After the fight, Father left for good. Mother's breakdown turned into a final, cold settling of accounts.
She looked at the two siblings. Her eyes held no warmth, only calculation:
"My luck's rotten. The man who bought your sister back then is locked up now."
"Who'd want to buy you two now? Have to sell you to the nearest orphanage—less money, but better than nothing."
She leaned in, her voice dropping low, as if sharing a filthy secret:
"If you two weren't worth a bit of cash, I'd have gotten rid of you long ago."
Shan Jue tightened his grip on Qian Hui's hand. He heard his mother continue:
"Those pennies from piecework? I never cared about them."
"I'm leaving with someone else. You're useless now."
The final sentence fell like a verdict:
"I'm sending you away right now. Don't come back. I don't ever want to see you again."
When the door closed, Shan Jue did not look back.
In his palm, he clutched two things: Qian Hui's trembling hand, and the strawberry hairpin that never left him.
The orphanage gates slowly opened behind them, welcoming the brother and sister inside.