Sometimes Ah Heng wondered if life was just a farce. Before she could even understand why her surname was Yuan, she had already been given the surname Wen.
According to Zhang Sao, when her mother was in confinement after giving birth, she suddenly disappeared from the nursery. Her parents were nearly driven mad with worry. Yet half a month later, her grandfather brought back a baby girl, saying Si’er had been found.
While Yuan Heng lived a simple, impoverished life in Wushui Town, constantly living in fear of her younger brother’s heart condition, that girl took her place and became Wen Si’er.
What did the surname Wen represent? Ah Heng’s father was a renowned naval officer, her mother was a famous pianist, and her grandfather was a political figure. The daughter of such a family undoubtedly deserved to be pampered.
And Wen Si’er, the girl who had taken Ah Heng’s name, was precisely such a person showered with endless love and affection.
This Si’er was excessively excellent. She could dance ballet, and play the piano skillfully, was beautiful, and more remarkably, had an extremely playful and lovable personality. The entire Wen family, including the deceased grandmother, treasured her like a precious pearl. Even grandfather, naturally stern, would beam with pride when mentioning her to others, not to mention her mother who had cherished her daughter in the palm of her hand since childhood.
“Such a pity, such a wonderful child…” Zhang Sao would always say with a face full of sadness when speaking of her.
In the Wen household, perhaps Zhang Sao was the only person Ah Heng could talk to. This elderly woman had lived alone for many years. She had started working as a servant for the Wen family shortly after the old Mrs. Wen had married in, and after various changes, had moved with the family to this estate. Having always been diligent and proper throughout her life, she commanded great respect from all generations of the Wen family.
Actually, Ah Heng’s good relationship with Zhang Sao could be credited to the kitchen.
Yuan’s mother was known in town for her deft hands and culinary skills, famous for both her cooking and soup-making. Ah Heng had grown up immersed in this environment and inherited quite a bit of her expertise.
Once, when Zhang Sao was busy cooking and burned the rice, Ah Heng acted quickly. Seeing half an orange on the table nearby, she squeezed its juice into the rice, stuck some green onion leaves in it, and steamed it over low heat.
Zhang Sao found it puzzling, but after a while, she caught the pure fragrance of the rice. This changed her opinion of the young girl before her, and when free, she would discuss cooking techniques with Ah Heng, carefully teaching her Northern cuisine.
“Flip it three times, carefully now,” Zhang Sao commanded with authority.
Ah Heng casually flipped the food twice with the wooden spatula.
“Wrong, it should be three times,” the elderly woman insisted, taking the girl’s hand and flipping once more.
“Isn’t twice enough? How about four times?” Ah Heng smiled.
“Of course not, when finishing a dish it must be flipped three times,” the old woman replied matter-of-factly.
“Two times isn’t hot enough, four times will burn it,” Ah Heng muttered under her breath.
“You little rascal!” Zhang Sao turned around with a smile, wiping the sweat from Ah Heng’s forehead.
“Ah Po,” Ah Heng called out, her eyes gentle and clear, her voice soft with a pure Southern accent.
Zhang Sao froze as if she hadn’t heard clearly, turning to stir-fry the chicken strips.
“Nai… nai,” Ah Heng said seriously, her lips forming the awkward Mandarin pronunciation.
The old woman continued cooking the chicken strips, paused for a moment, then let out a light sigh.
“Child, if only you were a bit more troublesome.”
Ah Heng remained silent, sniffled, and smiled.
During dinner time, the dining room was always quiet, so quiet that not even the sound of chewing could be heard. Ah Heng ate in small bites, and though it was strange, she had always preferred quietness, so she didn’t feel uncomfortable.
The Wen family had strict rules, particularly against talking at the dining table. However, Si Wan and Si’er usually loved to chat and laugh during meals. Though the elderly man had scolded them several times, it had no effect—once Si’er acted cute, he would let them be.
Now with Ah Heng here, who didn’t like to talk, she was a quiet child, yet the old man somehow felt uncomfortable with this change.
“Father…” Mother Wen gently put down her soup spoon, hesitating to continue.
“Yun Yi, what is it?” The old man frowned, looking at his daughter-in-law.
“Could we… could we bring Er’er back home?” Mother Wen, typically elegant and graceful, now spoke somewhat timidly.
“Si’er is staying in a house where I’ve arranged special care for her, you needn’t worry,” the old man said with displeasure, his gaze sweeping over Ah Heng.
Si Wan continued eating politely, though his brows tightened slightly.
“Father, didn’t you used to dote on Er’er the most?” Mother Wen hesitated, looking toward her father-in-law.
“Enough!” The old man slammed his soup spoon heavily on the table.
