it was simply because the weather was too fine. Bai Shi suddenly found himself thinking that if the sun rose to illuminate the whole earth, there was no reason for it to bypass him alone. He felt a sense of injustice. His head ached terribly. It was from this moment that he began to reflect, concluding that his sense of injustice should have started much earlier. Bai Shi’s father was named Bai Yilong, and his mother was Yan Baihua. He had three older brothers: Bai Jiang, Bai Hai, and Bai Yinhua. It was a large family. For as long as Bai Shi could remember, the relationships within the family were poor. Bai Jiang and Bai Hai were closer to their father, while Bai Yinhua was closer to their mother. Bai Shi, however, seemed close to no one. He had a wet nurse as a child who stayed with him until he was ten. In this sprawling mansion, Bai Shi would sometimes go an entire week without exchanging a single word with a family member. This was normal. On the rare occasions they hosted guests, his parents would claim Bai Shi was unwell and couldn't come down. Thus, Bai Shi would watch from the stairs as they held boisterous banquets, watching his parents perform their hypocritical displays of affection, and watching his three brothers being taught from a young age how to drink and make "friends." Hypocrisy. One night after a banquet had ended, in the pitch-black house, Bai Shi heard the sound of an argument. He ran out and saw his father downstairs beating his mother, grabbing her hair and slamming her head against the corner of a table. There was a pool of blood on the floor. His mother was laughing shrilly, saying it was useless—that woman was already dead because of her anyway. It was also at this moment that Bai Shi realized he wasn't quite normal. Watching this scene, he felt nothing. But his head ached. The parents still tried to keep up appearances in front of the three older brothers, though the effect was poor. A child’s intuition is sometimes terrifyingly sharp. Bai Yinhua was one year older than him; Bai Jiang and Bai Hai were seven and five years older, respectively. When they were all very young, the children could still play together, but they gradually drifted apart. Although the parents never explicitly emphasized anything, their icy relationship quickly alienated the children from one another. In the earliest days, when Bai Yinhua was only five, Bai Jiang would hold him while Bai Hai held Bai Shi. They would mimic the adults, pretending to feed the younger ones and gently bumping their heads together like a toast, imitating the scenes of grown-ups drinking they had seen so often. While they were doing this, their mother returned. She snatched Bai Yinhua away and glared fiercely at Bai Jiang. Bai Jiang was so startled he dropped his toy. Seeing this, Bai Hai also let go of Bai Shi. Their mother didn't even look at them as she led Bai Yinhua away. When Bai Yinhua was a bit older, he asked to go horse riding with his father, wanting to be like his older brothers. But his father, mounted on his horse, made Bai Yinhua stand on the mounting block and pressed his boot onto the boy's shoulder. "As if you're worthy," he said contemptuously. As for Bai Shi, who also wanted to go, his father—just like his mother—didn't even spare him a glance. Bai Shi’s head ached terribly. As time passed, Bai Jiang and Bai Hai grew to look more and more like Bai Yilong. Even certain subtle traits were remarkably similar, yet they bore no resemblance to their mother. Bai Yinhua’s eyes were like his mother’s, but his features didn't resemble anyone in the family. As for Bai Shi, he was a perfect blend of both mother and father. Everyone who saw him said so. Once, they actually sat at the same dining table. It was when Ding Chuan came to visit. They sat at the table and ate in total silence. His mother tapped the tabletop. Bai Yinhua, quick-witted, passed her the sauce. She took a little. Bai Yilong coughed, and Bai Jiang stood up to take the used sauce dish from his mother’s hand, but she gave a mocking snort and casually tossed the dish onto the floor, where it shattered into pieces. Bai Yilong set down his knife and fork. He squinted at her from across the table, his voice flat. "Pick it up, you bitch." His mother smiled. "Pick it up yourself, you waste of space." Ding Chuan was stunned, his hands hovering awkwardly, not knowing where to put them. But the four children at the table simply kept their heads down, eating their food in silence. Bai Yilong stood up and pulled a whip from beneath the table. He strode over in his heavy boots, each footfall making the children at