The high-speed train from Shanghai to Huihuan Prefecture took ninety minutes. During this time, Qiao Qingyu wrote tirelessly, filling three entire A4 pages. Using a fountain pen, she meticulously crafted each stroke with unwavering focus, as if practicing calligraphy. Though seated by the window, she remained oblivious to the passing scenery. Whenever she paused to reflect, her gaze fell upon the crystal ball paperweight—her sole souvenir from Shanghai. About the size of a ping-pong ball, the transparent sphere encased a miniature Oriental Pearl Tower. When gently shaken, white flakes swirled inside, resembling a flurry of snow.
Initially intending to chronicle her three-day experience in detail, Qingyu found her sentences taking on a life of their own. They raced through the challenges of the first day, the mix of anxiety and joy in making new friends, and the calm during the competition. However, when she reached Mingsheng’s appearance, her writing slowed, carefully savoring each detail to ensure nothing was overlooked. She dedicated an entire page to their cold, windy night at the Bund. Today’s awards ceremony, where Mingsheng applauded her first-place win in the cramped venue, occupied nearly half a page. The final two paragraphs read like dream-like musings—hazy yet candid, passionate yet profound—blending reminiscence with anticipation. She felt too embarrassed to reread them.
As the train neared its destination, Qingyu folded the three sheets and tucked them into a pre-stamped manila envelope addressed to Chaoyang New Village. After sealing it carefully, she placed this envelope inside a larger white one.
Upon exiting the station, she dropped the envelope into a mailbox, sending it to Meng Xiaoceng. The previous day, while exploring Shanghai’s old streets, they had discovered a “Time Post Office” that offered to mail letters to the future. Everyone in the group had written postcards to be sent in one or ten years, but Qingyu had abstained. However, after the awards ceremony, checking out of the hotel, and entering the bustling Hongqiao Railway Station, she caught a final glimpse of Mingsheng’s motionless figure beyond the glass. Overwhelmed by a wave of reluctance and melancholy, she resolved to preserve something tangible.
Time, like water, has a way of erasing everything. She felt compelled to transform these fleeting three days into words, etching them onto paper to prevent their disappearance. Knowing Meng Xiaoceng would stay for two more days, Qingyu mailed the letter to her, asking her to deliver it to the shop. Xiaoceng graciously offered to cover the storage fee in a text message.
“Since we’ve become friends, I might as well visit Huihuan in a couple of days. You’ll have to be my tour guide and treat me to a meal~” Xiaoceng texted. “I just need to be home by New Year’s Eve.”
Qingyu wasn’t sure if she could play tour guide—Li Fanghao would return tomorrow with Qiao Lilong. To the free-spirited Xiaoceng, Qingyu’s restricted lifestyle would be unimaginable.
On her way home, Qingyu pondered how to explain this new friend to Li Fanghao and what to tell Xiaoceng if Li Fanghao disapproved. Could she involve Qiao Jinyu and claim they were going to the bookstore? Would it be feasible to borrow money from Qiao Huan to treat Xiaoceng to a meal?
The speeding train felt like a tunnel to Qingyu, with dreams at one end and reality at the other. Arriving in Huihuan by evening, she found the sky overcast but not particularly discomforting—she knew clinging to dreams was futile; she had simply awakened.
She clutched the small crystal ball, warming it in her palm.
Night had fallen when she got off the bus. Pulling up her down jacket’s hood, Qingyu hurried past Old Lady Feng’s newsstand, her hand tightly wrapped around the small, round universe. She thought to herself, “I have one last night of freedom. I must hide and protect it well.”
Deciding to eat at the restaurant first and check in, she arrived during the dinner rush. Qiao Huan, busy serving noodles to customers, called out happily upon seeing Qingyu enter.
“I just told your dad not to worry, that you’d be home soon,” Qiao Huan said, setting down two bowls of noodles and catching Qingyu as she headed towards the kitchen. Leaning in close, she whispered, “Listen, your mom just arrived.”
Qingyu felt her skin prickle with shock. “My mom’s already here?”
“Yep, arrived half an hour ago. Little Yu just took some food home for your mom and grandpa,” Qiao Huan explained. “Why don’t you take some food home too? Your mom asked about you as soon as she arrived.”
“Okay.”
Entering the kitchen, Qingyu found Qiao Liusheng tossing ingredients into a sizzling wok, the sudden burst of smoke obscuring her vision and muffling her voice.
“Dad!”
“You’re back?” Qiao Liusheng shouted while wielding his spatula. “Your mom came back a day early!”
“I know!”
“Must be hungry, right? I’ll make extra fried rice for you too, okay?”
“Okay!”
As the work settled, Qiao Liusheng covered it and reduced the heat. Turning to chop vegetables, he added, “I told your mom you were at the library, remember that.”
“Got it.”
“Did you have enough money?”
“Yes,” Qingyu replied, pulling out the remaining hundred-plus yuan from her backpack and placing it on the counter nearby. “This is what’s left, Dad.”