Si Wan looked up, somewhat hurt, at the old man. Mother Wen fell silent, her gentle brows knotted with worry.
The surroundings grew quiet. Ah Heng held a mouthful of soup, too awkward to swallow.
“Yun Yi, rather than this, you should get some new clothes for Ah Heng,” the old man sighed, picking up his soup spoon again.
Ah Heng looked at her somewhat dirty school uniform and felt immediately embarrassed.
It wasn’t that there weren’t clothes in the wardrobe, but those clothes belonged to someone else and most looked expensive—she felt uncomfortable wearing them. The clothes she had brought from home were becoming out of season and inappropriate to wear. So she had been alternating between two sets of school uniforms. Unfortunately, today she had physical education class and got her clothes dirty, which caught the old man’s attention.
“I understand.” Mother Wen’s gaze fell on Ah Heng, showing no emotion. Ah Heng lowered her head, slowly swallowing her soup, feeling as if she had a fishbone stuck in her throat.
The school uniform was fine, Ah Heng wanted to say but felt it inappropriate. She secretly glanced at Si Wan, and seeing no particular expression on his face, her anxious heart calmed slightly. She had witnessed Si Wan’s kindness toward Si’er that day at the school gate.
“Ah Heng, are you keeping up with your school work?” The old man softened his tone, looking at his plain granddaughter before him with some regret in his heart. He had, after all, failed this child.
“Yes.” Ah Heng was somewhat surprised, then nodded honestly.
“If there’s anything you don’t understand, let… your brother teach you.” The old man emphasized the word “brother.”
Instantly, Mother Wen and Si Wan’s faces turned pale.
Brother.
Ah Heng’s throat itched, she opened her mouth but couldn’t make a sound, only nodding slightly.
Si Wan’s hand holding the chopsticks trembled imperceptibly. After a moment, he stood up, politely moving his chair: “I’m full.” He turned to leave, his heart in such pain as if being squeezed, naturally having no attention to spare for others’ feelings.
“Yan Xi.” Back in his room, Si Wan put the receiver to his ear, silent for a moment before speaking.
“Hmm?” The other person’s voice was somewhat confused, with a hint of laziness.
“I miss Er’er.” Si Wan’s fingers slowly tightened around the receiver.
“Oh.” The other person was excessively lazy, answering with a single word.
“Ah Xi, I said I miss Er’er!” Si Wan’s voice grew louder, unable to control his pent-up feelings, his eyes slowly reddening.
“Why are you shouting? You little brat, have you gone mad?” The youth’s voice was clear, his words sharp.
“Ah Xi…” Si Wan felt wronged.
“What are you wailing about!” The youth sneered, extremely impatient.
“Do you have to be so fierce every time you talk to me?” Si Wan’s voice weakened, his tone carrying a hint of childishness and helplessness.
“I’ve never been gentle with anyone in my entire life!” The youth’s voice was crystal clear, his crude words somehow having a unique charm when they left his lips.
“Then… what about Lu Liu?” Si Wan paused, carefully asking.
Bang, the other person slammed down the phone.
Si Wan heard the busy signal and knew he had stepped on a sensitive spot, couldn’t help but smile bitterly.
Ah Xi, still… haven’t let go?
Somehow, while missing Er’er, the image of Yan Xi in Si Wan’s mind became increasingly proud and cold, his exquisite features becoming nothing but a mask.
Naturally, many years later, looking at how things turned out, besides bitter smiles, four words struck between his brows like arrows—fate’s cruel joke.
As for Ah Heng, after that brief glimpse in the parking lot, she never saw Si’er again.
In class, people gradually noticed something from Ah Heng’s overly plain dress. Additionally, Ah Heng’s Mandarin was indeed unpleasant, each sentence sounding ridiculously broken. Some snobbish students in the class began to look at her with displeasure. When they heard Ah Heng speak, their smiles carried pitying mockery, pretending not to know as they exchanged glances with nearby classmates, communicating with their eyes, carrying an understanding and superior sense of privilege.
Because she didn’t have decent clothes, because she was poor, therefore, she was pitiful; because her Mandarin was incomplete, and because of her rural accent, therefore, she was shameful.
At first, Ah Heng was still willing to communicate with everyone, but later, she fell completely silent, only maintaining gentle eyes as she watched others laugh and chat.
Xin Dayi, though aware of everyone’s snobbery, felt an inexplicable aversion to Ah Heng because of Si’er’s matter. Weighing both sides, she simply ignored her, treating Wen Heng as a stranger, yet hoping in her heart that Wen Heng would cry or curse loudly because of everyone’s exclusion. This would give her justification to hate her on Si’er’s behalf.
Unfortunately, from beginning to end, Wen Heng never once withheld her smile, gently and tenaciously accepting everything.