The girl in my heart always thought I hated her. I never spoke it aloud, but once I only wanted to recklessly follow her home. —Pei Chuan]

In the summer of 1996, several days after a hailstorm ended, Bei Yao’s fever finally broke.

Before Zhao Zhilan sent her to kindergarten, she instructed: “If you feel uncomfortable or your tummy hurts, you must raise your hand and tell Teacher Xiao Zhao, understand? Mom will come pick you up after work.”

Zhao Zhilan was especially worried about her daughter, yet the little girl insisted on going to kindergarten as soon as she recovered from her illness.

Little Bei Yao obediently nodded and kissed Zhao Zhilan’s cheek: “Goodbye, Mom.”

She walked into the classroom carrying her small cloth bookbag, and Teacher Xiao Zhao warmly welcomed her.

Kindergarten didn’t require much in the way of classes—teaching the children to count, then playing some games was sufficient.

Today Bei Yao’s hair wasn’t tied up. Her hair was fine and soft, with the ends slightly yellowed.

Teacher Xiao Wu taught the students how to fold paper airplanes.

Bei Yao looked left and right, discovering something amiss.

The classroom seemed to be missing one child. She knew that child—his name was Pei Chuan. Because they lived close by, Mom would have her call the little boy “gege” (older brother). A few days ago when Bei Yao had a fever, on that day it hailed, and that child had wet his pants.

Bei Yao asked Xiang Tongtong: “Where’s Gege Pei Chuan?”

Xiang Tongtong covered her mouth with her chubby hand: “He peed his pants, so dirty. We’re not playing with him anymore.”

Bei Yao tilted her little head and blinked.

For a four-year-old child, dropping out was too distant and complex a term. She could only notice that the kindergarten was missing one child.

However, the other children didn’t think this was anything particularly worth paying attention to.

Only Bei Yao remembered those pitch-black, death-still eyes she’d seen that day—like a small wolf.

Zhao Zhilan worked at the garment factory and came to pick up her daughter right after her shift ended.

After returning home, Bei Yao said softly: “Mom, Gege Pei Chuan is gone from kindergarten.”

Her word order was reversed, but Zhao Zhilan still managed to understand. On the day it hailed, Pei Chuan had wet his pants. That night no one came to take him home, and the next day the child silently refused to go to kindergarten anymore.

Zhao Zhilan felt somewhat conflicted. She stroked her daughter’s fine, soft hair: “He won’t be coming to kindergarten anymore.”

“Why not?”

Zhao Zhilan said: “He peed in the classroom and felt sad inside. The children would laugh at him, so he’s not going to kindergarten anymore.”

Bei Yao’s almond-shaped eyes were clear, her cheeks pink and plump: “I peed too.” She was talking about earlier in the year when she accidentally wet the bed and was even spanked on her little bottom by Zhao Zhilan.

She couldn’t understand—if you peed, you couldn’t go to kindergarten anymore? But it clearly wasn’t on purpose!

Zhao Zhilan couldn’t explain well. Finally she sighed softly: “Silly girl, you’ll understand when you grow up.”

For sensitive, precocious children, the sense of shame would be especially heavy.

He was a pitiful boy.

—

**September.**

No longer attending kindergarten, Pei Chuan went to the affiliated preschool class at Chaoyang Elementary School.

The number of students in the class was odd.

A group of five-year-old children’s gazes fell on the boy standing on the platform wearing blue-gray pants.

Teacher Yu Qian patted Pei Chuan’s thin shoulder and asked the children: “This is a new friend joining our class. Which amazing child is willing to take care of him?”

Everyone looked at each other, staring at the boy’s empty pant legs. Not a single person raised their hand.

Teacher Yu continued: “Kind and brave children will receive extra little red flowers.”

Hearing this, the children gradually began raising their hands.

Pei Chuan looked out the window.

Early autumn in September, the leaves newly green. He had clearly escaped from kindergarten, yet the new environment didn’t seem any better.

In the end, Teacher Yu picked a boy from among the many children, named Chen Gang.

They sat together at the first desk.

At first Chen Gang would enthusiastically talk to him, but Pei Chuan was always silent.

When he was silent, he would space out—sometimes watching the swallows in the sky, sometimes staring at the characters in his book.

