As December arrived, temperatures dropped daily. Qiao Qingyu dug out her pale-moon turtleneck sweater from the closet. Among her pitifully few clothes, this was the one she least wanted to wear. However, two weeks of continuous rain had left the balcony crowded with laundry, leaving her no other choice.
It had been four months since Li Fangho last returned home. That day, Qiao Huan came to pack Li Fangho’s winter clothes to send back with a fellow villager. Qiao Qingyu helped, spending half an hour in her parents’ bedroom.
The last time she entered this room was over a year ago, also organized clothes. Back then, Li Fangho had held her hand, worriedly mentioning Ming Sheng. Recalling her earnest promises, Qiao Qingyu felt deeply remorseful. She had to admit Li Fangho’s intuition was accurate—she never imagined that just a year later, in the monotonous life of her senior year, her every breath would revolve around Ming Sheng.
Indeed, without exaggeration, whenever she wasn’t thinking, her every inhale and exhale was filled with his presence.
With Li Fangho absent, no one noticed her change. Qiao Qingyu thought that perhaps this was why she had let herself go. Determined to punish herself, she began hoping for Li Fangho’s early return—both to help herself refocus and to free Li Fangho from her uncle’s family’s oppression.
“My sister’s situation is settled,” Qiao Qingyu told herself. “I can’t be careless about Mom’s matter.”
After packing the clothes, before closing the wardrobe, Qiao Qingyu glanced at the white safe—it remained in its place, quiet and undisturbed.
In the living room, Qiao Lusheng watched TV while blow-drying clothes. Qiao Huan said goodbye and left with a bag of clothes. As Qiao Qingyu walked out of the room, about to close the door, Qiao Lusheng said, “Leave it open. Here, fold these dry clothes and take them in.”
As she started folding, a commercial interrupted the TV show before Detective Dee could finish speaking.
“Dad,” Qiao Qingyu smiled, “aren’t you tired of watching this?”
“It’s been a while since I’ve watched,” Qiao Lusheng replied. “With your mom gone, there’s so much more to do.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I haven’t even had time to check on your studies,” Qiao Lusheng shook his head, smiling. “Remember when your mom used to manage all three of you studying and eating, plus the housework? That was exhausting.”
“Let’s ask Mom to come back. Grandpa’s health has improved, right?” Qiao Qingyu put aside a folded sweater and picked up another. “Aunt speaks so harshly; Mom must be unhappy these past few months.”
Qiao Lusheng sighed, turning off the hair dryer and rubbing his forehead, looking worried. “Your grandpa complains that your aunt’s cooking is terrible. He keeps telling your mom how miserable he is, so she can’t leave… Your aunt fusses every day, wanting us to bring the elders here, but your mom doesn’t want to. She says there’s no place for them to stay in Huanzhou…”
“Bring Grandpa here?” Qiao Qingyu repeated in surprise. “Doesn’t Uncle have that big new house built for living with Grandpa and Grandma?”
“Heh,” Qiao Lusheng laughed sarcastically. “There’s always been conflict; we just didn’t talk about it before. After what you did, they’ve completely lost face. Your grandpa is beside himself with anger.”
After a pause, he continued, “I’m thinking, in a couple of months, after your final exams, we’ll bring the elders here. We’ll give your room to Grandpa, you’ll sleep with your mom, and I’ll sleep in the living room. We’ll squeeze together as a family and get through the New Year. Afterward, I’ll have someone fix up the old house so it’s livable, and Grandpa can move back there.”
“Will Mom still have to go with him?”
“Who else will cook and do laundry for your grandpa?” Qiao Lusheng leaned back. “We’re all his children and daughters-in-law. We must help out.”
“Can’t we use the house in Shunyun?”
“The Shunyun house is rented out, earning some money each month to supplement our income,” Qiao Lusheng frowned. “We still have expenses for this house even if we’re not living in it. Going back to Shunyun means losing that rental income. It’s not cost-effective.”
“Dad,” Qiao Qingyu asked thoughtfully, “will Uncle’s family contribute money for taking care of Grandpa?”