the table flinch. His mother watched him calmly, her face full of mocking laughter. Ding Chuan watched Bai Yilong approach, straightening his back nervously, unsure of what to do. When the first lash of the whip struck his mother, Ding Chuan finally stood up and grabbed Bai Yilong’s arm, saying the children were present and this wasn't right. But none of the children at the table looked up. Because of these experiences, Bai Shi felt for a long time that Bai Jiang, Bai Hai, and Bai Yinhua were his allies. That lasted until his second year of junior high—the year he came to understand many things. He returned home one day to find Bai Jiang and Bai Hai, who were already being introduced to various business operations by Bai Yilong, and Bai Yinhua, who was playing around in the entertainment industry, engaged in a rare conversation. It wasn't an intimate brotherly chat; it was more like two people living under the same roof who happened to cross paths and exchange a few words. Bai Jiang asked Bai Yinhua if those celebrities were fun. Bai Yinhua, who was eating a waffle, paused to think. "They all feel very stupid. They can't do anything. They're useless." Bai Hai chuckled, saying there was no better place to find beautiful trash, and that beautiful trash was an inexhaustible resource. Bai Yinhua curled his lip, saying he didn't plan on acting anymore. Doing the same things as those people made him feel cheap. As they reached this point, Bai Shi happened to walk in. They glanced at him, stopped talking, and dispersed to go about their own business. Bai Shi stood frozen, suddenly realizing he and they were not allies. Later, Bai Shi was assigned several tutors for various subjects. They were men and women of all kinds, but any who were over thirty, regardless of gender, ended up in Bai Jiang’s bed. One day, while Bai Shi was studying calculus, he went to wash his hands and found himself locked in the bathroom. A commotion came from outside the door, followed by a sweet, warbling, bird-like shriek. Bai Shi could hardly believe it was the same scholarly, stuffy male tutor. Bai Jiang left as soon as he was finished. The tutor only let Bai Shi out after he had composed himself. His face was still flushed, his glasses fogged over, his lip bleeding, and his eyes swollen and red. He sat down with difficulty and continued flipping through the book. Bai Shi glanced at him, and the man trembled. Bai Shi looked at him. "Does doing that make you happy?" The man began to cry, pressing his pale fingers against his face and sobbing apologies. His legs were shaking, and the chair beneath him was wet. Bai Shi said, "Go wash yourself. Don't get my room dirty." The male tutor retreated inside in shame. Bai Shi stood up and went to find Bai Jiang. If anger were measured on a scale of one to ten, Bai Shi felt a level three. It wasn't because of what the tutor had suffered, but rather because Bai Jiang had swaggered into his room. It made him feel trampled upon. Bai Jiang was taking a bath. He soaked in the tub and flicked his eyes up at him. After hearing Bai Shi’s accusation, he grinned. "Oh, you were there? I didn't even know." Bai Shi said nothing, but his head ached terribly. His headaches had been there since he was a child. He had told his mother once. She had been lost in thought at the time, and she turned to look at him, saying, "Can you please not talk to me?" Bai Shi left and went to his father, telling him his head always hurt. His father gave a short laugh and said, "How are you any different from your useless mother?" Actually, he had told one other person: Ding Chuan’s daughter. Back then, every time Ding Chuan visited, he brought extravagant gift bags. Unlike the solemn atmosphere of the house, he was only allowed to visit at night. He always wore Hawaiian shirts covered in coconut trees and women with shapely rears. He was tall and casual, always wearing flip-flops even in winter, seemingly possessing an endless supply of body heat. He had passed his bronze skin down to his daughter, a beautiful, haughty girl with hair braided into two thick plaits and large eyes. Unlike her warm, smiling father, she often rolled her eyes at his over-enthusiasm. Along with Ding Chuan came a man with a terrible temper named Tu, who would curse at a pebble for twenty minutes if he tripped on it, and another named Zuo, who was always stony-faced, stood ramrod straight, spoke little, and was close to no one. At that time, Ding Chuan likely had some understanding of the Bai family’s bizarre dynamics, knowing the family wasn't as enviable as the outside world believed. Naturally, he didn't