In less than a day, Chen Gang couldn’t stand Pei Chuan’s withdrawn nature and also began to “snub” him.

Children this age couldn’t tolerate loneliness. The next day Chen Gang cried and made a fuss about changing seats, and even little red flowers couldn’t placate him.

Pei Chuan kept his eyes lowered the entire time.

Teacher Yu Qian felt somewhat embarrassed and comforted him: “It’s okay, how about we find Pei Chuan another new friend?”

Pei Chuan’s deskmate became a little girl named Xu Feifei.

Xu Feifei was similarly quiet. Most of the time, the two of them sat in relative silence.

Xu Feifei didn’t like Pei Chuan. She sat over reluctantly, discovering that Pei Chuan didn’t like others touching his things.

The five-year-old boy’s face was expressionless, keeping to his own corner. He wouldn’t cross boundaries, but when Xu Feifei reached past half the desk, he would reveal an even colder, more unfriendly expression.

However, there were benefits too. For instance, when Xu Feifei secretly used his eraser, the little boy just endured it and said nothing.

One day Xu Feifei discovered a five-yuan bill in Pei Chuan’s desk.

Five yuan! For Xu Feifei, she had only received fifty cents for New Year’s last year. Five yuan could buy so many, many things.

The preschool’s wooden desks were connected. Thinking of the bubble gum and snacks at the small shop, she suddenly clutched that bill in her hand.

Pei Chuan turned to look at her.

Xu Feifei was extremely anxious. Pei Chuan was silent for a while, then turned back and continued flipping through his book.

Xu Feifei’s heart pounded wildly. It took quite a while before she calmed down.

She suddenly discovered that this deskmate, though cold and withdrawn, was very generous. He wouldn’t fuss over many things.

Over time, even as a child, Xu Feifei sensitively sensed that as long as someone could stay with Pei Chuan, he could tolerate many things.

Xu Feifei also discovered a secret—Pei Chuan brought a water cup every day, but he didn’t drink a single sip of the water inside. When afternoon dismissal came, Pei Chuan would pour the water into the sink, then sit on his father’s motorcycle as if nothing had happened and go home.

Pei Chuan’s family was quite wealthy, Xu Feifei thought. This year in C City, there were so few people with motorcycles. Riding such a vehicle on the street would attract many people’s attention.

Xu Feifei had smelled the sweet fragrance of the water poured from that cup—it must have juice or sugar added. However, in winter Pei Chuan no longer brought water.

The following summer, Jiang Wenjuan began preparing water for her son again.

Over the past half year, Xu Feifei had used countless erasers of Pei Chuan’s, taken his neatly sharpened pencils, and occasionally candies and bills would appear in his backpack.

Xu Feifei took the water cup hanging on his wheelchair, unscrewed it, and started drinking.

As expected, it was juice! She couldn’t help licking the sweet and sour bottle opening.

The usually silent Pei Chuan suddenly lunged to grab the cup.

Xu Feifei was stunned. Reflexively she gripped it tighter and refused to return it. The water in the cup spilled out, splashing all over her face.

The whole class looked over, then continuous “hahaha” laughter rang out.

Xu Feifei’s appearance was very ordinary. Because of her poor family circumstances, she didn’t dress well either, with a head of dry, brittle hair tied loosely. She had a cold, her nose tip bright red, with a bit of snot hanging from it. There was some dark, dirty stuff around her mouth.

Now with juice splashed on her face, she was also being laughed at by her classmates.

Xu Feifei immediately burst into wailing tears. Angrily, she threw Pei Chuan’s water cup back at him.

That cup struck the boy on the knee, juice flowing all over his leg, from his crotch to his residual limbs.

Pei Chuan’s expression changed. He suddenly shoved Xu Feifei hard.

Xu Feifei didn’t expect his strength to be so great. She lost her footing and fell to the ground.

The laughter in the class abruptly stopped.

Someone went to tell the teacher—Pei Chuan and Xu Feifei got into a fight.

Another male teacher from the preschool class, Teacher Zheng, said: “Children must get along peacefully. If you apologize to each other, you’ll still be good friends. Pei Chuan, you’re a little boy, so apologize to Feifei first.”

In the summer of May, his pants were covered in sticky juice. Pei Chuan remained silent, jaw clenched tight, not saying a word. Teacher Zheng looked at him with displeasure.

