[Translation] Stray Dog Bones (野狗骨头) by Xiu Tu Cheng (休屠城): Chapter 4: The Reckless Brat

 

A child living under someone else’s roof may not necessarily turn out rebellious or people-pleasing, but they will undoubtedly learn to read the room.  

Life in Tengcheng was far more comfortable than in their small hometown.  

The city’s primary school was much nicer than the乡镇school—well-equipped classrooms, kind and approachable teachers. Living with her biological mother gave Miao Jing a small sense of security. Plus, Tengcheng had a hot climate; it never snowed in winter, and when temperatures dropped, two sweaters and a school uniform were enough to get by.  

For the poor, summer was far easier than winter—less spent on clothing and heating, a simple shelter, plenty of water, and salty food sufficed.  

Both Miao Jing and Wei Mingzhen liked Tengcheng.  

The new family seemed to be getting along well. Chen Libin was gentle and refined, with no bad habits, though he never involved himself in household matters or child-rearing. After work, he sat in front of his computer—surfing the internet, playing games, trading stocks, chatting, watching DVDs. Back then, the power supply bureau was the most profitable state-owned enterprise. As a technical staff member with promotion prospects, he had a high salary and excellent benefits. Rice, oil, salt, and daily necessities were all supplied by his work unit. The family of four had few expenses beyond food and drink. With no extra costs, their savings seemed substantial.  

Wei Mingzhen considered herself lucky to have found a reliable man. She and Chen Libin had started their relationship through online chats, and she felt a kind of intellectual admiration for him. In the early years of being a housewife, Chen Libin gave her a fixed monthly allowance—not a large sum, just enough for household expenses. Wei Mingzhen made a point of appearing unconcerned about material things and took good care of the family.  

Of the two children, Wei Mingzhen ostensibly favored Chen Yi, treating him kindly and thoughtfully. But Chen Yi was indifferent—lifting and lowering his eyelids lazily, casting cold sidelong glances, exuding a fierce aura even at a young age. Wei Mingzhen secretly despised him. Privately, Miao Jing received better treatment than Chen Yi—though it was hidden. For example, when they had a chicken, the two drumsticks went to Chen Libin and Chen Yi, but the first bite of meat always went to Miao Jing.  

After living there for a while, Miao Jing learned a phrase: "two-faced."  

No one at home paid much attention to Chen Yi. The neighbors said he was a bad seed who would grow up to be a hooligan. He was wild, coming home only to eat and sleep. The rest of the time, he was out. Near the garbage station and small park by the residential area, he had his base of operations. There, he played marbles, flipped cards, played "cavalry battle," spun tops, and excelled at fighting and causing trouble. He was a little tyrant among his peers. Miao Jing and Chen Yi went to the same school but never walked there together and never spoke. If they happened to be close in public, he would coldly tell her to get lost and stay away.  

At home—once they were alone in the bedroom—Miao Jing often suffered. She never knew what she had done to provoke him. A sudden punch to the back, a sharp jab of a pencil into her arm, or mischievous acts like dragging a chair or tearing up her homework often caused her great pain. Both Miao Jing and Chen Yi were quiet and withdrawn, but Miao Jing seemed even more timid. Chen Yi would viciously threaten her: if she dared to tell the adults, he would beat her to death.  

The second bedroom had no air conditioning. Chen Yi completely monopolized the electric fan all summer. Miao Jing’s bed was by the window, baking under the morning sun. At night, she often lay awake, too hot to sleep, tossing and turning. Sometimes she would glance at Chen Yi sleeping soundly in his undershirt and shorts, looking gentle and harmless—but in reality, he was a little devil.  

The reason she never reported him to Wei Mingzhen or Chen Libin was because Chen Yi also got beaten—by Chen Libin.  

Back then, gentle parenting wasn’t in vogue. Mischievous children were often spanked, and wails of "Mommy!" and "Daddy!" would float out of windows, heard by the neighbors, who thought nothing of it. But from the Chen household, no sounds of corporal punishment were ever heard.  

