To hide the Nokia N95 Mingsheng had given her, Qiao Qingyu specially cut open the inside of her schoolbag and sewed it in an inconspicuously hidden pocket. Though the noodle shop kept Li Fanghao busy from early morning to late night and she hadn’t checked Qiao Qingyu’s schoolbag since coming to Huanzhou, Qiao Qingyu didn’t dare become careless—Li Fanghao’s trust was the prerequisite for her to move forward peacefully.
Copying homework was more time-consuming than imagined, and expensive too. Due to Mingsheng’s high standards, whenever Qiao Qingyu encountered problems she didn’t understand, she had to photograph and send them via MMS, and Mingsheng usually replied the same way. MMS used a lot of data, and before the weekend even arrived, the new number’s credit was nearly depleted.
Qiao Qingyu regretted not including phone credit in her demands. She wanted to ask Mingsheng to top up the credit but couldn’t bring herself to do it, and finally steeled herself to use all hundred yuan of pocket money she’d saved over the past year.
It hurt, of course, but there was no choice. If things went smoothly, she could complete her grand plan this week, return the phone to Mingsheng on Monday, and end this arduous homework-copying task.
Qiao Qingyu had never anticipated a weekend with such world-shattering resolve. On Saturday, she woke before dawn, sitting up instantly at the sound of her parents closing the door.
After a quick wash, she turned on the desk lamp and threw herself into her homework without pause. Qiao Jinyu woke up four hours later, leaning against the doorframe while brushing his teeth, mumbling a request to borrow money.
“I don’t have a single cent,” Qiao Qingyu didn’t even look up, “When have you ever paid back what you borrowed before?”
“My classmates invited me to sing tonight, I have to treat them to late-night snacks!” Qiao Jinyu grumbled, “Otherwise it wouldn’t be right!”
“If you don’t have money, don’t try to act rich,” Qiao Qingyu shot him a glare, “Actually, I need your help with something tonight.”
“I’m going,” Qiao Jinyu shouted, retreating to the bathroom.
After washing his face, he found Qiao Qingyu sitting properly in the living room, staring intensely at a light green hardcover notebook on the coffee table.
“What’s wrong?”
“Come here,” Qiao Qingyu assumed her big sister posture, “I need to tell you something.”—
Just as Qiao Jinyu was agreeing to help with furrowed brows and obvious reluctance, Li Fanghao called.
“I’ve been busy until now, why aren’t you here yet?”
Only then did Qiao Qingyu remember she’d forgotten to go to the shop for breakfast.
“What about Xiaoyu, is he up?”
Qiao Jinyu immediately closed his eyes.
“He’s still sleeping.”
“Come quickly,” Li Fanghao’s voice was full of displeasure, “It’s already nine-thirty!”
Qiao Qingyu didn’t dare delay, hanging up and preparing to put on her shoes when Qiao Jinyu followed her: “Sis lend me some money.”
“I don’t have any.”
Qiao Jinyu sulked, then his eyes lit up: “Let me borrow that camera phone for a while, I’m going out with classmates later, it’ll be good practice…”
“What’s there to practice about taking photos,” Qiao Qingyu stood up, “I’ll give it to you tonight.”
“Who lent you the phone, sis?” Qiao Jinyu blocked her way, “Did you make friends at school? Do you have a boyfriend?”
Qiao Qingyu glared at him fiercely: “I earned it through my work, you think I’m like you, always wanting something for nothing? And anyway, no one can know about me borrowing this phone, understand?”
“I get it, I was just asking,” Qiao Jinyu pulled back his head, “Always so fierce…”
Running down the stairs, Qiao Qingyu vaguely heard Qiao Jinyu muttering “No wonder no one pursues her,” making her heart tighten as she thought of He Kai’s letter that Mingsheng had intercepted, nearly crying out in anger.
She had to get it back, that letter—
Compared to the busy, dragging Saturday morning, the Qiao Family Handmade Noodle Shop usually ended Saturday nights roughly and hurriedly, especially this Saturday. There were no customers after eight, and the Qiao couple counted inventory and cleaned up early, returning home by nine.
It was still early, and Qiao Lushen leaned back on the sofa, switching from CCTV News to the provincial cultural channel. Qiao Qingyu listened intently—Tan Jiazhen, the founder of modern Chinese genetics, had passed away at the age of a hundred; the Mao Dun Literature Prize ceremony was approaching. Then it switched to the popular TV drama “Detective Di Renjie.” The theme song played for quite a while, suggesting Qiao Lushen had put down the remote.
