After eating two dumplings, Sun Jingcheng left, feeling irritable. He planned to go back to the family compound to pick up Zhou Yu and go to the new district. Passing the crossroads where the roasted goods were sold, this time he found a parking spot, stopped, and queued to buy a bag of roasted chestnuts and frosted hawthorn.

After buying them, he wrapped the roasted chestnuts tightly and securely stuffed them in his down jacket pocket.

Zhou Yu originally hadn’t planned to go back to her parents’ home, but Feng Yiqun accidentally sprained her wrist. She got several medicated plasters from the clinic for her to apply. Then she efficiently chopped meat, mixed filling, kneaded dough, and rolled wrappers. Feng Yiqun made the dumplings. The sprain wasn’t serious—making dumplings was no problem.

The mother and daughter spoke little and didn’t gossip about other families. Usually, they spoke if there was proper business; if not, they each minded their own affairs. The mother-daughter relationship hadn’t always been this strained—it only gradually became strained after Zhou Yu’s father passed away.

Zhou Yu’s father died when she was only in eighth grade, just thirteen or fourteen years old. She had a good relationship with her father… Actually, the family of three had been very harmonious—outsiders praised them. The year her father died, Zhou Yu’s face broke out in acne, and her menstrual cycle became severely disrupted, coming only once every three to five months. Feng Yiqun took her to the hospital many times, seeing both traditional Chinese medicine and Western medicine doctors, but no cause could be found. Finally, it was Sun Youping who suggested she take the child to see a psychologist.

For the next two years, Feng Yiqun took Zhou Yu to Beijing every month. It did work—her face stopped breaking out, and her periods became regular. The doctor’s diagnosis was stress disorder—the child temporarily couldn’t accept the sudden death of a loved one. Some children undergo drastic personality changes and become rebellious; some don’t yet understand the true meaning of death; while children like Zhou Yu who mature early keep it bottled up inside, and when the psychological burden becomes too much, it manifests physically.

After Zhou Yu finished tidying up and came out, Sun Jingcheng honked at her from the roadside. Zhou Yu opened the door and got in: “You don’t need to honk—I can see you anyway.”

“It’s dark at night, I can’t see you clearly.” Sun Jingcheng pulled out the roasted chestnuts like presenting a treasure: “Still warm.”

“I’m too lazy to peel them—my hands get sticky.” Zhou Yu wouldn’t eat them.

“I’m telling you…” Sun Jingcheng was unhappy. “I queued for two hours, and on the way back I specifically wrapped them in my down jacket to keep them from getting cold…”

“Okay, okay, I’ll eat them…”

“Don’t dirty your paws. When we get back, I’ll eat them myself.” Sun Jingcheng tried to take them back.

“You’re the one with paws.” Zhou Yu snatched them back and peeled them herself.

“In a good mood, I see.” Sun Jingcheng said to her.

“I got the lucky coin in the dumplings.” Zhou Yu said.

“Coins are filthy.”

“I’m a person of the dust, not as noble as you.”

“Look at that little mouth going blah blah blah…” Sun Jingcheng was also in a good mood. He opened his mouth, gesturing for her to feed him a frosted hawthorn.

Zhou Yu fed him one and ate one herself, then praised how good they were. She didn’t really like frosted hawthorn, but the one Sun Jingcheng bought from this shop was indeed good.

Sun Jingcheng was even happier.

“You talk as fake as your mom.” Zhou Yu said: “You queued for five minutes at most.”

“How long I queued isn’t important. What’s important is that we can happily eat together.” Sun Jingcheng said.

“If it’s not important, why lie? Five minutes is five minutes…”

“What’s wrong with you? I buy them for you and you complain the queue time was too short?” Sun Jingcheng was speechless.

“I’m not complaining the queue time was short.”

“Then why do you keep harping on my time?”

“I’m saying lying is bad.”

“Isn’t that still harping on my time?”

“Can harping on your time be the same thing as lying?”

“It’s the same thing!” Sun Jingcheng was getting a bit angry. “I happily bought you frosted hawthorn. On the way, I resisted eating even one, thinking I’d wait to pick you up so we could eat together…” As he spoke, a frosted hawthorn was stuffed in his mouth.

“Okay, okay, I was wrong.”

Sun Jingcheng glared at her, finding her tone perfunctory.

Zhou Yu kissed his bulging cheek. Sun Jingcheng’s ruffled feathers were instantly smoothed. The car became quiet. Zhou Yu continued peeling chestnuts, and Sun Jingcheng focused on driving.

The car reached the residential complex parking spot. Zhou Yu raised her hands preparing to get out but was pulled back by Sun Jingcheng, who wiped them with wet wipes. Zhou Yu said to him: “Why didn’t you say earlier there were wet wipes in the car?”

Sun Jingcheng didn’t respond. He locked the car and held her hand as they went upstairs.

But—the two didn’t get along well for even three minutes.