Chen Libin never disciplined Chen Yi with lectures or patient advice. The first time Miao Jing witnessed it: Chen Yi came home after playing outside at dinnertime, picked up his bowl, and sat at the table. The chair legs scraped harshly against the floor. Chen Libin frowned slightly, then kicked Chen Yi squarely in the stomach, sending him crashing into the corner. The wall let out a dull thud, like a muffled firecracker. Chen Yi slumped in the corner, head down, lips pressed tight. Chen Libin calmly walked over, stood over him, and added two more kicks before sitting back down to drink and eat as if nothing had happened. Chen Yi, silent, picked himself up from the corner, grabbed his chopsticks, and ate fiercely, head down.  

This kind of beating happened without warning—like a fly suddenly swatted. No reason, no explanation. Or maybe there was a reason, but Chen Libin couldn’t be bothered to say it—a neighbor’s complaint, someone coming to the door with an accusation, a teacher’s phone call home.  

It wasn’t every day. Sometimes ten days or half a month would pass without incident. But every few days, there would be a beating. Chen Libin never hit the face. He usually used his feet, whichever angle was most convenient—stomach, back, thighs. Miao Jing saw bruises on all those places on Chen Yi.  

She was terrified of this kind of punishment. Wei Mingzhen reassured her: hitting boys was a form of discipline. Besides, Chen Yi did have a bad character—rude, fierce, foul-mouthed, prone to fighting and stealing. Everyone disliked him. Wei Mingzhen told Miao Jing to stay away from him. If he ever dared to bully her, she should go complain to Chen Libin.  

Chen Libin’s kicks looked brutal, but Chen Yi always got up without changing expression. A young boy, head lowered, eyes like hidden, hard stones, with a fierce determination. Miao Jing thought it must not hurt much. Later, she noticed that Chen Yi made sounds in his sleep and talked in his dreams. Sometimes when he turned over in his sleep, she would see his furrowed brow, his hand clutching his stomach, and hear fragmented moans. Only then did she realize he was suffering, just enduring it. His sleep-talking was rapid and muffled, but she heard him call for his mother.  

Living in that house for a long time made Miao Jing constantly anxious.  

One day, someone came to the door to complain: their car parked by the roadside had been scratched, and someone had seen Chen Yi holding a stone and drawing lines on it. The car owner demanded compensation. The evidence was clear. Chen Libin paid some money, sent the person off, then retrieved something with a calm demeanor.  

Chen Yi burst into the room and shrank into the corner. Miao Jing saw the fear in his eyes—like a frightened little beast trapped in a cage.  

It was a homemade electric shock device. Chen Libin, knowing his way around electricity, had easily built it as a punishment tool. He gently pressed it against Chen Yi, who began to tremble violently, shoulders hunching, face turning pale, eyes reddening.  

"This is for your own good," Chen Libin said softly. "If you don’t learn to behave, you’ll end up in trouble. Don’t go around saying you’re Chen Libin’s son, because I can’t control you."  

"You’re not my son, and I’m not your father."  

Miao Jing saw Chen Yi’s body jolt strangely.  

Wei Mingzhen, also a bit shaken, dragged the stiff Miao Jing out of the room, noticing she was trembling. She pulled her to the balcony. "What are you afraid of? It has nothing to do with you. That’s Chen Yi’s biological mother. She wronged your Uncle Chen."  

Later, every time Chen Yi got beaten for causing trouble, Miao Jing would have nightmares. She would wake up in the middle of the night, struggling, her calves twisted and cramping. Clutching the bedsheet, gasping for air, she would sometimes wake Chen Yi. He would pull back the curtain, stand by her bed, and watch her flushed face and heaving chest, grinning slyly with cold eyes.  

"If you keep staring, I’ll get up in the middle of the night and gouge your eyes out."  

Miao Jing whimpered and covered her eyes with her hands.  

Seeing how timid she was, he curled his lip in disdain. "What are you scared of? He doesn’t hit you."  

"He’s a psycho. Sick in the head," Chen Yi muttered, leaving Miao Jing behind and lying back down, pulling the blanket over his head, turning over, and falling fast asleep.  

