Zheng Xianwen really wanted to talk to someone about his mother.
When he finally woke up from that absurd arrogance and selfishness and calmly considered things from a third-party perspective, he realized that compared to Han Songshan, perhaps he was even more detestable.
Han Songshan’s influence on Zheng Jinmei had been temporarily sealed away after she turned 18, while she had to start a new life with a baby who couldn’t even speak yet.
How could a girl under twenty, with no higher education, little life knowledge, and barely literate, find a foothold in an unfamiliar city?
That kind of chaos and instability was something Zheng Xianwen would never be able to understand.
By the time he was old enough to understand things, Zheng Jinmei already had a relatively stable income, although that income came from working over 12 hours a day.
He did have a period of obedience, but it was short-lived. After starting kindergarten and elementary school, he noticed a huge gap between himself and others, and his words gradually became less pleasant.
"I always thought my mom was too humble, like she was naturally inferior. I didn't understand why she was so submissive to everyone, always making me endure things that weren't my fault," Zheng Xianwen recalled, his eyes distant as he spoke in a low voice. "In elementary school, the teacher said people should have backbone. Right is right, wrong is wrong, and you should dare to stick to your beliefs and uphold justice. Hearing that, I felt very inferior, thinking my mom was someone without backbone. She couldn’t handle any hardship, couldn't withstand any ordeal, and would be the first to give up in any test."
He didn’t care about others’ reactions; he just needed a space to monologue.
His neck grew sore, and Zheng Xianwen lowered his head, continuing, "When I first started elementary school, she rented a small room in a self-built house near the school. It was just over thirty square meters, with no private bathroom or kitchen, but the rent was cheap, only 80 yuan a month. The landlord always threatened to evict us and set many rules."
He pointed to a faint scar on his arm, "Once, the landlord’s grandson bullied me, and I got into a fight with him. I pulled his hair, and he bit my hand. My mom came over and tried to separate us but didn’t dare to touch the other kid, so she kept prying my fingers apart and hitting my back. The other kid felt emboldened and bit harder, drawing blood, but I was stubborn and wouldn’t let go. It took all the parents gathering around to finally separate us."
Zheng Xianwen rubbed the smooth skin, the scar that he once saw as proof had long healed, leaving only a pale mark. He laughed self-deprecatingly, "My mom didn’t even ask, just held my head down and made me apologize. I refused, and she scolded me in front of everyone. I’ll always remember that; it’s imprinted in my heart forever. The first time I felt my dignity trampled, it was my mom who did it."
Brother Huang hesitated to speak, remembering Zheng Xianwen was no longer a child and understood the truth, no longer needing guidance.
Zheng Xianwen continued on his own, "My mom’s life was very busy. I had school, so I didn’t see her often. She got up before 5 a.m., went to work, and came home to make lunch for me. But our schedules didn’t align, and we could only have dinner together. After that incident, I didn’t want to eat with her, always waiting until she finished. At first, she waited for me, but she couldn’t outstubborn me and gave up. This habit lasted about two months before our relationship improved."
Zheng Xianwen used to feel proud of his stubbornness because it always worked. Seeing Zheng Jinmei heartbroken gave him a sense of revenge, without ever considering the underlying reasons.
Zheng Jinmei always had a makeshift diet, mostly eating buns and pickles. After hurriedly filling her stomach, she rushed off to help wash dishes at a restaurant.
She was extremely thin, her hair dry and yellow, dressed in cheap market clothes that she wore for years without changing.
During that time, she often sat at the door, silently watching Zheng Xianwen, her eyes deep and obscure, filled with indescribable hesitation.
Zheng Jinmei probably wanted to apologize but didn’t know how to start.
She needed to explain her situation before she could explain her reasons. But what followed were societal class and rules.
She couldn’t tell her son that in an egalitarian society, money could still dictate a person’s status.
She could only hug Zheng Xianwen tightly at night, caring for his wounds to show her guilt.
However, she did regret it. Less than two months later, she moved away with Zheng Xianwen again.
She thought the matter could be put to rest, but for Zheng Xianwen, it clearly couldn’t.
Zheng Xianwen said, "Because of the move, she lost a relatively easy job. But fortunately, elementary school didn’t cost much, and she saved some money for my middle school education."
Their relationship was somewhat subtle but managed to hold on. To sum it up, it was a single mother and her rebellious son.
Zheng Xianwen, though looking down on Zheng Jinmei’s cowardice, still felt he loved her.
The problem arose in his third year of middle school.
Zheng Xianwen’s high school entrance exam results were average. He didn’t inherit any great study genes, only getting into a mediocre high school. Zheng Jinmei, to facilitate his schooling, moved their home close to the school.