“Your aunt is difficult to deal with,” Qiao Lusheng glanced at Qiao Qingyu. “With our relationship so strained, how can we expect money from her? The poor relationship is our fault, so our family should sacrifice more. There’s nothing else to say…”
“But…”
“Enough, don’t worry about family matters,” Qiao Lusheng waved his hand, yawning. “Your good grades make us proud. It’s okay if things are a bit tough. We’re still young enough to manage.”
“Dad,” Qiao Qingyu’s tone turned serious, “is Mom’s health okay?”
Qiao Lusheng closed his eyes to rest. “She’s fine.”
“Once,” Qiao Qingyu bit her lip, “a few months ago, I saw a sleeping pill bottle in the trash. Was Mom taking them?”
Qiao Lusheng opened his eyes, suddenly alert. “How do you know what a sleeping pill bottle looks like?”
“We have psychology classes at school. The teacher’s PowerPoint showed one.”
“Oh,” Qiao Lusheng was quickly convinced. “They teach that in school now?”
“Was Mom taking them?”
“She has trouble sleeping,” Qiao Lusheng nodded. “She doesn’t take them every day, just when she’s busy or stressed. Running the shop is demanding. How could her body cope without good sleep?”
“The teacher said taking too many sleeping pills can be dangerous.”
“Your teacher is right.”
It seemed he didn’t want to discuss this further, but Qiao Qingyu persisted: “I’m worried Mom’s unhappy, depressed, and might do something impulsive…”
“Come on,” Qiao Lusheng finally lost patience. “Your mom’s not a child. She’s been through your sister’s big ordeal. What else is there to fear? We don’t tell you kids everything because we don’t want you overthinking. Understand?”
Qiao Qingyu nodded in compromise, not wanting to anger Qiao Lusheng further.
A few minutes later, Qiao Lusheng went to shower, leaving the bedroom door open for Qiao Qingyu to put away the clothes. After storing the garments, Qiao Qingyu’s gaze fell on the safe again. On impulse, she crouched down, her palm lightly covering the raised number dial.
Qiao Lusheng’s key ring, usually at his waist, lay on the nearby bedside table. Qiao Qingyu inserted the small gold key into the lock, gently turning it.
The door didn’t budge.
A string of numbers surfaced in her mind, like a long-lost blue whale emerging from the deep sea. Tentatively, Qiao Qingyu pressed 8, 5, 1, 0, 3, 1.
Click. The safe door loosened.
So simple, so candid. While her parents erased all traces of her sister outside, they kept her birthday as their most important memory. Qiao Qingyu’s nose stung with emotion.
Hesitating, she knelt and opened the safe. Inside were two layers: the top held documents like household registers, property deeds, rental agreements, and account books; the bottom contained two or three gold necklaces, three gold bracelets, and two gold rings. No medical records or lawsuit documents. As she was about to close the safe, a small stack of envelopes beneath the jewelry caught her attention.
She pulled them out.
Seven letters, all addressed to “Li Fangho (Recipient),” the handwriting evolving from childish to elegant. The return address was the same: Lifang Town Central School.
The shower’s spray echoed from the bathroom. Still kneeling, Qiao Qingyu opened the envelope with the most childish handwriting.
It was a letter from Qiao Baiyu in first grade. The large, round letters were adorable, interspersed with pinyin, telling Li Fangho about being praised by the teacher and asking if her little sister was walking yet. The paper was pristine, the top half filled with pencil writing, the bottom half with a pencil-drawn bird in flight.
Seven letters, from first grade to seventh grade, one for each year. From pencil to ballpoint pen, the content grew longer, the handwriting more refined and graceful, like a little girl blossoming into a young lady. Each letter ended with a flying bird in the blank space—Qiao Baiyu seemed to dislike leaving empty spaces.
Except for the last letter. The seventh-grade Qiao Baiyu wrote only a few sentences, leaving a large blank space below.
“I’ll listen to Dad, Mom, Grandpa, Grandma, Uncle, and Aunt,” she wrote above the blank space. “Mom, Dad, don’t blame Brother Jinrui. I didn’t value myself, I wasted myself. I was wrong, and I’ll change.”
