In the spring of March, willow branches sprouted new buds. Bei Yao walked beside Pei Chuan, telling him in a low voice: “I’ll tell you a secret.”

“Mm.”

“My mom is going to give me a little brother.”

Pei Chuan was somewhat surprised and glanced at her.

The young girl’s steps were as cheerful as a young swallow’s, but her tone was lowered: “At the latest, this month, my little brother will be born.”

In 2004, the country hadn’t yet opened the two-child policy and was implementing family planning—families were only permitted to have one child. Slogans were posted on every street and alley: “Fewer births, better births, happy life” and “Girls can also shoulder heavy responsibilities.”

Zhao Zhilan was in her thirties when she got pregnant with a second child. She had been quite embarrassed about it originally, but seeing her daughter’s happy appearance without any reservations, she felt at ease and once again experienced the joy of being a mother.

Zhao Zhilan had secretly discussed with Bei Licai: “Will Yaoyao overthink it and be unhappy?”

“I don’t think so.” Bei Licai touched his wife’s belly. “When this child grows up, he can also share a lot of pressure for his sister.”

The couple planned to rent a house outside. They would tell people that Zhao Zhilan had gone back to her parents’ home to visit relatives. When the time came and the second child was born, they would honestly register the household and pay the fine.

Since she was already pregnant, they couldn’t bear to terminate it. This March happened to be the season when little Bei Jun would be born.

Pei Chuan asked Bei Yao: “How do you know it’s a brother? What if it’s a sister?”

Bei Yao thought to herself that she just knew. She brushed away the branches above her head: “I dreamed it. It’s okay—if it’s a sister, I’ll like her just the same.”

“You hope it will be born?”

Bei Yao nodded vigorously. Her eyes were filled with gentle, expectant radiance. Pei Chuan frowned.

“Aren’t you afraid it will take away your parents’ love?”

“Not afraid.” She answered with a smile. “He shares the same blood as me. We’re family.” In her memory was little Bei Jun’s solid, adorable appearance. Thinking of the child not yet born, her heart softened terribly.

Besides her joy, the young girl asked him: “Pei Chuan, do you want a little brother or sister?”

Bei Yao asked this with some anxious, probing intent, because she knew that by the time they reached high school, Pei Chuan’s parents had long since divorced, and Pei Chuan’s father had found him a stepmother. The stepmother had brought along a daughter the same age as herself.

In her previous life, Bei Yao hadn’t been close to Pei Chuan and never knew what Pei Chuan’s attitude toward this sister was.

“No.” He answered flatly.

“Oh.” Bei Yao worried in her heart—how sad he would be in the future.

Bei Yao returned home and happened to encounter her father taking some daily necessities to go out.

Bei Licai: “Yaoyao’s back. I’m going to see your mom.”

“Can I come too? I’ve finished my homework.”

“Let’s go. I’ll lock the door.”

Bei Licai had also bought a motorcycle in the past couple years, while the Pei family’s motorcycle had long been replaced with a rather impressive car.

Bei Yao sat on her father’s motorcycle. The wind blew gently on her cheeks. Today was March 24th, Friday. Tomorrow would be the day little Bei Jun was born—he would be born at two in the morning. Even though Bei Yao knew all this, she couldn’t help feeling nervous.

Zhao Zhilan, sporting a big belly, saw her daughter come after school and gently touched her head.

After the family finished dinner, Zhao Zhilan frowned: “My water broke.”

Bei Licai immediately said, “I’ll take you to the hospital.”

Fortunately it was a second child. Zhao Zhilan wasn’t panicked at all: “Send Yaoyao back first. The pain hasn’t started yet—it’s still early.” She turned to look at Bei Yao. “Go sleep. Tomorrow come to the hospital to see Mom and little brother or little sister. Are you afraid of staying home alone at night?”

Bei Yao shook her head and encouragingly held Zhao Zhilan’s hand.

That night as Zhao Zhilan gave birth, Bei Yao prayed in her room that everything would go smoothly.

~

Rain fell at night. Strong winds moved the treetops, rain splattered everywhere, and intermittent thunder accompanied the scene outside the window.

On the fourth floor across from the neighborhood, a family farce was playing out.

A week ago, a high-end foreign lipstick had appeared in Jiang Wenjuan’s purse.

Pei Chuan was the first to see it. The lipstick fell out of the purse. Jiang Wenjuan panicked for a moment, then frantically picked it up under her son’s silent gaze and put it in her bag.

“Mom had a colleague bring it.”

He clearly hadn’t asked yet, but Jiang Wenjuan was so guilty she found an excuse herself.

Pei Chuan said nothing. Few people in this world could successfully lie in front of him. Unless he was willing to tolerate such lies.

He gave a light “Mm” and pushed his wheelchair away. Until now, he still wanted a complete family.

