The other bedroom was for Xiao Mu.

Ye Yuncheng couldn’t manage the stall on his own — he needed help. Xiao Mu was strong, dependable, and cooperative. He wasn’t particularly sharp, but he understood the basic rules of the world and knew how to take care of himself.

After a few unhappy experiences with work, Xiao Mu had become somewhat withdrawn. He was dissatisfied with every job Liu Qiaohong tried to introduce him to — either shutting himself in his room or crouching pitifully outside Ye Yuncheng’s door, sticking close and refusing to go.

For Xiao Mu, Ye Yuncheng — the person who had watched him grow up without ever treating him with contempt — was family. When he was hurt and needed comfort, he came back. Ye Yuncheng didn’t have the heart to turn him away.

Fang Zhuo understood this. She let out a quiet breath. “Alright.”

“You should stay at school — it’s more convenient,” Ye Yuncheng said. “Uncle doesn’t have a bed or any furniture here. You’d be uncomfortable, and it would affect your studying. Besides, Lielie lives at school too. If he’s by himself, what will he do? You two can keep each other company on weekends, study together in the classroom.”

Two sentences, and he had found two occasions to mention “studying.” Fang Zhuo had no trouble understanding his intent.

Ye Yuncheng had clearly never intended for Fang Zhuo to be part of his venture from the outset. The early stages would inevitably be grueling — that was adult work, and it couldn’t be handed off to a student.

Over by the window, Yan Lie was taking photographs. Without turning around, he added his piece: “Exactly — we’re all family. How could you bear to abandon one of us?”

He said it with such easy conviction that Fang Zhuo found herself with nothing to say in response.

Yan Lie turned back around and said: “Right, Uncle?”

Ye Yuncheng nodded. “That’s right.”

Yan Lie said: “I’ll go bring over the mattress this afternoon.”

Ye Yuncheng was bewildered. “What?”

“My family’s place is here in A City — nobody lives there right now,” Yan Lie said. “I’ll bring the mattress over for now, and you can return it once Xiao Mu gets here with your bedding. You can’t keep sleeping on the floor.”

Ye Yuncheng immediately said: “That’s not right. Your family isn’t home — I can’t just take your things.”

“It’s just a mattress. Once Xiao Mu brings yours over, I’ll take it back.” Yan Lie was matter-of-fact about it. “Aren’t we family? Why are you being like this with me?”

Ye Yuncheng laughed despite himself, not sure whether to be exasperated or touched.

Fang Zhuo ignored both of them. She put her school bag down, pulled out her homework, and spread it across the bay window ledge in the bedroom. Ye Yuncheng, seeing this, lowered his voice so as not to disturb her.

Yan Lie took out his books too and sat down beside her.

The bay window wasn’t a comfortable workspace — there was nowhere to put their feet, and the height was awkward. Both of them had to hunch forward over their assignments.

Ye Yuncheng felt this arrangement wouldn’t do. He disassembled his small folding cart and managed to piece together a makeshift desk of sorts. Then he stood behind them for a moment, frowning with concern. “Maybe you two should head back to school this afternoon? I’ll go make lunch first.”

In truth, everything he’d moved here had already been transported once by a neighbor’s truck — a smaller vehicle, with limited space. He’d prioritized the tools of his trade. He had been planning to rent a proper moving van over the next few days to bring over his daily necessities. Xiao Mu had been called back to his great-uncle’s place for New Year and wouldn’t return until the third. Ye Yuncheng had figured he’d make do temporarily and get everything sorted once Xiao Mu was back — that way he’d only need to hire a truck once.

About half an hour later, a savory aroma drifted in from the kitchen. It was impossible to concentrate.

The two of them put their pens down and quietly speculated on what was for lunch. Before they’d reached a conclusion, Ye Yuncheng came to call them to the table.

Lunch was noodles.

The broth was a simple tomato and egg base. Minced pork — finely chopped — was braised with tofu in a rich, glossy sauce, then spooned over the top as a topping. It was the kind of thing that made you want to eat immediately.

Fang Zhuo liked spice; she was the only one of the three who could handle heat. Yan Lie couldn’t tolerate it at all — even a little would give him mouth sores.

After learning this, Ye Yuncheng had made a point of learning how to prepare a proper chili sauce from the parents’ group chat, which he could also use as a signature condiment for the street stall. After several test batches, he’d finally gotten it right. Today he ladled an extra spoonful into Fang Zhuo’s bowl for her to taste.

Looking at the egg floating in the broth, Fang Zhuo suddenly remembered to ask: “What about the chickens at home?”

“I asked Liu Qiaohong to feed them for me. I’ll go back in a few days to tidy up the yard,” Ye Yuncheng said, looking genuinely regretful. “I actually wanted to bring Ah-Tu along too, but chickens can’t be kept here — it would get very messy.”

Fang Zhuo glanced at Yan Lie. The chicken’s honorary father showed no reaction whatsoever, as though he had entirely forgotten that ungainly offspring of his.

Yan Lie must never be allowed to own a pet. His interest was too short-lived. In the end, someone else always ended up stuck with the responsibility — and it was invariably her.

Yan Lie sat under her gaze without reacting, ate a couple of bites, then looked up and asked: “Is it good?”

Fang Zhuo said, quite simply: “It’s delicious.”

Yan Lie had a small epiphany. “So this is what they mean by ‘beauty makes food taste better.'”

