The third floor was a children’s toy arcade—compared to the second floor, this place was innocent and cheerful.

Pei Chuan looked down at her. From the left pocket of her school uniform, she took out a red envelope marked “Peace and Happiness.” Bei Yao was completely sincere: “Thank you for saving Bei Jun. My mom said our family doesn’t have much to thank you with. She wanted to come see you, but you’re not living at the Pei family home anymore.”

His dark eyes fell on the red envelope.

The young girl’s cheeks were pink: “Um… there’s not much in the red envelope. My family is somewhat poor, as you know. This is my parents’ heartfelt intention.”

In all his years, this was the first time anyone had given Pei Chuan money.

He knew his reputation at their Sixth Middle probably wasn’t good, yet she still gave it. Pei Chuan said in a low voice: “No need. I’m not short on money.”

She looked up at him, her gaze pure: “Alright then.” Bei Yao put the red envelope back in her left pocket, then took something out of her right pocket.

His gaze fixed on her hand, and for a moment his heartbeat quickened.

The young girl’s tone was soft and sweet as she asked his opinion: “Can you accept this?”

A tube of “Jing Wan Hong” burn ointment—in this era it only cost a few yuan.

“Pei Chuan, does your hand still hurt?” Her voice was light and soft, threading its way into his heart strand by strand.

He knew he shouldn’t accept it, that he really couldn’t accept it—he should refuse her just like he’d refused that weightless red envelope. But his body stiffened, the words caught in his throat, his heartbeat accelerating as he extended his right hand.

The lines on Pei Chuan’s palm formed a single crease.

They said hands like this hit people painfully, but could endure hardship and were industrious. The young man practiced boxing—his knuckles were wide and pronounced, and his palm still bore redness and swelling that hadn’t subsided.

She gently placed it in his palm: “From now on, you can’t wash your hands with boiling water, understand?”

His voice was barely audible: “Mm.”

She’d discovered it last night when tying hydrogen balloons for him. Connecting it to the water stains still steaming on his room floor, she’d understood. Bei Yao had gone to the school infirmary first thing this morning. It was now six-thirty in the evening. Bei Yao hadn’t eaten, and she had to get back before eight for the first evening self-study session.

Pei Chuan knew she had to leave.

He gripped the ointment box tightly and put it in his pocket.

“Goodbye, Pei Chuan. I’m going back.”

He watched her go downstairs, the young girl’s slender, delicate figure gradually walking away.

The door to the private room on the second floor was open. The food had gone completely cold, and Pei Chuan still hadn’t returned. Jin Ziyang was carefree, saying with a mischievous smile: “Let’s go find him.”

They went upstairs. Pei Chuan stood by the window, hands inserted in his pockets, quiet and wordless.

This young man, silent as a mountain, was nothing like the Brother Chuan they knew.

Jin Ziyang said: “Brother Chuan? Still eating?”

Pei Chuan shook his head: “Not eating.”

~

The clear autumn of October brought National Day—a day of universal celebration when schools were also on holiday.

The military parade was showing on television, the nation’s development prosperous and flourishing.

On the evening of October second, rain began to fall. Light rain pattered down, yet it couldn’t stop the lively celebration outside the windows. The stronger the nation, the better the people’s lives. Pei Chuan was changing clothes in his room when suddenly a small button fell out.

His expression froze for a moment.

That button-shaped remote control was like Pandora’s box, tempting him to open it.

He hadn’t thrown it away, but he also hadn’t pressed it open even once.

Pei Chuan picked it up and placed it on the edge of his desk, then turned to go shower in the bathroom.

After washing, he returned, but his gaze stuck to it again.

He pressed his lips together and told himself—just listen this once.

He pressed it open and turned on his Bluetooth earpiece. The small light on the button pulsed in the southeast direction, like his irregular heartbeat, pounding against his chest with anticipation and oppression. After the summer camp, it still hadn’t been damaged.

After a brief burst of static in the earpiece, he heard the same pattering rain on the other end.

Then Zhao Zhilan said: “Yao Yao, bring in the laundry.”

The young girl answered sweetly: “Mom, I already brought it in.”

