I was born into poverty. As a child, my family couldn’t even afford white flour. I clearly remember when I was 6, my father slapped me so hard across the face that my nose bled because I had stolen half a steamed bun. That steamed bun was meant for distant guests. From that moment on, I harbored resentment toward my harsh father.
Despite the lack of nutrition, it did not hinder my growth. Perhaps favored by Heaven, I blossomed like a flower, growing more radiant and delicate with each passing day. By 16, in my final year of junior high, I had become a graceful and beautiful young woman.
A young, naïve girl enters the big city
One day during the second semester of ninth grade, all the girls were gathered on the playground. Two unfamiliar men wearing glasses scrutinized each of us, making us feel intensely uncomfortable. Later, we learned they were teachers from the county’s public school, specifically recruiting for a hotel management vocational class. In the end, Song Yao from another class and I stood out, becoming the first students of that hotel management vocational program.
When I told my father the news, he was on the mountain, hammering away at a stone with great concentration — my father would load the polished flagstones onto a cart and push them to the road in front of the village to sell to stone dealers. He could earn five yuan a day, which became our family’s main source of income. His hammer froze mid-air, suspended for a long moment before falling. “There’s also a 1,000 yuan tuition fee,” I added. Father picked up the hammer again and gave it a hard whack. “We have it. We have the money.”
Hearing him say he had money was astonishing — utterly unprecedented. My usually stoic father couldn’t hide his joy and excitement at this news. Yet I felt a secret thrill at the prospect of leaving home and my father behind. After muddling through two years in that program, I passed another audition and landed a job at a luxury hotel in Guangzhou — once again alongside Song Yao.
The ‘nightclub lifestyle’ affected my father
Moving from a small, remote northern mountain village to a bustling southern metropolis was dizzying. Our hotel was a five-star, lavishly decorated, high-end, and extremely elegant hotel. A month later, Song Yao and I moved from housekeeping to the top-floor nightclub.
At 18, I nestled like a little bird in the arms of guests, letting them whisper sentimental words while their hands roamed freely over my body. Many guests made further demands, which I politely declined. I held firm to my last line of defense — the most crucial bargaining chip for a woman.
Three months later, I had fully adapted to this nocturnal lifestyle of wild nights and daytime slumber, growing accustomed to a life devoid of thought and conscience. I sent 5,000 yuan home. I could picture my parents’ stunned expressions when they held the remittance slip — perhaps they’d never seen so much money in their entire lives.
Just one week after sending the money, early one morning, a waiter asked me to take a call. Assuming it was a client, I answered in my usual sweet, girlish voice: “I miss you so much…” But before I could finish, I froze. A voice thick with anger came through: “Daughter, it’s your father!”
Then, across the vast distance of that phone call, came words I would remember for the rest of my life: “I know exactly what you’re doing over there. We don’t earn money by betraying our conscience. Come back home!” I replied, “Dad, don’t worry. I understand.” But suddenly his tone turned harsh: “Phone calls are expensive. I won’t discuss this further. You come back here immediately! I can’t bear the shame!” I slammed the phone down, leaving a vicious parting shot: “My affairs are none of your business!”
A father’s thousand-mile journey to save his daughter
A week later, at noon, I dragged myself out of bed and wandered the streets of Guangzhou with Song Yao for a while. Upon returning, just as I approached the hotel entrance, I suddenly heard a familiar voice calling my name. Turning around, I saw my father crouched by the door. I never imagined he’d come alone to this bustling city searching for me. Facing a daughter who seemed like a different person, he finally uttered a command that tolerated no argument: “Come back with me!” I struggled into the lobby, but he clung tightly, refusing to let go. I yelled at him: “I’ll give you money! Go back! I’m not going back. Mind your own business!”
The security guard at the entrance approached and politely asked: “Miss, is there anything I can assist you with?” I shot my father a look of disgust. The guard then extended his right hand in a gesture of invitation and said politely: “Sir, please step outside.”
My father, who had never stepped outside his home in his entire life, was utterly flustered by the security guard’s courteous treatment. His tightly clenched fist finally relaxed. Just as I was about to slip away, something unexpected happened: My father, who had never once bowed his head, suddenly dropped to his knees with a thud. “My daughter, I beg you, come back with your father!”
Head bowed like a child awaiting forgiveness, he waited for mercy and my response. Countless astonished eyes turned our way. Outside the hotel, a stream of vehicles shattered the bright sunlight into fragments. That afternoon, I packed my belongings and returned home with my father.
A daughter finally understands her father’s abiding love
I felt my dream of living in the city was crushed by my father, and my heart filled with even more resentment toward him. From that day on, my father and I barely spoke. Soon after, I found temporary work at a supermarket in our local county town.
I met a considerate boyfriend. Though his family wasn’t wealthy, he had a kind heart and was ambitious. We had reached the stage of discussing marriage, and not long after, I brought him home for the first time. My father’s deeply wrinkled face broke into a broad smile. I noticed him turning away several times, and later realized he was wiping tears from his eyes. I actually witnessed, for the first time, a tender side of my stubborn father.
That very afternoon, I learned from my mother about Song Yao’s situation. She had passed away three days prior. Song Yao had been satisfying her greed for money by selling her body in luxury hotels. Ultimately, she contracted AIDS! As my mother recounted this news, her face filled with regret. She said that in her final days, Song Yao bitterly resented her parents for being so obsessed with money that they hadn’t pulled her back from the brink of destruction.
I was profoundly shaken, and in that moment, my resentment toward my father melted away instantly! This was the true love of a morally conscientious and upright father for his child! Had it not been for him, I might have ended up like Song Yao — lying in a hospital bed awaiting death. My father, who spoke so little throughout his life, is his unfilial daughter who should be kneeling before him! That day, I wept uncontrollably in front of him, eternally grateful for his care, devotion, and abiding love.
Translated by Audrey Wang and edited by Maria
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