As Miao Jing grew a bit older, she pieced together the story of Chen Yi’s mother from neighbors’ gossip and Wei Mingzhen’s veiled comments.  

Chen Yi’s mother had drowned. She had gone to the river to wash bedsheets for no apparent reason. Her body was found days later. Whether it was an accident or her own choice was unclear. Before that, rumors said she had been unfaithful, cuckolding Chen Libin, and had been caught. She wanted a divorce but couldn’t get one. She and her husband fought at home every day. Another rumor claimed Chen Yi wasn’t even Chen Libin’s son, as Chen Libin had been diagnosed with weak sperm and wasn’t likely to father children.  

Wei Mingzhen had scrutinized Chen Yi carefully, even secretly asking Miao Jing if she thought Chen Yi looked like Chen Libin. The neighbors said Chen Yi resembled his mother, who had been very beautiful. But he also seemed to share some features with Chen Libin—both father and son had good looks: high nose bridges and double eyelids.  

There were no photos of Chen Yi’s mother in the house. Maybe there was one—Miao Jing might have glimpsed it once, a small black-and-white ID photo tucked between the pages of one of Chen Yi’s books. When he noticed, he gave her a hard shove.  

Over time, Wei Mingzhen also began to argue with Chen Libin. He gave her a fixed monthly allowance, but the family savings, though substantial, were tightly controlled by him, and not a penny leaked out. If she wanted more spending money, she had to find a job herself. Additionally, Chen Libin was still chatting with various women online, exchanging flirtatious messages.  

Wei Mingzhen wanted to get pregnant again. Given the current situation with Chen Libin and Chen Yi, the relationship was bound to be severed sooner or later. If she could have Chen Libin’s child, many things would become easier.  

Miao Jing was a good student, consistently ranking among the top few in her grade. She won many awards each semester and participated in various academic and other competitions. Her personality wasn’t particularly likable—she was mostly quiet—and she relied entirely on her academic performance to gain attention and favor from those around her. Gradually, she made one or two close female friends.  

At school, no one knew about her relationship with Chen Yi. From a young age, he had been a bully, wild and untamed, but his grades weren’t terrible—around average. In fifth and sixth grade, girls already liked him, chasing after him, shouting his name loudly, vying to do his homework.  

At that age, they would say Chen Yi was good-looking, even better when he smiled—a bit rude and annoying, but loyal, like a Jianghu knight.  

Sometimes Miao Jing would see Chen Yi on the playground, darting from one end to the other, drenched in sweat, his dusty face lit up with a bold, unrestrained smile, his eyes dark and bright. He didn’t seem so scary then.  

After elementary school, Chen Yi went to the local middle school. It wasn’t far from home—a half-hour walk—but he chose to board.  

With the children growing up and boys entering puberty, sharing a room was no longer appropriate. Given Chen Yi’s temperament and attitude, boarding was for the best. Miao Jing could have a room to herself. She was a good student, quiet and timid, and deserved a bit more consideration.  

Chen Yi’s single bed was moved to the living room. The rectangular living room had a corner where several large boxes had been stacked. They were cleared out, and a bed was placed against the wall. The curtain was moved to create a small partitioned space.  

Not that it mattered much—Chen Yi was always out playing anyway, only coming home to eat and sleep. After starting middle school and boarding, he came home even less, perhaps once a month to ask for living expenses.  

He began to shoot up in height. All his clothes suddenly seemed too short. He transitioned from a boyish look to a youthful, handsome, and defiant one. His facial features grew more defined. He became more rebellious and domineering, increasingly reckless, entering full-blown adolescence.  

Boarding didn’t ease the conflict between father and son. At school, Chen Yi got into fights, skipped class to go to internet cafes, gathered friends to play cards, and never seemed to do anything good. The school frequently complained, requested parent visits, and called Chen Libin in. Chen Libin would beat him again, but this time Chen Yi dared to fight back directly, stiffening his neck, jutting out his chin, cursing at Chen Libin, "Your mother," with a murderous glare. He first smashed the electric shock device and then fought Chen Libin’s kicks with his bare hands.  

