Chapter 359: Bully at Home

2022-05-20

Ms. Zhao walked back in—turns out she’d gone to pour us some water. I set the steaming cup in front of Wang Mai, nodding for him to drink, but he didn’t budge. He sat there like the most lifelike wax figure imaginable, as if words simply weren’t part of him.

Ms. Zhao could tell we felt stuck. She said, “No matter what you ask, Wang Mai won’t answer. He’ll just ignore you—there’s no point.”

I glanced at Ms. Zhao. “Did you notify Wang Mai’s parents about any of this?”

“No, I didn’t,” Ms. Zhao replied.

I nodded, trying to keep things on track. “Well, let’s go ahead and call his parents. They have a right to know about what’s going on.”

As I spoke, I watched Wang Mai, hoping for some reaction—maybe he didn’t want his parents involved and would say something to stop us. But after a moment’s wait, he just stared at us, silent as ever, almost like he was living out a scene from a silent film.

Ms. Zhao sighed. “He’s always like this, it’s no use.”

I frowned. “Please call his parents. The two of us will talk to him in the meantime.”

Ms. Zhao glanced at me with some awkwardness, then nodded and stepped outside.

Even though Ms. Zhao had told us about Wang Mai’s bullying, as if unloading a heavy burden, she still hadn’t grasped the real culprit behind Wang Mai’s state. Maybe she thought she was helping Wang Mai, but did any of it really help him?

To her, it was more about her own sense of virtue—a kind of self-congratulation—believing that her so-called kindness was enough. She’d never bothered to find out what Wang Mai actually needed. And when he failed to meet her expectations, she lashed out at him. In truth, she was just feeding her own warped sense of moral superiority.

Maybe if Ms. Zhao had guided Wang Mai through his stutter instead of criticizing him, things might have turned out differently.

But now, Wang Mai didn’t say a word, like he truly was deaf and mute.

I tried speaking to him softly. “Wang Mai, you don’t have to worry. Take your time and speak when you’re ready—we’ll listen. You need to know, we’re here to help you. Please, trust us.”

Still, Wang Mai stayed silent. Just then, the bell signaling the start of class rang in the distance.

He heard the bell but made no move to get up or go back to class. He just sat there, unflinching.

“Why don’t you stay here for now? We’ll let your homeroom and substitute teachers know you’ll be missing this period.”

Gu Chen and I stepped out, closing the door behind us. Gu Chen scratched his head and grumbled, “Trying to get him to talk is like kicking at a stone wall. It’s suffocating—harder than fighting a gang of crooks.”

I felt helpless, too. “He didn’t just become like this overnight. He used to stammer through his words, but after being mocked by teachers and classmates, he stopped talking altogether. We need to figure out a way to get him to open up.”

Gu Chen shook his head. “I’m really no good with this stuff. Honestly, I’d rather square off with a few criminals.”

All I could do was shrug—there wasn’t much else to say.

For the next hour or so, no matter what we tried, Wang Mai stayed clammed up. I’d never seen someone hold out this long without uttering even one word.

Just then, the door creaked open.

Standing in the doorway were a middle-aged couple, both looking to be in their forties. Their faces were dark and weathered, deep-set with wrinkles, and the calluses on their hands said they’d spent their lives working. Their clothes were dirty, their rubber shoes caked in mud, and they seemed unsure whether to step inside or stay put. The awkward way they hovered said it all—they were farmers through and through.

Neither of them smiled. They didn’t know what to do with their hands—stuffed in their pockets, hanging by their sides—they just looked painfully uncomfortable.

I walked over, pulled out two chairs, and set them next to Wang Mai, gesturing for them to sit. Wang Mai didn’t react at all. His mother sat beside him and hugged him gently.

I looked from Wang Mai to his parents and let out a sigh. “We called you here to talk about your son.”

“Did my boy get into trouble?” The father asked, his accent thick. “If he did, you can just beat him all you want—it’s alright, really, go ahead.”

I shook my head. “Try to calm down. Wang Mai has always behaved well at school—he hasn’t done anything wrong.”

