Chapter Three: House Arrest

I smiled and said, "Grandma Du, I'm sorry, but I don't have the fortune to become your granddaughter-in-law."
She clutched her chest, called out my name, and collapsed onto the floor.
The unexpected scene left me completely stunned. I rushed over, fumbling to find her heart medication on her.
I wished I could tear Du Fanchuan to pieces, but I had never thought of hurting Grandma Du.
She grasped my hand, her breath uneven. "Girl... girl, forgive Fanchuan... forgive her..."
At that moment, Du Fanchuan's mother, still pale and shaken, came in from outside—perhaps just back from the hospital, with blood still on her hands.
None of us spoke. In silence, the two of us carried Grandma Du downstairs together. The sound of an ambulance grew closer.
Suddenly, a loud bang echoed overhead. I turned my head to see a red fireball erupting from someone's window upstairs, quickly turning into thick black smoke.
A piercing sound rained from above, and the people around us scattered, dodging falling shards of glass.
Aunt Du collapsed onto the ground, crying her heart out. It was only then I realized—that was Fanchuan's home, wasn't it?
I looked up at the plume of black smoke rising, rising ever higher, and a wave of desolation swept through me.
Were we already strangers on separate roads?
Was there truly no way back anymore?

That night, while every family sat together enjoying New Year's Eve dinner and watching the Spring Festival Gala, our house was cold and silent. My mother sat on the sofa, weeping.
My grandfather stood on the balcony, face like stone, and I was forced to kneel before my father.
He sat before me holding his military saber, and after a long time, he asked, "Yi Lanshan, will you only be satisfied when you've angered me to death?"
I stood up. "Yi Guangshan, don't speak to me like that. I did nothing wrong."
He raised his hand, the cold blade striking my legs. "Kneel."
I refused, shouting at him, "Yi Guangshan, if you have the guts, just kill me! Pretend you never had me for a daughter, if you dare..."
With a loud slap, I covered my face, enduring the pain, and sneered coldly. "If you don't beat me to death tonight, I swear, one day I'll make those two bastards pay."
I pronounced those last words with deliberate venom. My father's fury exploded, and he lashed out at me with the saber a dozen times.
I neither fought back nor moved nor defended myself, only stood there, glaring at him with unyielding hatred.
Finally, exhausted, he sat down panting, while I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth.
My stare unnerved him, and he kicked me hard. Caught off-guard, I fell to the floor. He asked, "What, grown wings now? Think you can fight me?"
Of course I knew I was no match for him. Just then, my grandfather coughed and came over, standing before me with a cold voice. "There's no way to settle this now—what do you propose we do?"
I said nothing. He slapped the table, shouting, "You've shamed our family completely—what do you say we do?"

I continued to stand there stubbornly, like a wooden post, silent and unmoving.
My grandfather wanted to say more, but my father called Zhou Fan, who had been waiting outside, and together they twisted my arms behind my back and dragged me to the old house not far from our neighborhood, putting me under house arrest.
On the third day, when Zhou Fan came in to bring me a meal, I knocked him out with the trophy I'd won in my senior year of high school and escaped, taking his wallet with me.
I didn't go to the hospital to take revenge on those two; I didn't go to argue with Yi Guangshan. There was only one thing I wanted to do: forget that scumbag.
When I was little, every time Grandpa drank, he would dip his chopsticks in the liquor and let me have a taste, but even at twenty, I had never truly drunk, let alone gotten drunk.
But now I realize alcohol is a marvelous thing. People talk about drinking to forget everything, but that's too grand for me. I didn't need oblivion. I just needed to forget Du Fanchuan.
I just wanted my heart not to ache unbearably whenever I thought of him.
At first it tasted awful, but after a while, I got used to it—it was like drinking plain water, almost tasteless. But no matter how much I drank, I never got drunk; no matter how much I drank, I always thought of that bastard.
When I could no longer distinguish day from night, no longer knew who I was, when I vomited until it felt as if my insides were spilling out, I vaguely realized I was slumped over the toilet—and in the bowl, all I saw was crimson.