Chapter 38

She stood leaning against the door, the bowl hot with a silk cloth underneath it. Ruby shot her a glance, mocking her lack of manners. "Last night, when I asked you about the X trends, you ignored me," Ruby complained. "I get on the X trends every few days. You ask me about it every few days. How am I supposed to keep up? It's all trivial stuff, no need for you to worry about it." "Well, it's every few days that you're trending with Wyatt," Ruby said with a pointed tone. Winnie lost her appetite and turned toward the dining room, setting the bowl down. "Wyatt was at an exhibition in Graceland recently, and he even came over to have a meal at our house," Ruby continued. Winnie suddenly spun around and asked, "How come I didn't know about this?" "Do I need to inform you about that? You haven't told me how things are progressing between you two either," Ruby retorted. Winnie was seething with anger. "I told you, I'm just playing along with him. We haven't even held hands." "Why are you reacting so strongly?" Ruby asked, confused. "I used to talk about Wyatt, and you never had this kind of reaction. What, did you two have a fight?" "I'm not close with him, and we don't fight," Winnie replied coldly. "Well, he came over that day, and I told him stories about you when you were a kid. He listened with great interest," Ruby continued, seemingly unbothered. "Why don't you tell him about the time everyone thought my mom was a prostitute? Now that I've grown up, does my mom want me to go out and do the same thing?" Winnie retorted sharply. Ruby was caught off guard, her face froze for a moment. Despite her nervousness, she hardened her expression, becoming even colder. Winnie had long been mentally prepared for this. Every time she came home, just a few moments of warmth would quickly turn into a heated argument. She both pitied Ruby and felt cruel herself. So, she gathered her things, took a few quick steps up the stairs, and slammed the door shut with a loud bang. Her room was truly beautiful. A dazzling array of books, pink dolls, plush toys piled up like little mountains, the knitted skirt Winnie made by hand when she was a child, images from when she was learning to dance -- her hair styled high, dressed in a black practice outfit, legs stretched straight. But this was not her true room. The real place where she spent her childhood studying was in a rundown neighborhood full of addicts, in a predominantly community. The streets and alleys were filled with homeless people. She passed through dark alleys every day, their eyes full of lust for young girls. Every time she went to dance class, she was filled with fear. Ruby held her hand gracefully, chin slightly raised, her gaze never wandering. When people looked at her, they saw an ill-timed swan. Whispers followed them everywhere. "Taking her daughter to dance class again?" "She's really willing to spend, huh." "What do you know? This is an investment." "Yeah, they're different from us—fallen women." "Ha, fallen women? More like one of those second wives nobody wants." But Winnie knew her mother wasn't like that. She knew her father, tall, handsome, and with a booming voice, always a star in musical theater until that fateful day when he was seriously framed by a friend, lost a major opportunity, and began to indulge himself. After that, he became reckless, his career plummeted, and he developed a deep love for alcohol. Ruby was ambitious, but the man in her life was weak. When she was younger, Winnie didn't fully understand her mother's pride. Her pride was self-deceptive. In a neighborhood like theirs, every summer evening, the streets were lined with homeless people addicted to alcohol or drug users lost in their own world. Ruby's pride, her dignity, seemed unnecessary and stubborn in such an environment. Dancing was hard, and even at home, Winnie had to practice. Her classmates practiced in large, bright living rooms in spacious villas, but Ruby had to move the dining table and chairs out of the way for Winnie to practice. Once she was done, Ruby would move them back. "You don't belong here. Bringing you here was my mistake. You need to get out." But Ruby wasn't really an incapable woman. Through her job as a waitress, she had quickly become a messenger, passing on gossip and secrets. Every message she passed along earned her a commission, and over time, her savings grew. She was even able to buy a house, but her husband, who had developed a fondness for alcohol, squandered everything when she wasn't looking. There was one time when Ruby took Winnie by the hand and stopped in front of a neighborhood of wealthy white families. The streets were clean, and everyone's yard was meticulously cared for. The lush greenery was a testament to the residents' good lives. Ruby and Winnie wandered through the neighborhood for a long time, and Ruby whispered softly, "Did you know, Mama could've had a home here?" "Why didn't you?" Winnie asked. "If I had, you wouldn't have been born," Ruby said, looking down at her and smiling. She gently stroked Winnie's face, her palm warm, and her calluses thicker than last year. It wasn't until much later that Winnie found out that a wealthy second-generation heir had offered Ruby a property contract, asking her to sign it. He promised to change her life, but Ruby refused. The wealthy businessman, perhaps seeking revenge for her pride, turned his attention to one of Ruby's colleagues. The colleague was given a nearly million-dollar house for free. She was so surprised, she felt as though she had won the lottery in life. The businessman didn't really have any deep feelings for her, and after two years, he set her free. The colleague moved to Canada, found a younger boyfriend, and lived a comfortable life. "Your mom didn't know how to appreciate things when she was young," Ruby would occasionally say to Winnie. Winnie still didn't know where her father was. Their marriage lasted only eight years. His drinking and weakness made him lose his shape, his eyes grew cloudy. Ruby saw him as a failed investment, and she quickly divorced him and moved on. After she was eight, Winnie never saw the man again. She had missed the days when he would bring her pizza after work, and she sometimes envied other children who had fathers to protect them, but Ruby taught her not to be weak or naive. In the metal pot, the curry soup was thick and bubbling, the sound muffled, unlike the sharp crackling of boiling water. Ruby lifted the glass lid, tasted a spoonful, and asked Yulia, "Is she unhappy lately?" "Mr. Robinson is making her unhappy," Yulia replied. "What doesn't she like about him?" Yulia glanced at Ruby's Chanel jacket, embroidered with gold thread. "Your jacket is so beautiful. I like it, but I prefer my own. You wouldn't pick clothes just because they're 'satisfactory' when you get married. You have to 'like' them." Ruby laughed and shook her head. "If I were young, I'd applaud you for saying that." "You also chose what you liked when you were young, not just what was satisfactory." "I chose what I liked, but now I think maybe I should've chosen what was satisfactory." Ruby leaned back against the counter, her hands supporting her, her figure still elegant. "I don't want her to make the same mistakes. You know, daughters always resemble their mothers when they were young. They always end up walking the same path." "But times have changed." In the end, Yulia could only say, "Your values are all wrong. They don't match the artistic image the company gave you." Ruby shot her a look. "Funny, why wouldn't I be a product of a scholarly family?" she teased. "I read every day now, just to get a little bit of that cultured aura." She half-played, half-complained, and after speaking, she exchanged a smile with Yulia, unaware that Winnie had been listening outside the door for quite some time.