Jiang Wenjuan brought Pei Chuan home, washed his face, then filled a water cup with water for him to rinse his mouth.

Pei Chuan remained quiet throughout. Jiang Wenjuan looked at the child’s pale, delicate face and touched his black hair: “Xiao Chuan, why did you bite Chen Hu?”

Pei Chuan lowered his lashes: “He stole my cookie.”

Jiang Wenjuan frowned.

She knew Pei Chuan was lying. Their family’s financial situation was among the most prosperous in the entire residential complex. Those cream-filled cookies other families didn’t have, but their home not only had cookies but also chocolate. Pei Chuan wouldn’t fight over a cookie.

Even if the child didn’t say it, her gaze fell on Pei Chuan’s legs, and her eyes immediately filled with tears. Jiang Wenjuan actually understood why—it must be because of his legs.

She gently hugged him, then smiled: “Mommy will go make dinner. We can eat soon. Does Xiao Chuan want anything special?”

Pei Chuan shook his head, his black eyes quiet and sensible as he watched Jiang Wenjuan’s busy figure.

Pei Jianguo didn’t return home until evening. Recently, he’d been pursuing a drug criminal and was often busy until late at night. After he returned, the entire home’s atmosphere quieted for a second.

The Pei family had a color television in the living room—in 1996, this was a rare item. Jiang Wenjuan was watching a singing program with Pei Chuan. Jiang Wenjuan didn’t turn her head, but Pei Jianguo spoke first: “I’m home.”

He first looked at his weary wife, then touched his son’s small head.

Pei Chuan looked up at his father, his clear eyes holding not a trace of hatred. Pei Jianguo’s heart ached imperceptibly.

Jiang Wenjuan resented him for implicating Pei Chuan. The two of them quarreled every few days.

Some time ago, one night both of them were busy—Jiang Wenjuan was the lead surgeon in an emergency operation, and Pei Jianguo was also still working. They both thought the other had picked up Pei Chuan. Only when they returned did they realize neither had gone. That night, Jiang Wenjuan cried hysterically all night long.

Although Jiang Wenjuan and Pei Jianguo’s marriage was arranged, the couple was very sweet when they first married. Especially after Pei Chuan was born, this sense of happiness reached its peak. But after Pei Chuan’s legs were severed, Jiang Wenjuan couldn’t help but hate Pei Jianguo.

She hated that her husband’s work had attracted revenge that harmed their son, causing the child at age four to have his calves severed by criminals.

When she saw Pei Chuan covered in blood, Jiang Wenjuan’s liver and gall nearly split apart—her heart almost shattered.

Pei Jianguo discovered no dinner had been left for him in the kitchen. He paused, then made himself a bowl of noodles and ate. After eating, he came to talk with Pei Chuan for a while. Whatever he asked, the little boy answered, especially well-behaved.

Jiang Wenjuan watched coldly. At nine o’clock in the evening, she wiped Pei Chuan’s face and told him to sleep quickly.

The little boy’s hand grasped the corner of her clothing.

“Mommy.” He looked up. “I want to take a bath.”

“You didn’t move around much. Today isn’t very hot. You’re not dirty—bathe another day.”

Pei Chuan pressed his lips together: “I want to take a bath.”

He didn’t tell Jiang Wenjuan the reason for his quarrel with Chen Hu. Jiang Wenjuan furrowed her brow but in the end still heated water for him.

She undressed Pei Chuan and placed the thin, frail little boy into the wooden basin.

Pei Chuan’s black eyes looked at his ugly stumps, saying nothing.

Jiang Wenjuan also saw them. This was almost unbearable pain in her heart, yet she couldn’t let her young son wash himself. She patiently finished washing him, dried the water, then took him to sleep.

Before bed, Jiang Wenjuan still instructed: “If you need to pee, don’t hold it in. Tell the teacher and Mommy, understand?”

“Understand.” He said softly, “Mommy, tell me a story.”

Jiang Wenjuan had just smiled and agreed when someone knocked on the door outside: “Doctor Jiang! Is Doctor Jiang here?”

Pei Chuan watched Mommy hurry out and never return.

