Teacher Zhu placed her fingers on the piano keys and sang the first line from the children’s song in the textbook: “In front of the gate, there’s a grapevine…”

In the classroom, over sixty pairs of dark, glistening eyes turned in unison toward Pei Chuan.

The old fan in the June classroom creaked as it turned, emitting a dull, dreary sound. The windows were half-closed, and even the breeze coming through carried the scorching heat of summer—oppressive and blazing.

This year he still didn’t have the strength to resist. His bloodless lips moved: “In front of the gate, there’s a grapevine…”

His voice was hoarse. Because he rarely spoke, his singing didn’t sound fresh and bright like a child’s, but rather like an old phonograph—hoarse and unpleasant. Because he was losing his baby teeth and his front teeth had gaps, his pronunciation wasn’t clear either.

Starting with Chen Hu, a burst of laughter erupted in the classroom.

The children covered their mouths and laughed heartily. In the classroom, the sound of the organ continued.

Pei Chuan bit his lip hard.

Teacher Zhu was still playing, signaling Pei Chuan to continue singing along: “The tender, tender green leaves have just sprouted.”

He fell silent. The fan overhead turned fitfully. Amid the laughter, Pei Chuan no longer opened his mouth.

The heat of his blood rushed straight to his cheeks, more intense than shame itself, yet what showed on his cheeks was a kind of pallor.

Teacher Zhu frowned. First she scolded the children who were laughing in the classroom: “Stop laughing, all of you. What’s so funny about learning to sing?” Then she looked at Pei Chuan. “Continue singing along with the teacher.”

However, no matter how she taught after that, Pei Chuan never opened his mouth again.

His pitch-black pupils fell on the music textbook. Bei Yao saw that his fingers were trembling.

Teacher Zhu was in a bad mood too. This was like an invisible confrontation between teacher and student, as if her authority would be lost if she couldn’t make him open his mouth again today.

Bei Yao felt stifled inside. She was also afraid of the teacher, but she mustered her courage and stood up. Her tender, crisp voice echoed in the classroom, continuing the song after the teacher’s voice: “The snail carries that heavy shell, climbing up step by step. On the tree, two orioles, giggling and laughing at it…”

Her singing also had a whistling sound from her missing teeth, and was even slightly off-key.

However, she sang very loudly. The summer sun shifted, casting a warm silhouette at the classroom doorway. The little girl whose singing was off-key and whistling drew even louder laughter.

Chen Hu pounded the desk: “Hahaha, Bei Yao is so funny.” The teacher asked that legless Pei Chuan to sing, not her, yet she sang anyway and was so funny. Basically not a single note was on pitch.

Pei Chuan’s gaze, which had been lowered all along, slowly lifted.

This year she was six years old, with soft cheeks and a tender voice. Amid everyone’s laughter, her small fists clenched tight, her face flushed red as she sang. He could even see her baby teeth that hadn’t finished changing yet.

She seemed on the verge of tears. Lowering her eyes, she met his gaze, and in the next moment her almond eyes curved into a bright smile.

Missing her front teeth—so ugly.

That’s what he thought.

But he knew that earlier, when the teacher was teaching everyone to sing, Bei Yao had clearly not been off-key.

She had drawn away all the laughter.

~

After that singing incident, Teacher Zhu belatedly realized it hadn’t been appropriate. Although Pei Chuan still never opened his mouth afterward, she never made him sing alone again.

Elementary school time passed as calmly as water. Everyone had grown accustomed to Pei Chuan’s legless appearance and no longer found it strange or peculiar.

His taut nerves experienced the most peaceful period.

The only change was that the soft, adorable little girl beside him changed her hairstyle.

One Monday in third grade, her two buns disappeared. In their place was a small ponytail tied at the back, adding a bit more freshness and a bit less childishness, revealing her fair cheeks with baby fat.

Bei Yao returned to her seat after finishing a game of cat’s cradle with the girl behind her. She heard the low, hoarse voice of the boy beside her: “Where’s your hair ribbon?”

Now Pei Chuan would occasionally talk to her. Each time she heard him speak, she was filled with joy. His heart was like stone—each beat was so difficult.

Bei Yao touched her ponytail. Her childish voice had also gradually changed somewhat, though when she spoke it was still soft: “I lost it. Mom said that in third grade I can’t wear two buns anymore.”

She happily touched the ponytail on her head: “Does it look good now?”

The boy’s thin lips said coldly: “It doesn’t look good.”

Bei Yao rested her chin on the desk and let out a long sigh. She knew she wasn’t as pretty as Minmin. Third-grade little girls were gradually beginning to understand what “pretty” meant and what “plump” meant.

Now her memories had expanded to the first year of middle school. In first year of middle school, Fang Mingjun was the class beauty, while Bei Yao remembered that in first year of middle school, her own cheeks still had baby fat.

Just as in Bei Yao’s memory, the section of road from City C’s Chaoyang Elementary School to the residential complex began reconstruction. Originally a narrow small road, it was now piled with cement and stones.

After school, children liked to linger and play, but now they couldn’t take the main road—they had to take the small road.

Little Bei Yao sadly discovered that everything was just as she remembered. Her uncle hit someone while driving, and her mother emptied the family savings to help pay compensation. Her family was especially poor recently.

