The room was warmly lit and very clean. A woman leaned against a pillow, holding her newborn baby in her arms. She looked down fondly at the little boy wrapped in a light green blanket, sleeping soundly in the embrace of his mother's frail body. Beside the hospital bed, a man, the father, sat on a stool with his hands clasped. He watched the mother and son with loving eyes, though a hint of red formed at the corners.
"He looks just like you…" The father's voice was soft, and he tried to hide his tears. The mother smiled, but visible fatigue pulled at her features.
"Yes… I hope he grows up to be much stronger than me. I want our son to live a long, happy life." She looked through tired eyes at the baby in her arms.
"I am sure he will."
Two days later
Inside the brightly lit hallway of the hospital, the father sat hunched over anxiously on one of the chairs in the row by the wall. His tired eyes occasionally glanced at the doors at the end of the hallway, but he tore his eyes away each time, unable to stand the looming pressure.
After an indefinite amount of time, the door opened slowly. The father stood up immediately and rushed over, ignorant of his haggard appearance. A surgeon stepped out with his head lowered. He began to speak,but after the first few words the father failed to continue listening. He couldn't see through the layer of mist blurring his vision.
He fell to his knees and wept.
A month later
The room was small, but its size only enhanced its cozy nature. A worn-down couch sat by the pale wall of the living room, and a TV on a small shelf was settled across from it. A kitchen took up one corner of the space. A large rug was rolled out in the middle of the living room, and a single yellow light shone above it all.
Everything about the room showed that it was a well-loved and comfortable living space. Everything seemed to shine with the natural glow that develops with time. On the far wall of the room loomed a dark cabinet. On top of it there was a portrait of a smiling lady with long black hair and dark brown eyes. Beside the portrait was a tray with burnt incense sticks. Not a speck of dust could be seen; the space was clearly cleaned very often. Though of a dark color, the wood grain of the cabinet shone dully under the yellow light, giving off a sense of subtle warmth.
Kneeling on the ground before the cabinet was the father whose young features were seemingly masked by a dark and sorrowful shadow. He held a young boy that sucked on a pacifier. The father's dark brows furrowed, and he stayed in the hunched position for a long time without saying anything. For a few minutes, the only sounds that could be heard were the occasional whimpering of the young boy and his suckling on his pacifier.
Five years later
In the kitchen the boy sat at a wooden table, across from his father. On the table was a plate of fried dough sticks and two bowls of soymilk. There was the occasional sound of chewing and the clinking of spoons against bowls. As the father and son finished their breakfast, the father suddenly stopped moving and looked up at his son. The son, having realized something was wrong, looked up as well. Hesitantly, the father began to speak.
"Son… I know I have been pushing this back for a long time, but I have finally made a decision. As you know, our town here cannot provide many opportunities, and I have found a job in the city that will help support you and me more easily. I would like to bring you along since you are so young, but I fear that my having such a demanding job will only harm my ability to take care of you… so I was thinking about having you stay here. You know the folks in the neighborhood well, and I can trust them more than I can trust strangers in the city. I hope you will understand my decision… you are mature, and I know you will be able to take care of yourself. I feel that my poor parenting will only hinder you."
"Dad, you are a grown-up. You are allowed to make decisions. If you believe that this is what is best for us then I will follow your wishes."
"I really hope I am making the right decision… Remember that if you have any struggles or needs you should not hesitate to ask your neighbors or call me. I know I probably don't deserve to say this, but I truly wish the best for you, my son. I hope that you will grow up a better man than your father."
"Don't say that about yourself, dad. You aren't forcing me to do anything. I will be able to care for myself. I won't make you worry." The son looked up into his father's eyes determinedly.
"Yang Qiu… thank you so much son." He was extremely moved by his own son's maturity. He got up and pulled him into a hug.
After his son had gone to bed that night, the father knelt in front of the cabinet again. Though he had started to show signs of age, his expression and posture were relaxed, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. After a few minutes, he took the portrait into his hands and sat down with his back leaning against the cabinet. He looked at the picture and slowly traced the outline of the face in the picture with his finger.
"Honey… I feel like such a failure. Our son has grown up so well, but his maturity only formed because of my inability to provide the support he needs. If I were more capable, he would not have to take care of himself as much as he does. If only you were here to help me… I really can't seem to live without you, haha. It has been five years, and it never gets any easier. Today I told Yang Qiu about my decision to work in the city. I told him what I had been telling myself: that working in the city would be a better means to provide for us. But I fear that in reality I am just trying to escape from it all. I feel like such a weak excuse of a father, yet our son still treats me with a level of respect I feel I could never deserve. I must have been blessed with this wonderful son because I met you… My presence will only tarnish him. Seeing how Yang Qiu is right now, I have faith that he will be able to grow up well on his own. I just hope this decision will not lead to greater regrets…"