When Yan Xi stumbled into the living room with dark circles under his eyes, looking ready to collapse, A-Heng shook her head, thinking this person was beyond help.
“Finished painting?” He probably hadn’t slept all night again, lost in his artwork.
That day after seeing the rising sun, he had returned home and confined himself to his room, losing track of day and night.
Yan Xi nodded, then shook his head.
“What does that mean?” Feeling something tickling her feet, A-Heng looked down to see Little Gray sleeping on her slippers. She smiled – such a small puppy, yet sleeping as heavily as an elderly creature.
“It feels like something’s missing.” Yan Xi appeared lost in thought.
“Imperfection can be beautiful too.” A-Heng’s voice was soft and tender. “The Venus de Milo is a classic, isn’t it?”
Yan Xi couldn’t help but laugh: “Nobody understands ‘Sunflowers,’ yet they call it classic. But am I Van Gogh?” Did he have such powerful talent that every casual stroke would become immortal?
A-Heng picked up Little Gray and gently placed it back in its bed – a cardboard box lined with several layers of cotton batting – and smiled as she spoke: “When Van Gogh was alive, who knew he would become the future Van Gogh?”
Yan Xi took out bottled water from the refrigerator and gulped it down, his voice losing its post-sleep nasal tone: “So, you’re saying that when I become an old man, I’ll still be unknown. And quite possibly shoot myself on a stormy night because I have no bread to eat?”
A-Heng smiled: “And even after death, you might not become the thousand-gold-per-painting Yan Xi.”
“So why continue painting?” he pondered.
“So, have you decided to stop painting?” A-Heng pressed her lips together, looking back with clear, gentle eyes.
“No.” Yan Xi touched his nose, extremely embarrassed.
A-Heng understood and smiled: “So, go brush your teeth, it’s time for lunch.”
There weren’t so many “so’s” needed.
The most composed ending was never about hypotheticals, but about living.
Having a gun but no bread? No gun control laws? Or would you be elderly then, and our republic so strangely prosperous that guns would be cheaper than bread, treating casual suicide as morning news?
Therefore, after worrying for so long, no matter how great or tragic, it’s all just imagination.
While tidying Grandpa Yan’s room, she discovered many old photographs.
The oldest ones had already yellowed, showing one after another a baby, then a young boy with large eyes and a smile as bright as golden sunflowers. Photos from his full month celebration, hundred-day celebration, first year, second year… up until age fifteen.
On the back of each was written in strong, vigorous pen strokes: My grandson Yan Xi, taken at age ××.
Such a beautiful child, smiling as if all the world’s melancholy and discontent had retreated. In that moment of revelation, the years flowed like water alongside warm sunlight, stunning to behold.
He smiled more beautifully when he was younger. A-Heng frowned, this thought appearing in her mind without hesitation.
Strange, how could the same person look so drastically different between photographs and reality?
The Yan Xi she knew always smiled with just one corner of his mouth lifted, appearing cold and indifferent. Even when playing pranks, only his eyes showed cunning. But that corner of his mouth never lost its inexplicable mockery, completely different from the uninhibited radiance seen in today’s photographs.
Was it just the age difference? But his features hadn’t changed much… her finger paused.
After that, looking further, she only found an abrupt emptiness, the blank whiteness of plastic sleeves.
Where were the years from fifteen until now?
Why was there a complete blank for these two whole years?
That smile – left-sided, right-sided, centered, happy, not yet sharp – why had it vanished into thin air…
As A-Heng pondered this, she unconsciously closed the album but accidentally dropped it.
When picking it up, she felt something rough on the album’s hard spine. Looking closer, she gently ran her finger over four letters carved deeply.
D-E-A-D
Dead.
A-Heng turned around to find that youth leaning against the doorframe, smiling as he watched her, his gaze intense.
“A-Heng, is the food ready?” he asked her, his left foot lightly pressing on top of his right.
A casual gesture, yet somehow strange.
A-Heng slightly narrowed her eyes, studying the youth for a long while, her demeanor unruffled as she spoke gently: “Almost.”
Casually, she returned the album with its deeply carved, shocking letters to the bookshelf.
After lunch, A-Heng received a call from home, Grandfather asking her to return for a visit.
Yan Xi was still enriching his “Sunrise,” in a quiet, silent state.
A-Heng didn’t want to disturb him and left quietly. But as she crept downstairs, the youth’s door suddenly closed and locked, as silently as her footsteps.
Yet there had been no wind.
When she returned home, Si Er was telling jokes, making Mother and Grandfather laugh continuously. A-Heng smiled too, standing in the entryway and quietly gesturing “shh” to Zhang Sao who opened the door.
It would be a shame to interrupt such warmth.
“Mom, guess what?” Si Er was telling the story with vivid detail.
Mother Wen was curious: “What?”
“Our teacher said: ‘Hey, Wen Si Er, why haven’t I seen your brother for so long? You must have your parents talk to your brother, such a good student shouldn’t be dating so early, always hanging around with that girl from Class 4, what was her name, Xi something…'” The tone was teasing and playful.
Everyone burst into laughter.
