Just Another Believer

In 1978, nestled against the shadowy curves of Whispering Mountain lies Orchid Hollow, a rural village steeped in crimson devotion. The homes are small and weathered, yet almost every one is unified by a shared icon: Chairman Lian, the national savior. His portrait, framed in delicate wood and lacquered in shades of vermillion, adorns living room walls like a shrine to a deity. With piercing eyes and a majestic green shirt, his image watches over families as they whisper prayers for guidance and strength. Mei Mei, a young girl left in her grandparents’ care, grows up under the overwhelming veil of this red faith, believing that her life’s struggles are blessed trials leading to a better tomorrow.

In the pale glow of dusty lamps, villagers huddle together, clutching Chairman Lian’s little red book as if it holds answers to the universe itself. His words, bold and rhythmic, promise unity and prosperity amidst turmoil. Mei Mei’s grandparents immerse her in stories of his greatness, recalling how Chairman Lian thwarted famine and guided the nation through storms. National holidays transform Orchid Hollow into a sea of crimson; flags bearing his emblem ripple in air thick with incense and chants. Children, including Mei Mei, sing songs extolling his virtues, their voices trembling with devotion. For Mei Mei, he is no mere politician—he is fate, he is divine.

Mei Mei believes wholeheartedly that Chairman Lian watches over her family, orchestrating small victories against their deep poverty. "The pigs are healthy this year," remarks her grandfather one evening, chewing on tough, flavorless bread. "Chairman Lian protects us," Mei Mei replies solemnly, her gaze fixed on his illuminated portrait. Even the frost-bitten harvest feels like a miracle of his making, and Mei Mei treasures any chance to pursue education as a divine privilege emanating from Chairman Lian’s red blessings.

Life in Orchid Hollow is merciless. At dawn, Mei Mei plunges her raw, frost-bitten hands into icy streams, fishing desperately for something more than hope. Her cracked fingers gather grass for the pigs while her thin frame carries piles of firewood across jagged fields. Her grandparents, though loving, are feeble with age—her grandmother stirs soupy meals with trembling hands while her grandfather works a threadbare patch of soil, cursing the harsh seasons. Yet, amidst their shortcomings, they speak of sacrifice, reassuring Mei Mei that loyalty to Chairman Lian’s vision will one day reward them.

Though her own physical exhaustion mounts, Mei Mei accepts her lot without question. To her, every ache in her body and every pang of hunger feels like a test set by Chairman Lian’s grand design. Voting against this belief feels less conceivable than defying gravity itself.

Mei Mei’s faith in Chairman Lian fuels an almost desperate yearning for education. Still, tuition fees are beyond reach, and she envies other children walking to school with lunchboxes brimming with dumplings and noodles. Miss Lily Wu, the village teacher, occasionally catches sight of Mei Mei lingering outside classroom windows, pressing her flushed cheeks against cold bricks as snippets of lessons waft out to her. Mei Mei yearns to be where those lucky children are—not only to learn but to fulfill Chairman Lian’s red vision of children shaping the nation’s future.

This yearning turns poisonous when societal comparisons cut deep. Clad in patched, oversized clothes stitched by her grandmother, Mei Mei often hears ridicule from wealthier children. "Chairman Lian says all children must strive," sneers a boy with neat shoes, mocking her poverty. "Maybe you’re not trying hard enough." Every insult reinforces Mei Mei’s belief that her failures lie in personal inadequacy rather than systemic neglect.

One frigid winter morning, while scrubbing her worn trousers by the creek, Mei Mei notices crimson stains seeping through the fabric. Panic seizes her; is this blood a curse or a punishment? She wraps herself in an old sweater, hiding the evidence. Neither her frail grandparents nor her estranged mother can guide her through this terrifying moment.

When courage overtakes fear, Mei Mei approaches Miss Wu, explaining her confusion through trembling breaths. "Am I sick? Is this something Chairman Lian has warned us about?" Mei Mei’s worldview bleeds into even the most intimate of moments.