ask for details, but when he brought his daughter along, he would tell her to go play with Bai Shi. The girl was unwilling, rolling her eyes. "I don't even know him." Her father, who lacked any real authority over her, pleaded in a whisper, leaning close to her. "Look at that little brother. No one plays with him, he's so pitiful. Go say something to him, I'm begging you." The girl walked over with her arms crossed. Bai Shi was always crouching in a corner alone; he was quite hard to find. He was doodling aimlessly on the ground with a twig when he saw the girl approach with a rubber ball. Without a word, she shoved it at him and said firmly, "Come bounce the ball with me." She began to demonstrate, the ball thumping rhythmically. Bai Shi watched her with boredom. After bouncing it for a long time without a reaction from him, she tossed the ball aside and sat down. "Kids these days are so precocious." Bai Shi wanted to say she wasn't much older, but he didn't like to talk, so he stayed silent. Despite this, every time Ding Chuan came over, the girl would run to play with Bai Shi. Even if they just sat together, she stayed by his side until the day Ding Chuan stopped coming. From beginning to end, Bai Shi never knew her name. But once, as she watched him digging up earthworms and splitting them with his fingernails, she frowned in disgust. "That's so gross." Bai Shi didn't stop. "Is it?" The girl snatched them away and threw them aside. "Stop doing that." Looking at her blood-stained hand, Bai Shi’s head began to ache. He clutched his head and leaned against the wall. The girl followed him. "What's wrong?" Bai Shi said muffledly, "My head hurts." "Do you have a cold?" Bai Shi shook his head. The girl pulled him up. "Go see a doctor. I'll go call my dad." Bai Shi shook off her hand and crouched back on the ground to dig for worms again. "This makes it feel a bit better." The girl hugged her legs, resting her chin on her knees as she tilted her head to watch him. After a long time, she suddenly asked, "Why do you touch them directly with your hands? Don't you want a shovel?" Bai Shi didn't look up. He continued turning the soil, his fingers touching the cold earthworms. He would stroke them before slicing them open, letting the struggling creatures lash against his hand, holding their slippery bodies in his palm. "I want to touch them. I only feel something when I touch them." The girl stared at him. "Are you always like this? Not happy, not sad, no expression?" Bai Shi balled the earthworms into a clump in his hand, feeling them squirming against his palm. He gave a small "mm." "I don't feel anything." After hesitating for a moment—it was the first time Bai Shi had heard someone tell him this—the girl said, "You should go see a doctor." She was the first person in Bai Shi’s life who had truly conversed with him. He heard later that she had died. Most of the time, Bai Shi lived like a ghost. One night while he was sleeping, he heard people arguing in his room. He opened his eyes and, by the moonlight, saw his mother clawing at his father like a madwoman, biting his face as if trying to tear a piece of flesh away. His father didn't make a sound, only breathing in heavy, muffled gasps before slamming her against the wall. His mother lost all strength like a puppet and slumped to the floor. She lay there spewing venomous curses, filth that hardly sounded human. His father kicked her repeatedly, avoiding her face. Then, in the silence of the night, his mother fired a gun. The bullet pierced his father’s foot. The night was filled with screams, wild laughter, arguments, and soul-shattering noise. His brothers, not understanding what was happening, trembled in their bedrooms. Bai Shi, who had seen everything, remained silent. When his parents noticed him, they looked away with total indifference, as if they hadn't seen him at all. Afterward, there was news about a "vacation accident," and the Bai family even held a press conference. Bai Shi’s memories of his family were a jumbled mess because he couldn't remember where the root of it all lay. From the moment he gained consciousness, he had been a silent person. He felt his world was very quiet; no one held expectations for him, and he didn't have to be responsible for anyone or anything. He lived in a shadow, forgotten from time to time. All of this was a realization he reached from that single "tsk." He felt he had finally seen the light. In the eyes of outsiders, he was "non-existent." He was the sickly youngest son of the Bai family; it would be perfectly normal if he were to pass away from illness one day. He