Zheng Xianwen found her imitation of Mencius’s mother amusing, thinking she was needlessly forcing him to be something he wasn’t. But while helping move furniture, he found a photo of Han Songshan.
Zheng Jinmei had hidden the photo in a small compartment of the sewing machine.
That machine had a long history, frequently breaking down and being repaired, bearing much more than its expected lifespan. Zheng Xianwen had intended to throw it away but found this photo of a young Zheng Jinmei.
In it, Zheng Jinmei smiled shyly and gently, leaning her head on Han Songshan’s shoulder. Han’s expression was relatively indifferent, with only a slight upward curve of his lips.
Zheng Xianwen stared at the photo for a long time, realizing for the first time what his father looked like.
Zheng Jinmei had always said his father was dead, never even revealing his name. Zheng Xianwen guessed either the man was truly dead or was a heartless scoundrel.
He leaned towards the second possibility.
After all, he bore his mother’s surname, and Zheng Jinmei was always too embarrassed to mention her husband but secretly kept his photo. Her behavior was intriguing.
But Zheng Xianwen thought Zheng Jinmei wasn’t beautiful and wasn’t smart, probably wouldn’t have met any wealthy man. This man not only lacked responsibility but was likely poor too. So after feeling a fleeting sense of bloodline connection for a few days, he put the matter aside.
In his second year of high school, during a computer class, he casually searched the name written on the back of the photo. The search engine returned many news articles, and he was startled by the content, realizing Han Songshan was quite a successful person in worldly terms.
Zheng Xianwen, with his heart racing, repeatedly examined the photos on the webpage, finding that although Han Songshan had gained weight and his facial features had softened, he could still make out the original features.
He looked up photos of Han Songshan as a young journalist, confirming it was the same person in the photo with Zheng Jinmei.
He didn’t tell Zheng Jinmei but took some change from the cabinet and secretly bought a train ticket to City D. Following the address in the news, he found Han Songshan’s company and waited at the entrance for him to appear.
To this day, he remains shocked by his own recklessness and boldness, as well as his immeasurable stupidity.
Zheng Xianwen spoke, full of self-mockery: "I didn't consider whether he was married, if he had other children, or if I was even his biological son. My mind was feverish, filled with absurd and laughable stories. I arrogantly thought Han Songshan would be happy to see me. But Han Songshan was much better at pretending than Zheng Jinmei. He was insincere and skilled at manipulating people."
Zheng Xianwen intercepted Han Songshan at the company entrance. He said nothing, just stood in front of Han with a backpack.
At that moment, there were other colleagues with Han, who curiously asked what he wanted.
He pointed at Han Songshan. Han scrutinized his face for a few seconds, sensing something, and calmly asked his colleagues to go ahead while he led Zheng to a nearby café.
Zheng Xianwen’s life was impoverished and monotonous. A meal of roast chicken and cola was already a rare treat. Coffee was an unimaginable luxury for Zheng Xianwen.
Sitting at the table, he watched as the waiter handed him the menu. He couldn’t read the items and scanned the prices before pretending to casually order an iced Americano.
When he got it, he found the coffee tasted terrible, bitter beyond his tolerance. Glancing at the man opposite, he didn't want to show his discomfort, so he held the cup without a change in expression.
Han Songshan observed his reactions the entire time, though Zheng remained completely unaware.
They sat in silence until Han, not wanting to waste time, asked, “Why are you looking for me?”
His tone was soft and gentle, yet had the depth of a male voice, somewhat like the warmth of the sun described in books, very misleading.
Zheng Xianwen was momentarily stunned, his rational mind lost in the euphoria of meeting his father. He bluntly stated his conclusion, not noticing Han’s subtle change in expression.
“You might be my dad! My mom is Zheng Jinmei.”
Han Songshan replied, puzzled, “I don’t know anyone named Zheng Jinmei.”
Zheng Xianwen took out a photo from his bag. After examining it closely, Han displayed a look of shock and regret, saying, “She used to be called Zheng Xiuzhi. How can you be her child?”
Zheng Xianwen grinned and gestured between them: “We look alike, don’t you think?”
Han’s expression softened, filled with nostalgia. He gently rubbed the faded photo of the woman and sighed, asking wistfully, “How is she now? Did she marry well?”
“Not very well. She’s alone. Without an education, she can’t earn much.” Seeing the words “hidden story” written all over Han’s expression, Zheng Xianwen followed his lead, asking, “Why did you leave? My mom...she gave birth to me when she was only 18.”
He couldn’t bring himself to call him “Dad,” but he already felt a sense of closeness to this man.