A photo was tucked behind the seventh letter. It showed three smiling faces: a young Qiao Baiyu sitting on a rock, surrounded by younger versions of Li Fangho and Qiao Lusheng, with the “Shunyun Children’s Park” gate in the background. On the back, through teary eyes, Qiao Qingyu read the handwritten note: “Taken on October 31, 1990, our precious daughter Little Baiyu’s fifth birthday.”
Qiao Qingyu returned the letters and photo to the safe, closed it, locked the cabinet, replaced the key, and dragged herself back to her room. She collapsed on her bed, letting tears fall—for the once-real, vibrant love that had existed in this family.
In December, universities began accepting independent recruitment applications. Second High School had many slots, and Sun Yinglong recommended two to Qiao Qingyu: Fudan or Renmin University.
Qiao Qingyu’s dream was Peking University, so she hesitated at Sun Yinglong’s well-intentioned suggestion.
“It’s just insurance,” Sun Yinglong explained. “If your gaokao scores are high enough for Peking or Tsinghua, you can ignore the extra points. Applying doesn’t mean you’re locked in.”
So Qiao Qingyu agreed to apply to Renmin University.
After deciding, she wrote a letter to Wang Mumu, describing her imagined life in Beijing a year later, full of aspirations. Beijing—a larger city with more people, rich and all-encompassing, where she could shed her current constraints, escape her prolonged adolescence, and be completely reborn.
After mailing the letter, she turned to see the golden character “Huanzhou City Second High School” gleaming on the opposite school gate in the bright evening sun. Some tall basketball team members exited, boarding a bus parked nearby. Ming Sheng was in their midst, as indistinct as a grain of sand in a flood.
Qiao Qingyu stood silently, waiting for the bus to pass her intersection. Two minutes later, it disappeared into traffic. She felt lost, sad, and melancholic as if bidding farewell to youth at a train station.
The day after mailing Wang Mumu’s letter, Sun Yinglong excitedly entered the classroom during afternoon self-study, calling Qiao Qingyu’s name.
“Come out for a moment,” he beckoned from the back door.
Qiao Qingyu, puzzled, stepped into the hallway.
“Do you know why I called you out?” Sun Yinglong’s eyes twinkled. “Can you guess? It’s good news.”
Qiao Qingyu shook her head. What good news could there be in her life?
“Your New Concept essay was shortlisted,” Sun Yinglong nodded, smiling. “Mengya magazine called the school office. They had no phone number or photo for you and were worried about contacting you… When did you write it? It’s quite a breakthrough, Qiao Qingyu.”
“During summer break,” the sudden joy made Qiao Qingyu stumble over her words. “I wrote it when school started in September.”
“Where’s the essay?”
“At home.”
“Bring it for me, your Chinese teacher, to see,” Sun Yinglong smiled. “Let everyone read it too.”
Lacking a USB drive, Qiao Qingyu had to rewrite the essay. The next day, Friday, during the last self-study period, Sun Yinglong entered from the back door with her essay, taping the two A4 sheets to the classroom’s rear bulletin board.
As the class was about to end, Sun Yinglong walked to the podium, clapped for attention, and announced that Qiao Qingyu’s essay had been shortlisted for New Concept. He said it was posted on the back wall for everyone to read. As he spoke, surprised glances turned towards Qiao Qingyu, causing her to lower her eyes.
The bell rang, and Sun Yinglong left. The tense study atmosphere relaxed, chairs scraping as several students from the front rows navigated the narrow aisle towards the back, including Guan Lan, who gave Qiao Qingyu a thumbs up as she passed.
Suddenly, Guan Lan stopped her mouth agape in surprise, exchanging an incredulous look with Qin Fen, who had turned around.
“Move aside.”
Ming Sheng’s voice.
Qiao Qingyu turned to see the three or four people gathered around the bulletin board step back simultaneously. Ming Sheng stepped into the space without hesitation, his lean yet broad shoulders blocking the entire essay, unyielding.
A thunderous sensation filled her head. She hastily packed her bag and fled.