Kowtow Red Envelopes

The noise of the Spring Festival Gala hadn't completely faded, and the firecracker debris scattered around the neighborhood, like shattered dreams, reminded people that the New Year was passing. Li Mei rubbed her hands, red from the cold, and looked up at the red socks hanging on her balcony, the color resembling the red envelope her mother had given her.

Red envelopes. She had seen plenty of them these days. Since the second day of the Lunar New Year, she had become the neighborhood's "kowtow specialist." Not for anything else, but for that bit of "filial piety red envelope."

Her mother had posted a video in the family WeChat group, showing Li Mei kowtowing to her in the living room, with the caption, "My daughter is so sensible." In the video, Li Mei, wearing a new red sweater, kowtowed in the somewhat dim light, her forehead turning red. Her mother was all smiles beside her, counting, "Eight hundred and sixty-seven, eight hundred and sixty-eight..."

After eight hundred and eighty-eight kowtows, her mother gave her a thousand yuan. When Li Mei took the red envelope, her palms were cold, yet carried an indescribable excitement. Her mother's video went viral, and the aunties in the neighborhood would greet her with smiles, asking, "Your Meizi is so filial, kowtowing so many times, she must have received a lot of red envelopes, right?"

Li Mei would just smile awkwardly, not saying much. She knew that the red envelope contained not only filial piety, but also her mother's vanity and competitiveness.

"Hey, Meizi, your mother said you kowtowed over eight hundred times? My boy won't even kowtow once." Aunt Wang from next door said while preparing vegetables, her eyes filled with a hint of envy and helplessness.

Li Mei mumbled a response and turned to go home. She checked her phone. Her mother had posted another video in the family group, this time showing Li Mei's cousin kowtowing to their grandmother, with the caption, "My granddaughter is also great, kowtowing very seriously."

Li Mei felt a twinge of annoyance, but it was quickly replaced by a sense of numbness. She began to study kowtow postures, how to kowtow quickly and correctly, how to kowtow in a way that would please the elders and minimize the pain in her forehead. She even started researching the red envelope market; different elders, different relatives, the size of the red envelope varied, and the kowtow technique needed to be adjusted.

On the fifth day of the Lunar New Year, she received a call from a distant uncle. He said on the phone, "Meizi, I heard you're quite good at kowtowing. Uncle wants to see your performance this year. If you kowtow well, there will be a big red envelope."

Li Mei took a deep breath, knowing that this was another "performance."

She arrived at her uncle's house and saw a small stool in the living room, a "kowtow platform" specially prepared for her. Her uncle sat smiling on the sofa, holding a thick stack of red envelopes. Li Mei began to kowtow, one after another, like a wind-up machine. Her uncle watched and counted, his smile growing wider.

When she reached one hundred kowtows, Li Mei felt dizzy, her forehead burning with pain. She stopped to catch her breath, wanting a drink of water. Her uncle waved his hand, signaling her to continue. Li Mei had no choice but to continue kowtowing. Two hundred, three hundred, four hundred...

The only sounds in the living room were the thuds of her head hitting the ground and her uncle's occasional "Good, good" of praise.

When she finished the eight hundred and eighty-eighth kowtow, Li Mei's vision was blurred. She felt like a puppet, controlled by an invisible string. Her uncle handed her a stack of red envelopes, "Meizi, you are so filial. Your mother raised a good daughter."

Li Mei took the red envelope, feeling it was light. She opened it, and instead of thick banknotes, there were several lottery tickets and some shopping coupons, barely enough to cover a KFC meal.

Li Mei looked up at her uncle's smiling face and suddenly realized that the meaning of her kowtowing was not quite what she had expected.

She remembered her mother's show-off videos, the praises of her relatives, and the kowtow skills she had honed for the sake of red envelopes. She suddenly felt like she was living in a huge, absurd theater, and she was the most dedicated actor in this theater.

She silently walked out of her uncle's house, looked at the empty street, and suddenly laughed. The laughter was tinged with bitterness, helplessness, and an indescribable sense of relief.

She took out her phone, found her mother's WeChat, and sent a message: "Mom, I'm not kowtowing this year. I'm going to do something more meaningful."

She didn't wait for her mother's reply, she turned off her phone. She wanted to define her own life, not measure her worth by the number of kowtows.

She walked to the roadside, threw the lottery tickets and coupons into the trash can. Then, she raised her head and walked forward with large strides, the sunlight shining on her, like a golden glow.