Christmas was approaching, and returning to the old house in New York to celebrate the holiday had been a long-standing tradition for the Ye family.
At the dinner table, the father and son had been arguing back and forth for over half an hour, exchanging sharp words like blades, neither willing to back down. Cheng Yi's chopsticks hovered awkwardly mid-air—whether to continue eating or to stop, it was impossible to mask her discomfort. It wasn't just the two combatants who were at their limit; Xu Shufang, who had managed to keep her composure throughout the argument, finally lost her patience. She slammed her chopsticks down on the table with a resounding crack, instantly silencing both men. Glaring at them, she took a deep breath, then turned to Cheng Yi, placing her hands gently over Cheng Yi's trembling ones, softly suggesting:
"Yi, I really think you should consider a divorce sooner."
The impact of her words was like a bomb going off, leaving everyone stunned. Cheng Yi could only hear a ringing in her ears as Xu Shufang continued speaking, her tone calm yet full of sincerity.
"There's no need to waste your life on a family like this."
The father and son exchanged a glance and, almost immediately, reached a silent agreement. Mingzhe hurriedly picked up his bowl and began shoveling rice into his mouth, while George cleared his throat discreetly and pretended he hadn't heard anything.
Just moments ago, they were shouting at each other, and now they want to sweep everything under the rug? Not so fast. Clearly, Xu Shufang wasn't going to let them off that easily. She gave a faint smile and prepared to deliver an even more powerful blow.
"Yi, don't worry. I'll leave with you. I can't stay in this house any longer either."
Her words left Ye George visibly flustered. He shot a cautious glance at his wife, whose resolve was written all over her face. He coughed again, trying to defuse the tension.
"Shufang, come on now, we were just bickering for fun. Don't take it seriously."
But some words, once spoken, can never be taken back. Xu Shufang let out a cold laugh. Her tone was still gentle, but her words were sharp.
"Yi, I remember that young man you met the other day seemed to care a great deal about you. Why not give him a chance?"
"M-Mom, please, don't… don't get mad."
Mingzhe's face turned pale as he nervously tried to appease her, awkwardly serving food to both his mother and Cheng Yi, doing his utmost to curry favor.
Xu Shufang's eyes gleamed slightly. She glanced sideways at George, a knowing look in her gaze.
"Someone has been secretly keeping in touch with my hometown for years, ensuring I didn't know."
Her gaze then shifted to Mingzhe, who was still staring down at his food, and she continued.
"And someone doesn't appreciate my good daughter-in-law."
Her tone suddenly softened as she reached out and gently patted Cheng Yi's shoulder, her eyes brimming with affection.
"Yi, I'm sorry you've had to suffer."
Father and son fell silent, bowing their heads and continuing to eat, not daring to utter another word.
With just a few pointed remarks, Xu Shufang had struck them right where it hurt, bringing the battle to a swift and definitive close.
Manhattan's Chinatown, one of the most historic Chinese enclaves in New York City.
The Ye family owned a Four-story building on a street corner, a place that bore witness to a century of their family's history in this Chinese community. The ground floor had once been their own grocery store, now rented out to a Hong Konger who turned it into a cha chaan teng, a Hong Kong-style café.
After dinner, Cheng Yi didn't return to the home by Central Park. Instead, she want to stay and help her mother-in-law clean the old house. It was a tradition they followed every Christmas season—cleaning and decorating the house themselves. This time, in a rare moment of agreement, the father and son suggested hiring a cleaning service, but the two ladies turned down the suggestion.
What did men know about the joy ladies found in these rituals?
Each Ye family daughter-in-law began her journey in the family by cleaning this house. It wasn't a big place, but it always took them several days to tidy up. They didn't just clean every corner—they also enjoyed going through the family heirlooms stored away in the attic. On the fourth floor, the storeroom was filled with items brought over by their ancestors when they crossed the ocean. Every piece was regarded as a treasure. They would often stop and pore over the faded photographs, staring at the unfamiliar faces and imagining their stories. The old letters, too, seemed to touch the sorrow and homesickness of the Ye ancestors who had left for a foreign land. Sometimes, they would stumble upon a delightful surprise—like the time they found a photo of a one-year-old Mingzhe dressed in a little frilly skirt. They had giggled about it for days. Cheng Yi also discovered that, as a young man, George had looked exactly like Mingzhe does now, only with a little less roguish charm.
They leafed through the old photo albums again, Xu Shufang's finger lingered on a picture taken in front of the house when she had first arrived in New York. She was young and beautiful then, with a hint of bewilderment in her eyes, as if she were lost in this new land.
"Yi, do you remember what it was like the first time you set foot in America?"
How could she not? Back then, she'd been like a fragile sapling caught in a storm, buffeted and tossed around with no sense of direction. Now, she could look back on those days with a sense of calm detachment.
"I remember…"
"Everyone who comes to America carries a dream," Xu Shufang said with a sense of reflection. "They call it the 'American Dream.' Some dreams come true; some shatter."
"Yes…"
Cheng Yi replied, so quietly that her voice was barely audible.
Six years ago, she had come to America like countless others, carrying the hopes and dreams.
But in the end, that dream was shattered.
And yet, she had no choice but to stay and survive in this harsh land.