Zhao Zhilan rushed into the house. Her daughter was doing homework in her room, and her son Bei Jun had fallen asleep on the sofa hugging his little sword. Bei Jun was curled up in a ball, tears on his cheeks, covered with a blanket Bei Yao had draped over him.

He was startled awake. Opening his eyes to see Zhao Zhilan, he burst into loud tears: “Mom!”

Zhao Zhilan was startled by his crisp little voice: “What’s wrong?”

“I threw Sister’s doll in the washing machine. I didn’t mean to.”

Zhao Zhilan’s brow twitched. She rushed to their balcony and saw that indeed all the clothes had been neatly collected. Then looking in their trash can, she saw a panda toy whose stitching had come loose, its color washed out, cotton stuffing turned outward, barely alive.

Zhao Zhilan turned back to see her daughter Bei Yao stroking Bei Jun’s head. Bei Jun was even more distressed: “I didn’t mean to. I saw the little bear was dirty.”

Zhao Zhilan felt like giving this energetic, meddlesome little troublemaker a beating.

Zhao Zhilan said: “This doll has been with your sister for nearly twelve years. You should call this panda ‘Big Brother,’ yet you threw it in the washing machine and ruined it!”

Bei Jun’s lashes were wet. He looked three parts like Bei Yao, like a pretty porcelain doll. Grief welled up from within: “I’m sorry, Big Brother Bear. Bei Jun was wrong.”

Bei Yao couldn’t help laughing: “It’s okay, Sister doesn’t blame you.”

Zhao Zhilan said sternly: “Well, your mother blames you! Come here and take your punishment!”

Bei Jun went over sniffling. Zhao Zhilan gave his little bottom a smack. Bei Jun didn’t even dodge. After taking the hit, he said: “I have pocket money. I’ll buy Sister an identical one.”

When this child was mischievous, he gave people headaches, but when he was sensible, he broke their hearts.

Zhao Zhilan wanted to say, “Where would you buy a toy from twelve years ago that wasn’t even unique?” But she saw Bei Yao shake her head. Though disappointed inside, she knew Bei Jun hadn’t done it on purpose. The child was even more upset than her. She pulled her little brother close: “Sure, we don’t need the little panda. How about buying a little rabbit instead?”

Bei Jun rubbed his eyes: “Does Sister like little rabbits?”

“That’s right.”

“Then I’ll buy Sister a little rabbit. They sell them right next to my kindergarten!”

“Thank you, little Bei Jun.”

The small child broke into a smile through his tears.

On the other end, rain pattered continuously, but the voices gradually faded away. Pei Chuan came back to himself and threw the button in the trash, closing his eyes.

After a long while, he got dressed again and got out of bed. The autumn night was somewhat cool. He drove his car, searching toy stores one by one.

His car had been modified, though outsiders couldn’t obviously tell it was adapted for disabled use. After all, it was a good car, and he was still a few months shy of eighteen. The driver’s license he’d obtained was arranged by “those people.” They didn’t care about his age—as long as his methods and abilities were outstanding, anything could be arranged.

The photo on his phone had poor resolution: a twelve or thirteen-year-old little girl with an old schoolbag washed to whiteness. She turned back, her big eyes curved, containing all the colors of the starry sky. The image was somewhat faded, showing the little panda she liked to unconsciously tug on during class—naive and adorable.

He showed it to the shop owner.

The shop owner shook his head: “Where would I find something like that? Our store has better-looking ones. Want one?”

He drove through the main streets, tires splashing water, traveling through the city night.

The sky gradually brightened and the sun rose. Only then did Pei Chuan understand—some things exist in time itself. After more than ten years, you could search the entire city and never find a second one.

Pei Chuan sat in his car and smoked a cigarette to clear his muddled mind. Jin Ziyang called at that moment: “Qingshi, you coming or not?”

His voice was hoarse: “Coming.”

He didn’t even know what he’d been doing all night, how many doors he’d knocked on, or what he’d been so desperately, frantically seeking.

He turned the steering wheel and headed to Qingshi.

Jin Ziyang yawned lazily and said: “A lot of people are coming to hang out today. I slept at Qingshi last night. Brother Chuan, how come you’re up so early too? Huh? Your clothes are wet?”