Meanwhile, Qiao Jinyu couldn’t put down the N95, muttering endless praise, then suddenly pointed it at Qiao Qingyu with a click.
“What are you doing?!” Qiao Qingyu’s face paled in fright, “Can’t you turn off the sound?”
“I don’t know how,” Qiao Jinyu came closer, looking proud, “Sis, look look, I captured you so…”
Qiao Qingyu shushed him, held her breath for ten seconds, then turned to give Qiao Jinyu a meaningful look: “Mom’s gone to shower, go.”
After Qiao Jinyu stood up, she glanced at the alarm clock by the bed: “Don’t forget, you have ten minutes total, no matter what, be back in your room before nine-thirty.”
“I know,” Qiao Jinyu said, “You could be a detective.”
He walked out without closing the door. The TV was still on Detective Di Renjie, the shower’s spray could be heard from the bathroom, and Qiao Jinyu called out “Dad” before sitting down beside Qiao Lushen.
“Yuanfang, what do you think?” Qiao Jinyu mimicked the TV show’s tone, “Sir, I think there’s something suspicious about this.”
Qiao Lushen laughed heartily.
“Dad,” Qiao Jinyu said seriously, “Our teacher said they filled in my student registration information wrong at the start of term and asked me to bring my household registration book back to school to verify. Our household registration book is here, right?”
“Yes,” Qiao Lushen nodded, “Such important documents, we keep them with us wherever we go. Wait for your mom to come out and she’ll get it for you.”
“Dad, can you get it for me now? I was already sleeping, just remembered this, and tomorrow our school has an autumn trip, we have to leave early. I want to get back to sleep quickly~”
“Alright, wait here.”
First came the creak of the old sofa springs, then the sliding sound of the bedroom door opening. Qiao Qingyu jumped up, ran into the living room, and saw Qiao Jinyu with his ear pressed against their parents’ closed door, giving her an “OK” gesture. She ran into the kitchen, took a cup in her left hand and the hot water kettle in her right, closed her eyes, and poured water into her hand.
“Ah—” A heart-rending scream reached from the kitchen to the bedroom, and Qiao Lushen immediately rushed out.
“Qingqing! What happened, Qingqing?”
Qiao Qingyu’s face was twisted in pain, the kettle lying on its side by her feet. Her lips trembled as painful whimpers escaped her throat. The purple sleeve at her left wrist was already soaked through.
“Did you burn yourself?” Qiao Lushen rushed forward, “Quick, run it under cold water!”
He turned the tap on full blast and pulled the grimacing Qiao Qingyu over, putting her hand under the faucet. The cool water eased the terrible burning sensation, but Qiao Qingyu was already crying from the pain: “It hurts so much.”
“How could you be so careless? You’re not a child anymore…”
Qiao Lushen’s eyes full of concern made it harder for Qiao Qingyu to control her tears.
“Dad.” She whimpered and burst into tears.
It hurt so much.
“Good thing it’s your left hand,” Qiao Lushen patted her back in consolation, “It’s not serious… be more careful next time, how did you manage to burn yourself pouring water…”
Amid her unrestrained crying, the kitchen light suddenly came on, and Qiao Jinyu walked in from the doorway.
“Sis, you don’t need to save electricity like this,” he recited the lines Qiao Qingyu had taught him earlier, “You should get in the habit of turning on lights.”
His appearance made Qiao Qingyu quickly regain her composure: this kid was quite fast.
Then Li Fanghao squeezed into the kitchen while drying her wet hair. After looking at Qiao Qingyu’s reddened wrist, she left without a word.
“I’m going to the pharmacy now,” she called out while putting on her shoes, “It’ll close soon. Old Qiao, wash the clothes after your shower!”
After Li Fanghao left and seeing that Qiao Qingyu had stopped crying, Qiao Lushen told her to keep running water over it and left the kitchen.
“Nothing.” Before Qiao Qingyu could ask, Qiao Jinyu spoke softly.
“Nothing?”
“The safe had Sunyun’s household register, property deed, shop contract, two bankbooks, an account book, some letters, Mom’s gold necklace, earrings, and bracelet,” Qiao Jinyu counted on his fingers, “But no lawsuit documents, and no sister’s medical records.”
“So you didn’t photograph anything?”
“There was nothing to photograph!”
“Shh—”
“Sis,” Qiao Jinyu exhaled dejectedly, looking at Qiao Qingyu’s injured left hand with guilt in his voice, “Our family’s poor.”
“You looked at the bankbooks?”
Qiao Jinyu nodded: “And the account book. Sis, did you know? The family’s still in debt.”