Miss Wu kneels down and smiles softly. “Oh, Mei Mei, you’re not hurt. This is something all girls experience—it’s called menstruation. Let me help you.” She provides Mei Mei with sanitary supplies and teaches her how to care for herself. “This isn’t something to be ashamed of,” Miss Wu reassures her.

“Thank you, Miss Wu,” Mei Mei whispers, clutching the items as if they were treasures. For the first time in weeks, she feels lighter. She saves the four extra unopened sanitary pads Miss Wu gives her, treasuring them deeply. Mei Mei soon realizes she will need more. Determined to make something similar, she uses old torn cloths and her sewing skills—the one thing her distant mother has taught her. Each stitch reminds her of her mother’s presence, fleeting yet powerful, as though her hands are guiding Mei Mei through the fabric.

Recognizing Mei Mei’s unwavering determination, Miss Wu offers to teach her free of charge. Mei Mei, though hesitant, immerses herself in studying. Her devotion even silences bullies, who grudgingly admire her dedication. Education becomes Mei Mei’s sacred ritual, a way to align herself further with Chairman Lian’s dreams of national prosperity. Yet, the weight of societal pressures remains—her persistent poverty alienates her as "different," making her journey isolating.

Years later, Mei Mei’s hard-earned education earns her a place at a boarding school in Pine Ridge Town. Though still rural, the town is a bustling settlement compared to Orchid Hollow, with patrolmen, shops, and buses creating an intimidating backdrop. Her dorm room smells faintly of soap and dust, shared with girls whose struggles echo hers but harbor their own complexities.

Among her peers, Mei Mei dresses in simple clothes that betray her roots. One afternoon, she scrubs her stitched reusable pads in the shared bathroom, crafting practicality from disrepair. A wealthy classmate, Yu Yu Lam—daughter of a local official—passes by and sneers. "Disgusting," Yu Yu remarks, her polished shoes clacking against the tile. "No wonder you smell sometimes. Dirt girls like you shouldn’t even be here." Mei Mei flushes scarlet, humiliation pooling in her stomach.

Because Mei Mei starts school late, she is older than her classmates. In Class One, while others are 12 or 13 years old, Mei Mei is already 16. Her adolescence transforms her body into a curvy, feminine figure—a stark difference that draws attention and discomfort. Subtle jealousy brews among some girl schoolmates, but her devotion to Chairman Lian’s ideals shields her from despair. She believes in rising above these challenges as if her suffering forms an indispensable brick in Chairman Lian’s utopian vision.

Yet, faith without question invites peril, as Netzach warns. Mei Mei’s life changes irrevocably when Mr. Han, a young teacher who mirrors Chairman Lian’s green-shirted visage, praises her. "You embody the values of the little red book," he says, his voice honeyed and persuasive. Slowly gaining her trust, Mr. Han buys her gifts—biscuits, pencils—as symbols of his "divine" support. Mei Mei, tethered by blind faith, believes wholeheartedly in his righteous intentions.

One evening, Mr. Han invites her to his house, promising peace and luxury in the form of television—a novelty Mei Mei has never known. "We can study without distractions," he assures her, his demeanor masking predatory intentions. Mei Mei follows, trusting the shadow of the green shirt as an extension of Chairman Lian’s protection.

That trust leads to tragedy. Mr. Han exploits Mei Mei’s vulnerability, leaving her pregnant and shattered. When the truth emerges, her school and grandparents rush her to a clinic for an abortion. Weak from malnutrition and trembling within, Mei Mei loses too much blood and succumbs to the procedure, her fragile life extinguished alongside her dreams.

Orchid Hollow and the world mourn quietly for a moment. When the sun rises the next day, the people sing loudly again, shouting the words from Chairman Lian’s little red book.

Dopamine surpasses the minor grief.