Pei Chuan was picked up by Pei Haobin on a motorcycle. On the road, he saw Bei Yao. She was walking with two other little girls, all three of them with smiles on their faces, carrying their schoolbags.

He was still being protected by Pei Haobin in front of the motorcycle.

Pei Chuan suddenly spoke: “Dad, next time let me sit in the back.”

“Why do you want to sit in the back? The front is safer—Dad can keep an eye on you.”

The boy didn’t explain further: “I’ll sit in the back and hold onto your clothes.”

Pei Chuan knew his legs weren’t good, so under his mother’s guidance, he had been training the strength of his arms.

When they got home, they happened to see Zhao Zhilan coming out to throw away trash.

Now Bei Yao walked to and from school by herself. Zhao Zhilan no longer picked her up.

Pei Chuan had Pei Haobin put down the wheelchair. Pei Chuan sat in the wheelchair: “I’ll sit downstairs for a while.”

Although Pei Haobin was surprised, he was gratified by the thought that his son had become more cheerful. He didn’t think much of it: “Call Dad when you want to come home.”

“Okay.”

Pei Chuan waited for Zhao Zhilan to finish throwing away the trash and go home. After a moment of silence, he wheeled himself toward the trash area.

His arms were now stronger than any other child’s. The wheelchair no longer careened wildly in his hands.

He leaned down. The trash area reeked.

Pei Chuan showed no expression. His pale fingers pushed aside the black plastic bag and found the tender green ribbon that had come unraveled, picking it out.

Why didn’t she wear it anymore? Did everything change when you grew up?

Before the children from the residential complex returned, Pei Chuan had already gone back home.

Jiang Wenjuan had prepared dinner. Over these two years, her relationship with Pei Haobin had been bland and indifferent. Both of their work remained busy, yet Jiang Wenjuan’s mood today was obviously very good. She had bought a bottle of beverage and spoke at the dinner table: “A friend I know from the hospital said that Xiao Chuan’s situation now allows for prosthetic limbs to be fitted. He has a friend who does exactly this.”

Pei Haobin frowned: “Is it reliable?”

“Of course.” Jiang Wenjuan looked at Pei Chuan, her expression gentle. “Xiao Chuan will be able to stand up soon. Are you happy?”

Pei Chuan didn’t speak. He curved his lips.

Seeing this, Pei Haobin didn’t say anything more. Pei Chuan would soon be nine years old. Being able to take care of himself was very important. Although currently his son didn’t seem to have any psychological issues, being able to stand up was always a good thing.

Pei Chuan took leave from school to go to the installation facility for examination.

The technician was a kindly uncle. He asked with a smile: “Uncle can examine you, okay?”

Pei Chuan nodded. Warm, large hands touched his residual limbs. Jiang Wenjuan watched anxiously. Under Pei Chuan’s clothing, his hands formed fists. He used all his willpower to endure letting someone touch his residual limbs.

“You’ve been massaging them regularly, right? They’re well-preserved, which makes shaping much easier. When you go home today, practice shaping with temporary prosthetics. I’ll take a mold, and you can come pick up the finished prosthetics after a while.”

Jiang Wenjuan nodded repeatedly.

Pei Chuan looked at the gray, overcast sky. He had almost forgotten what it felt like to walk.

~

Practicing with prosthetics was exhausting. Throughout the entire winter, Pei Chuan underwent this simple, monotonous training.

Those weren’t his legs. They were cold, without warmth.

Their color was also different from his skin. He touched them. So it turned out that after growing up, legs wouldn’t grow back. This was the only substitute.

In the year 2000, prosthetic technology was just developing, newly aligning with international standards. Pei Chuan’s family was considered average middle class and could afford this expense.

At first he couldn’t find his center of gravity and fell hard twice.

However, Pei Chuan didn’t cry. He held onto the bar and practiced seriously and intently until he broke out in a sweat in winter. Jiang Wenjuan covered her mouth, watching her son walk stumblingly, tears streaming down her face.

When spring arrived, Pei Chuan could walk with prosthetics.

With his pant legs down, he was no different from a normal child. A man like Pei Haobin shed tears that night.

Pei Chuan looked at himself in the mirror. The prosthetics were made according to his proportions.

Pei Chuan suddenly realized that if he could grow up normally, he would be taller than many boys.

He smiled, his lips curving.

When fourth grade started, the children in Class One were shocked!

Pei Chuan could stand up! The aloof, unpopular boy—this year his features were refined and handsome. Bei Yao was only one year younger than him, yet she was half a head shorter than him with his prosthetics.

The children didn’t really understand what prosthetics were. To them, the fact that Pei Chuan could stand and walk was like a miracle happening in a cartoon.

Even the proud little goddess Fang Mingjun couldn’t help but look at him several times with astonished eyes.

Bei Yao stared at him blankly. It was fourth grade, and her memories had expanded to the second year of middle school.

Looking at the silent, aloof “flower on the high peak” deskmate doing homework, she recalled something from her memories that seemed very distant.

In his previous life, Pei Chuan had also worn prosthetics, but later he refused them and returned to the wheelchair.

That incident was precisely related to her.