After that day, Pei Chuan no longer had a deskmate.

—

When he started elementary school, Pei Chuan also sat alone in a dim corner.

Everyone was used to his taciturnity and lack of presence. No one in class would talk to him, until the end of term when Pei Chuan scored a perfect score and came in first.

Everyone was shocked.

The only one in class who didn’t pass was Chen Hu. Someone said: “You’re neighbors, Chen Hu, yet you can’t even beat someone without legs in the exam. You’re too stupid.”

Chen Hu’s face flushed red. He said sullenly: “Pei Chuan wet his pants in kindergarten!”

“Really?”

Li Da also said: “It’s true! We all saw it.” He even described it in detail.

A burst of mocking laughter—Pei Chuan’s halo as first place vanished.

He silently packed his things and went home.

During summer vacation, Pei Chuan saw the little girl who lived across from him.

When he was looking outside, he inadvertently lowered his head and saw her.

The neighborhood children were playing a game, a thrilling game called “Chase the Electricity.” The participants were divided into two groups—the “positive charge” children had to chase the “negative charge” ones. If they caught and tagged a child, that child was eliminated.

The boys ran very fast. Because Bei Yao was too small, when chasing she couldn’t catch anyone, and when being chased she’d be caught immediately. So when the children entered the game and scattered in a flash, she would watch from beside the small flower bed.

When their eyes met, those grape-like eyes were clear and beautiful.

She held a small cake with a piece missing, her rosy lips had a bit of cream at the corner, but it wasn’t dirty at all. The little girl’s skin was milky white, with a somewhat silly cuteness.

Little Bei Yao suddenly flashed him a smile.

Before long, his family’s door was knocked on.

The voice outside seemed to carry the fragrance of cream too: “Gege Pei Chuan, open the door.”

Pei Chuan didn’t move.

She said: “I’ll share half my cake with you. Let’s play together.”

Pei Chuan found it ironic.

Was this two rejected people being forced to play together?

He didn’t move, and had no intention of opening the door for her. Though she… was very cute, he understood that people in this world were like Xu Feifei—no one would spend time with a cripple for no reason.

Little Bei Yao didn’t feel snubbed. She was naturally more emotionally slow than other children.

She said sweetly: “Today is Yao Yao’s birthday. I’m sharing half my happiness with you.”

Idiot, he thought.

He even maliciously thought that girls were all like Xu Feifei—selfish and annoying. Let her stand outside in this hottest August and learn a lesson not to bother him. He wouldn’t give her anything.

In the end, Pei Chuan still didn’t open that door for little Bei Yao. At dusk she hopped and skipped home, harboring no resentment.

That evening when Jiang Wenjuan returned, she said in surprise: “Xiao Chuan, why is there a piece of candy at our door?”

Pei Chuan froze, then didn’t speak for a long time.

Later he gradually learned that Bei Yao wasn’t a rejected child—everyone liked her very much.

—

Starting that year, every year on Bei Yao’s birthday she would come deliver cake once.

Actually Pei Chuan knew this wasn’t anything special. She delivered to all the neighborhood children—like Chen Hu, Fang Mingjun, Li Da—not leaving out a single one. It was just a kind of routine ritual.

Yet ultimately it was still different. Only he would understand.

Fang Mingjun definitely wouldn’t deliver cake to him.

The winter he turned eight, C City had a heavy snowfall.

It should have been New Year’s, but Jiang Wenjuan, worried her son would become withdrawn, pushed him to go play with the other children.

Pei Chuan had felt resistant. He also knew they would refuse.

Who knew Chen Hu would roll his eyes and agree with a sly grin: “Then you can play with us.”

Pei Chuan looked at them, his pupils pitch black.

But Jiang Wenjuan felt very happy: “Then thank you all. Xiao Chuan, play nicely with the children. Call Mom if anything happens.”

She went to a nearby teahouse.

A group of children played in the snow outside. Pei Chuan’s body was stiff. Even knowing something wasn’t quite right, deep down he vaguely felt a longing.

This was New Year’s. He also liked New Year’s. He didn’t want to sit alone at home in a wheelchair, lonely, watching TV.

Chen Hu’s cheeks were chubby with two patches of high plateau red.