Seeing Qiao Qingyu’s silence, he added: “Big sister’s treatment cost a lot.”
“I didn’t know,” Qiao Qingyu whispered, “Mom and Dad never talk about these things.”
“You were right,” Qiao Jinyu’s face was unusually serious, “Mom and Dad are hiding things about big sister from us.”
“Hiding what from us?”
“I photographed the account book,” Qiao Jinyu said, “You’ll see when you look at it.”
Hearing this, Qiao Qingyu immediately turned off the tap and retreated to her room.
The five-megapixel camera was enough to capture every number in the account book. Qiao Jinyu had photographed three pages from back to front, the entries are evident—monthly family income and expenses, one page per year, with yearly totals at the bottom. Expenses were written in red ink and income in blue. In the last photo, the page for ’06, the red expense figure after “January” at the top was notably longer than the others.
Qiao Qingyu’s gaze was drawn to the note in parentheses that followed.
“Baiyu’s Provincial First Hospital expenses total 158,000 yuan.”
Provincial First Hospital, she repeated mentally, recalling Director Wen’s contemplative gaze, the word “sympathy” emerging in her mind. Yes, sympathy—he was someone who knew. He might know everything. The director had seen thousands of people; it was unlikely Qiao Baiyu had left an impression because of her face.
“Mom and Dad deceived everyone,” Qiao Jinyu said grimly, “Even Grandpa and Grandma think sister died because Weiai Hospital was irresponsible!”
“What else could they do,” Qiao Qingyu replied, “Should they tell Grandpa and Grandma that their sister got AIDS and had complications? Sister’s already gone, no need to burden the elderly with more grief, I can understand Mom and Dad’s choice.”
“Strange though, why did Dad sue Weiai Hospital?” Qiao Jinyu voiced Qiao Qingyu’s doubts, “Shouldn’t he have sued Provincial First Hospital?”
“We don’t know the exact situation,” Qiao Qingyu shook her head while continuing to look through the other photos, “Besides, the lawsuit against Weiai Hospital probably wasn’t won.”
“What? But Dad said we won!”
“If we’d won, they would have paid us compensation,” Qiao Qingyu said, “Look at the income these past years, except for February 2006, it’s all about the same. These months in Huanzhou, we’re only earning about two thousand more than in Sunyun each month, just enough for rent…”
“What happened in February 2006?”
“It’s written here,” Qiao Qingyu laid the phone flat, “‘Baiyu’s ancestral burial, received funeral money 33,080 yuan.'”
As she spoke, she noticed the expense note for March: “Baiyu’s Anlin Cemetery plot, 30,000 yuan.”
“What’s Anlin Cemetery?” Qiao Jinyu asked puzzled.
“The public cemetery by Qinghu,” Qiao Qingyu could barely speak, “Mom and Dad secretly buried sister in Huanzhou.”—
The next morning, Qiao Qingyu struggled out of a strange dream, only to feel suffocated by the heavy darkness in the room upon opening her eyes. She jumped out of bed, fleeing like an escape from the windowless room.
The air outside the balcony was crisp and gray as if stained with light ink. Only after staring for a long while did Qiao Qingyu realize it was raining.
She wore only a thin short-sleeved nightgown, yet was still drawn to the coolness beyond the balcony.
On the third floor directly opposite, behind the perpetually closed thick curtains, a warm yellow light shone through. In the fine rain, this light wavered, distant like fireflies about to disappear into the depths of a forest.
It took Qiao Qingyu a while to realize that the lights were on in Mingsheng’s home.
Was Mingsheng behind those curtains?
Since Madam Feng had asked if she’d seen Mingsheng, she had never paid attention to whether anyone was across the way. Thinking back to their first meeting on that scorching afternoon, Qiao Qingyu oddly felt that Mingsheng, who seemed immune to all poison in public, liked to keep himself completely hidden in private. Otherwise, why would he wear long sleeves and a hood, and hide in a tree for no good reason?
Youth in the spotlight harboring unknown thoughts, seemingly invincible yet inwardly dependent on the shade of a great tree—this image seemed poetic, but Qiao Qingyu knew that when it came to Mingsheng, it wasn’t like that at all.
The world to her was like a ball of waterlogged yarn, becoming more and more tangled and heavy, but to him it was a shadowless glass bottle, every corner bright and open, ready to be shown to others—just like him, never shrinking from anything, openly stating his reasons even when doing wrong, as if his heart couldn’t harbor any darkness, bright to the point of transparency.
What secrets could he possibly have?