Qiao Liusheng glanced at it. “You’ve been frugal.”
“And this,” Qingyu said, setting down her backpack and retrieving a certificate of honor and a box. She opened the certificate and removed a transparent trophy from the box. “Dad.”
Qiao Liusheng set down his knife and squinted to examine the trophy, his joy evident. “Wow, a first prize!”
“Should I not take it home?” Qingyu asked hesitantly.
Qiao Liusheng resumed chopping vegetables, his expression serious as he pondered. Finally, he said, “Leave it with Qiao Huan.”
“Okay.”
Qingyu handed over the certificate and trophy to Qiao Huan, along with her change of clothes and train tickets. When asked if she had anything else to store, Qingyu touched the crystal ball in her down jacket pocket and slowly shook her head.
She couldn’t bear to part with the crystal ball. Walking home under the dim yellow streetlights of her neighborhood, she felt something cool and feather-like land on her face. Looking up, she caught glimpses of snowflakes flickering in the lamplight.
Was it snowing at the Bund now too? The sound of the Huangpu River’s wind from last night still echoed in her ears, and Mingsheng’s warm breath lingered in her nostrils, yet it all felt like a distant dream. The crystal ball in her palm burned like a small bomb ready to explode. Qingyu took out her phone and deleted everything from the past three days. Steeling herself, she continued walking home.
She was prepared-
Qiao Lilong sat on the sofa watching TV, barely acknowledging Qingyu’s “Grandpa” with a low grunt. The dining table was clean, and dishwashing sounds came from the kitchen. The door to the main room was open, but Qiao Jinyu’s partition was empty.
Qingyu set down her backpack and placed the fried rice on the table. She peeked into the kitchen, greeting Qiao Jinyu who was washing dishes, then took a deep breath and walked towards the lit main room.
The plywood door was open, and Li Fanghao’s hunched figure flashed by.
“Mom,” Qingyu called from the doorway, “I’m home.”
Li Fanghao, busy making the bed, didn’t turn around. “Mm, have you eaten? If so, take the quilt on the table to the living room for your dad tonight.”
After placing the quilt in the living room, Qingyu returned to find Li Fanghao had finished with the sheets and was now putting on the duvet cover.
“Mom, let me help you.”
“Don’t bother with this. Organize your clothes instead. Put what you need for the next few days in your dad’s and my room. Clear two shelves in this closet for your grandpa’s clothes.”
“Okay.”
The small room was unlocked, but the closet was full. Qingyu placed her clothes on the bed for now.
Returning, she saw Li Fanghao smoothing out the quilt and went to help. As they finished folding it together, Li Fanghao finally straightened up and looked gloomily at the desk. “Move the books on the table to the small room too,” she said, stifling a long yawn. “Hurry up, your grandpa says he’s tired and wants to sleep.”
“Alright.”
Moving the books was physically demanding, so Qiao Jinyu came to help. Once finished, Li Fanghao told Qiao Lilong he could sleep, but he refused, complaining of the cold and demanding an electric heater. The exhausted Li Fanghao suggested using the air conditioner, but Qiao Lilong said he wasn’t used to it. Seeing an argument brewing, Qiao Jinyu quickly volunteered to buy a hot water bottle.
After Jinyu left, Qiao Lilong instructed Qingyu to put his towel, toothbrush, and slippers in the bathroom and adjust the water temperature. Only then did he get up to bathe.
The fried rice had long since cooled. Li Fanghao went to the kitchen and microwaved it for two minutes. She then placed the steaming dish in front of Qingyu and wordlessly headed for the small room.
“Mom, why don’t you rest for a bit?”
“Just eat.”
As she ate, Qingyu watched Li Fanghao start another round of changing sheets and pillowcases—she had become increasingly obsessed with cleanliness in recent years and couldn’t stand the dusty state of the house. Li Fanghao’s tired yet busy figure made Qingyu feel guilty for not preparing for the room change earlier, leaving all the work to fall on her mother at once.
Inside the room, Li Fanghao took off her coat and continued working, halfway through changing the sheets.
Qingyu now noticed how much thinner Li Fanghao had become. Her form, hunched over the bed, resembled that of a frail old woman. Her actions mirrored this impression—her hands trembled slightly as she spread the sheet, then flipped it over to check if she’d made a mistake, displaying a pitiful and almost comical paranoia.
Quickly finishing her meal, Qingyu entered the small room. The open closet door blocked her view of Li Fanghao. “Mom?” she called, receiving no response.
“Mom?” Qingyu raised her voice, peering around the closet door. “Let me help you.”
“Mm.” Li Fanghao’s voice was hollow, her cheeks sunken and eyes lifeless, appearing indifferent. “Qingqing.”
“Mom, please go rest.”
Suddenly, Li Fanghao snapped back to awareness: “If you wanted me to rest, why didn’t you take care of these things earlier? I’ve told your father so many times to get everything ready, but we come home and nothing’s been done. Look how filthy the house is! Is this on purpose? Are you trying to work me to death? Would that make you happy?”