He didn’t get to hear a story. He calmly turned his gaze to the other side of the wall, where chalk marks used to measure height had been drawn. They could measure a child’s height. In the past, with each year of growth, Mom and Dad would happily measure once.

Later, Pei Jianguo had wiped them away with tears, leaving only a blurry smudge of traces.

Pei Chuan kept his eyes open looking at it. Only after a long while did he close his eyes.

He understood—he would never grow as tall as his father.

~

August third was little Fang Mingjun’s birthday. Teacher Xiao Zhao led all the kindergarten children in singing her a birthday song.

Bei Yao sat in the crowd clapping her small hands and singing. Looking left and right, she discovered Pei Chuan hadn’t come to school. Of course, Chen Hu hadn’t come either. She felt very anxious—why wasn’t Pei Chuan coming to kindergarten?

Bei Yao asked Teacher Xiao Zhao. Teacher Xiao Zhao said: “Pei Chuan’s mother said he won’t be coming to kindergarten anymore. In September, she’ll send him directly to preschool class.”

Bei Yao was dumbfounded.

In her shallow memories, she knew about this preschool class. The preschool class was inside Yubo Elementary School, a bit far from the kindergarten, in a different direction.

Just like in her previous life, Pei Chuan ultimately couldn’t finish kindergarten.

Teacher Xiao Zhao sighed. She pitied Pei Chuan but also understood he wasn’t suitable to stay here any longer.

Because all the kindergarten children had seen Pei Chuan fighting. His black eyes held not a trace of color, filled with coldness toward the world. His madness in biting Chen Hu had frightened all the children.

Little Bei Yao was extremely sad.

On the way home with Zhao Zhilan pulling her along, she kept thinking about this matter. In the afternoon, Zhao Xiu came knocking, holding half a palm-sized piece of cake in her hand.

Zhao Xiu had very high cheekbones and very thin, narrow eyebrows. Upon entering, she shoved the cake into Zhao Zhilan’s hands, then pinched Bei Yao’s little face.

Bei Yao blinked her big eyes, calling out sweetly: “Auntie Xiu.”

Zhao Xiu smiled: “Yaoyao’s face is still the most comfortable to touch. Come let Auntie see—I heard you were sick before. Even being sick didn’t make you lose weight. This little round face—one look and you can tell it’s blessed.”

Bei Yao instinctively looked at her mother.

Zhao Zhilan’s face was as black as the bottom of a pot, yet Zhao Xiu continued: “Ai, not like my Minmin—she doesn’t gain weight. Although everyone says she looks like Chang Xue and will be pretty when she grows up, I think Yaoyao looks more adorable.”

Zhao Zhilan smiled without warmth: “You’re too kind. Your Minmin is very pretty.”

Having received praise for Fang Mingjun, Zhao Xiu left satisfied.

Chang Xue was a Hong Kong star everyone was familiar with this year, having filmed many movies. When Bei Yao was in elementary school, she still liked this beautiful actress’s comedy films. In 1996, Chang Xue was called a “jade maiden,” and Fang Mingjun, whose features were seventy percent similar to Chang Xue’s, was called the “little jade maiden.”

Bei Yao vaguely felt something wasn’t quite right, but with her memory stopped at third grade, she couldn’t figure out what.

She dejectedly thought to herself that she had so much baby fat, while little Fang Mingjun was indeed petite and pretty.

Zhao Zhilan was even more irritated. She herself was slightly plump and feared people commenting on it, yet Zhao Xiu always used soft knives. So what if she bore a daughter who looked like Chang Xue! It wasn’t the real Chang Xue. For small children, her Yaoyao looked adorable and endearing.

Bei Yao stood on tiptoe to reach for the cake on the table. Zhao Zhilan said: “You just ate. Eating cake now won’t digest well—you’ll get a stomachache.”

That cake was a hard cream cake, also called margarine cake. Zhao Zhilan couldn’t bear to buy it. Their family had elderly and young to support. For Bei Yao’s birthday, they mostly bought a bag of fruit candies and cooked a bowl of sweetened egg soup.

Although Bei Yao was somewhat tempted, she shook her head, her eyes smiling into two curved crescents: “Split in two—Mommy eat one, one for Pei Chuan.”

