When Qiao Qingyu woke up, strength had returned to her limbs and her headache had subsided considerably. The warm cocoon of blankets felt slightly damp from her sweating. Outside, the streetlight filtered through the light curtains casting a thin glow over the wardrobe opposite. Rain pattered softly outside, its even, peaceful rhythm soothing to the heart, making the room with its distinct shadows seem as still as a long-forgotten oil painting.
Rolling out of bed and putting on her clothes and jacket, Qiao Qingyu gently turned the bedroom door handle. In the silence, the lock’s “click” seemed particularly loud.
The living room was empty, with a floor lamp beside the sofa casting a soft, warm glow. The wall clock near the door showed noon. The kettle and glass remained on the dining table. Qiao Qingyu poured herself some water and quietly sat down on the sofa.
The partition curtain between the living room and kitchen was double-layered, and through the gap in the middle, Qiao Qingyu could see the apartment directly opposite the kitchen—her home—brightly lit.
She sat properly, silently taking a few sips of water, noticing a sliver of light coming from under the small bedroom door. Was Ming Sheng in there? Was he asleep?
Her head no longer felt heavy, but her stomach ached with hunger. With no choice, she knocked on the small bedroom door.
Ming Sheng opened it wearing only a short-sleeved shirt, eyes drowsy and hair disheveled, looking as if he’d just gotten up from bed.
“I just,” Qiao Qingyu quickly glanced over his bleary eyes, “wanted to ask if there’s anything to eat?”
Ming Sheng scratched his head: “Wait a moment.”
He grabbed a jacket hanging on the wall, putting it on as he walked into the kitchen. Two minutes later he returned, carrying a white bowl in one hand and a red apple in the other.
“Milk and cereal,” he placed the bowl where Qiao Qingyu had sat before while taking his usual seat opposite. “You eat first, I’ll go buy more food later.”
As he finished speaking, he produced a fruit knife as if by magic and began peeling the apple.
“Feeling better?”
Qiao Qingyu nodded with a mouthful of cereal, making a muffled sound of agreement. She was starving, and while focused on drinking the milk, she secretly watched the person opposite, her gaze fixed on Ming Sheng’s hands. His right hand held the knife with skilled, fluid movements, and several surgical scars marked the arch of his thumb web. Suddenly, she wanted to grab that hand and gently kiss it. Remembering how Ming Sheng’s blood had traced a path on the playground that day, Qiao Qingyu’s breathing became slightly urgent.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Ming Sheng seemed not to hear, pulling out a tissue and placing the smooth, rounded cream-colored apple on it before pushing it towards her.
“I’m sorry,” Qiao Qingyu raised her voice, “threatening Ye Zilin with a knife was too impulsive…”
“How many times are you going to apologize?” Ming Sheng interrupted, his tone carrying notable reproach, with a kind of painful disappointment. “I’ll tell you now, it’s fine. Ye Zilin only acted so recklessly because I pushed you away, so the problem lies with me, understand?”
Qiao Qingyu froze for a moment: “But regardless, I shouldn’t have…”
“Those losers would never dare mess with anyone from No. 2 High School,” anger showed clearly on Ming Sheng’s face, “you’re in my class, yet they dared to act up! It’s because I had… towards you early on…”
He suddenly stopped, looking at the blushing Qiao Qingyu, and let out a soft breath: “It’s my fault.”
Don’t look at me—Qiao Qingyu’s heart pounded as she stared at the apple—don’t look at me, don’t look at me.
Half a century later, Ming Sheng pulled out another tissue and lowered his head to carefully wipe the fruit knife. Qiao Qingyu smiled brightly as if granted a reprieve: “You peel apples so quickly!”
“Is it quick?” Ming Sheng slightly furrowed his brow, though undisguised pleasure showed on his face as his fingers pinched the end of the apple peel and slowly raised it. “I deliberately slowed down today.”
The apple peel was one complete strip, without even a crease.
Qiao Qingyu couldn’t help but let out a “wow.”
“In elementary school, all my classmates would ask me to sharpen their pencils,” Ming Sheng lowered his hand, his eyes gleaming with pride as he looked at Qiao Qingyu. “I beat all the pencil sharpeners.”
