A basket of date-filled steamed buns sat abandoned in the kitchen, untouched by anyone.
Around midnight, a sleepless boy in pajamas emerged. Clutching an advanced mathematics book in one hand and a pen in the other, he entered the deserted kitchen. He flicked on the light, found a wooden stool in the corner, and sat down. Spreading open his book, he continued solving problems while tearing off pieces of the buns to quell his hunger.
Compared to Jiang Qiaoxi, Lin Yingtao, who lived just on the other side of the wall, seemed far happier.
During the day, Lin Yingtao read comics, played with Barbie dolls, and occasionally did homework with her friends—though their “studying” usually devolved into playful roughhousing. Yu Qiao despised the Chinese language class and even copied Lin Qile’s compositions.
“My home is where the three water towers stand,” Yu Qiao read aloud from Lin Qile’s essay, furrowing his brow as he enunciated each word.
“Lin Yingtao, can you count?” Yu Qiao asked.
“What do you mean?” Lin Qile replied, playing with her My Little Pony toy.
Cai Fangyuan chimed in, “You dummy! You don’t even know how many water towers there are!”
Abandoning their winter break homework, they dashed out of the residential compound towards the construction site to count the water towers. Halfway there, Lin Qile looked up and noticed thick, round clouds dotting the sky.
They look like steamed buns, she thought.
The four children had run out without any money, unable to buy snacks. On the way home, Du Shang asked, “Yingtao, when is Jiang Qiaoxi’s mom leaving?”
“I don’t know,” Lin Qile responded.
“Probably not until school starts,” Cai Fangyuan added.
“Du Shang,” Yu Qiao inquired, “when is your dad coming back?”
On the eighth day of the Lunar New Year, the Qunshan City Science and Technology Plaza opened. Lin Dianggong, with his savings in hand, ventured into the city with Team Leader Yu and Driver Shao.
That evening, he returned with a computer—complete with a tower, monitor, and various complex components. Manager Cai, posing as a computer expert, eagerly helped Lin Dianggong connect the phone line and set up dial-up internet.
“Dad, what’s the internet for?” Lin Qile asked, watching the adults bustle about.
Rolling up his sleeves to plug in the modem, Manager Cai explained, “The whole world is online now. If you don’t use the internet, you’ll fall behind!”
Cai Fangyuan brought a box of software from his home and, unusually industrious, installed each program on Lin Qile’s family computer. He expertly handled the CDs, his eyes fixed on the screen as he clicked and typed away.
Lin Dianggong remarked admiringly, “Fangyuan is skilled with computers!”
Manager Cai beamed, clearly proud of his son. “Despite his young age, Fangyuan picks up computer skills quickly. He might have a real talent for it!” he told Lin Dianggong happily. “If only he learned other subjects as fast!”
Lin Qile sat beside Cai Fangyuan, watching their computer screen.
“I want ‘The Legend of Sword and Fairy,'” Lin Qile told him.
Cai Fangyuan grunted in acknowledgment and began searching for the installation disc.
Lin Qile noticed that while Cai Fangyuan was usually slow and unfocused, he unconsciously tried to look cool when sitting at the computer. She suppressed a laugh.
“What other games do you have?” she asked him.
Unusually generous, perhaps buoyed by his father’s praise and eager to show off, Cai Fangyuan waved his chubby hand at Lin Qile. “Whatever you want to play, just name it!”
Du Shang’s father returned after the New Year. Yu Qiao invited Du Shang to sleep at his place, but Du Shang refused.
“If my mom doesn’t leave, neither will I,” Du Shang said stubbornly.
“Then why don’t you convince your mom to come stay too?” Yu Qiao suggested.
“She doesn’t want to…” Du Shang replied, conflicted. “My dad only comes home once a year. Mom says if we both move out… he might…”
“What if he hits you again?” Lin Qile asked.
“Don’t worry, Yingtao!” Du Shang grinned at Lin Qile’s concern. He made a gesture in the air, “I’ve been practicing Wing Chun for a year now. I’m no longer the ‘Sick Man of East Asia’!”
That night, Lin Qile saw Du Shang again at the hospital, carried in by his unharmed mother.