She made a cutting motion with her little hands. Zhao Zhilan stood stunned for a long while. Finally, she nodded firmly: “Right, take some to that child.”

Zhao Zhilan cut it open. Looking at her daughter who was watching eagerly and wasn’t even as tall as the table, her heart softened with amusement: “Mommy doesn’t like sweets—I’ll save it for you. Come, let’s take Pei Chuan’s portion over first.”

They walked around the residential complex’s green shade. Several households would cordon off sections of the green area in front of the complex to plant vegetables.

Pei Chuan’s home was right across. The mother and daughter went upstairs from the other side and knocked on the fourth-floor door.

Heavy footsteps sounded. The next moment, Pei Jianguo’s resolute face appeared. The man worked as a criminal police officer, carrying an air of righteousness. He looked carefully, finding the mother and daughter very familiar—they seemed to be from the same residential complex. Forgetting their names felt somewhat awkward.

Zhao Zhilan smiled understandingly: “My surname is Zhao. Hello, Officer Pei. My daughter Yaoyao and Xiao Chuan are classmates. We came to bring him some cake.”

Pei Jianguo looked down to see a little girl with two bun-shaped pigtails. The little girl’s large eyes were dewy, her skin very fair. Her lashes were long and curled, like a soft baby doll.

The baby doll was somewhat shy. Following Zhao Zhilan’s prompting, she called out “Uncle” in her baby voice.

Even Pei Jianguo’s heart softened at her cuteness. He smiled kindly: “Xiao Chuan is in his room. Yaoyao, go see him. Xiao Zhao, if you don’t mind, please come in and sit. I’ll pour you some water.”

“No need, no need. Just delivering cake—Officer Pei, you do your thing. Yaoyao will go see Xiao Chuan and come out after delivering it.”

Bei Yao received her instructions and carefully carried the cake, following Pei Jianguo toward Pei Chuan’s room.

Pei Jianguo pushed open the door. At the desk sat a little boy writing properly and neatly.

He was preparing to enter preschool class.

“Xiao Chuan, a little friend has come.”

Bei Yao nervously looked at Pei Chuan. His room was bigger than hers, designed very simply with everything arranged neatly and orderly—not like how Mommy laughed that her room was a little cat’s nest.

Pei Chuan turned his head. Through his father’s tall figure, his jet-black eyes saw the tender little girl.

She held half a palm-sized piece of cake meant for adults. Seeing him look over, for a moment she didn’t know whether to smile or not, approaching him with some timidity.

She held it high with both hands: “Pei Chuan, for you to eat.”

He looked at her silently.

This was a girl who wasn’t afraid of setbacks.

The first time she gave him a paper airplane, he tore it up and even hit her hand.

The second time was the most brilliant lotus flower of summer—he threw it on the table.

This time it was a cake, the kind where the cream flowers weren’t even complete.

She looked at him anxiously, her gaze clear and soft.

He remembered she was still so small, more than a year younger than him. She would probably attend kindergarten for another year. He would go to preschool class next month—they might not see each other for a very, very long time.

He reached out his hand and accepted the cake she cherished and offered.

The little girl’s apricot eyes brightened like crushed crystal. She used her eyes to tell him this poorly made cake was delicious—at least it was her beloved treasure.

Pei Chuan still didn’t say a word to her.

Not even a “thank you.”

Yet Bei Yao was extremely happy. Her little round face was pink and chubby. She was about to follow Uncle Pei outside.

Her collar was grabbed from behind.

A force pulled her backward.

She turned around in confusion and saw the little boy’s condescending black eyes.

Bei Yao remembered that day Pei Chuan had hit Chen Hu this way too—dragging Chen Hu over, then… She instinctively wanted to cover her arm. Don’t bite her—if Pei Chuan didn’t like it, she’d never come again. She feared pain.

She was about to call out to Uncle Pei.

The silent little boy placed a handful of chocolates in her little pocket, then released her collar, indicating she could leave.

Bei Yao touched the candies poking her pocket, then looked up at him.

He still hadn’t spoken a single word to her. Turning his head, he gripped his pencil and sat properly to write.

The little boy wrote one pencil character after another, square and forceful.