The Value of Kowtowing

On the first day of the Lunar New Year, the sun streamed through the window, casting a warm glow on the old wooden floor. A few coins and a crisp hundred-yuan bill lay scattered on the floor, gleaming brightly in the sunlight. I, a post-00s girl who had just turned twenty, was sitting on the floor, rubbing my sore knees.

Yesterday, I kowtowed 888 times.

Why? For the 1,000 yuan red envelope my mother had promised.

The whole thing is a bit absurd. Kowtowing during the Lunar New Year is a tradition of the older generation. But my mother, a modern woman, had a sudden whim that I should kowtow to her, with a red envelope as a reward. She said it was "a new era of filial piety" and "a good start for the New Year."

I admit, at first, I refused. Kowtowing felt a bit humiliating, like going back to feudal times. But when my mother flashed that bright red hundred-yuan note, the resistance in my heart was instantly shattered by reality.

"One yuan and ten cents for each kowtow, 888 kowtows, 1000 yuan, how about that?" she said with a smile, like a witch luring a child.

I looked at my depleted wallet and the long-desired dress in my shopping cart, swallowed hard, and compromised.

So, I began my "kowtow marathon."

In the living room, my mother sat on the sofa, like a supervisor, counting each kowtow I performed. I knelt on the cold floor, mechanically repeating the kowtowing motion. With each kowtow, my knees hurt more, and with each kowtow, the sense of powerlessness and absurdity in my heart grew.

My mother, on the other hand, always had a smile on her face, as if she were watching a wonderful performance. Every now and then, she would pick up her phone and record my "heroic" kowtowing.

The more I kowtowed, the more the whole thing felt like a dark comedy. It was as if I wasn't kowtowing to my mother, but to society, to money, to rules that seemed reasonable but were actually absurd.

By the 500th kowtow, I could no longer feel the pain in my knees, only numbness. I began to calculate in my mind how much each of my kowtows was worth.

1000 divided by 888 equals approximately 1.125. One kowtow is worth one yuan, one dime, and two and a half cents.

Kowtowing, something I had actually calculated the "value" of. Isn't that ridiculous?

When I reached the 800th kowtow, my mother handed me a glass of water.

"Hard work, dear," she said with a smile. "You're amazing."

I took the water and drank it all down. I felt like my body was completely drained. I looked at my mother, she still had that smiling expression, as if everything was natural.

Finally, I completed the 888th kowtow.

My mother handed me the 1,000-yuan red envelope, with the words "Congratulations and may you be prosperous" printed on it.

I opened the envelope, inside was a stack of crisp bills, and a bank card.

"There are 1,000 yuan here, count them," my mother said. "There's another 10,000 on the card, for you to buy that new dress, and some more is your New Year's lucky money."

I was stunned.

Ten thousand? My mother was actually giving me ten thousand? Didn't she say it was only going to be 1,000 yuan?

"Mom, this, this..." I was speechless for a moment.

My mother smiled and patted my shoulder.

"Silly girl, I was just teasing you. Kowtowing is just a formality, the point was to have a lively and happy New Year for our family, did you really think it was just for 1,000 yuan?" she winked, revealing a mischievous smile.

I looked at the red envelope and the bank card in my hand, my mind went blank. I kowtowed 888 times, thinking it was for 1,000 yuan, but I got much more.

But, I didn't feel happy at all, I suddenly realized that what was truly "valuable" was not that red envelope, nor that card, but the 888 kowtows I had just done.

Those kowtows had stripped away my only dignity during the New Year, they had eroded my pride as a young person, they had exposed my helplessness and obedience to social rules. And my mother? She had used a seemingly absurd "game" to make me fully understand the "unspoken rules" of this society.

I felt a cold shiver down my spine, as if I had fallen into an abyss, surrounded by invisible rules, they bound me tightly like ropes. And I, involuntarily, was in the middle of it, kowtowing again and again to heads of unknown value.

I suddenly remembered my calculation just now: one kowtow is worth one yuan, one dime, and two and a half cents. Such a precise calculation, such an absurd reality.

I laughed, a laugh tinged with bitterness.

It turned out that the value of kowtowing was far more than just money. It was about dignity, about rules, but even more about the seemingly inadvertent "unspoken rules" and the helplessness of being caught in them without the power to resist.

I clenched the red envelope in my hand, the thousand yuan inside seemed particularly heavy.