But paper can’t contain fire. Not long after, Jiang Wenjuan herself laid everything out with Pei Haobin.

The master bedroom light was on. Jiang Wenjuan said, “Let’s divorce. I’ve fallen for another man. He’s a doctor at our hospital.”

As an excellent criminal police officer, Pei Haobin still felt the sky was falling when faced with his wife’s emotional affair: “Jiang Wenjuan! How could you do such a thing? Are you still worthy of being a wife, worthy of being a mother? If I hadn’t discovered the messages on your phone, were you planning to make me a cuckold for life!”

Jiang Wenjuan covered her face and cried: “I know I’ve wronged you, wronged Xiao Chuan, but…” She paused. Tears streamed down past the corners of her mouth. “But whose fault is all this? Since Xiao Chuan was four years old, whenever I sleep beside you, I have nightmares all night. In my dreams it’s all bloody. I hold a pair of severed legs, crying until my eyes go blind. And you’re out fighting organized crime. I scream and scream, but no one can save me.”

Heavy rain poured down. Pei Chuan’s face was pale as he quietly listened behind the door.

“Right in front of me, they cut off Xiao Chuan’s legs…” She covered her mouth, sobbing aloud. “You fulfilled your career. I had nightmares for years. You’re a good police officer, but you’re not a good father.”

Jiang Wenjuan sneered coldly: “I despaired. Whenever I see Xiao Chuan, I remember what a cold-hearted man his father is—for his country, he can abandon his wife and child. I dream of everything—the first time my hands were cut off, the second time my ears were cut off. As long as I see Xiao Chuan’s stumps… I…”

She cried and laughed, all the emotions suppressed in guilt and pain over these years completely erupted.

“I even… I’m even afraid to look at him, but he’s my Xiao Chuan!” Jiang Wenjuan’s face was covered in tears. “All these years Dr. Song has been giving me psychological counseling. You can say I’m irresponsible, say I’m despicable, but I really don’t want to live this nightmare life anymore.”

Strong winds knocked over potted plants on the windowsill. The crisp sound was particularly frightening in the night.

Pei Haobin sat dejectedly by the window, his hand wiping across his face. Tears seeped through the man’s fingers: “I’m sorry.”

Jiang Wenjuan wailed and cried. She covered her face with the blanket, afraid the crying would carry out and disturb her son next door.

In the pitch darkness, Pei Chuan held a cup of tea that had gone cold—originally brewed for Jiang Wenjuan.

His pupils held not a trace of color. After a long while, amid the woman’s suppressed crying, he pushed his wheelchair toward his own room.

In the dark night, Pei Chuan didn’t turn on the light.

He groped his way onto the bed and watched the lightning and thunder outside the window.

So people who can’t be kept could never be kept. Even though he secretly told himself that if he forgave his mother and she calmed down, everything would get better.

But what she feared…

He closed his eyes. It was himself.

As long as he, this cripple, existed for one day, his mother couldn’t even sleep well. How laughable.

Pei Chuan felt cold—the world was quiet and cruelly cold. His disability had become his mother’s nightmare. Instead, because he was young, he vaguely couldn’t remember clearly that kind of pain. What he remembered more were people’s complex, sympathetic gazes.

He thought that having lost both legs, if he studied hard, was obedient and sensible, and in the future relied on his hands to become a person with contributions and value to society, he could be like other people’s children and become his parents’ pride.

But it turned out none of this was useful. As long as he lived for one day, he would be his father’s shameful medal and his mother’s terrifying nightmare.

The wind was fierce, like painful howling. That little wintersweet tree in the neighborhood that had only bloomed once—its branches broke and it fell silently in the dark night.

~

On March 25th, a baby weighing a full seven jin lay in swaddling clothes.

Bei Yao had waited anxiously all night. Early in the morning she was picked up by Bei Licai to go to the hospital. Bei Licai said cheerfully: “You guessed right—it really is a boy.” Afraid his daughter would misunderstand that the family favored sons over daughters, he quickly added, “When this kid grows up, we’ll make him be a bodyguard for our lovely Yaoyao.”

In the morning breeze, her clear laughter rang out crisply.

Little Bei Jun was wrapped in a small jacket cloth prepared early. The temperature had dropped last night—he needed to stay warm. Zhao Zhilan lay on the bed in the maternity ward, smiling as she said: “Come see your little brother. He’s sleeping beside me.”

Bei Yao leaned over. The just-born baby’s cheeks were rosy red and wrinkled, his face half the size of a palm. He couldn’t be called even slightly pretty or cute.

However, his tiny nostrils breathed with effort. Each intake of air was life’s initial effort and tenacity.

Bei Yao’s features were gentle as she looked at him and smiled.

“Mom, what’s little brother’s name?”

