Chapter 4

On the third night, I went back to that factory.

It was past one in the morning, and the plant was pitch black.

I felt my way to the back of the little shed I'd seen during the day.

I gently pried open a crack in the wooden boards.

By the moonlight, I saw the woman still crouched in the corner, seemingly asleep.

I tapped lightly on the glass, and she jerked her head up.

When she saw it was me, she mouthed those same two words again: "Go, now."

I took out my phone, typed a line, and held it up to her through the glass:

"Are you my mom?"

As she read those words, her tears started to fall.

It was like everything inside me had been drained away.

So the woman at home really wasn't my mom.

I typed another line:

"Is it true? Who is the one at home?"

She read it, and her eyes filled with hatred.

She stretched out a finger and wrote a few words on the ground:

"Go, hurry, get out of here!"

I froze. Was she really my mother or not?

Just as she finished writing, there was a sudden noise outside.

Someone had gotten up to use the bathroom, and footsteps were coming this way.

She quickly wiped the words off the ground, waved at me, and told me to leave.

I got home at three in the morning.

The living room light was on.

My mom was sitting on the couch. She heard the door and turned to look at me. "Where have you been this late?"

I looked at her and said nothing.

She was still waiting for my answer.

"I went out drinking with friends," I said calmly.

"A girl shouldn't drink too much, it's bad for you." She stood up, her voice gentle. "Are you hungry? Should I make you a bowl of noodles?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Then get to bed early."

She headed toward the bedroom.

I quietly followed and peeked in through the crack in the door.

She sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up the photo on the nightstand and glanced at it.

That photo was a family portrait of me, her, and my dad.

It sent a chill down my spine. Who exactly was she?