This guy stuck his head out to look: “It’s not raining anymore though.”

Pei Chuan ignored him.

He leaned back on the sofa. His residual limbs ached faintly. In fact, even though the car had been modified, it wasn’t meant for him to abuse his body like this.

Pei Chuan ordered a drink.

Strong liquor burned down his throat. He gave a light scoff, laughing at his own stupidity last night. Using eavesdropping on his own biological parents—didn’t that just make his heart colder? Using it on her—what kind of madness seized him last night?

He wouldn’t do it again. He wasn’t crazy!

Jin Ziyang said: “When did they install this thing here? Hahaha, a claw machine. Can you even grab anything?”

He inserted a coin. Before he could even try, he saw Brother Chuan stride over, look for a while, and become unusually silent.

“Get someone to open this thing!”

Jin Ziyang: “Oh… huh?” No way!

Jin Ziyang went to ask at the front desk. The front desk said: “The key’s not with me. It’s still early. The technician who installed it yesterday hasn’t come yet. That thing was just installed—it’s for the girls to play with.”

Jin Ziyang relayed the front desk’s words verbatim.

Pei Chuan’s lips were pressed into a tight line.

Then he exchanged for a hundred tokens and started feeding them in one by one.

Jin Ziyang was dumbstruck: “…”

Pei Chuan didn’t know how to do this. Either he didn’t touch the dolls at all, or he couldn’t get them out. Jin Ziyang couldn’t watch anymore: “Forget it, why don’t you just buy one to play with at home?”

On the seventy-third token, he grabbed a pink pig.

Jin Ziyang was wildly excited: “Awesome, awesome!”

But then he saw Pei Chuan exchange for another hundred tokens and continue.

Purple monkey, Smurf, little bee, long-eared rabbit…

One after another was pulled out.

Jin Ziyang went from spectating to despair. What was this about—trying to empty the machine? What kind of weird hobby did Brother Chuan have?

When Zheng Hang arrived, he was also stunned: “Brother Chuan is…?” Around him and Jin Ziyang was a pile of miscellaneous dolls on the floor.

“He’s possessed. Must be over five hundred tries by now.”

Doesn’t his hand hurt? He’s about to break the machine.

Finally, a black and white, naive-looking little panda fell out. Pei Chuan picked it up and walked out.

Jin Ziyang doubted he was awake: “FUCK? Stood there all morning just to watch Brother Chuan grab a panda smaller than my palm?”

~

The morning of October third—the air was exceptionally fresh. After raining all night, the air carried a light dampness.

At home, Bei Jun woke earliest. The curtains swayed back and forth. Rubbing his eyes, he saw a remote-control airplane.

“Wow!” So cool.

Bei Jun didn’t even put on pants before running over to pull open the curtains. Fortunately, the window wasn’t closed, otherwise his little dumpling body wouldn’t be able to push it open.

The remote-control airplane seemed to understand his intentions, finally flying in and landing in his hands.

It was heavy, with a silly, adorable little panda tied to it.

Bei Jun didn’t know what it meant.

For a child, this was as amazing as a superhero. He ran out cheering, then got a beating from Zhao Zhilan for not wearing pants.

He didn’t care at all, raising the little bear high: “Sister’s little bear came back! The god Sas brought it!”

Zhao Zhilan pulled pants on him. Looking closer—good heavens, it really was identical.

Bei Jun went to knock on his sister’s door, his little milk voice calling out forcefully, extremely excited.

Bei Yao opened the door. The young girl’s long hair draped over her shoulders. She crouched down and took the little panda from her brother’s hands.

Bei Jun asked: “Did the god Sas send it back?” He watched too many cartoons—the god Sas was an all-powerful male deity from one of his shows.

Bei Yao’s gentle, smiling eyes and brows were bathed in morning light. She tilted her head, her fingertips touching the little panda. It still carried the dampness of early morning.

She told her little brother softly: “Yes.”

She took the little panda and walked to the window. Rose vines wound around the branches. She looked down—at the residential complex entrance was only a patch of lush greenery, as if that person had never come.