Fang Zhuo: “?”

By the time Fang Zhuo’s bowl was nearly empty, she had worked out what he meant. She lifted her head sharply, fully prepared to mock Yan Lie for being so full of himself — only to find that he had already left the table.

Ye Yuncheng got up to clear the dishes. Seeing her expression, he asked: “What’s the matter?”

Fang Zhuo shook her head with a rueful sigh. “Nothing.”

After the meal, Yan Lie went back to his family’s apartment to retrieve the mattress. Fang Zhuo decided to head back to the village to sweep out the rear yard.

With Ye Yuncheng having been away for over a week, the yard would start to smell if left untended.

She could also go through the things in the house and organize them — that way when he hired a truck, it would be easier for him.

Ye Yuncheng thought this made sense and agreed to it. Before she left, he pulled her aside for a string of reminders:

“It’s New Year, right? Liu Qiaohong has helped us so much, and he’s the one who got the permits approved for us — we’ll be relying on him for things down the road too. It’s right to thank him on holidays. When you go downstairs, buy him something small to take over. Fruit, or whatever. Nothing too expensive — if it’s expensive he won’t accept it. And the eggs at home — I said those belonged to him, but if he insists on not taking them, just go along with what he says and bring a few back.”

Fang Zhuo nodded to show she understood.

“Do you know how to get there?” Ye Yuncheng tucked his hands into his pockets. “I’m not using it right now anyway — take my phone with you. And come back early, alright?”

Fang Zhuo emptied out her school bag, took the small black backpack instead, and headed downstairs. Following the navigation, she went to the nearby supermarket to pick up some fruit.

While carefully choosing apples, she heard the in-store announcements playing an advertisement — the haircare section had a sale on the Bawang anti-hair-loss range, seventy percent off today only.

Fang Zhuo wasn’t thinking of anyone in particular who was going bald. She simply felt that taking precautions in advance was never a bad idea. After all, even the fullest head of hair needed looking after. So she picked up a bottle, went to the checkout, and paid.

This truly was a gift Liu Qiaohong would not be able to refuse.

The outing that afternoon went unusually smoothly — she barely had to wait at any of her bus connections, and arrived at the village entrance half an hour earlier than usual. It put her in a cheerful mood.

Her plan was to sweep the yard first, then go and deliver the New Year wishes to Liu Qiaohong, and finally return to school in good spirits, ready to begin a pleasant evening study session.

She had not expected that when she arrived at her own front gate, she would run directly into Liu Qiaohong himself — collapsing the two errands into one.

Liu Qiaohong was standing at the edge of the dirt path, fiddling with his old bicycle.

He was wearing a black jacket, the back of which was smeared grey and white with dried mud. His head was bowed low, and he was struggling to get a chain back onto its sprocket, not making progress. He looked drained.

Fang Zhuo walked up without deliberately softening her footsteps. When she called out “Liu Qiaohong” — she had taken to calling him by that more informal form of address — the sound still startled him badly.

Liu Qiaohong took two deep breaths to calm down, then belatedly lifted a hand to adjust the hair at his forehead, trying to use his fringe to shield his face.

Fang Zhuo could clearly see the two red marks on his face. Her tone dropped. “What happened to you? Who hit you?”

“It’s nothing,” Liu Qiaohong said, not wanting to get into it. “I slipped and fell. What are you doing back here?”

Fang Zhuo’s mood sank. “A slip and fall can leave marks like those?”

Liu Qiaohong: “Just a work dispute. Forget it. Why are you back?”

Fang Zhuo pressed: “What kind of dispute?”

Liu Qiaohong opened his mouth, then sighed and told her the truth. “I was delivering eggs to them. They didn’t want them — said we were putting on a show. They threw the things out into the road. One of the young women in our department lost her temper and argued with them, and then they got physical.”

Fang Zhuo couldn’t catch her breath. “How could they?!”

Liu Qiaohong kept his head low. “Some poverty you just can’t lift people out of. Never mind. People like that are the minority. Don’t dwell on it — look at you, you’ve turned out so well.”

There was no resentment in his voice. He had probably long since grown used to this kind of thing. Some people had grown accustomed to being supported, with no education and no ambition, willing to forgo even their dignity — what could you do about it?

Only someone young like Fang Zhuo would still feel indignant on his behalf.

Fang Zhuo fumed for quite a while. She helped Liu Qiaohong get the bicycle chain back on properly, and only then remembered her actual purpose. “I came back to sweep out the yard.”

Liu Qiaohong said: “I already swept it for you. I also collected the eggs — they’re in my refrigerator. You’ve come at just the right time, saves me having to send them over.”

Fang Zhuo stood there for a moment, brooding. Then, entirely beside the point, she asked: “Could you hit them back?”

Liu Qiaohong hadn’t expected her to still be stewing over it. He laughed. “The one who got hit is me — why are you so angry about it?”

Fang Zhuo didn’t want good-hearted people to suffer this kind of treatment.

Maybe that was a naive way of thinking. But she simply did not want Liu Qiaohong to have to go through things like this.

Liu Qiaohong said: “We’ve already filed a police report. Those people will probably be held for seven days and fined five hundred. There’s no getting away from it.”

Fang Zhuo felt a little better at that.

Justice has a light of its own.

Liu Qiaohong gave her a gentle tug. “Come on, let’s go.”