“Grandfather, Mom, I’m back.” A-Heng walked out smiling, interrupting Si Er’s words.
“Oh, A-Heng’s back.” Mother Wen stood up, her smile still full.
“Are you comfortable at the Yan house? We were just talking about your brother and Yan Xi in middle school. Little Xi was so good-looking, caused quite a bit of trouble.”
A-Heng nodded, her smile superficial and meaningless.
Speaking of trouble, was it really because of being more attractive than others, or because of involving Si Wan?
“A-Heng, tomorrow your Aunt Lin is hosting us for dinner. Your mother bought you some formal clothes, said to come back and try them on, see if they fit.” Old Wen smiled as he spoke, pointing to the elegant gift box containing clothes on the table.
“Aunt Lin?” A-Heng repeated, with no concept of who this was.
Who was this?
Si Er linked arms with A-Heng, explaining warmly: “She’s the daughter-in-law of Grandfather’s old war comrade Grandpa Lu, mother of Lu Liu who’s studying in Vienna, she loves all us children the most, a very, very gentle auntie.”
Very, very gentle… how gentle was that? It was rare to hear Si Er praise someone like this.
“More gentle than Mom?” Mother Wen pretended to be angry, looking at Si Er.
Someone burst out laughing.
A-Heng looked up to see Si Wan coming downstairs, wearing casual, loose sportswear, looking fresh and clean.
“Mom, are you jealous of Aunt Lin? To be honest…” Si Wan deliberately frowned.
“Well?” Mother Wen reached out, smiling as she took hold of this excellent, wonderful youth before her, still with the gesture of a mother holding a child.
“Aunt Lin is much gentler than you!” Si Wan winked at Si Er, and the siblings exchanged smiles.
“What to do? If Ru Mei is gentler than me, and her son is better-looking than my son, ah, how heartbreaking…” Mother Wen smiled, tapping Si Wan’s forehead.
Meanwhile, Si Er unhesitatingly released A-Heng’s arm to link with Mother Wen, smiling coquettishly: “Aunt Lin doesn’t have a daughter, but you have me, don’t you?”
A-Heng looked at her own released arm, finding it somewhat amusing.
Fool, what were you expecting again…
“Grandfather, Mom, I need to go to the supermarket to buy milk. Tomorrow, what time and where are we eating?” A-Heng picked up the clothes, looking at her wristwatch, her gentle, fair face calm and modest.
“Ah, A-Heng, let me go with you.” Si Wan looked toward A-Heng.
A-Heng nodded, smiling in agreement.
Along the way, one in front and one behind, they had little to say.
How long had they been siblings? Yet still so unfamiliar.
“Yan Xi has been painting these days, a supposed masterpiece called ‘Sunrise.’ He sleeps at three in the morning, drinks two bags of chocolate milk before bed, wakes at eleven, has a cup of hot milk after waking, and often listens to a song called ‘Long Long Way To Go.’ Three meals a day, won’t eat without meat, his hair grows fast, almost covering his eyes.” She spoke evenly, her tone neither high nor low.
“I didn’t… ask about these things.” Si Wan turned her head, somewhat embarrassed.
“Hehe, sorry, just remembered suddenly.” A-Heng smiled, walking through the supermarket’s revolving glass door.
She frowned, looking at the shelf for a long while, discovering that Yan Xi’s favorite brand was sold out.
“How about strawberry milk?” Si Wan picked up the same brand’s pink-packaged milk, handing it to A-Heng.
“I don’t know,” A-Heng answered honestly, remembering how Yan Xi would spray spittle while praising chocolate milk.
“Let’s try another store.” Si Wan smiled, presumably recalling the same scene.
Being Sunday, it was crowded. When Si Wan pulled A-Heng out, her sleeve button was accidentally knocked off.
“Wait a moment.” A-Heng picked up the button, turned around, and walked into the crowd.
Si Wan sat on the bench outside the supermarket waiting. When the girl came back out, she held a newly purchased sewing kit.
“Give it here.” She held out her hand.
“What?” Si Wan was puzzled.
She pointed to his jacket.
Si Wan looked at the flowing crowds, feeling somewhat self-conscious, hesitating for a long while before finally taking it off.
A-Heng lowered her head, and narrowed her eyes, threading the needle, her movements skilled, her white hands steady.
The half-hidden sunset warmly illuminated her hair, giving off a clean, warm aura.
He watched her for a long time but could no longer look at this scene. He recalled Chen Juan’s words: “Si Wan, you’ll regret it. She’s a girl.”
That was when Chen Juan learned he had strongly promoted A-Heng moving into the Yan household to keep Yan Xi there.
At the time, he had sneered and dismissed these words. Now looking back, his heart was struck repeatedly by something.
She was a girl, so the ravine he had always found impossible to fill could be effortlessly filled by her in an instant.
Simply because she was a girl.
And he was a boy.
Therefore, he could never take a deeper step to fill that person’s void; while she, just by her instincts as a girl, could complete that person’s life, making him feel awkward and distant, impossible to replicate.
