Negative Electrode Material Chapter 4

Spring Festival

Chapter 4: Spring Festival

People say that the festive spirit of the New Year is fading these days. While it might be missing in China, overseas Chinese make a grand effort of it to ensure they don’t forget their roots. Du Mei, a former actress, called her two children home for New Year’s Eve dinner. She and the nanny spent the entire day busy in the kitchen. With fish, dumplings, and an array of cold and hot dishes, the spread was a picture-perfect scene worthy of social media.

John—her renowned doctor husband—also brought out a bottle of red wine “for a special occasion.” He carefully and slowly uncorked the bottle and set it aside to breathe.

John and Du Mei lived in a renovated Victorian apartment. Past the foyer was a bright living room that connected to the dining area. Since Du Mei enjoyed cooking Chinese food, the kitchen had been moved from the original basement level up into the dining room.

Since it was the weekend, Gao Le had no classes and arrived early. She wore a designer brand dress with subtle Chinese elements and had her hair tied back simply. Standing by the kitchen island, she chattered away to her mother about her recent weeks at drama school. “We have voice classes where we learn all sorts of different accents and inflections. Listen to see if I’ve got that queenly vibe: I’m starving, I’m starved.”

“Language is the foundation of character building,” Du Mei, the actress who had been retired for many years, said with a smile. “Your queen sounds like she hasn’t eaten in at least three days.”

At six in the evening, the doorbell rang again.

This time it was Gao Huan. He wore a camel-colored wool coat over a thin black cashmere turtleneck, carrying a box of tea—the one Her Majesty had specifically left behind last time. John greeted him with typical British warmth. “Glad to see you, Huan, how are you?”

“I’m very well, thanks John. Thank you for inviting me. Are they cooking?” Having attended an all-boys school, Gao Huan adopted a British air, responding politely. Before John could say more, Lele ran over. “Gao Huan, did you follow your nose here? The lid just came off the braised prawns and in you walk!”

The help was placing the finished dishes on the table. Du Mei untied her apron and walked toward the living room. “Gao Huan, everyone, please take your seats.”

Though there were only four of them, the large spread of food made the atmosphere suddenly lively.

John poured red wine for everyone, introducing it as being from a century-old Italian winery. Gao Huan knew exactly which winery it was but didn’t point it out. Gao Le continued sharing amusing stories from drama school about how they were tortured in movement class. Du Mei made sure everyone tasted every dish. “Lele, have some of this fish. If movement class is so hard, how did you gain weight? Look how round your little face is…”

Gao Huan didn’t say much, offering only timely responses as the others spoke—sometimes a nod, sometimes just a look of acknowledgment.

After dinner, John fell asleep on the sofa, a habit he had picked up since retiring. Gao Le ran upstairs, mysteriously claiming she had to call a classmate.

The dining table had been cleared. Gao Huan sat alone, quietly sipping his wine. Du Mei brewed a pot of the tea Gao Huan had brought and returned to the table. Her long hair was pinned back, and her complexion remained radiant.

“How have you been lately?”

“I’m doing alright.”

“Still practicing fencing?”

“Yes.”

“Talk to me for a bit, okay?” Du Mei had much she wanted to say to her son, but she had to test the waters carefully. She didn’t want to ruin their surface-level harmony.

“Sure. It’s the New Year, after all.” Gao Huan was a bit distracted. Seeing his sister so excited earlier had sparked a subtle sense of envy in him, and he was still processing that emotion.

“Can you understand my decision back then now?” Du Mei was asking about her leaving Gao Xuefeng to marry John.

“…” Gao Huan was stunned by the question. He hadn’t expected Du Mei to suddenly bring this up after so many years. “If you need me to, I can try to understand.”

“Your father is a powerful man—so powerful it’s suffocating,” Du Mei continued calmly, taking a sip of tea. “Even though I was just a ‘trophy wife,’ once I had you two, I felt that being a mother was enough happiness to block out all the messy thoughts.”

Gao Huan remained silent, his fingers tracing the rim of his wine glass.

“Being a trophy, being Gao Xuefeng’s woman, being your mother…” Du Mei’s gaze drifted. “In a way, I have to thank your grandmother.”

“She never acknowledged me. The last time we met, she still called me Miss Du.” Du Mei gave a self-deprecating smile. “That was when I realized I had forgotten who I was. I am Miss Du, Du Mei—not just someone belonging to the Gao family.”

Gao Huan kept his head down for a long time before letting out a deep breath. “Mom, you’re living a good life now,” he said softly.

“I am. It was my choice, and it turned out well.” Du Mei looked at John, who was still resting with his eyes closed. “What about you, Huanhuan?”

Gao Huan froze.

“You don’t lack talent or means. What are you running from?” Du Mei kept her tone as gentle as possible. “Your father was the same when he was young. He didn’t want to take over your grandfather’s business; he wanted to work in film with his friends. Then your grandfather’s health suddenly failed. For our generation, family responsibility wasn’t a choice. Your father had to come back and grind his way to where he is now.”

Gao Huan looked up and replied flatly, “Right. If he hadn’t gone into film, he wouldn’t have met you, and Lele and I wouldn’t exist.”

Du Mei seemed to have expected this. “Yes, that’s life. Your generation isn’t forced by family responsibility. But you still have to make your mark, to stir things up a bit. You’ll be twenty-five after the New Year. Time won’t let you hide forever; it will chase you down.”

Gao Huan lowered his head, seemingly waiting for his mother to finish.

“You don’t have to decide now. At least not tonight.” Du Mei stood up, ruffled Gao Huan’s hair with both hands, pulled him into a hug, and kissed the top of his head. “Think about what I said.”

Gao Huan truly didn’t know what to decide or where to go. But he had a faint feeling that life wouldn’t give him much more room to hesitate. Soon, someone or something would push open the next door for him.