This month an additional Moon Prize, the 140th, goes
to Huina
Zheng's compelling story "Home Renovation."
Home
Renovation
by Huina Zheng
Setting out towards our old house with Sheng and
Jun today, I think about a proposal from six months ago. Jun suggested
renovating the two-story red brick building with a courtyard to make it more
comfortable for us and to better accommodate Sheng, who has mobility issues. Honestly,
I am not opposed to the idea of living together again, especially since I was
the one who forgave Sheng for leaving us when Jun was just a child.
The old house, I note, is completely transformed—the
courtyard now boasts artificial hills, flowing water, and a pond stocked with
koi; the ground floor is primarily occupied by Sheng’s bedroom and shared
spaces, while the upper floor contains bedrooms for Jun and me.
Jun, Sheng, and the designer thoroughly discussed
the details of the renovation, and Jun hinted that they had prepared a surprise
for me. I think maybe they have finally come to appreciate the sacrifices I’ve
made and the effort I’ve put in. After Sheng left us for another woman, I
raised Jun on my own. Two years ago, the hospital called Jun and told him his father
had become paralyzed from the waist down and needed care. That woman
disappeared. Jun, overwhelmed with his job, placed his father in a nursing
home. However, due to Sheng’s frequent outbursts, Jun was forced to bring him
back to our old home. After cycling through four nurses in just two months due
to Sheng’s difficult behavior, I couldn’t stand by and watch my son struggle
with the stress of caring for his father. So, I took over, sacrificing my
freedom and my passion for dance to provide full-time care. I hope they’ve set
aside a large room for me with one mirrored wall, spacious enough for dancing.
I’ve even packed a dance outfit and shoes in my handbag, ready to revive my
long-missed dance routines as soon as I can. It would truly be a wonderful
surprise. It is, after all, my lifelong passion—I used to dance for hours a day—though
I don’t remember the last time I did it.
I vow to myself: If they have transformed a room
into a dance studio for me, I will stay and care for Sheng indefinitely. Even
if Sheng scolds and curses every day, I will never leave him. I will remind
myself that Jun hopes we could live together as a family. I will endure his
tantrums, like when he throws his plate on the floor if he dislikes the food,
his biting sarcastic remarks, and his domineering commands. Next year, Jun will
marry his girlfriend Lan; we will live together. I will help take care of our
future grandchildren, and I’ll make pumpkin cakes with them, letting them stand
on stools to mash the steamed pumpkin, and after frying, Sheng will sprinkle
sesame seeds on the pumpkin cakes. We will not remarry, but I will continue to
care for him until the end.
We walk into the old house. The dining room is
spacious, furnished with a solid black-glazed wooden table, adjacent to Sheng’s
personal suite, which includes a lounge area and a card and chess entertainment
space. The bathroom is designed with a lowered washbasin to accommodate Sheng’s
needs. At the foot of the stairs leading to the second floor, there was a
Chinese-style villa crafted for the cat. On the second floor, Jun and Lan’s
room features a modern, double-height design; the lower level is a lounge area,
and a few steps up leads to a spacious, separate office area. Then, I am led to
my room—a simple, small space with just a bed and essential furniture. Jun
points to a dance poster hanging above the bed, telling me this is the surprise
they’ve prepared for me. They’ve also prepared an even bigger “surprise”—a
washing and drying machine set up in the room, for my convenience in continuing
the laundry.
I open my handbag, take out the dance outfit and
shoes I’ve prepared, and gaze at them. Then, I realize I don’t have to keep my
vow, feeling an unprecedented sense of relief.
* * * * *
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