Qiao Qingyu smiled with pursed lips, lowering her head to take another sip of milk and cereal—under Ming Sheng’s gaze, her movements became much stiffer.
“Why?” after swallowing the cereal, she raised her head again, asking casually, “Why can you peel so well?”
Ming Sheng adjusted his posture casually: “Practice.”
“Practice peeling pencils?”
“When I was young, my father liked to compete with me to motivate me, in everything,” Ming Sheng looked away. “You know what he does, his requirements for precision aren’t something you can achieve casually.”
“Is that true for calligraphy too?”
Ming Sheng turned his face, chin lifted, hands crossed behind his head, relaxing against the chair back: “Calligraphy was to please my mother. She’s an artist herself, and her standards for me were both vague and extreme.”
“What standards?” Qiao Qingyu asked seriously.
Ming Sheng looked down at her with meaningful eyes, slowly pronouncing one word: “Beauty.”
Qiao Qingyu made an “oh” sound and buried her head to continue drinking her milk and cereal. Feeling Ming Sheng’s gaze occasionally glancing her way, she swallowed the last mouthful of milk and casually looked up to ask: “So, you’re so… I mean, I think you must have met your parents’ requirements by now, right?”
“No, it’s impossible to ever meet them.”
His tone was emotionless, so blank it bordered on despair. Qiao Qingyu suddenly felt that Ming Sheng was also a pitiful child. She nodded, silently put the empty bowl aside, picked up the apple, and took a bite, its fresh fragrance filling her.
“Is it… sweet?” Ming Sheng’s voice carried a shy smile.
Qiao Qingyu nodded again.
“I’ll go buy something hot,” Ming Sheng said as he stood up. “How about the clay pot porridge placed behind the bus stop?”
“No, no need,” Qiao Qingyu quickly stood up, waving her hands frantically. “I’m not hungry anymore, and it’s too late, plus it’s raining.”
“But I’m hungry.” Ming Sheng left with these words, putting on his scarf, grabbing the umbrella by the shoe rack, and closing the front door behind him.
—
Not long after he left, a woman’s tragic scream tore through the peaceful rainy night. The cry was so urgent, so desperate, that Qiao Qingyu, who had just finished her apple, couldn’t help but shudder. Pressing her face near the gap in the partition curtain to look outside, through the hazy rain curtain, she could see the all-too-familiar fluorescent light still burning in the living room opposite. Qiao Lilong sat helplessly at the dining table, Qiao Lusheng paced anxiously in front of the television, and though the sofa was mostly hidden by the wall, she could still make out the hanging legs of Li Fanghao, too weak to sit up straight.
Imagining Li Fanghao’s heartbroken expression, Qiao Qingyu’s heart tightened, and the apple in her mouth suddenly lost all taste.
Another heart-wrenching cry reached her ears, accompanied by a man’s vicious curses, the sound so close it seemed to come from behind her. Qiao Qingyu stepped back several paces, turned toward the locked front door, and peered through the peephole.
What she saw outside made her gasp in shock.
A man grabbed a woman’s shoulders, throwing her to the ground despite her desperate screams and resistance, then grabbed her hair and flung her down the stairs like a sack. Soon after, a familiar face appeared in the open doorway across the hall, expressionlessly glancing down the stairs before pulling the door handle and slamming it shut, leaving both the man and woman outside.
“Ah—” the woman screamed and wailed. The man produced a small bottle of erguotou liquor from somewhere, took several gulps, then smashed the bottle to pieces on the ground before staggering down the stairs.
“I’ll teach you to be nosy, you worthless woman…”
It sounded like he was repeatedly kicking the woman. The curses and painful moans alternated endlessly, frightening Qiao Qingyu, who was peeking from behind the door, into repeatedly backing away. After a few minutes, the man seemed to tire and returned to pound on the door, his shouts thunderous: “Mumu! Open up!”
A few minutes later, the woman also returned, crying: “Mumu, open the door for Mama!”
Then silence fell. Footsteps echoed in the corridor, a key inserted into the lock, and Ming Sheng slipped in, bringing a rush of cold air with him.
“Clay pot porridge, still very hot,” he said while changing his shoes, then glanced at the shaken Qiao Qingyu. “What’s wrong?”
