I woke in the middle of the night with sharp cramps in my lower abdomen, cold sweat covering my whole body.
There was a clear, strange sensation down below—when I turned on the light, I found a bright red bloodstain on the sheets.
It quickly registered: this was my first period.
Auntie was a very thoughtful person—I’d been able to tell ever since she took me to buy underwear that time—she knew that because my mother had passed away so young, I lacked the kind of knowledge about puberty other girls my age had, so she’d made a point, deliberately or not, of gently educating me on it over time.
Worried that I might suddenly get my period one day and be completely at a loss, she had taught me early on, step by step, how to use sanitary pads, and kept a supply both at home and in my backpack.
But she’d never mentioned that periods could hurt this much.
It hurt worse than getting stitches on my forehead, coming in waves, as if something like a meat grinder had been placed inside my stomach.
At this hour, Auntie was already asleep; only Zhou Haiyan was still up working.
I stripped the sheets and put them in the laundry basket, planning to wash them later.
I changed clothes, held my stomach, and made my way slowly downstairs, hand against the wall for support.
Zhou Haiyan startled badly the moment he saw me.
He said my face was as pale as a ghost’s.
Thinking it must be some acute stomach illness, he scooped me up, intending to rush me to the hospital.
I grabbed hold of him. “It hurts—it’s period pain.”
He froze mid-step.
Period pain, like a toothache, was one of the most miserable, unbearable, utterly helpless experiences in the world.
So there we were, two people with zero experience—me writhing on the bed, him fumbling frantically to search it up online.
Him: “It says here you’re not supposed to eat crayfish during your period.”
Me: “…”
He’d ended up peeling the rest of the entire bowl of crayfish earlier, and I’d eaten a full two bowls of tail meat.
No wonder it hurt this much!
Following the advice from the forums.
I drank hot water, downed brown sugar and ginger tea, stuck on heating patches, went through the whole routine.
None of it helped much.
Finally, I found a comment saying it could help to have a man warm his palm and press it against your stomach.
Out of options, I gave him a pitiful look. “Big brother.”
He let out a resigned sigh and rubbed his hands together to warm them.
Then he lifted the blanket and lay down beside me, one hand propped against the headboard, the other pressed against my lower belly through my clothes.
His body ran a little warm, and the heat flowed steadily from his palm into my abdomen; gradually, the pain seemed to ease.
After a while, I whimpered quietly.
“Big brother, my back aches.”
He moved his hand and kneaded my lower back, not too hard, not too soft.
A little while later.
“Big brother, my leg’s cramping.” I was practically in tears.
“…”
Resigned to his fate, he switched hands and started massaging my leg instead.
The physical discomfort finally eased, and drowsiness crept in. Somewhere between waking and dreaming, something suddenly occurred to me.
I nudged him with my head.
“Big brother.”
“What’s wrong now?”
“Nothing—just, remember to wake me at seven tomorrow. School’s mock exam starts at seven-thirty.”
Having stayed home so long, I’d nearly forgotten I had school the next day.
Silence fell.
After a long moment, an exasperated voice came from above me.
“It’s already three in the morning, and you’re telling me this now? Why not just wait and remember after the exam’s over?”
Knowing I was in the wrong, I burrowed a little further into him, settling into a more comfortable position, pretending not to have heard.
Before long, I drifted off to sleep without realizing it.
…
Determined not to let the kid oversleep, Zhou Haiyan woke before six.
He went across to my room, gathered the sheets and clothes from the laundry basket, took them to the bathroom, and soaked and scrubbed them in cold water.
Worried it would be awkward if I saw them first thing in the morning, he set them in a basin once washed, without hanging them out yet.
Once the house was tidied up and breakfast made,
only then did he come to wake me.
“It’s seven, wake up.
“Seven-oh-five, get up now.
“Seven-ten, Tang Heqing!
“If you don’t get up now you’re done for!”
No amount of calling woke me. No amount of shaking woke me.
Zhou Haiyan took a deep breath, bent down, and simply scooped me up off the bed, one arm behind my knees.
Then he quickly put slippers on my feet and half-carried, half-pushed me toward the bathroom.
The whole time, he consoled himself:
Well, at least she’s not completely dead to the world.
At least when he squeezed toothpaste onto the brush and held it out, I could take it on instinct even with my eyes shut.
At least when he pressed a hot towel to my face, even half-asleep I still instinctively yelped that it was too hot.
…
I’d slept so deeply that by the time my mind fully cleared, I found myself already holding a cup of milk with a piece of bread between my teeth.
I stared, dumbfounded.
Zhou Haiyan, expressionless, pointed at the wall clock. “It’s seven-fifteen. You’ve got five minutes to get dressed and pull yourself together.”
The exam started at seven-thirty, and it took ten minutes just to walk to school.
My heart lurched. I crammed the rest of the bread into my mouth in two or three bites.
Then bolted straight for my room.
Auntie had said the temperature would drop sharply today, and though the heating inside made it hard to tell how cold it really was, I was terrified of freezing to death outside, so I threw on every sweater and thermal layer I could get my hands on.
By the time I came rushing back downstairs, it was exactly seven-twenty.
I grabbed my bag and made for the door.
“Bye, big brother! I’m off!”
The words had barely left my mouth when a hand closed around my fate from behind, seizing me by the throat, so to speak.
I turned to find Zhou Haiyan already changed into different clothes, his voice grave.
“You think you can still run? Isn’t your stomach still hurting?”
Honestly, it kind of still was.
As if he already knew, the next second he turned around and crouched down in front of me.
“Get on. I’ll carry you there.”
Given the choice between walking myself and being carried, I chose the latter without a shred of hesitation.
Stepping outside, I realized it was snowing—the sky a dull, hazy gray, cold wind rustling through feather-like flakes drifting through the air.
Zhou Haiyan carried me the whole way, walking fast and steady.
I held the umbrella up, resting quietly against his back, looking at the bare stretch of his collar in front of me, and wound my own fuzzy wool scarf around his neck too, without a word.
The arm hooked under my legs tightened, and I was hoisted up a bit higher.
“Big brother, are you tired?”
“Tired, my ass. You barely weigh anything. It’s just that you’re all bundled up like a ball and keep slipping down, making it hard to get a good grip.”
“…”