He looked around furtively to see that Auntie Jiang wasn’t there, then smiled slyly: “Pei Chuan, you can play with us, but you have to do whatever I tell you to.”

Pei Chuan frowned.

“See? We’re playing snowball fight. First we divide teams—palm or back of hand. Same ones are on a team. Then we battle.”

After all, he was a boy. Though Pei Chuan didn’t speak, he agreed.

Several boys exchanged glances. Chen Hu pulled Fang Mingjun over and whispered something in her ear.

The teams were quickly determined.

All the children showed their palms. Only Pei Chuan had his hand back facing up.

The next moment, many snowballs were thrown at him.

The children cheered. Ice-cold snowballs exploded on his body. Pei Chuan froze, moisture faintly welling in his eyes. He gritted his teeth. For a moment, he wanted to bury them all in the snow.

A little girl in a red cotton coat ran out from the building.

“Chen Hu—” She drew out the tone, making her voice sound very sweet and soft. “What are you doing?”

“Playing snowball fight.” Chen Hu said. “Bei Yao, are you coming?”

Bei Yao was a bit angry: “Snow got into his clothes. Don’t throw at him anymore.”

Chen Hu said: “If you’re not coming then forget it. Why are you helping him? Do you want to be on his side?”

The cold snow touched the boy’s burning body temperature, instantly melting into water.

He sat in the wheelchair, neither dodging nor evading, snowflakes even on his eyelashes.

Bei Yao remembered Mom saying that Uncle Pei was a great hero, and Pei Chuan was also a little hero.

The little hero had sacrificed his own body for the people’s happiness. No matter when, they should respect him.

When the next snowball fell, her thickly padded little body blocked it in front of Pei Chuan.

This year, heaven and earth were pure white. Nothing to do with romantic love—just pure instinct.

She said: “Don’t throw anymore. He’ll be cold.”

She herself was most afraid of cold. Empathizing with others, Gege Pei Chuan must be especially cold right now.

Chen Hu said angrily: “Hmph, Bei Yao, you traitor! You believe it or not, we’ll hit you too.” Saying this, he threw a threatening snowball that hit Bei Yao’s padded pants.

Bei Yao puffed up indignantly and threw one back: “If you hit me, I’ll hit back.”

Now things got serious—many snowballs were thrown at Bei Yao and Pei Chuan.

Though Bei Yao fought back, how could she be their match? Hit and hurt, she immediately started crying.

Fang Mingjun said: “Stop it. Bei Yao’s crying.”

The boys also panicked. Girls crying was so scary. Moreover, they didn’t dislike Bei Yao. Though Minmin was pretty, little Bei Yao was very cute and obedient. They didn’t want to make her cry.

The children were all afraid of getting scolded and scattered in a flash.

Chen Hu said sullenly from far away: “Shame shame, crybaby! Don’t you dare tell on us!”

The children dispersed, going to play elsewhere.

She wiped her face with her small hands while brushing the snowflakes from her body.

After a long time, Bei Yao turned her head. Pei Chuan was looking at her.

His clothes were soaked in many places, yet his expression was exceptionally calm, as if he wasn’t the one who’d been bullied.

She met his gaze, sniffling as she wiped away her tears.

After a while, she leaned over to brush the snowflakes from his shoulders.

The “crybaby” had snowflakes on her long lashes, carried the scent of milk. She said: “Gege Pei Chuan, I’ll go call your mom for you. Go home quickly.”

Pei Chuan remained silent, grabbing her wrist and pushing it away, not allowing her to touch him.

You’re all in league with them.

The little girl blinked, neither angry nor sad. She waved at him and went to find Jiang Wenjuan.

When she returned, Jiang Wenjuan was holding the little girl’s hand as they came back to find her son.

In the vast wind and snow, she looked like a snow doll, with two pink little buns on her head. Bei Yao wasn’t crying anymore.

Jiang Wenjuan said: “Your chocolate, Xiao Chuan—share a piece with Yao Yao.”

Pei Chuan silently gave her one piece. The little girl shook her head, speaking with a lisp, soft and gentle: “No need, no need. Thank you Auntie Jiang, thank you Gege Pei Chuan.”

She quickly ran home.