Qiao Qingyu shook her head, trying to make sense of the storm-like scene she had just witnessed.
“It’s quite mild,” Ming Sheng walked to the dining table, opened the plastic bag, and took out the takeout box. “Are you good with spicy food? The buns at your place are very spicy… What’s wrong, Qiao Qingyu?”
“Ah Sheng,” the words left her mouth before she could stop herself, surprising even her, “I just saw Sister Mumu’s father beating her mother.”
Ming Sheng shrugged: “No wonder there were liquor bottles outside. For their family, this is routine.”
Qiao Qingyu let out a heavy sigh and walked toward the dining table.
“Did it frighten you?”
Qiao Qingyu wanted to shrug casually like Ming Sheng, but she couldn’t. The sudden concern and gentleness in Ming Sheng’s tone were as thick as the night itself, making her so uncomfortable she wanted to bolt out the door.
“What did you just call me?” While pulling out the chopsticks, Ming Sheng smiled with pursed lips, his eyes dancing with anticipation.
Qiao Qingyu froze for a moment, ignored it, and sat down, seeming to talk to herself: “Why are there so many unreasonable things in the world?”
“Sister Mumu’s family situation is rather complicated,” seeing her troubled emotions, Ming Sheng explained, “Her father used to be an elementary school teacher, then went into business, borrowed high-interest loans, lost money to fraud, and never recovered, drowning his sorrows in alcohol every day.”
“Mm.”
“He drinks too much, his liver is ruined, he’s constantly in and out of the hospital, and he has a violent temper, often beating her mother. According to my father,” Ming Sheng’s tone grew heavy, “Sister Mumu’s father won’t last much longer, three to five years at most.”
“Three to five years.” Qiao Qingyu repeated softly. For some reason, she thought of herself—she had planned to leave her parents for five years but had never considered what she would do if one of them died during that time.
“Sister Mumu hates her home,” Ming Sheng said while helping Qiao Qingyu open the takeout box lid, “I also hate my…”
The word “home” nearly escaped but he swallowed it back: “my parents.”
Qiao Qingyu raised her puzzled gaze, meeting his intense black eyes, watching as they instantly ignited at her glance, becoming shimmering pearls of light.
She drew back her shoulders, looked toward the kettle on her left, and then raised her right hand, slowly tucking her loose hair behind her ear. Perhaps because she was far from the window, sitting at the dining table, Qiao Qingyu couldn’t hear even a hint of rain, only the thundering of her own heart.
“You’re so beautiful.”
These words fell like a massive stone from the sky, knocking Qiao Qingyu’s soul from her body. “I want to ask, want you to help me ask,” she began speaking in panic, almost incoherently, “ask your father about something very important.”
“The same thing I refused to help you ask about before, right?”
Ming Sheng responded so quickly that Qiao Qingyu took a moment to react.
“I already know,” Ming Sheng looked at Qiao Qingyu’s somewhat bewildered face, “how your sister died.”
The air grew so still that Qiao Qingyu dared not breathe. After a while, she repeated what Qiao Lusheng had said three years ago: “Acute appendicitis?”
“You don’t believe that either, do you?”
The caution in his eyes frightened her. The truth before her eyes was like a bottomless abyss, and she became timid, afraid to step forward.
They both lowered their heads slightly, then raised their eyes to look at each other, almost speaking simultaneously: “You…”
Silence.
“You go first.”
“You just need to tell me,” Qiao Qingyu asked rapidly, afraid she might lose her nerve, “is what outsiders say true, did my sister have AIDS?”
Ming Sheng looked at her, his lips parting but no sound coming out.
“Is it…” Qiao Qingyu took a deep breath, “true?”
“HIV positive.”
It took Qiao Qingyu almost half a minute to digest these three letters and two characters as if an eternal black curtain had fallen in her heart. The rumors she had always dismissed were confirmed, and she felt she could never hold her head high again.
Ming Sheng broke the silence again: “You’re very different from your sister.”
“No,” Qiao Qingyu shook her head absently, “equally stubborn.”
“I used to think you hated her.”
Qiao Qingyu wanted to say “I still don’t like her now,” but the words caught in her throat, overwhelmed by sudden grief. She and Qiao Baiyu shared the same blood, connected souls—it couldn’t be dismissed with simple “hate” or “like.” Sister—these two words made her want to cry.