“Your dad and I discussed it before. His given name will be Bei Jun. See if you want to give him a nickname or something?”

Bei Yao curved her almond eyes: “The given name is great—protecting home and defending country. For a nickname, just call him Jun Jun.”

Zhao Zhilan laughed: “That’s what I thought too.”

Having an additional child in the family was a great joy for the Bei family, but also a huge burden. Bei Yao’s grandmother came over to help look after the child and wash diapers. In the small hospital room, the family busied themselves around the new life.

In 2004, very few families could afford to use disposable diapers. Most of the Bei family’s money had been lent to her uncle who had hit someone with his vehicle—who knew what year they’d get it back. Little Bei Jun could only wear cloth diapers. The diapers were washed repeatedly, scalded with hot water, then hung in the sun to dry. After being disinfected and sun-dried, they were used again.

Zhao Zhilan didn’t have much milk. When Bei Jun got bigger, he would probably need to drink formula.

Bei Yao also helped look after her little brother. After a few days, Zhao Zhilan left the hospital and returned to the rental house.

Both Zhao Zhilan and Bei Licai figured they’d wait until the child was bigger before registering the household and returning home.

Having a second child meant a fine of tens of thousands of yuan. With this, the expenses became unimaginably large.

Bei Licai said guiltily: “Yaoyao, this summer we can’t buy you new clothes. Next summer when Dad gets his salary, I’ll buy you new clothes, okay?”

Bei Yao shouldered her backpack and shook her head with a smile: “Doesn’t Cousin Xiao Cang have some old clothes? They’re all pretty and quite new. I can wear hers. Little brother is small—his clothes should be bought better. Oh right, summer’s coming soon. We need to buy him prickly heat powder too.”

Bei Licai patted his daughter’s shoulder with affection.

Bei Yao knew her parents weren’t the type to favor sons over daughters, so she didn’t mind at all. She walked briskly to school, wanting to quietly share the news of her little brother’s birth with her good friends.

When Bei Yao arrived at the classroom, Pei Chuan was already there.

In the faint morning light shining on the young man’s cold, pale face, even before Bei Yao had spoken to him, she sensed the desolate coldness emanating from him. Like a traveler who had stood in wind and snow for two days and two nights—cold without a trace of human warmth.

Bei Yao saw he was dressed thinly. She quickly pulled open her backpack zipper, took out her pink water bottle, and placed it on his desk.

Both Pei Chuan and Bei Yao were diligent people. When they arrived at the classroom, only a few scattered students were seated.

Hearing the sound, Pei Chuan’s unfocused eyes moved to her water bottle.

She hugged her backpack, fastening the zipper. Bei Yao didn’t know what had happened to him. Her tone carried the warmth of a morning greeting as always: “It’s not summer yet. You should wear more in the morning. There’s hot water in the bottle—warm your hands.”

Sluggishly, he reached out to hold her pink water bottle.

Heat traveled from his fingertips upward. His cold fingers gained sensation. Her bottle had a laughing Winnie the Pooh on it. He looked at it and asked Bei Yao softly: “Was your little brother born?”

“Mm!” She quietly leaned near his ear. “I didn’t guess wrong—it’s a little brother, not a little sister. He’s still so small.”

The young girl’s voice rippled with joy. Her breath was sweet, carrying the scent of breakfast milk and blooming lilacs.

“Pei Chuan, will you come with me after school to see him?”

“No.” He said in a low voice. “Give this to him.”

Pei Chuan placed a bracelet in her hand.

Bei Yao stared blankly at the small silver bracelet in her hand. This was the smooth bracelet babies wore, with two small silver bells attached. It felt cool and heavy in her palm.

If not for this substantial weight, Bei Yao would have thought it was an imitation toy bracelet from the school store.

Bei Yao found it burning to hold. This was the first time in her life seeing such valuable jewelry. She stammered: “Where—where did you get so much money to—to buy this?”

“Why do you care so much?” He said flatly. “For your little brother.” Weren’t you looking forward to his birth?

Bei Yao didn’t dare accept it. She was stunned by this pure silver bracelet. In an era when a packet of spicy strips cost fifty cents and an ice pop also cost fifty cents, how expensive must this little silver bracelet be?

Seeing her flustered appearance, Pei Chuan said flatly: “Just tell your mom my dad bought it.”

“I don’t want this. Pei Chuan, take it back.”

“If you don’t want it, throw it away.” He released her water bottle, his tone completely flat. As if it weren’t a valuable bracelet but insignificant trash.

How could Bei Yao dare throw it away? She sat back in her seat, her little face distressed as she secretly touched the substantially heavy silver bracelet in her pocket.

Pei Chuan didn’t turn back to see how the young girl struggled. He opened his book but couldn’t read it. Pei Chuan was slightly distracted.

