“You’re a graduate from a top university. Why would anyone need to worry about you?”
Each thing alone sounded reasonable.
To toughen me up, to help relatives, to make me independent, to be fair…
All these reasons, put together, shaped my life for more than twenty years.
I put down my phone and began to pack.
This rented room, less than ten square meters, was the only place I had after graduation.
A bed, a simple closet, a secondhand desk—that was everything I owned.
While packing the desk drawer, I found a small metal box.
I opened it. Inside were scattered keepsakes.
A primary school “Three Good Student” certificate, a middle school math contest award, a copy of my university admission letter, and several wrinkled family photos.
The newest photo was taken during the New Year holiday two years ago.
I stood at the edge, my face stiff.
My cousin stood between my parents, smiling brightly.
My dad’s hand rested on my cousin’s shoulder. My mom had her arm around him.
Anyone who didn’t know us would think they were father and son.
I stared at the photo for a long time, then tore it in half, then into pieces, and threw it away.
The next day, I went to work as usual.
At lunch, I got a call from an unknown number.
“Ryan, it’s me—your Uncle William.”
I paused. “What’s wrong?”
“What did you mean by what you said yesterday? Pretending we never raised you?”
“Do you know how angry your mother is? Her blood pressure shot up!”
I replied calmly, “Then you should’ve taken her to the hospital, not called me.”
“You—” my uncle choked. “How did you become like this? Didn’t your parents raise you with great effort?”
“Is it really worth causing all this trouble just because we didn’t lend you money?”
“It’s not only about the money. But it doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Is there anything else? I need to rest.”
“Wait!” he said quickly. “I need to explain something. Your cousin’s car—your father offered that money. We never asked for it!”
“And we’ll pay it back for sure. We’re just short right now…”
“Uncle William,” I cut in, “whether you repay it or not is between you and my dad. It has nothing to do with me.”
“I’m going to take a nap. I’m hanging up.”
“Ryan! Ryan!”
I hung up and blocked the number.
That afternoon, during a short break, I secretly searched for shop rentals and contacted a few agents.
After work, I viewed two places, but neither worked.
Either the rent was too high, or the location was poor.
That night, back in my room, I cooked a bowl of instant noodles.
While eating, someone knocked on the door.
I opened it to see my parents and several relatives.
My Uncle William, Aunt Margaret, and Aunt Catherine.
They crowded into the small room, their faces serious.
“Ryan, you’ve really grown up,” my mother said first, her voice sharp.
“Saying such outrageous things, threatening to cut ties with us—who taught you that?”
“Exactly. Completely outrageous,” Aunt Margaret said, arms crossed, glancing around with a sneer.
“Your parents came all this way, and you’re just going to let your elders stand?”
There was only one chair.
I didn’t sit. I didn’t speak.
My dad’s face darkened as he stared at me. “Your mother was furious all night. Her chest still hurts.”
“Do you have any conscience?” Aunt Catherine sighed, shaking her head. “Ryan, it’s not that I want to criticize you…”