Despite the harsh and unpleasant scolding, Qingyu felt oddly reassured. Li Fanghao then regained her usual demeanor, meticulously questioning Qingyu about the past six months while tidying up, as if she had no recollection of their weekly phone calls. Qingyu answered each question carefully, not daring to be careless. Just as they finished organizing the room, the front door creaked open, and Qiao Jinyu entered, shaking snow from his shoulders.
“Wow, it’s snowing heavily!” Jinyu exclaimed. “Sis, come see from the balcony!”
Li Fanghao’s silence signaled approval. Qingyu quickly left the stifling room and joined Jinyu on the balcony.
Wang Mumu’s house was dark, and Mingsheng’s grandfather’s usually lively home was also unlit, likely due to tenants returning home for the New Year. Looking up, Qingyu saw snowflakes falling silently through the night sky, enveloping the world in tranquility.
“Where’s my phone, sis?” Jinyu asked softly.
Qingyu retrieved the phone from her pocket and returned it to him.
“Dad said you won first prize?” Jinyu chuckled. “Well done, sis. The trip was worth it.”
Qingyu tore her gaze from the swirling snow. “Jinyu, don’t you think Mom has changed?”
“She’s aged a lot,” Jinyu agreed. “Looks sickly… Constantly enduring hardships back home ages you quickly.”
“For this family,” Qingyu glanced back at the empty living room, “she’s spent her youth.”
“Indeed,” Jinyu sighed. “Mom was quite beautiful when young. Youth, no matter how beautiful, can’t be preserved. It’s the least valuable thing… In life, earning money is key; nothing else matters.”
His worldly tone made Qingyu smile wryly.
“Jinyu,” she gazed at the snowy night sky and spoke softly, “you’ve had it tough too.”
“Why say that?” Jinyu asked, confused and guarded. “Are you about to…”
“I need a favor.”
“Here we go again! I knew it!”
Qingyu laughed, then, seeing the living room empty, quickly placed the crystal ball in Jinyu’s hand. “Put this on the TV or dining table, somewhere visible when entering. If Mom asks, say you bought it or a classmate gave it to you, whatever works…”
“First, tell me who gave you this.”
“I bought it myself,” Qingyu said, openly accepting Jinyu’s scrutiny. “I’m not lying.”
“Something feels off,” Jinyu frowned. “Sis, are you secretly dating someone?”
“No,” Qingyu raised her hand in a mock oath. “With Mom back, do you think I’d dare?”
“So you’re saying if you were braver, you would.”
This statement caught Qingyu off guard. She blinked, speechless, which evoked sympathy from Jinyu.
“I’ll help you, sis, but can you hold off on dating? You’re in your final year… Ah never mind, you’re pretty, can’t waste your youth,” he contradicted himself, patting Qingyu’s shoulder. “Just protect yourself, okay? Don’t squander your youth like our elder sister, got it?”
Adopting an elder’s tone, Qingyu ruffled his hair, laughing emotionally, “Are you encouraging me to date? Don’t you know that for me, dating is like courting death?”
“Don’t talk about death so casually,” Jinyu’s expression turned serious. “Never speak lightly of death, sis. You can tell me anything, and I’ll support you. If you want to date, do it. Don’t suppress yourself. Truly, being happy in life is most important; the rest doesn’t matter much… We’re about the same age, and we’re so lucky compared to our elder sister back then, even if…”
He suddenly stopped, sighed softly, and looked up at the sky.
“Sis,” his voice sounded distant, “who do you think Mom loves most among us three?”
Without waiting for Qingyu’s response, he continued, “It’s probably our elder sister. Mom told me that even after we were born, she still thought of our elder sister as her only child. So when she passed… Ah our elder sister’s death was so painful, it’s heartbreaking to think about.”
“Jinyu?”
“Hm?”
“Did you learn something about our sister?”
“What do you mean?” Jinyu feigned confusion. “I was just lamenting how our elder sister was in the prime of her youth. Such a pity.”
Their conversation halted as Li Fanghao emerged from the room. Seeing Qiao Lilong leave the bathroom asking for a hot water bottle, Jinyu quickly approached him—seemingly to avoid further questioning from Qingyu.
To satisfy Qiao Lilong’s desire for hot porridge, Li Fanghao and Jinyu bustled about like spinning tops. Mother and son worked without speaking; Jinyu instinctively went to fetch porridge from the restaurant, telling Qingyu to study without worry. Li Fanghao massaged Qiao Lilong’s back as he sat on the sofa, urging Qingyu to go to her room and read. The sudden synchronicity between them puzzled Qingyu, but she quickly realized the reason—a secret about their elder sister bound her mother and brother together.
They didn’t want her to know, fearing it might affect her mood and, consequently, her studies. In her final year, nothing mattered more than grades.
This widely accepted logic, all too familiar, reminded Qingyu of what Mingsheng experienced in his third year of middle school. She understood his anger.
Why were adults so utilitarian, valuing nothing but academic performance?
Why were adults so autocratic, depriving children of their right to know under the guise of love?