How different people could be from one another. Qiao Qingyu couldn’t help but wonder how Mingsheng would react if he were in her situation. He certainly wouldn’t resign himself to having his life trapped in a thick fog, nor would he let the anger compressed in his heart remain formless and traceless. He would probably turn the world upside down first without considering the consequences.
Afraid of people pointing fingers after learning family secrets? No, he would disdain hiding himself and wouldn’t care about such things.
Qiao Qingyu recalled something from shortly after school started when English teacher Xiao Wu had publicly criticized Mingsheng for being perfunctory with his essay. “The topic was ‘childhood,’ but you wrote about a tree, completely off-topic,” Xiao Wu had said then, “That would be fine, but you copied yourself, copying the essay that was published in the English paper a year ago! It’s outrageous! Rather than spending time copying, you might as well write a few sentences yourself, or are you incapable of that?”
This rebuke hadn’t embarrassed Mingsheng. He walked up to the podium gracefully, took the exercise paper Xiao Wu was waving, and began reading his essay right there.
“You…” Xiao Wu’s face turned ashen, “Stop, stop!”
Mingsheng paid no attention, calmly reading his essay to the end, not missing a word. It was a lyrical essay, entirely praising a tree. However, the word tree was too unfamiliar, and Qiao Qingyu couldn’t understand it.
“You think you wrote it well?” Xiao Wu said angrily, “This is an attitude problem!”
“When I was young, I liked climbing trees. My parents thought it was dangerous and strictly forbade it,” Mingsheng answered irrelevantly, scanning the classroom, his gaze landing on Qiao Qingyu’s face, pausing, then slightly emphasizing, “But my grandfather took me climbing the old tree by the canal, sometimes he was even more mischievous than me, like a playful old child.”
“The camphor tree is an important part of my childhood memories,” Mingsheng continued, “Worth my repeated, loud praise.”
Camphor tree. Qiao Qingyu’s enlightened gaze fixed on Mingsheng, catching his fleeting, openly disdainful look. He was that kind of person, able to maintain his proud demeanor while making those he disliked thoroughly understand. He didn’t like hiding.
Open and direct, Qiao Qingyu analyzed objectively, actually a good quality.
Now she thought that when Mingsheng had initially threatened her with Qiao Baiyu’s story to make her write his homework, it was more reckless than malicious. After all, he seemed unwilling and disdainful of discussing others behind their backs. Most likely, in his view, the fact that Qiao Baiyu had died from illness would eventually spread from Sunyun to Huanzhou anyway, so after being “educated” by Li Fanghao and her refusal to write his homework, his revenge was casual and self-justified.
She thought again about how Mingsheng had covered himself up when they first met. Just to avoid being recognized by neighbors, right? Or maybe to look cool. He was someone without secrets, right?
As her thoughts wandered, Qiao Qingyu caught herself and muttered a self-rebuke. What was the point of speculating about him so much?
After standing on the balcony for just a short while, her shoulders were dampened by the fine rain mist drifting in. Goosebumps rose on her arms, and her nose began to stuff up. The autumn chill was no joke, so Qiao Qingyu hugged herself and retreated inside.
While changing out of her nightgown, she glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table—it was already ten. Strange, Li Fanghao hadn’t called to hurry her today.
Using the same excuse of researching at the library, this Sunday morning, after finishing brunch, Qiao Qingyu left the noodle shop. She had planned to investigate Anlin Cemetery, but the rain kept getting heavier with no sign of stopping. After spending some time in the school library, Qiao Qingyu returned to the empty classroom and carefully completed Mingsheng’s homework. When putting the black folder containing the homework on Mingsheng’s desk, she hesitated, abandoning the idea of returning the phone at the same time.
Better return it to him tomorrow, Qiao Qingyu thought. Seeing my burned hand, he probably won’t object to me stopping writing his homework.
It was four in the afternoon when she returned home, and it was still raining. The house was even darker than in the morning, with someone sitting motionless on the sofa.
“Mom?”
No answer. Li Fanghao’s face was frighteningly dark.
“Mom, you came home to rest?”
“Where did you go?”
“To school,” Qiao Qingyu carefully watched Li Fanghao’s profile, “Had to research for English composition, needed the internet…”
“Come here.”
The emotionless tone terrified Qiao Qingyu into holding her breath. She took off her backpack and fearfully walked toward Li Fanghao sitting on the sofa.
“Sit.”
Li Fanghao pointed to the small stool beside the sofa. Qiao Qingyu obediently sat down, looking up at her mother, extremely uneasy.
“Tell me,” Li Fanghao’s chest heaved violently once, “When did you learn to lie?”