Pei Chuan withdrew his hand, tightly gripping that piece of chocolate she hadn’t wanted.

Inexplicably, he felt somewhat displeased.

—

When Pei Chuan was in fourth grade, he learned he could get prosthetic limbs.

In this era, prosthetic technology still wasn’t perfect. However, for a boy nearly ten years old and precocious, Pei Chuan knew what this meant.

It meant he could stand up, wouldn’t have to sit in a wheelchair. He could walk to and from school himself. His pant legs wouldn’t be empty anymore.

The vacation when the prosthetics were fitted, Pei Chuan rarely felt nervous.

He had been too long, too long without remembering what walking felt like.

But as soon as he stood up, he suddenly pitched forward.

Jiang Wenjuan caught him: “Don’t rush, don’t rush. We’ll take it slowly.”

It hurt. It really hurt terribly.

The place where the prosthetic and residual limb met—every time weight was applied, it was like bones and flesh being crushed anew.

He couldn’t master his center of gravity. He couldn’t even stand steady.

Jiang Wenjuan had no choice but to have him practice on his own holding the railing.

Again and again, from dawn to dusk, he practiced like a toddler learning to walk—difficult yet full of hope.

Jiang Wenjuan watched from afar, covering her mouth, tears in her eyes.

Finally Pei Chuan grew accustomed to this pain and gradually found his center of gravity.

When fourth grade started, he straightened his spine like a warrior donning armor, quietly clenching his fists as he went to the classroom.

At that moment, his classmates’ eyes showed amazement and disbelief.

Pei Chuan heard them whispering: “Weren’t his lower legs gone? How can he walk now?”

“So amazing. What did he do?”

However, Pei Chuan had no friends in class. Though the classmates were curious, no one came to ask him.

Every day going to and from school, Pei Chuan would wait until they’d all left before slowly walking back himself.

After all, having just learned to adapt, his walking posture was still somewhat strange. If he walked too fast, it would be especially awkward.

Until Pei Chuan was stopped by Ding Wenxiang. Pei Chuan had heard of sixth-grader Ding Wenxiang.

This bad student was thirteen years old this year, in sixth grade.

Supposedly when Ding Wenxiang was young in the countryside, one of his fingers was severed by a pig-grass cutting blade.

Ding Wenxiang wanted to know what something similarly severed looked like when attached as a fake.

“Hold him down! Little bastard, you dare push me.”

Several boys surged forward. Under the October sky with its falling rain, Pei Chuan’s cheek was pressed into muddy water.

Lower-grade students stood fearfully in the distance on the small path, watching from afar.

Pei Chuan smelled the fishy stench of earth. Rain beat on his hair and cheeks.

He struggled madly: “Let me go! Let me go!”

But he wasn’t yet a teenager—how could he break free from several bigger children’s restraint?

The sky was gray and heavy.

Ding Wenxiang took off his shoe, then rolled up Pei Chuan’s pant leg.

The prosthetic limb was nakedly exposed before everyone—a stiff, fake color that could immediately be distinguished from human skin’s soft texture.

October’s rain was truly cold.

Pei Chuan, half his face in muddy water, trembled incessantly.

Pei Chuan’s pupils were pitch black, containing deathly stillness.

He slightly raised his eyes and saw Bei Yao walking over in the distance.

She had also grown some. The little panda on her back swayed. She was arm in arm with Xiang Tongtong.

The two girls hadn’t expected to see this scene before them. Both stopped in their tracks, stunned.

Xiang Tongtong said softly: “That fake leg is so scary.”

He was in the mud, pitch-black eyes looking at Bei Yao, slowly sinking into stillness.

Pei Chuan closed his eyes. He stopped struggling.

From this distance, he couldn’t clearly see what kind of look Bei Yao had at that moment.

Yet the soft, strange seed in his heart, still too confused to have taken root and sprouted, was strangled in extreme cold by endless shame.

He didn’t know how long passed before someone shouted: “The guard uncle is coming!”

The forty-year-old guard uncle waved the retractable baton in his hand, catching several boys: “You bullying students, none of you are leaving today. Compensation, apologies, and accepting school punishment.”

The guard uncle helped Pei Chuan up and pulled down his pants for him.

Those children took advantage of this moment to scatter and run. The guard angrily gave chase. Pei Chuan coldly watched their backs, as if watching a farce.

