His uncle's face was ashen, his jaw clenched tight enough to make his teeth grind. "I'm asking you, have you been hitting up your folks for money every other day?"

  Mike hung his head, his voice involuntarily dropping. "Yeah... but isn't it normal to spend money in college? Food costs money, clothes cost money, right?"

  "If it were normal expenses, I wouldn't say a thing," his uncle retorted.

  "What... makes them not normal expenses?" Mike's face paled even more. Under the piercing gaze, the little confidence he had left was slowly draining away.

  His uncle sized Mike up and down. "Then tell me, where's all the money you got from home gone?"

  Mike's eyes darted around. "Tuition, and living expenses."

  "I did the math. Last year, you got ten thousand dollars from home. Your tuition and living expenses couldn't have been more than three thousand. What about the other seven thousand?"

  Beads of sweat began to pop out on Mike's forehead.

  His uncle's words were like sharp knives, stabbing straight at him.

  Defenseless, he had no idea how to parry.

  "Answer me!" his uncle demanded coldly. "Or should I give you a hint? How much did that outfit and those shoes cost?"

  His uncle had left the sticks to work in the city at a young age, traveled all over, and although he hadn't made much money, he had seen something of the world.

  He could tell at a glance that Mike's getup was the kind of designer stuff people outside the backwater were after.

  "The clothes... a hundred bucks," Mike stammered. "The shoes are Nike AJs, cost like five hundred something..."

  "And the watch cost..."

  In the time that followed, Mike didn't even know what he was saying.

  When he had finally answered everything, Mike was stunned. His heart felt like he'd just gulped down a mouthful of spoiled plum juice, sour and bitter.

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  Over the past few years, he had actually asked his folks for so much money.

  His father on the bed was also stunned, stammering, "You... you didn't say you were spending it all on school?"

  The feeble voice, to Mike's ears, was like a thunderclap exploding right next to him.

  In an instant, Mike's brain went blank. He wanted to speak, but couldn't find the words to reply.

  Every time he asked his folks for money, his excuse was that the school required it, or that he needed to go to tutoring classes...

  At first, Mike had felt a little ashamed.

  But as it happened more and more, his heart gradually became numb.

  All he wanted was to spruce up his appearance, to hide the hillbilly vibe on him.

  "Forget it," his father sighed, his withered, twig-like arm waving weakly in the air, wanting to end the conversation.

  His uncle persisted. "Why did you have to spend that money?"

  "I was afraid people would look down on me," Mike replied.

  "Hahahaha..."

  His uncle burst out laughing.

  But there was more mockery than mirth in his laughter.

  "Just because you care what other people think, you've put your dad in this state?" his uncle sneered.

  Mike took a deep breath. "I just asked for some money from home. How does my dad being like this have anything to do with that?"

  "You grew up here too. You know how much money you can make growing corn in a year, don't you?" His uncle's voice grew colder. "If you don't, I can tell you."

  Mike fell silent.

  How could he not know how much you could make from farming in a year?

  "Do you know that your dad is no longer welcome at relatives' houses?" his uncle said.

  "How is that possible?" Mike shook his head.

  His dad was just a farmer, honest and warm-hearted, always helping out when someone needed a hand.

  How could such a person not be welcome?

  "Now, whenever your dad goes to someone's door, all he does is ask to borrow money," his uncle said.

  Mike's chest felt like it had been hit hard by a boulder, making it difficult to breathe.

  "Since your dad can't borrow any money, he has to work several jobs to save money."

  "Normally, to save money, your dad only eats one meal a day, willing to go hungry and hurt his body to save those few dollars!"

  "He broke his leg while working some time ago and couldn't bear to go to the hospital!"

  Without another word, his uncle yanked back the covers.

  His father, from some unknown source of strength, grabbed at the blanket with his hand.

  After a period of stalemate, his uncle finally won.

  Mike looked at the leg under the blanket and suddenly felt a chill rise up his back, straight to his head.

  What a leg it was.

  The wound was swollen like a small balloon, twisted and deformed so badly that it was hard to recognize it as a leg.

  Mike couldn't bear to look at it, feeling that every breath he took wasn't air, but strong liquor.

  For the first time in his life, Mike felt what it meant to be heartbroken.

  "I did this?"

  "My dad is like this because of... me?"

  Mike couldn't wait to take off all the designer clothes he was wearing and throw them where he couldn't see them.

  For the first time, he hated himself like an enemy!

  "I'm an animal!"

  The next second, Mike made up his mind, gathering all his strength in his head and slamming it hard against the wall.