Du Shang’s head was bandaged, and his eyes were bruised. His voice was weak but oddly calm. Catching his breath, he said to Lin Qile, who sat by his bedside, “Yingtao, I think… I don’t have any talent for martial arts…”
A doctor approached, asking Lin Yingtao to hold Du Shang still for an eye examination.
After the examination, as dawn broke and the doctor left, Lin Qile heard Du Shang murmur, “Doctors work so hard… I want to be a doctor when I grow up. Yingtao, do you think I can do it?”
Du Shang said he wanted to become an excellent doctor, like those at the Qunshan Construction Site Workers’ Hospital who were dedicated and responsible—not like the ones in computer games who say, “Please don’t let patients die in the hallway.”
On the Lantern Festival, Lin Qile sat on the sofa watching the festival gala on TV, eating tangyuan with her feet propped up.
Meanwhile, Jiang Qiaoxi sat at his desk studying, wrapped in a coat.
He scribbled meaningless numbers and disconnected circles and lines on scratch paper. Liang Hongfei and Jiang Zheng were packing in the living room. Separated only by a door, Jiang Qiaoxi could easily overhear their conversation.
“The principal of the Provincial Foreign Language Primary School, Principal Zhang, was quite satisfied with Jiang Qiaoxi’s grades. He said Qiaoxi could keep up even if he joined in sixth grade.”
“So what’s your plan now?” Jiang Zheng asked.
“My plan? Jiang Zheng, you know I can’t transfer back to take care of him for the next six months. Can’t you ask the leadership to move you back to the provincial headquarters?”
“The leadership has their arrangements,” Jiang Zheng replied.
“So you don’t care about your son’s education at all?”
Jiang Zheng retorted, “Aren’t I taking care of him now? What more do you want me to do?”
“You brought him to this small town of Qunshan for school,” Liang Hongfei choked out, “This school doesn’t even offer English classes. Is this how you care?”
Jiang Zheng said, “Come on, Liang Hongfei. You’re not taking care of him either. You know this is hard for me too.”
Jiang Qiaoxi heard the woman’s tightly suppressed sobs finally break free.
He was accustomed to this—hearing his parents argue heatedly, then fall silent, perhaps touched by a moment of shared sentiment. His mother would cry while his father smoked and watched TV, occasionally sighing in the silence.
It was only at times like these that they seemed more like a married couple—or perhaps not even that, but comrades.
They had “served in the army” together, enduring a long and brutal “campaign.”
They would reminisce about details from their past: Jiang Mengchu’s birth, his growth, and how he displayed extraordinary talent even before starting school, and amazing teachers and professors throughout the province.
From the time Jiang Mengchu was four, Jiang Zheng and Liang Hongfei had dedicated their lives to nurturing their superhuman son. They saw it as a “mission,” a heaven-sent brilliance that would elevate their entire family beyond mediocrity.
The “genius” Jiang Mengchu began studying advanced mathematics at four and tragically died in an accident at thirteen. For a full decade, his parents poured all their time and the family’s resources into this child. When he passed, he took it all with him.
Jiang Qiaoxi continued his homework at the desk. Behind the desk lamp sat a stack of English math textbooks from Hong Kong. Tucked between the books were several red and gold certificates—awards Jiang Qiaoxi had received from Zhongneng Power Plant Primary School before the New Year: Outstanding Student, Four-time Champion, Qunshan City Top Scholar, and more.
The sound of his mother’s crying outside the door rendered everything worthless.
Early on the sixteenth day of the first lunar month, Liang Hongfei picked up her luggage, preparing to return to the provincial capital. Before leaving, she told Jiang Qiaoxi to study hard, promising that in six months, once her work transfer was settled, she would bring him back to attend school in the provincial capital.
A group of children from the Qunshan construction site stood at a distance near the road, carrying their schoolbags. They seemed to want to find Jiang Qiaoxi but hesitated to approach due to Liang Hongfei’s presence.
“You’ve done well this winter break,” Liang Hongfei told Jiang Qiaoxi. “If you want anything, call me. There’s nothing we can’t buy in the provincial capital. Don’t always trouble your cousin.”
Jiang Qiaoxi listened silently. He watched his mother’s car leave until it disappeared from view. Only then did he turn and walk towards the group of children his age at the intersection.
Lin Qile, still wearing two pigtails and a red jacket, smiled at him.
