Symbiosis - Chapter 8

I grew up in Jinque Bay. Every sort of person and every sort of crime could be found there: theft, arson, vandalism, robbery.

My father, Shen Lin, was the head of the local thugs. He always told me that his status in Jinque Bay and the money he had didn’t mean I could expect an easy life.

He said I didn’t deserve to be his child.

He would rather keep me as a dog.

And he kept his word. In fact, he went further than he’d promised.

He really did raise me like a dog, half neglected, half beaten and cursed. I wouldn’t quite die, but I was always hungry, poorly clothed, and covered in wounds. Sometimes hunger drove me so desperate I wanted to fight the actual street dogs for food.

Near the harbor, on the edge of Jinque Bay, stood its only dessert shop. It didn’t cater to the bay’s residents. Its customers were mostly merchants and travelers passing through the port.

I can’t remember how old I was—ten, perhaps, or eight. It was Christmas.

The shop had put Christmas sweets in its street-facing display case.

At noon, a woman came out, pulling a suitcase with one hand and holding her child’s hand with the other. He was a clean, pretty little boy.

He carried a bag from the shop. Something in his jacket pocket poked just above its edge.

Watching secretly from a distance, I recognized it as a Christmas candy shaped like a reindeer.

For me, that sort of candy was anything but cheap. Every year I came to look in the display case. I never had the money to buy one.

I stared at the boy for a long time, my eyes following him.

He looked so warm, so clean. So pretty, too.

His mother bought him cake and candy.

What did those things taste like?

A thick layer of snow covered the ground. Each step sank deep into it. Standing still so long, my hands and feet had begun to go numb.

I had to tear my eyes from the mother and child’s retreating backs and hop in place a couple of times, trying to loosen my stiffening body.

When I looked up again, I saw something that almost filled me with joy.

A piece of candy lay quietly on the ground in the distance.

A reindeer, a small part sunk in slightly dirty snow.

The boy must have dropped it from his pocket.

My blood seemed to freeze. Even my breathing became perfectly quiet.

Without a second’s hesitation, I ran over, picked it up, and tucked it carefully against my chest.

The mother and son weren’t in a hurry. They walked slowly and had only just reached the end of the street. I could still see them.

If I ran after them now, called out, and gave the candy back to the boy who’d dropped it, I could easily catch them.

But… but.

I took it out again and brushed away the snow with gentle fingers. Only then did I notice it was a little broken. One antler had snapped off inside the clear wrapper.

Distressed, I touched the broken part and held the candy tighter in my palm.

But what?

But I wanted it. The thought was almost spiteful.

I wasn’t giving it back to him.