That evening when Officer Fu arrived, he had both hands full of gifts.
Mother Zhou said, “Xiao Fu, don’t bring things next time you come.”
Officer Fu’s expression shifted, alarm nearly written across his face.
Mother Zhou hurried to clarify. “What I mean is, we’re all family here, no need to stand on ceremony.”
Only then did he let out a long breath of relief, saying with mock grievance, “Auntie, the way you phrased that scared me half to death—I almost thought tonight’s dinner wasn’t going to be a reunion feast, but my last meal.”
That got a laugh out of Mother Zhou.
After dinner, everyone sat together to watch the Spring Festival Gala.
Mother Zhou pulled out three red envelopes and gave one to each of us.
She said with a smile, “Year after year, may we all stay safe and sound.”
“Thanks, Mom, happy new year.” Zhou Haiyan said it like it was routine.
“Thank you, Mom, happy new year!” It was my first time ever receiving a red envelope, and I couldn’t contain how happy I was.
“Thank you, Auntie, happy new year!!” Officer Fu hadn’t expected to get a red envelope himself either, and looked so excited he nearly jumped out of his seat.
With the mood at its best, I went back to my room and brought out the gifts I’d prepared ahead of time.
For Mother Zhou, I had a scarf and a pair of gloves—she often sat by the door, lost in thought, and now that the weather had turned cold, they’d help keep her warm.
For Officer Fu, a thick knitted hat—winters in the small town were windy, and since he had to be out on patrol duty, he needed to keep his head protected.
Mother Zhou turned the gifts over in her hands, touching them from every angle, utterly delighted, marveling at how skilled my hands were.
Officer Fu, meanwhile, looked close to tears, saying he hadn’t even expected the red envelope, let alone that I’d thought to make him a gift too.
The only one who stayed completely silent through all of this was Zhou Haiyan.
Refusing to give up, he kept staring at my empty hands, and once he confirmed there was nothing left for him,
he gave a pointed little cough.
I pretended not to hear, turning my head back toward the TV.
The coughing grew louder.
A moment later, the cushion beside me sank down.
A warm breath brushed against my ear. “Everyone else got something. Where’s mine?”
I turned, eyes wide, all innocence. “Big brother, didn’t you say you don’t like this kind of thing?”
I’d asked him about it before, and he’d said he never wore scarves or anything like that—he’d even said a man was better off exercising more than wrapping himself up in warm clothes.
Thinking about it, that tracked—he never seemed to feel the cold, and he didn’t even wear thermal underwear in winter!
“…”
He froze, his expression turning increasingly unnatural.
“Who said that? I never said anything like that.”
Then he pretended not to care, staring at the TV. “Fine, whatever, you just forgot about me, that’s all, it’s fine, I’m not the type to hold it against anyone.”
But his eyes clearly weren’t saying the same thing.
Mother Zhou and Officer Fu kept sneaking glances over in our direction while pretending to watch TV.
I got up, pulled a giant knitted sunflower out from behind the couch—it stood a good half my height, and I’d spent an entire half month knitting it.
Zhou Haiyan loved sunflowers—loved them so much that if a client ever came in wanting that design tattooed, he’d give them a forty percent discount without a second thought.
Copying his earlier act, I said, “Oh no, big brother, don’t tell me you don’t like this one either?”
He turned his head, his pupils giving a slight tremble.
Beneath the shock was an unmistakable, undeniable delight.
Realizing what was happening, he suddenly broke into a grin. “Well, well, look at you, getting bold—teasing me on purpose, huh?”
Sensing danger closing in, I quietly took two steps back.
He stood up, one hand braced on the back of the couch, and vaulted over it in one motion, blocking my path in an instant.
I spun around to make a run for it.
He caught hold of my little hair buns, seizing my fate by the throat once again, so to speak, and reached out to tickle me mercilessly.
I dodged, calling out for help as I went.
“Mom, Mom, save me!
“Brother Fu, save me!”
The two of them collapsed onto the couch laughing, helpless with amusement, absolutely no use to me at all.
Amid all the laughter, the sound of the Spring Festival Gala’s comedy skit played on in the background:
“I admit it, I got too caught up in having fun, playing table tennis and hurting everyone around me, I refuse…”
…
That night before bed, I kept feeling like my pillow wasn’t sitting flat.
I moved it aside and found a red envelope and a longevity lock underneath.
Beside them was a small note:
May you have joy in abundance, peace always, free of worry, free of fear.
The handwriting was sharp and forceful, the characters falling across the page like scattered clouds—the writing was every bit like the person himself.
…
Looking back now on the countless moments of happiness in my life, every single frame carries their shadow in it.