Looking at Ming Sheng, his gaze was as gentle as a fawn’s.
“My sister’s life was tragic, wasn’t it?” Qiao Qingyu looked straight at him. “Our whole family is tragic, isn’t it?”
“No.”
“If I didn’t exist in this world, she could have grown up in Shun Yun, and had a completely different life,” Qiao Qingyu’s voice trembled slightly. “I pushed her out of the family. What right do I have to hate her? It’s natural for her to hate me. She should hate me even more.”
“I don’t think she hates you.”
“Don’t try to comfort me,” Qiao Qingyu allowed herself to sink into sadness. “I know what I am. My birth itself was a sin, and then I did something irreparable, hurting every family member, sin upon sin. No matter what I do from now on, whether I leave or stay, this guilt will follow me for life, never to be erased.”
“Qiao Qingyu…”
“Can you help me with one more thing?” Qiao Qingyu raised her eyes decisively. “Ask your father if the surgery this morning was for Qiao Jinrui and Sister Xiaoyun.”
Ming Sheng seemed not to understand.
“There was a wedding car accident on the Huan-Shun Highway, your father performed the surgery, I saw him at Provincial First Hospital this morning,” Qiao Qingyu explained. “They say it was terrible. I’ve decided, if it was Brother Jinrui and Sister Xiaoyun, I’d stay in Huan Prefecture, go home, and face everything.”
“If it’s not them, you’ll leave Huan Prefecture?”
“Yes.”
“This morning, I learned your sister was buried in Anling Cemetery from the commotion at your house, that’s how I found you,” Ming Sheng said slowly. “Don’t worry, your brother Qiao Jinrui kept going to the balcony to take calls, he’s not only fine, he’s the chief organizer in your family’s search for you.”
“He’s okay,” Qiao Qingyu clutched her chest in disbelief. “You saw him at our house today, right?”
“Yes, I saw him with my own eyes.”
“God,” Qiao Qingyu seemed dazed, “that’s wonderful.”
It took her a moment to realize Ming Sheng was watching her again. They each had a bowl of clay pot porridge in front of them, neither touching it. Remembering he said he was hungry, she gently urged him to eat.
“Are you going to leave?”
Qiao Qingyu dared not look into his eyes. She lowered her head, scooped up a spoonful of porridge, and silently nodded slightly.
“Where will you go?”
After thinking seriously for a few seconds, Qiao Qingyu answered: “Somewhere bigger, with more people.”
“Shanghai? Beijing?” Ming Sheng frowned. “Do you have money?”
“Speaking of money,” Qiao Qingyu looked at Ming Sheng somewhat apologetically, “last time I said I would pay you, couldn’t let your cousin make the trip for nothing, but my money was stolen at the train station, so I can only pay you when I earn…”
“Qiao Qingyu,” Ming Sheng became sharp, “what do you mean?”
“Huh?”
“Don’t you know why I help you?” A bitter smile flashed across Ming Sheng’s face. “Do you think I help you because you pay me?”
“I…”
“Anything you ask, I can’t refuse,” Ming Sheng cut her off forcefully. “After helping you, I still feel bad, worried I haven’t done enough, worried you’re carrying too much alone.”
Qiao Qingyu’s helpless gaze wandered across the dining table.
“I don’t care where you go,” Ming Sheng’s tone softened somewhat as he gazed at Qiao Qingyu, “but do you know the whole of Huan Prefecture is looking for you? Getting out won’t be simple. Once we determine your destination, we can plan together, and prepare.”
“Prepare… what?”
“Money,” Ming Sheng laughed lightly, his eyes full of gentle reproach. “The cost to Beijing isn’t the same as to Shanghai.”
Qiao Qingyu waved her hands frantically in panic: “You don’t need to help me I can find a way myself.”
“Since you won’t stay,” Ming Sheng continued as if he couldn’t hear her, “I’ll go with you.”
Qiao Qingyu’s eyes widened.
“Don’t worry, I won’t force you to marry me,” Ming Sheng cast her a light glance. “I’ve wanted to run away from home for a long time. Besides, I want to show you just how proper and reliable I can be.”