They changed clothes to go to the sports center to play badminton. On the way, they saw a coach who played really well, that kind of effortless technique that made her stop and couldn’t help watching. When it was her turn to play with Sun Jingcheng, he treated her like the daughter of his father’s killer—smack, smack, smack—jumping up to smash with full force, ruthlessly spiking at her.

She just served normally and harmlessly, but he attacked with intense aggressive smashes. She couldn’t understand—the ball she sent over didn’t warrant him jumping up at all…

After ten minutes, she had no energy left. Like a ball girl, constantly picking up balls, constantly picking up balls.

Sun Jingfei had been very busy these past few days, busy with transfer procedures. The apartment was settled—a small three-bedroom in the same complex as Sun Jingcheng’s marital home. Just one was in Phase One, the other in Phase Three. She had committed the great taboo of buying property—being hasty. Originally, she could have negotiated the price down more, but the seller wouldn’t budge a cent.

She spent a bit more money, but Sun Jingfei felt comfortable inside. The interior had only been renovated two years ago. The aesthetic couldn’t be called poor, nor outstanding—decent level. If the procedures went smoothly, after New Year and before Ke Yu started school, mother and son could move in.

The day before yesterday, Eldest Brother and Second Brother came to see the apartment. Hearing she’d already paid the earnest money, they could only say nice things. This afternoon she’d arranged to meet Sun Jingcheng. He came over to look around, walked through, and said aside from the price being a bit high, there were no other problems.

“As long as the apartment has no problems.” Sun Jingfei didn’t care. After viewing it, the siblings returned to the clinic.

On the road, Sun Jingfei mentioned that no one was at their place. Sun Jingcheng said these past two days they’d been staying in the new district. Zhou Yu had opened a gym membership and would go practice whenever she had time. What he didn’t know was that Zhou Yu had done more than just join a gym—she had also secretly signed up for badminton lessons, quietly practicing two hours every day. She was someone who would repay every slight.

When the two arrived at the clinic, Sun Jingfei gestured for him to go upstairs first—she was going to buy cigarettes.

Sun Jingcheng said: “I’ll go with you…”

“No need, no need. You go up first. Mom fried several baskets of delicious things.” Sun Jingfei urged him.

Sun Jingcheng put on his mask and got out of the car, preparing to go up through the clinic. Sun Jingfei reminded him that the clinic required not only scanning codes but also simple personal information registration.

Sun Jingcheng looked fearless. He scanned the code, had his temperature taken, registered his personal information, and swaggered upstairs.

…

Sun Jingfei found a parking spot and sat inside video-calling Ke Yu. Ke Yu had been back at his grandfather’s house for five days. She maintained one video call per day, trying to keep it within two minutes, afraid talking too much would annoy the child, and also there wasn’t much specific to chat about.

When she was fifteen or sixteen, she found everything Mother Sun said annoying. Putting herself in his shoes, she said less when she could. Usually, their mother-son relationship wasn’t bad—no communication barriers. Mainly she didn’t like controlling him. Her so-called non-control didn’t mean letting him grow wild; it just meant not using maternal authority to pressure him.

Comparatively, Ke Yu’s relationship with his father was more harmonious. His father worked at a company with holidays and weekends off, spending more time with him. She was busy year-round, only getting weekends off after climbing to management these past few years. By rights, her qualifications could have gotten her into management earlier, but her education wasn’t sufficient. She later took self-study exams, studying day and night to get a certificate. Her career had drained her a lot over the years—she was even so busy she could only see her son once a month.

Mother and son chatted for two minutes. Ke Yu asked when she was coming back. She gave vague answers, saying this year they’d spend New Year at Grandmother’s house. Ke Yu was a sensible child. He’d long noticed the subtle relationship between his parents but had never pressed for answers.

Upstairs at the clinic, as soon as Sun Jingcheng went up, he got a scolding. Mother Sun had been busy nearly all day, either steaming or frying—the eight-person dining table couldn’t hold it all. Eldest Sister-in-law’s workplace hadn’t released for holiday yet, Second Sister-in-law didn’t even need mentioning, Zhou Yu was in the new district, and even Sun Jingfei had run off early in the morning. She was mainly scolding Sun Jingfei—other people’s daughters come home to help with this and that, but when she came home, she did nothing, just sat there mooching meals.

Sun Jingcheng instantly understood why Sun Jingfei had him go up first. This scolding wasn’t entirely unfair—he accepted it. Mother Sun packed two bags of fried food and told him to take them to his uncle’s house in another district.

Sun Youping had three brothers. He was the second-born. The eldest also lived in the city, and the third had become a live-in son-in-law, far away in a county town over a hundred kilometers away.

Sun Jingcheng carried the items to his uncle’s house. His uncle was also a highly respected veteran traditional Chinese medicine doctor, with more authority than Sun Youping, though he’d retired at home this year. Previously, he’d always worked at the Traditional Chinese Medicine Hospital.