He looked around in a circle. Not a single person around.

She had already left at some point.

The sky rained down. Pei Chuan, half his face covered in muddy water, was expressionless.

After he’d walked for a long time, Xiang Tongtong finally quietly poked her head out, looking at the dejected Bei Yao. She said: “Yao Yao, I know you feel bad inside, but things already happened. We couldn’t beat Ding Wenxiang, so we could only find the guard to help.”

After a long time, Bei Yao finally said: “Mm. Don’t mention this matter again.”

Grown up now, she also understood people had self-respect. After all, they were acquainted. Pei Chuan definitely wouldn’t want her to see.

Now she couldn’t even call out “Gege Pei Chuan” anymore.

Bei Yao felt somewhat sad inside. However, this year she wasn’t yet ten years old, inexperienced in the world. The emotions of this time, when remembered later, were just an unpleasant past.

—

After that day, Pei Chuan refused to wear the prosthetic limbs.

Jiang Wenjuan couldn’t accept it: “Our family used more than half our money to get you prosthetics. Now you say you won’t wear them—you think you’ll sit in a wheelchair your whole life!”

Yet the boy was like a lone wolf driven to a desperate corner, fingers clenched white, always refusing to compromise.

The prosthetics were finally locked in a trunk.

When Pei Chuan was in sixth grade, two things happened.

One was that eighth-grader Ding Wenxiang had both his hands severed by gangsters.

The news spread throughout the classes. Pei Chuan coldly curled his lips.

Two years had passed since that incident. No one would think this matter was related to a sixth-grade young boy.

Not many days later, perhaps karma for his misdeeds, Pei Haobin and Jiang Wenjuan divorced.

The couple who had once been the envy of everyone—their divorce was unexpectedly silent.

Seemingly peaceful, yet seemingly containing countless storms that couldn’t be explored.

Jiang Wenjuan silently left their lives.

Pei Chuan was the last to know. He wheeled his chair to find his mother. Pei Haobin became hysterical for the first time: “Where do you think you can find her? She has a new home now, a new man! Can you bring her back? Do you think she wants to see me or you!”

Clearly April was spring, yet Pei Chuan felt endlessly cold.

Pei Haobin calmed himself. After a while he wiped his face: “I’m sorry. Dad shouldn’t have said such things.”

“It’s fine.” Pei Chuan lowered his eyelids. After a long time, he returned to his room alone.

During Qingming Festival, Pei Haobin didn’t come to pick up Pei Chuan. Jiang Wenjuan had also left Pei Chuan’s life.

A heavy rain came suddenly. All the other children were either brought umbrellas in advance or picked up and taken home.

Pei Chuan gazed at the curtain of rain, remembering that childhood hailstorm. All the children had been picked up by their parents. He was unwilling to leave, stubbornly insisting on waiting for his mother. In the end, the teacher could only helplessly accompany him waiting at the kindergarten for a night.

It seemed from the very beginning to later, nothing had changed. People had grown up.

Being upright, kind, generous—it hadn’t brought even a bit of good fortune or change.

He drove his wheelchair forward, feeling a hatred that could tear heaven and earth apart.

From the fifth-grade side, a small figure ran through the rain.

When Pei Chuan raised his head and looked at her coldly—

Bei Yao held up an umbrella, raising it above his head.

Under the sky, she only had one umbrella.

Thunder rumbled. At that time, Bei Yao actually couldn’t see his expression very clearly.

She looked worriedly at the terrible weather, half her shoulder getting soaked.

If this person weren’t her neighbor’s older brother, if his parents hadn’t divorced at this time, Bei Yao wouldn’t have run over. After all, no one liked their warm face being pressed against a cold bottom. She and he weren’t even familiar.

From childhood until now, Pei Chuan had never given her a friendly face. He didn’t like her. To avoid embarrassment, Bei Yao generally wouldn’t interact with him either.

However, after all these years, her initial impression of Pei Chuan came from her mother’s words about him. This was a little hero who had traded his legs for countless families’ happiness.

Heroes shouldn’t be abandoned by the world—they should be respected. But it seemed everyone had forgotten his loss.

She sheltered the young boy under her umbrella: “Let’s go home, Pei Chuan.”