Misty Rain (Original Novel by Jin Yong)

Author: Qiong Yao
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2001-09-01
Features: It's that annoying day again. After dinner, I sat gloomily in a chair by the window, gazing at the dense, drizzling rain outside. Water droplets hung from the wires hanging down the eaves, forming a string of, like a pearl necklace. On the banana tree beside the fence, water was rolling down from the broad leaves, drop by drop, falling monotonously and persistently onto the muddy ground. Outside the fence, a streetlight stood tall in the drizzle, emitting its dim yellow light indifferently, so aloof and proud, as if it had nothing to do with the affairs of the world. Well, what do the affairs of the world have to do with it anyway? I sighed and stood up from the chair. No matter what, I had to go handle my own matters.
"Yiping, haven't you gone yet?" Mom ran out from the kitchen. She had just washed the dishes and her hands were still wet. The blue apron with white stripes was still tied around her waist.
"I'm about to go." I said helplessly, looking for my umbrella in the corner of the room.
"When you get to 'that place,' don't get into conflicts with them. Tell your dad that the rent can't be delayed any longer—we're already two months behind."
"I know. No matter what it takes, I'll get the money!" I said, still searching for my umbrella.
"Your umbrella is in the closet." Mom said, taking it out from the closet and handing it to me. She glanced at the sky and whispered, "Come back early. If you get the money, take a tricycle back! It's going to rain harder."
Holding the umbrella, I stepped off the tatami mat and sat on the floor of the entranceway, putting on my rain-and-sun-resistant leather shoes. In truth, I didn't have a second pair of shoes. This one was bought by Mom when I graduated from high school last year. It had been worn for a full year and a half. The old cobbler in the alley had repaired this pair countless times, stitching and resoling it. Every time I took it to him, he would look at it and shake his head, saying, "Still this one? It's almost beyond repair."
Now, the sole and the upper part of the shoe had split open again. On rainy days, every step I took let mud seep in, making a "gurgle" sound with each step. But I couldn't bring myself to take it to the cobbler again. Fortunately, the house at "that place" was paved with gravel, so I didn't need to take off my shoes. I wouldn't have to worry about my muddy feet being seen.
Mom saw me off to the front door, holding the door open and standing in the rain as I walked away. After a few steps, Mom called out from behind, "Yiping!" I turned back, and Mom whispered, "Don't get angry with them!" I nodded and continued walking a bit further, then turned back. Mom was still there, her thin and small figure looking so timid and lonely. The streetlight cast a pale yellow hue on her pale face. I waved at her, and she turned and stepped back into the doorframe.
I watched the door close before turning back, raising the collar of my coat against the cold wind and shivering slightly. I gripped the umbrella handle and walked forward.
The distance from home to "that place" wasn't far, but it wasn't close either. It took about half an hour to walk, as there was no public bus route. So, I had to walk every time. Fortunately, I only had to go once a month. Of course, this was assuming things went smoothly. If they didn't, and I didn't get the money on the day I went, I might have to go two or three more times.
The weather was very cold. The wind cut like knives against my face. Although the road was paved with asphalt, after walking only a short distance, mud seeped into my shoes. With every step, a stream of mud would run out from the seams, while another stream seeped in. The cold seeped from my feet all the way up to my heart, as if my entire body were immersed in cold water.
A car sped past me, and just as it hit a large pothole, splashing mud all over me. Before I could jump out of the way, all the mud splattered onto the green dress I had deliberately put on—the one I considered my best.
I brushed my hair aside. The rain had gotten heavier, and there was a small hole in the umbrella. No matter how I turned the handle, the rain either dripped into my neck or onto my cheek. The wind swept up my skirt, gradually soaking it until it clung quietly to my legs, tracing its way down my calf and into my shoes.
I bit my lip and started calculating how much money I should ask from the man I called "father"—800 yuan for living expenses, 1,000 yuan for rent, totaling 1,800. I might as well ask for a few hundred more to cover winter clothes for me and Mom. It seemed like this pair of shoes couldn't be postponed any longer this rainy season.