Jiang Qiaoxi didn’t walk to her side but instead fell in line with Yu Qiao, walking together behind the others. Lin Qile led the way, occasionally glancing back. Noticing that Jiang Qiaoxi was also looking at her, Lin Qile walked so happily that she seemed to hop like a rabbit.
On the weekend of Jiang Qiaoxi’s eleventh birthday, he treated his four friends, including Qin Yeyun who always followed Yu Qiao, to the arcade in the city. While Du Shang and Lin Qile were engaged in a fierce dance battle on the dance machine, Jiang Qiaoxi brought over some juice. He overheard Cai Fangyuan leaning against the wall, saying to Yu Qiao, “Hey, have you noticed…”
Jiang Qiaoxi handed him the juice.
After taking a sip, Cai Fangyuan lowered his voice and continued, “Have you noticed that Lin Yingtao seems to have… have…”
He cupped his hands over his chest, making a slight gesture.
Jiang Qiaoxi froze.
He turned to look at Lin Qile, who was bouncing carefree on the dance machine.
Yu Qiao didn’t respond, also glancing at Lin Qile’s back. Du Shang pushed Cai Fangyuan and coughed awkwardly.
After this birthday, Jiang Qiaoxi turned eleven. As he noticed his pant legs becoming shorter and realized he was growing rapidly, Lin Qile also began to act strangely—she walked with her chest slightly tucked in, as if wearing some odd garment, her whole demeanor becoming somewhat coy.
“What’s wrong with you?” Jiang Qiaoxi asked her during a class break.
Lin Qile pouted, saying nothing, just sitting beside Jiang Qiaoxi and sipping juice through a straw.
Jiang Qiaoxi tilted his head to look at her and noticed a faint line on the shoulder of Lin Qile’s pale yellow shirt, barely noticeable to others.
Jiang Qiaoxi had a feeling: in the past, only he knew Lin Yingtao was a girl. Now, everyone could see her blossoming.
On April 1st, a major incident occurred: an American reconnaissance plane collided with and destroyed a Chinese fighter jet over the South China Sea, resulting in the pilot’s death.
The adults discussed this late into the night, suggesting that a third world war between China and the US could break out at any moment.
“First they bomb our embassy, now they crash into our plane. Aren’t they picking a fight?”
Lin Qile had also seen this news and asked Yu Qiao, “Do you still want to be a pilot in the future?”
Yu Qiao’s pants now revealed his ankles; he was already tall and still growing. He looked down at Lin Qile and said, “If I don’t do it, who will?”
“What if there’s a war?” Lin Qile asked.
“Then I’ll go fight,” Yu Qiao replied, as if it were the most natural thing.
That night, Lin Qile discussed with Jiang Qiaoxi, “Don’t go to America. Americans are really bad.”
Jiang Qiaoxi looked at her.
Lin Qile blinked her large, dark eyes at him, seemingly waiting for his response.
Cai Fangyuan was right, Jiang Qiaoxi suddenly thought.
She has become pretty.
“Say that again, I didn’t hear clearly,” he said.
“Don’t go to America,” Lin Qile repeated, her rosy little lips moving.
Her shirt front was slightly fuller now, indeed very different from the boys.
Jiang Qiaoxi immediately lowered his head, wanting to continue solving problems.
“Okay?” Lin Qile pressed.
“Don’t bother me right now,” Jiang Qiaoxi said.
Lin Qile frowned, “Weren’t you the one who said you wanted to chat with me earlier?”
Jiang Qiaoxi pulled out a sheet from his scratch paper, quickly wrote a problem on it, and handed it to Lin Qile. “If you solve this problem, I’ll chat with you.”
For the remainder of that evening, Lin Qile lay on her small bed, unhappily working on the math problem. If she hadn’t vigorously shaken Jiang Qiaoxi’s shoulders at the end, he wouldn’t have told her the answer early.
Lin Qile seemed unaware of the changes herself. Boys and girls were becoming two distinctly different species. By fifth grade, the children could no longer play together in the same carefree way as before. The girls in class huddled together to talk, while the boys played ball and boasted, sweating profusely, keeping separate.
If anyone crossed that boundary, even just to pass water or borrow an eraser between boys and girls, classmates would tease endlessly.
Only Lin Qile still played with Yu Qiao, Du Shang, Cai Fangyuan, and Jiang Qiaoxi. Because she loved to fight, no one dared to tease her.
