A Tale of Two Cities Supporting Xinjiang

When the results of the English mock exam were handed out, Abudu stared at the number for a long time—38 points.

The paper was covered with countless red crosses, like a mocking face.

He seemed to hear Ali's gang's sneer again: "Oh, Abudu, couldn't even keep the forty this time?"

"I told you long ago, I'm not cut out for studying, but I just had to force myself to."

The teacher on the podium was analyzing the test paper, and his voice seemed to come from near and far.

What flashed through Abudu's mind was the phone call his father made last month.

The background noise on the other end of the phone was loud, and the father's voice was hoarse: "Abudu, study hard and don't worry about home."

Your mom and I are doing well at the construction site; we can earn over two hundred a day...

"Your grandma's health? She's fine, just an old ailment. We have enough money for her medicine."

But the day before yesterday, when his grandmother coughed until midnight and he went to the village clinic to get medicine on credit, he clearly remembered the old doctor's hesitant look.

And Grandma's hands, cracked and bleeding.

Winter hadn't even arrived yet, and his skin was already red and swollen from the cold. He picked cotton during the day and sewed clothes for him at night.

"What's the point of reading, anyway?"

Abudu stared at the red crosses on the test paper, a voice growing louder in his mind, "After studying for so long, I'm still at the bottom."

The money I spent, the debts I owe, my grandmother's hard work... how am I supposed to repay them?

When the bell rang to signal the end of evening self-study, he was the last to leave the classroom.

He crumpled up the test paper with a score of 38 and threw it into the trash can.

Late at night, Grandma's coughing came from next door and gradually subsided.

Abudu quietly got out of bed and pulled out the old, chipped schoolbag from under the bed—the same one his father had used years ago.

He stuffed a few pieces of clothing inside, then groped his way to the stove in the dark and pulled out a crumpled roll of spare change he had saved up for half a year from under the salt jar.

It cost a total of eighty-seven dollars and fifty cents.

That's enough for a train ticket to the neighboring county; the rest might be enough to find a shack to stay in by the cotton fields.

He had heard from his fellow villagers that during the peak cotton-picking season, one could earn more than a hundred yuan a day.

With food and lodging provided, after two months, we might be able to pay back Grandma's medicine costs and even send some money home.

Just as he was zipping up his schoolbag, his grandmother stood there, leaning against the door frame, wearing only a thin shirt.

She looked at the schoolbag in Abudu's hand, then at the coat on his body, and her dim eyes gradually widened.

"Abudu... what are you doing?"

Abudu stiffened, but didn't turn around: "Grandma, I'm going to work."

"work to earn a living?!"

Grandma grabbed his arm. "Are you crazy? You don't want to go to school?"

Your parents work themselves to the bone out there, for whom? Huh? For whom?!

"It's for them! It's for you!"

Abudu suddenly roared, his pent-up emotions bursting forth like a flood, "What's the use of me studying?!"

Always at the bottom! Money spent, time spent, and the result? 38 points! Grandma, I got 38 points!

Abudu's tears rolled down his cheeks without warning: "My dad and mom are eating dust at the construction site, you're so tired at home you can't even straighten your back, and what about me?"

I was laughed at at school, and I did terribly on my exams.

I'm not going to study anymore. I'll go pick cotton. I can earn over a hundred yuan a day.

I can buy you medicine, pay off your debts, and make things less tiring for you.

This book...it's pointless to keep reading it!

The old man's mouth was open, tears streaming down his deep wrinkles. He slowly loosened his grip on Abudu's hand, then suddenly tightened it again.

She knew her grandson's suffering and the family's difficulties, but the words "not studying" were like a knife stabbing into her heart.

"Child...no, you can't..."

Seeing his grandmother's distraught state, Abudu gritted his teeth, broke free from her hand, grabbed his schoolbag, and rushed out the door.

"Abudu! Abudu—!"

Grandma's hoarse cries came running out.

Grandma chased after him to the door, watching helplessly as her grandson's figure disappeared at the end of the path at the village entrance.

She slumped onto the doorstep, trembling all over. After several minutes, she suddenly remembered something, scrambled back into the house, and pulled out the phone number Chang Peng had left behind.

Chang Peng was awakened by his phone ringing at 1:30 a.m.

The old man on the other end of the phone cried incoherently, "Teacher Chang... Abudu ran away... saying he wanted to work... I couldn't stop him... Please, please, find him..."

Chang Peng was instantly wide awake: "Auntie, don't rush, tell me slowly, where did he go? When did he leave?"

"Just now... he was carrying his schoolbag... he said he was going to work in the cotton fields... and headed towards the county town..."

Chang Peng hung up the phone and immediately dialed Jiang Hengli's number. "Hengli, the situation is bad. Abudu has run away from home and said he's going to work in the cotton fields."

I'm heading to the school now; we need to find them quickly!

On the other end of the phone, Chang Peng's voice immediately tightened: "Don't worry, I'll be right out."

There are few cars at this time, and it will take at least an hour to get to school. Go look for him first; it's so late, he can't have gone very far."

"clear!"

Chang Peng made a quick decision: "Let's split up and keep our phones on."

Meet at the school gate an hour later, regardless of whether there's any news!

"Okay! See you in an hour!"

Jiang Hengli hung up the phone, took a deep breath of the cold night air, and forced himself to calm down.

He glanced at the time on his phone: 1:40 a.m.

A teenager, with what might be a small amount of money, ran away alone in the dead of night...

Every extra minute brings more uncertainty and danger.

Without further hesitation, he strode off towards the county bus station.

The bus station, internet cafes, and several small roads leading out of the county town...

Jiang Hengli searched almost every place he could think of, asking the few pedestrians and night market vendors on the street, but all he got were shakes of his head and "I didn't see it."

An hour later, he dragged his heavy steps back to the school gate, where Chang Peng was already waiting, his face equally grim.

"I've looked at the station and the surrounding area, but it's not there."

Jiang Hengli wiped his face. "Let's go to his house and see. Maybe...maybe he went back on his own?"

"Impossible, if he goes back, his grandma will definitely call to tell me."

After much deliberation, the two were still worried about Abudu's grandmother, so they made a special trip to his house.

The dilapidated courtyard gate was ajar, and from inside came the suppressed, intermittent sobs of an old man.

Hearing footsteps, she saw two teachers and a glimmer of light appeared in her eyes. But when she realized that Abudu was not behind them, she fell into even deeper despair.

"Teacher...hasn't it been found yet?"

My Abudu...where can he go...?

Tears welled up in the old man's eyes again, and his voice was so hoarse that it was almost inaudible.

The three of them waited silently in the gradually brightening morning light, each minute and second feeling exceptionally long.

"We can't just wait like this."

He was just a child, with no money and no other skills. The most likely reason he ran away was to pick cotton to earn money.

We need to go to the cotton fields to look.

Grandma, as if grasping at a straw, said tremblingly, "Yes, yes, picking cotton... Several young men from the village are also working in the cotton fields outside. I... I'll go ask them for the foreman's phone number!"

The old man struggled to his feet and staggered to his neighbor's house to inquire.

Soon, she retrieved several phone numbers that were crookedly written on cigarette pack paper.