Chen Libin, pushed back by his son, staggered a few steps, his face pale and ashen, momentarily shocked and panicked. But he quickly recovered, grabbing a tool—a belt or a wooden stick.  

He was taller than Chen Yi, heavier than this scrawny kid, and stronger. It wasn’t time for a father to admit defeat.  

The worst incident occurred during Chen Yi’s second year of middle school. Chen Libin had to go to the school.  

Two groups of teenagers had fought outside school. Someone brought a knife and stabbed another boy in the abdomen, sending him to the ICU. The perpetrators were arrested. Chen Yi had participated in the brawl, but he had known his limits, not hitting any vital areas. He had also called an ambulance and made a clean getaway.  

The school wanted to expel these students. Fortunately, the protection of compulsory education and Chen Yi’s homeroom teacher—who had a surprising change of heart—managed to keep him in school, though he received a severe disciplinary sanction.  

That time, Chen Yi was beaten badly, with Chen Libin breaking a belt during the punishment. In the living room, both father and son gritted their teeth in silence. Wei Mingzhen cooked in the kitchen. Miao Jing, in her room, closed her eyes and covered her ears at the sound of the dull thuds.  

After the beating, Chen Yi lay on the bed in the living room, the curtain tightly drawn. The three of them ate dinner in the dining room, completely unaware of his presence.  

After the meal, Chen Libin went to the bedroom to play on the computer. Wei Mingzhen filled a bowl with rice and dishes and placed it by Chen Yi’s bedside. She turned and saw Miao Jing staring with her quiet, fixed eyes. Pointing to the room, she told her to go in and do her homework.  

Late that night, Miao Jing got up to use the bathroom. Passing through the living room, the darkness and silence felt deathly still. She was terrified, afraid he might have died and become a corpse. But stepping closer and listening carefully, she heard ragged, weak breathing.  

Mustering her courage, she lifted the curtain. The bowl of rice hadn’t been touched. Chen Yi lay flat on the bed, limbs sprawled, like rotting meat, his head turned toward the wall. Miao Jing’s throat tightened. She dared not move, her heart racing with nervous sweat. Slowly, he turned his head. There was dried blood at the corner of his mouth. In the dim light, his pitch-black, stiff eyes held a fleeting glint of tears. He looked at her numbly, ominously, without moving.  

She went to the kitchen, poured a glass of water, and carefully brought it to him. His gaze fixed on the glass, the corner of his mouth twitching. Then, very slowly, he turned to the side. His cracked lips pressed against the rim of the glass. He exhaled a stale breath. Miao Jing gently tilted the glass. His lips met the cool water, and he instinctively took small sips, slowly drinking the entire glass.  

In the darkness, there were faint sounds—whether from his throat or his stomach, she couldn’t tell.  

The rice by the bedside had long gone cold and hard. Miao Jing felt her way into the kitchen, found two eggs, and lit the stove. By the faint blue flame, she nervously steamed a bowl of egg custard—a dish her grandmother used to make for her when she was sick as a child and feeling unwell. She mixed the smooth, steaming custard with a little leftover rice, carefully carried the bowl to Chen Yi’s bedside, blew on each spoonful to cool it, and brought it to his lips.  

They hardly ever spoke, and there was no positive affection between them. This was merely a child’s sympathy and sense of duty.  

Chen Yi half-closed his eyes, opened his mouth to take the spoonful, and chewed slowly. When he finished, Miao Jing gave him another.  

In the deep silence of the night, the bowl was slowly, slowly emptied, without making a single sound.  

After finishing the egg custard, Miao Jing hurriedly washed the bowl in the kitchen and slipped back into her room.  

When she came home from school the next day, Chen Yi was gone.  

After that, he came home occasionally, only when Chen Libin wasn’t there, to grab something. He never used the front door but climbed in through the balcony or the window. He seemed to have grown taller, his movements more agile. He jumped and climbed like a parkour athlete, startling both Wei Mingzhen and Miao Jing.  

That summer, Miao Jing graduated from elementary school and entered the same middle school as Chen Yi. She was in seventh grade, he in ninth. Miao Jing also chose to board, escaping that nightmare-inducing room.