His parents had respectable jobs, and their colleagues—uncles and aunties—all had decent family circumstances. Therefore, Pei Chuan had a lot of allowance every year. He’d saved for nearly ten years but had nowhere to spend money. He probably had a savings figure that all children couldn’t imagine.

Yet he had never given Bei Yao anything.

He quietly lowered his eyes. Since he was five years old, never.

When he was little it was because he didn’t understand. When he grew up, he understood he couldn’t give. The lesson from Shang Mengxian was already profound enough. Anything associated with the name “Pei Chuan,” once tinged with romantic colors, would become dirty and shameful, subject to ridicule.

Bei Yao prepared gifts for him every year—sometimes stringing safety knots, sometimes boys’ toy guns, or pillows she made herself.

The gifts he originally should have given her had accumulated for many years, ultimately becoming a bracelet given to the little baby in her family.

A bracelet without any romantic connotations wouldn’t invite criticism or tarnish her reputation. Even she herself wouldn’t understand or overthink it.

After school, Pei Chuan still left without waiting for Bei Yao.

Bei Yao watched the young man’s gradually retreating back, unable to figure out whether he was in a bad mood. Year by year he grew up. “Pei Not Happy” had also become the harder-to-understand “Pei Profound.” She didn’t even know how to find out what had happened to him or how to comfort him.

Bei Yao went home, thought about it, took out a postcard Cousin Xiao Cang had given her, and quietly wrote on it.

“Unhappy Pei,

Are you sure you’re okay?

Anything on your mind?”

Bei Yao wrote “To Pei Chuan” on the envelope cover, then went downstairs to the opposite building and dropped it in the green mailbox at Pei Chuan’s home.

Since the matter with Shang Mengxian, no matter what emotions Pei Chuan had, he wouldn’t show them in front of her. He seemed to have grown up all at once, while the girl trying to protect him couldn’t keep up with his growth rate.

Bei Yao was afraid he was sad without her knowing, so she could only think of every clumsy method to approach the aloof young man. She used simple words to ask him—if he didn’t want to answer, he could treat it as an ordinary English practice game. It wouldn’t embarrass him. Bei Yao hoped to receive his reply in her family’s dust-covered mailbox. She knew he went to the mailbox every day to get the fresh milk they subscribed to.

However, even after spring passed, Bei Yao never received a reply from Pei Chuan. Instead, little Bei Jun had grown, no longer rosy red and wrinkled, becoming pink, tender, and adorable.

~

That letter was locked by Pei Chuan in a box together with various odd things—from a yellowed bamboo dragonfly to a March letter—all pressed at the bottom of the box, becoming everything that must be ignored and forgotten.

Although Jiang Wenjuan and Pei Haobin hadn’t divorced yet, the relationship at home had already dropped to freezing point.

Several times Jiang Wenjuan saw Pei Chuan, opened her mouth wanting to say something, but ultimately said nothing. Instead, she smiled and asked him how he was doing at school and which high school he wanted to attend in the future.

Although Pei Chuan didn’t know their final discussion results, it was easy to guess—they probably planned to tell him about the divorce after he finished the high school entrance exam.

How laughable.

A father who felt guilty toward him, a mother who had nightmares when she saw him. They also had moments of finally considering him. Everyone was trying their best to piece together the illusion of completeness, so Pei Chuan cooperated with the act.

He just knew clearly that his heart was cold—cold as an abyss with no bottom in sight.

In August, Jiang Wenjuan moved out. She brushed her hair by her ear and said to her son: “Mom has to go on a business trip. I’ll be back in a while. Study hard. Is there any gift you want?”

“No. Have a safe trip.”

Under her son’s calm, profound gaze, Jiang Wenjuan felt some panic, but she still acted as if nothing was wrong and left.

Pei Chuan knew she couldn’t wait to rush toward her “happiness.”

After Jiang Wenjuan had been gone a long time, Pei Chuan returned to his room. He pressed the red button in his hand. Static from electric current came through the earphones.

A man’s voice with a laugh came through: “Why did it take so long to come?”

Jiang Wenjuan answered: “I had to explain to my son that I’d be gone quite a while. I told him I was going on a business trip.”

“This won’t work. You have to tell him the truth eventually.”

“I know, but he has to take the high school entrance exam. Pei Haobin and I discussed it—we’ll tell him after he finishes the exam.”

“Then…” The man’s voice was somewhat hesitant. “After you divorce, who will your son stay with?”

A long silence on the other end.

Pei Chuan coldly pressed the end button, then destroyed the wiretap main control button. For the first time, he hated that he had such talent in electronic technology. He had held onto one last shred of hope, hoping Jiang Wenjuan really was going on a business trip. But his mother still abandoned him in the year before he had completely grown up.

These disabled, nightmare-bringing stumps of his—in this lifetime, he would never let anyone see them again.