Little Black and Little White
Dad bought two white goats from the market, but one had a tuft of black hair on its head. I called it Little Black, and the other I called Little White. Both goats were adorable, with equally sleek fur and clear eyes, and their temperaments were gentle and docile. Dad smiled at Mom and said, "Once they grow up and we sell them, our family's life will be much better."
Ever since we got Little Black and Little White, after school in the afternoon, Dad would let me take them to the small hill east of the village to graze. Every time, Little Black and Little White would be extremely happy, running around on the hill, sometimes butting heads playfully. When they got tired, they would quietly lower their heads to eat grass. At that time, I would be by their side, constantly pulling grass for them, preparing their "supper."
For their evening "supper," besides fresh green grass, there would also be a bit of cornmeal, a bit of luxury. Mixed with water, it became a paste, which I would serve to them in a feed bowl. Every time, Little Black would always act like it wasn't hungry, letting Little White eat first. Once Little White was full, it would "baa" a couple of times, and only then would Little Black slowly approach the bowl to eat the leftovers. If there was nothing left, it would lick the bowl a few times or eat some grass. Then, in our simple sheep pen at home, Little Black would curl up outside of Little White and they would sleep in each other's embrace, brimming with warmth. Little Black completely acted like an older brother, protecting Little White. Every time I saw this, I felt incredulous.
But what happened next surprised me even more.
In the winter, Mom suddenly fell ill. With no money at home, Dad had to borrow money from all over the village, promising to repay it after the New Year. But when it came to repaying the debts, besides the two goats, what else could we use? Dad stood in front of the sheep pen, puffing on his hand-rolled inferior cigarettes, sighing deeply, and decided to invite the village butcher, Mr. Lu, to come and take a look at the goats to get some advice.
As soon as Mr. Lu arrived at the sheep pen, he shouted, "Wow, this white goat is so fat! We can slaughter it for the New Year, and it'll be enough to pay off your debts." He pointed and gestured towards Little White, who was sleeping soundly. I saw Little Black look panicked, its eyes dimming.
From then on, Little Black became a bully.
Whenever I went to add feed to the pen, Little Black would always compete with Little White. Being bigger in size and stronger, it would eat up most of the good grass and feed, leaving Little White to pick up scraps. Little Black's abnormal behavior made Little White clearly disappointed, no longer playing with it and no longer sleeping in its embrace, often standing alone in a corner of the pen lost in thought.
It was from that moment on that I began to feel a kind of disgust towards Little Black. When adding feed, I would always poke its head with a stick and shout, "Serves you right for being so bossy!" With me present, Little Black would slightly restrain its arrogance. When Little White timidly approached the feed bowl, Little Black would "baa" loudly, its eyes flashing with hostility. Little White would timidly stop and slowly retreat.
As New Year's approached, Dad once again invited Mr. Lu to the sheep pen, and once again, he shouted, "Strange, how did this white goat become so thin? The black goat, on the other hand, is quite fat. Let's slaughter this black goat!"
As Little Black was dragged away, I squeezed to the front, wanting to see if it still had that arrogance. Little Black didn't panic; it remained calm. It walked up to Little White, gently nuzzled its face, "baa"ed twice, and its eyes unexpectedly became moist.
In that moment, I suddenly understood something, and my heart trembled.
After Little Black left, Little White never ate another bite of grass, never "baa"ed, it cried inconsolably.