wasn't like Bai Jiang or Bai Hai, who were groomed early on as successors for one side, nor like Bai Yinhua, who was groomed for the other. His parents understood that people like them, caught in a deep web of entanglements, relied largely on their public presence to prove they were alive. Bai Shi lived quietly, which was almost the same as not existing at all. Bai Yilong had once truly forgotten his existence, telling outsiders he had three children, only adding Bai Shi’s name at the very end with a smile, saying his youngest son was precious and he didn't want to talk about him. Since that "tsk," Bai Shi had connected all the dots and finally understood one truth: his parents didn't love him at all. Bai Yilong might love Bai Jiang and Bai Hai because he loved their mother. Yan Baihua might love Bai Yinhua because of Yinhua’s father. As for Bai Shi, their biological son, he had been told by both parents on different occasions, "You look so much like him/her." Bai Shi spent a whole day wondering why he had been born. He started thinking in the morning and had his answer by evening: he hadn't had a choice. In this house full of secrets, if there was one thing Bai Shi regretted, it was that he had once tried to fit into the family. He realized that adults are not moved by children; if they are moved, they are only moving themselves. Adults are terrifying. They pass their illnesses to the next generation before they are even cured. They dump their resentment, dissatisfaction, struggles, sorrows, and their poorly handled emotions and lives onto the next generation. They are so fragile, unable to bear anything, their weak spirits relying on the pathetic self-satisfaction of "parental responsibility." They either refuse to evaluate their own performance as parents or indulge in self-intoxication, claiming they "did their best." So much grievance and unwillingess—it was as if the misery of "procreation" was something forced upon them by God, so humans had no choice but to pass it down through the generations. Amidst the interwoven secrets and hatred, Bai Shi often wondered why his brothers had places to hide while he could only endure the mutual loathing of both sides. He decided it was because his parents were demons. But if he truly had to choose the more loathsome one, he chose his mother. The reason was that he had tried harder to get close to her. When his mother lost her bird, he went out in the pouring rain to find it. When he returned, soaked to the bone, his mother just glanced at him and said, "Oh, it's raining," before personally taking an umbrella to pick up Bai Yinhua. Bai Shi suffered through a fever and recovered quickly. When Bai Yinhua smiled at their mother, she kissed his cheek. Bai Shi tried to mimic his smile in front of guests, but his mother’s hands gripped the table so hard her nails dug into the wood. Controlling her voice, she told him to stop hovering in front of her. Bai Shi’s head began to ache. He went to the back garden and strangled the bird he had worked so hard to find. The harder he tried to get close to her, the more he realized how futile his efforts were. Finally, after that "tsk," he decided to give up entirely. The news of the vacation injury triggered a butterfly effect. Someone brought up the Bai family’s relationship with the Anhuo Group from years ago, asking if it was a triad retaliation. Bai Yilong explained tirelessly, and Yan Baihua gracefully deflected—it was all fake news, groundless rumors. Finally, they made it clear that the focus shouldn't be there: their youngest son had recovered, and they had decided to send Bai Shi to a regular high school for a normal education. This caused a stir in their social circles; after all, this was the youngest son the Bai family had never shown. There were all sorts of interpretations of the Bai couple’s choice, most assuming it was to build his character. Only Bai Shi knew he was far from being worth such high expectations. Bai Shi was sent to the school. The driver dropped him at the gate and left. Bai Shi stared at the large gate, realizing he had left home. This was his first time leaving home, his first time interacting with people outside his family. He began to walk and saw several people standing at the school gate. The one at the very front had a leaf on his head and was staring straight at him. In that boy's eyes, Bai Shi could see a clear, complete reflection of himself. There were no distractions, no one else—only Bai Shi. Did people on the outside always look at others with such focus? Bai Shi gave him a single glance and then turned his head away. *** Glossary: