Ms. Liu’s Redemption

On a Monday morning, Liu Junlan returned home after dropping her daughter, Jia Luanluan, at school. She hurriedly ate a bite to eat before starting her cleaning. As a full-time homemaker, her days revolved around her husband and children, and she felt no shame in that; managing a household was a woman's career too. A tidy home, a capable husband, and an accomplished daughter—these were her greatest successes. After tidying the living room, she moved on to Luanluan's room. When she pushed the door open, her gaze fell on a trash can next to the desk, and she was startled. It was half-filled with used tissues. A wave of unease washed over her. Was Luanluan coming down with a cold? Why else would she use so many tissues overnight? But she hadn’t noticed anything wrong that morning. Bending down to gather the trash, she discovered it wasn’t just tissues; crumpled sheets of paper lay among them. As she picked one up, she carefully unfolded it, revealing her daughter’s neat handwriting. “Is there true love in this world? Nonsense, it’s all just lies…" “Hypocrites, scoundrels…” Her heart raced. Could it be that Luanluan had fallen in love? The very thought sent a chill through her. At just fourteen, in a key year of middle school, any distraction could jeopardize her studies. Without a moment to lose, Liu Junlan grabbed another crumpled piece of paper, hands trembling as she unfolded it. "I don't want to live anymore. I want to die. Life is so boring..." Liu Junlan's heart raced with fear as she pressed her hand to her chest, taking a deep breath before bolting to the living room. Grabbing a cup of water, she gulped down half, hoping to quell the rising tide of anxiety. She needed to reach her husband, Jia Dalong, without a moment to spare for hesitation. After several attempts, all met with silence, her urgency soared. By the fifth call, Jia Dalong finally answered, irritation lacing his voice. “What's so urgent that you’re calling me before my morning meeting? Don’t you think I have work to do?" Stunned by his tone, she pushed her hurt aside. “Jia Dalong, come home quickly. Luan Luan is in trouble…” The shift in his demeanor was palpable as he immediately softened, concern flooding his voice. “What happened? Don’t panic, just tell me.” Years had dulled the flames of their initial passion, but their love for their daughter remained unwavering. Now, hearing that she was in distress, Jia Dalong’s worry equaled—if not surpassed—Liu Junlan's. As she recounted the events, her voice broke, “If anything happens to Luan Luan, I can’t live with myself…” Twenty minutes later, he rushed through the door, his gaze falling on the crumpled note that twisted his gut with dread. How could a 14-year-old girl even contemplate such despair? Lighting a cigarette, he inhaled deeply, analyzing the situation with Liu Junlan. Together, they concluded that Luan Luan had fallen into the throes of young love, but the boy had wronged her, leading to a night of tears and hopelessness. “I swear, if I get my hands on that bastard…” he growled, fury igniting within him. He would protect his daughter at all costs. Turning to Liu Junlan, he asked, “Which boy is she close with?” She shook her head, and his frustration mounted. "Has she been acting strangely? Any secret calls or messages?” Flushing, Liu Junlan denied it, prompting Jia Dalong to crush his cigarette stub in frustration. “What have you been doing at home? She’s in trouble, and you’re clueless…” Suddenly, Liu Junlan’s eyes widened. “Her phone…” They hurried to Luan Luan's room, retrieving the device that Jia Dalong had gifted her. It was meant for studying, a tool she only used at home since her school prohibited phones. With no password, Jia Dalong accessed it, and together they scoured her call and message logs, finding nothing unusual. Disappointment mingled with relief. “If there was something, she'd have deleted it already,” he murmured. Panic surged in Liu Junlan's heart. “What do we do now?” In their home, he was her anchor, the one who made the decisions. Silently, Jia Dalong crossed his arms, pinching his chin—a habit formed from years of tackling tough choices. After a few tense moments, he rose and said, “Let's talk to her teacher. She'll have more insight, and we need to act before things worsen. If we don't, her future and well-being could be at stake…”