In early April, Lin Qile finally celebrated her eleventh birthday. Lin Dianggong went to the Qunshan City Xinhua Bookstore and bought her three “Harry Potter” novels. Lin Qile had already read the serialization in the “China Children’s News” and had long wanted to own the books.
When Manager Jiang heard about Lin Yingtao’s birthday, he took out his wallet and told Jiang Qiaoxi to take some money to treat his classmates to a meal: “You’re leaving in three months. Have you told your classmates yet?”
Jiang Qiaoxi had his own pocket money, but he still took his father’s wallet. Opening it, a photo caught his eye.
A family of three, smiling happily, greeting the sunrise atop Mount Tai.
Jiang Qiaoxi wasn’t in the picture. He closed the wallet.
Lin Qile sat on a bamboo mat, engrossed in reading “Harry Potter,” forgetting to eat or sleep. She told Jiang Qiaoxi that she didn’t particularly like “Journey to the West.” She disliked how the master and his three disciples repeatedly encountered dangers, atoned for sins, and faced trials in the perilous mortal world. Instead, she enjoyed reading about Harry and his friends growing rapidly under Professor Dumbledore’s guidance, discovering a vast, loving magical world.
“Do you believe there’s magic in this world?” Lin Qile asked.
Jiang Qiaoxi shook his head.
Lin Qile’s eyebrows drooped. “I know,” she said, “you like ‘Journey to the West.’ You like Sun Wukong the most.”
She unwrapped Jiang Qiaoxi’s birthday gift to her, which turned out to be lipstick.
“Why did you give me this…” Lin Qile held the black tube of lipstick, examining it back and forth, finding it fascinating. There were two reversed “C”s printed on one end of the lipstick, but she didn’t know what they meant. She was still just a little girl, never having owned her lipstick like a mature woman.
Jiang Qiaoxi looked at Lin Qile’s face.
They brought a mirror, and Lin Qile sat in front of it, carefully twisting open the lipstick. In front of Jiang Qiaoxi, she very seriously applied the cherry-red color to her lips.
“Does it look good?” She pressed her lips together, then puckered them, leaning forward to ask him excitedly.
That was Lin Qile’s first touch of red at eleven years old.
The second touch of red appeared in May of that year. Lin Qile was playing outside with Yu Qiao and the others when she began to feel uncomfortable. As she ran, she suddenly stopped, realizing her stomach hurt.
Upon returning home and pulling down her pants, she saw blood. Lin Qile’s tears immediately rolled down her face as she covered it and cried.
When her mother returned from work at noon, she spent a long time comforting Lin Qile. Lin Qile endured the stomach pain and crouched by a small basin to wash her underwear.
During the afternoon nap, her mother held her as they slept on the small bed. Her mother explained that all women bleed because women will give birth to babies in the future.
Du Shang noticed that Lin Qile seemed distracted during class. After class, Lin Qile didn’t go out to play. Instead, she drew a little girl on the back of her homework book. The girl had rainbow-colored long hair with a lightning-shaped scar on her forehead, small wings, and a magic wand in her hand. She stood on a somersault cloud, able to ride the mist and clouds.
“Yingtao, what are you drawing?” Du Shang asked.
Lin Qile pulled out watercolor pens from her desk drawer and began coloring the little girl’s hair enthusiastically. She said, “I’m drawing my future baby.”
“Baby?” Du Shang asked, “Let me see.”
“No,” Lin Qile said, “It’s my baby. I won’t show you.”
She spent a long time finishing the coloring. Using a red pen, she dotted a small point on the little girl’s chest, representing the cherry amber she would give her in the future.
Besides the drawing, she carefully wrote the little girl’s name: Jiang Chunlu.
As soon as she finished writing, Du Shang picked up the drawing: “Wait, Yingtao! Why does your baby have the surname Jiang?”
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Our Generation – Chapter Notes:
“Cat”: Refers to a modem. It’s a homophone for “Modem” in Chinese, hence called “cat.”
“Please don’t let patients die in the hallway”: A famous quote from the 1997 simulation management computer game “Theme Hospital” developed by Bullfrog Productions.
“Harry Potter” series: The first book, “Philosopher’s Stone,” was published in Simplified Chinese in September 2000.