Sun Jingcheng had things to talk about with his uncle. The two chatted for nearly two hours. Only when it got dark and his aunt invited him to stay for dinner did he get up to say goodbye.

He mainly talked with his uncle about studying traditional Chinese medicine through apprenticeship. Before coming, he hadn’t planned to ask, had never thought to ask, but somehow, as they chatted, he naturally asked. Over the years, occasionally he would regret it—regret dropping out of medical university back then to retake the exam for the university and major of his dreams.

But that university and major he’d dreamed of were just so-so. Later, the work he engaged in was completely contrary to his original major. Over these ten-plus years, he’d drifted around… drifting and doing quite a few ventures. If he had to say which made him feel particularly meaningful, it was only those two years teaching in Guizhou.

Back then, he sponsored five children. In the end, only one got into university and still writes to thank him every year. The other four weren’t so lucky—because their learning abilities were average, they successively dropped out of high school to work in factories.

Another thing was that over the years, he’d traveled extensively. Whether in Tibetan areas or remote places, whether local villagers or fellow travelers on the road, when they encountered life-threatening situations, he relied on his limited medical knowledge to help them to the best of his ability, preventing them from worsening or dying before the ambulance arrived.

Half the bookshelf at home was medical books, all types, very miscellaneous. If he encountered something highly specialized that he wasn’t sure about, he would first confirm with his uncle. If his uncle didn’t know, he’d ask more knowledgeable people at the hospital. Over the years, whenever he browsed bookstores, he’d buy a medical book each time.

In other words, over the years—he had been consciously studying medical knowledge, just without any clinical experience. Because he didn’t have a medical license, even dispensing prescription drugs at the clinic was illegal.

Last year when the epidemic broke out in Wuhan, whether in news or online, everyone was praising the greatness of doctors. During that period, Sun Youping was especially proud, walking with his back straight, only watching news and reports about doctors during the home quarantine period. Especially in front of Sun Jingcheng.

This behavior gave him a rebellious psychology. At the time, he chatted with Sun Jingfei, saying doctors being great wasn’t wrong, but it referred to doctors with benevolence and medical ethics, not all doctors in the entire industry. There were too many unethical doctors around, countless numbers. Just he alone knew three.

These words were firstly true, secondly unintentional—he really did know a couple of not-so-great doctors. He also particularly resented taking some people’s behavior as representing the quality of the entire industry. If you looked at issues this way, then when one professional makes a mistake, the entire industry gets scolded.

Sun Youping was thoroughly choked by him and didn’t eat at the same table with him for three days.

He himself had no great career ambitions. As long as he could support his family with some spare pocket money, he was very content. He was very clear in his heart—to earn ten million, you must expend ten million worth of effort; for one million, you must put in one million worth of effort. He wanted to make money, but he also couldn’t completely lose his life. Otherwise, what was the meaning of making money?

His foreign trade company used to be doing okay, but this year it had been somewhat affected by the epidemic and was gradually starting to live off savings. Even so, he remained calm, not feeling truly anxious. He didn’t know where his confidence and assurance came from—he always thought money was easy to earn. Where couldn’t he get a meal?

At the root of it all—he’d never worried about money.

After graduating from university, he partnered with classmates in business ventures. When he earned enough, he’d go play. When he spent it all, he’d come back and earn more. His mind was nimble. Practical experience told him earning money was such an effortless thing. Even after stabilizing his business later, he could confidently hand work over to subordinates. He just wasn’t the type to sit methodically in an office.

His friends always teased him, saying his butt must be different from others’—had nails in it, couldn’t sit in an office chair. Other people making money could break their backs from exhaustion, but for him it was easy and relaxed, and he lived beautifully.

Sun Jingcheng replied to them: What cars do you drive, and what car do I drive? His friends drove either new Mercedes or BMWs—anyway, all cars over half a million yuan. Sun Jingcheng still drove the car Second Brother had discarded years ago. He was used to driving it and too lazy to change.

Sun Jingcheng made friends without discrimination—all walks of life, all ages. The old man across the street who repaired and inflated tires—he could chat with him. Every time he went to inflate tires, the old man wouldn’t accept money. In the end, they’d argue until their faces were red—giving money meant looking down on the old man!

But now, these past two or three months, he vaguely felt somewhat dissatisfied with the status quo and genuinely felt anxious. He couldn’t pinpoint the specific reason—just felt listless. Occasionally when driving past a certain crossroads, this feeling would become particularly intense.

In the past, when his childhood friends posted about their children or showed affection, he didn’t think much of it. But recently, whenever they arranged to meet up in the group, someone would shout—”Can’t do it, I have to tend to kids and accompany my wife, can’t compare with Cool Brother.” Then a group of people would start expressing envy toward him, and that’s when he’d get especially annoyed.

He was famous in his friend circle as Cool Brother.

Fortunately, during this period, his anxious emotions gradually found an outlet. He attributed everything to “midlife crisis” and also accepted this crisis with peace of mind.

People get older, right? Being vulnerable is totally normal.