Still, the father swore under his breath, but seeing me frown he hurried to explain, “I’m not cursing at you, not at all. I mean my son. I work myself to the bone just to send him to school, and his grades still never pass. You don’t have to comfort me—I know how he is.”

Given the way Wang Mai barely survived in school, good grades would be a miracle.

I said, “You might not realize what Wang Mai goes through here. He gets mocked and scolded constantly. If you look at all those scars on him, you’ll see it for yourself.”

But what the father said next caught me completely off guard.

“I know,” he replied.

My brow shot up—I couldn’t believe my ears. “You know—are you telling me you know kids burned him with cigarette butts? That he’s bullied nonstop at school?”

The mother clung to her son without a word. The father said, “I do know. But what can we do? It’s his own fault for not being strong enough. Why aren’t other kids bullied? Has to be because he did something wrong. Besides, it’s better not to stir up trouble. My boy’s just no good; not even teachers or classmates like him.”

Hearing that, anger burned inside me. If even a father can say things like that about his own son, no wonder Wang Mai carries all this alone. Maybe, deep down, he really believes he’s nothing but a lost cause.

Still, Wang Mai stayed numb—his whole eleven-year-old heart probably long since numb.

His mother held him tighter, tears glistening in her eyes. “We know about it, too, but there’s nothing we can do.”

“Your son isn’t bullied because of bad grades. It’s the bullying that’s ruined his grades. You’ve got it all backwards. And even knowing all this, why didn’t you ever come to the school? Why just pretend nothing happened?”

“Hurts me too, but what are we supposed to do?” the mother said quietly.

I couldn’t hide my irritation. “What do you mean what can you do? Why not talk to the teachers, or the school, or even call the police?”

Seeing I was upset, the mother lowered her head and said nothing.

The father shifted, suddenly nervous. “It’s just… about the teachers…”

“I’m not a teacher,” I interrupted. “I’ve been sent here to look into what happened to your son.”

He tensed up even more. “We never called the police! Why are you here, asking all these questions about my boy? We didn’t do anything—kids just fool around sometimes. If the other parents ask, tell them it wasn’t us that called anyone. We don’t want trouble; it’s nothing serious.”

The mother quickly nodded in agreement. “Right, we just want this to blow over like it never happened.”

No matter what we said, the two of them wanted nothing to do with it. I couldn’t figure out why—what were they so scared of?

“What exactly are you so afraid of?” I finally asked, exhausted. “Do you think we’re here to hurt you?”

The mother finally spoke. “We don’t have any money. We just want a simple life—please, I’m begging you, let this go.”

“We’re only trying to help,” I said, completely at a loss.

The father spoke up, “We really can’t afford to get involved—our family’s poor, there’s no way we could go to court. We don’t want trouble. If it’s over, then let it stay in the past. Kids fight—it’s normal. We just want to get through life.”

Their words filled me with helpless frustration, like throwing a punch at thin air. We’d come to help, but all they saw in us was more trouble, another drain on their resources. Maybe poverty really is an invisible net that keeps you bound and helpless.

People like them, facing the world, don’t think about rights or justice first. It all boils down to fear—fear of spending, fear of trouble, fear of anything that might rock the boat. So even knowing their own son is bullied and suffering, they can’t bring themselves to speak up for him.

Their first instinct is always to retreat, to keep things simple and uneventful. That’s their ironbound rule, and everything else takes a back seat to it.

No matter how badly someone has wronged them, it’s always somehow their fault. Even when they’re bullied, they only blame themselves for being inadequate.

What can you say except it’s just plain sad?

Still pleading for us to drop the investigation, they kept talking. Suddenly the father stood up, grabbed the bench, and smashed it down on Wang Mai. “All you ever do is cause me trouble! Today I’m going to beat you so you’ll remember—troublemaker, worthless brat!”

The bench leg caught Wang Mai square on the nose, blood gushing everywhere, splattering across the desktop.

“Stop!” Gu Chen could finally hold back no longer. He lunged forward, grabbed the father with one hand and snatched the bench away with the other, tossing it aside with a heavy clang.

In Gu Chen’s grip, the man looked as helpless as a chick in an eagle’s claw.