The Breaking Point
1016 Words
chapter05
Qiuqiu, all innocence: "Sis wants high school? Go! I can study here in the village."
Dad snapped: "What do you know? Village schools ain't city schools!"
After forever, I clenched my fists: "I won't go to high school."
"My teacher said with my grades, I can get free tuition at vocational school." My voice cracked. "Dad, Mom—when I graduate, I'll pay back every penny."
Looking back, I get their choice.
Limited resources. Bet on the one with potential.
An ordinary girl like me? Sacrificed.
But if I could go back? I'd throw a fit, beg on my knees—do anything to go to high school.
Grandma and Auntie scolded me:
"Can't you think of your parents? Other girls work! You failed your exams but still want school? What's the damn point!"
Village women "advised" my parents:
"Vocational schools don't guarantee jobs anymore! Waste of money! If it were a son, fine—but a daughter? Why bother!"
"Let her earn money to build you a proper house! This mud shack could collapse any day!"
Before school started, Mom handed me living expenses:
"Supporting you ain't easy. Pinch every penny."
The vocational school was in the city. Way pricier than village life.
200 yuan a month—barely covered meals.
The internet was new then. I got on QQ.
Xiangxiang messaged: "Factory work's hell! 12-hour days, 4 days off a month. Miss your target? They dock your pay."
"Staring at machine parts all day? I'm losing my mind."
"Xiaxia, studying's better. Across from us? Foreign company folks. High heels, red lipstick, sitting in offices—looks so easy."
K-dramas were huge then. I chose Business Korean.
Set a goal: I,ll work for a foreign company. Get a cubicle job.
I didn't push like in middle school, but I didn't slack either.
Roommates hit internet cafes for games and dramas. I went to research or practice Korean with
shows.
6 AM sharp: run, eat, study, then class.
No classes? Part-time work or the library.
I read everything. Young and indiscriminate—swallowed books whole.
Our school was a mess. Barely anyone studied.
Guys and girls with wild spiky hairdos.
Girls wore raccoon-eye makeup, guys had earrings and smoked.
Some got bold—making out in the cafeteria.
Teachers didn't care unless someone died.
To save bus fare, I rarely went home.
Every call with Mom: "Don't cause trouble! Save money! Your father and I work hard for this!"
I bought no new clothes. Two bras I rotated. No makeup.
Out with roommates? Spending 2 yuan on cheap lemon water made me feel guilty.
Yes.
Mom's words made every yuan feel like a betrayal.
Years later, when I earned my own money? Shopping still meant checking prices first. Even if I could afford it? That confidence never came.
Poverty was carved into my bones.
Took ages to sand it down.
But maybe it never truly leaves.
A senior named Zhao Liang—handsome—liked me.
Chased me for months. Brought snacks, waited downstairs every day...
The Breaking Point
chapter06
My roommates all pushed me to go for it.
"He's so hot, and I hear his family's loaded."
"He treats you great too—just give it a shot!"
...
I turned him down.
Smoking, drinking, fighting? To fifteen-year-old girls, that screamed "cool."
Not my thing though.
About a month later, Zhao Liang got a new girlfriend—some senior from the university next door. He paraded her around campus. Guys kept slapping his back, calling him a legend.
He even made sure to rub it in my face.
That night during our dorm gossip session, the girls were fuming. "Didn't even last a month before he jumped ship!"
"That senior's nothing special. Three or four years older than us, and not half as pretty as you, Xiaxia!"
...
After tearing him apart, our dorm leader sighed softly: "But she's from Normal University. A real college student."
Silence crashed down.
We already knew it: an invisible canyon split us from them.
Because of this**** **** = worshipof academiccredentials , those guys envied Zhao Liang. He'd bridged that gap and held hands with someone on the other side.
That senior seemed to skip class constantly, trailing Zhao Liang around our campus day after day. My little sister passed the exam for the county middle school. Mom and Dad rented a tiny place in town to live with her.
This caused a massive uproar back in the village.
Grandma slammed her cane on the ground, cursing:
"Two girls! Why waste all that effort on someone else's family?"
"That money could help your own nephew! Mark my words, you'll die with no one to smash the funeral pot!"
The villagers mocked them behind their backs too.
Said Mom and Dad should've just brought in a live-in son-in-law.
Mom held her head high, pushing my sister to prove herself.
She told me: "You study hard too. Once you start interning, your dad and I won't have it so rough."
Opportunities were scarce in our small county back then.
Mom and Dad pushed a cart selling stir-fried noodles, often chased off by city inspectors. They barely made enough to get by.
The vocational program was three years—two years in school first.
Summer after our second year, the school arranged factory internships.
I refused. A few of us who'd actually been studying decided to find our own jobs.
For two years, my grades had been top-notch.
I'd even won awards in competitions.
I had leverage.
I bought myself a cheap suit and had a roommate do my makeup.
The weather was perfect that day. Stepping out, the sky blazed with sunset.
A good omen.
Resume in hand, brimming with confidence and hope, I went to interview at a foreign company.
And who did I run into? That Normal University senior. She was interviewing too.
My heart leaped into my mouth for a second, then I steadied myself.
She ditched class for internet cafes or bars.
Me? I'd been hitting the books nonstop.
- Writer
