Chapter 122: If Rich and Famous, Forget Me Not

Chapter 122: Chapter 122: If Rich and Famous, Forget Me Not

Those nights of torrential rain were the most powerless moments of his life. Whenever he recalled them, he could never forget the image of himself huddled in a corner, trembling uncontrollably.

He hated that version of himself—so weak, completely unable to fight back.

"My mother had an endless pile of clothes to launder every day, but it was only enough to keep the two of us fed and clothed. As for my studies..."

Ever since that tragedy befell their family, Mrs. Meng had resolved to raise her son to be a successful man. Only by becoming an official could he reclaim their stolen property and seek justice for the wrongs they had suffered.

To that end, this wife of a Scholar, who had almost never done heavy labor, carried the heavy burden of their lives on her slender shoulders, gritting her teeth to send her son to school.

She was willing to do any dirty or tiring job. In just a few short years, her once jet-black hair was streaked with gray, and she looked as if she had aged more than ten years.

Watching her leave before dawn each day and drag her exhausted body home late at night pained Song Jing’s young heart even more than being bullied by his classmates at school.

Later, he stopped going straight home after school. Knowing Mrs. Meng wouldn’t be back so early, he would go to the small eateries to wash dishes.

At first, no one was willing to hire him. He was just a small child, after all.

Rejected time and again, Song Jing just kept showing up, even washing dishes for free for a good while. Eventually, the owner of one eatery took pity on him and finally agreed.

He washed dishes for several years. As he grew older, he took on all sorts of odd jobs, even manual labor.

Ji Huan listened, a storm of emotions swirling within her.

But life is full of suffering, and words of comfort felt too pale. Besides, she could tell that Song Jing wasn’t dredging up his old wounds to seek pity.

"Your mother is remarkable. And you... you are remarkable, too."

Although she had never met Mrs. Meng, the fact that she insisted on Song Jing’s education no matter how hard or tiring her own life was, was truly rare.

Song Jing nodded. "That’s why I have to work even harder. She has toiled for half her life; I must let her live out her final years in peace."

In truth, ever since her husband passed away and she was slandered and driven out by his clan, the series of shocks had changed Mrs. Meng’s temperament.

Most of the time, she was fine. But at night, she would cling to Song Jing, sobbing ceaselessly. And if Song Jing displeased her in the slightest, she would immediately resort to beating or cursing him.

Song Jing still remembered the worst incident to this day.

During that time, he was so focused on working part-time at the eatery that his schoolwork had slipped badly. When Mrs. Meng found out, she grabbed a carrying pole, went straight to his school, dragged him outside, and threw him to the ground. Then she started swinging the pole, beating him indiscriminately.

He was surrounded by children his own age, all watching the spectacle. More than the pain, Song Jing felt shame. For the first time in his life, he covered his head and begged for mercy.

He pleaded with Mrs. Meng to stop.

But Mrs. Meng was like someone possessed, muttering incomprehensible things to herself as her blows became even more vicious.

The force behind them felt like she was trying to beat him to death.

Song Jing could no longer care about the shame. He cried out for his mother again and again, rolling on the ground in agony. In the end, his struggles ceased, and he lay motionless on the ground, yet Mrs. Meng still didn’t stop.

It was only when an older student noticed something was wrong and ran to get the teacher that Mrs. Meng was finally stopped.

When the doctor arrived and lifted his blood-soaked clothes, even he wore an expression of horror.

There wasn’t a single patch of unscathed skin on his body; he had been beaten unconscious.

How could a mother be so ruthless to such a young child?

His deskmate later told him that after Mrs. Meng was stopped, she stood there in a daze for a moment before suddenly throwing down the carrying pole, flinging herself onto his body with a wail, and demanding to know who had beaten her son so badly.

His deskmate added, "We all thought your mother was like a madwoman."

After that, Song Jing got into a huge fight with his only friend at the time. The two of them didn’t speak again for many years.

After the doctor treated his wounds, Song Jing was carried back to where they lived. That night, he had a raging fever and suffered intermittent convulsions. It looked as if he wouldn’t survive.

But against all odds, he was tough and pulled through.

Mrs. Meng watched over him all night. The moment she saw him open his eyes, she began slapping her own face.

She had already learned from others that she was the one who had beaten her son. She had nearly killed him.

Song Jing propped up his injured body to stop her, and mother and son embraced, weeping together.

From then on, Song Jing became extremely careful, doing his best not to set her off.

But Mrs. Meng’s condition only worsened, and she grew increasingly unable to control her emotions.

Sometimes, merely being too absorbed in a book to answer her immediately was enough to touch a raw nerve, triggering a sudden, violent rage, and she would beat Song Jing.

After the beating and cursing, she would see her son’s injuries and break down, weeping and repenting all over again.

Gradually, Song Jing grew numb. He came to see that it was useless, no matter how perfectly or flawlessly he behaved.

His body was a canvas of new wounds layered over old ones; he was never fully healed.

Mrs. Meng seemed to get used to it as well. The beatings became more natural, and afterward, she no longer cried and apologized.

Song Jing began to wonder if she was truly having an episode, or if she was just lashing out in frustration because she couldn’t find fault with him, or perhaps venting anger from something that happened outside.

He felt he had become a tool for Mrs. Meng to vent her emotions.

Mrs. Meng had told him that all the suffering and hardship she endured was because of him. Everything she did was for his own good. He had to remember this firmly, never forgetting it for a single moment.

Song Jing didn’t forget. That was why he never resisted.

Before he embarked on his career as an official, this was the only thing he could do for Mrs. Meng.

So he dared not be frail, dared not let himself get sick, because they had no money for a doctor.

Fortunately, the odd jobs and manual labor he did had, to some extent, strengthened his body. And to help himself recover faster after the beatings, he developed a habit of hiking up the mountain every morning.

’But there was no need to tell Ji Huan about all that.’

He just smiled and said, "Heaven is about to confer a great duty upon me. How could I not forge my body in advance?"

Ji Huan knew there was surely more hidden behind his smile, but she didn’t press him.

She just reached out and patted his shoulder. "It’s all in the past now."

Everyone has a past they don’t want to face. Others can never fully empathize; only you can heal yourself.

She had once heard a saying: A happy person is healed by their childhood for a lifetime. An unhappy person spends a lifetime healing from their childhood.

Compared to Song Jing, she was at least fortunate. In the first thirteen years of her life, she had accumulated enough warmth to heal her for the rest of it.

’I just hope that Song Jing’s path ahead is smooth sailing, a clear road, and that he can also find enough love and warmth to heal himself.’

"Let’s go, future great man!" Ji Huan joked, then said in a mock-mysterious tone, "Seriously, we’ve weathered hardship and welcomed the new year together, so we have a bond now. How about I offer you six words?"

Song Jing played along, feigning curiosity. "I’m all ears."

"If you get rich, don’t forget me."

The snowy landscape fell silent for a moment. Then, two streams of laughter rang out, intertwining and sweeping away the somber atmosphere.

After he finished laughing, Song Jing pointed at her and shook his head repeatedly.

"What, you’re not willing?" Ji Huan deliberately raised her eyebrows, feigning anger.

"I’m willing. How could I not be?"

Song Jing was still laughing, but after his laughter subsided, he looked at her deeply.

"I can promise you that. But when I achieve success and fame, you also have to be... somewhere within my reach. Otherwise, how can we share the riches?"

Ji Huan was too tired from walking to ponder the deeper meaning of his words. As long as Song Jing’s mood had improved, that was all that mattered.

"Don’t you worry about getting rich. Even if I’m a thousand miles away, I’ll ride posthaste to your door to freeload off you, great man."