Afterward, he never wore that jacket again, regardless of how neat and warm the stitching on the sleeve was.
When A-Heng met the legendary Aunt Lin, she thought of many beautiful words but ultimately was overwhelmed by the plum blossom fragrance flowing gently through the air.
The woman wore a white qipao with faint, watercolor-like plum blossoms, and expensive diamond jewelry adorned her fair neck and ears.
Si Wan and Si Er liked her very much. When that woman smiled at them, it looked as if her eyes were filled with bustling starlight.
“What’s that? You haven’t seen Lu Liu – when that kid smiles, there are even more stars!”
Da Yi grimaced but didn’t join Si Wan and Si Er. He didn’t particularly like this woman’s manner.
Yan Xi was an even stranger, standing there, just watching coldly, his expression so disgusted she couldn’t describe it.
“Little Xi, Auntie rarely returns to China, won’t you give me a hug?” That woman smiled like a plum blossom, graciously opening her arms.
Yan Xi quietly looked at her and stepped back. In his white canvas shoes, his left foot lightly rested on his right, sole and instep nestling together, his eyes faintly gleaming like the surface of a lake.
That posture again.
A silence fell over everyone, all feeling somewhat awkward.
“What’s wrong?” Lin Ru Mei looked at Yan Xi, bewildered.
Si Wan smiled: “Aunt Lin, you don’t know, Yan Xi has developed a strange habit these past two years, he doesn’t like physical contact. Even when Da Yi and I get too close, he throws a tantrum.”
“Especially with women.” Yan Xi added flatly afterward.
Si Wan’s expression became somewhat rigid.
But Lin Ru Mei smiled faintly, her expression kindly, speaking elegantly: “That’s not good. If you don’t interact with girls, how will our Little Xi find a wife in the future? Didn’t you tell Auntie when you were little that you wanted to marry a girl even prettier than you?”
“Yes, yes, Little Xi used to say that all the time.” Mother Wen also smiled, gradually steering the topic elsewhere.
“Is this A-Heng?” Lin Ru Mei pointed at A-Heng, smiling as she said, “Yun Yi, she looks just like you when you were young, I recognized her at first glance, such a delicate beauty.”
“Hello, Aunt.” A-Heng was somewhat formal but managed not to be lacking in courtesy.
Lin Ru Mei patted A-Heng’s hand, speaking to Old Wen: “Uncle Wen, you’re truly blessed, with such excellent grandsons and granddaughter, each one outstanding.”
“Haha, three of them don’t compare to your one. Ru Mei, you’re content with your son.” Old Wen was pleased but spoke diplomatically.
Lin Ru Mei was extremely skilled at managing the atmosphere, and the dining table was very harmonious.
But Yan Xi kept his head down, continuously eating from the dishes nearest to him.
A-Heng found it strange – since when did Yan Xi like crab roe? He usually said it was too fishy and wouldn’t touch it at all. She picked up some pork ribs and placed them in Yan Xi’s dish.
Yan Xi slightly raised his head, seeing the familiar, comforting pork ribs. Under the crystal dining table, his left foot gently moved away from his right foot’s instep, and he casually started eating the ribs, no longer touching the nearest crab roe.
A-Heng pressed her lips together, sighing, gentle resignation spreading faintly.
“A-Heng, you like pork ribs very much, don’t you?” Lin Ru Mei smiled, looking at A-Heng.
A-Heng was somewhat embarrassed, looking at that woman, but the shy smile on her face suddenly vanished completely. Though gentle, it concealed wisps of ice that made one shiver.
A-Heng frowned, pondering how to answer when a polite knock sounded outside the VIP room.
A man walked in, appearing to be in his twenties or thirties, steady and capable, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, looking like a refined secretary.
“Director Lin.” He walked to Lin Ru Mei’s side, whispering something in her ear.
Meanwhile, a sharp, clear sound – a white porcelain spoon shattered on the floor.
Yan Xi’s pupils contracted sharply, those eyes looking at that man, his face instantly turned pale.
Lin Ru Mei glanced over, her lips holding a faint smile. That man, seeing Yan Xi, became very frightened, but in the blink of an eye was expressionless again.
A waiter nearby cleaned up the broken porcelain, giving Yan Xi new tableware.
The youth lowered his head slightly again, picking up his chopsticks to continue eating.
A-Heng watched intently, noticing that his right hand holding the chopsticks showed white knuckles protruding joint by joint.
She looked down, those white canvas shoes were crossed again, pressed together so tightly they couldn’t be separated.
That man left, Lin Ru Mei sat in the main seat, continuing to smile gently, continuing the clinking of glasses, continuing the brilliant banquet.
“A-Heng, the crab roe is finished.” Yan Xi pointed to the empty dish before him, smiling, his eyes clean enough to overflow with clear liquor.
A-Heng quietly waited for what he would say next.
“I’m tired, want to sleep.” He yawned, his eyes suddenly glistening.
“I want to go home.”
Everyone was used to Yan Xi’s mood swings. Mother Wen gave a few instructions, then made excuses to Lin Ru Mei, letting Yan Xi return home.
A-Heng quietly watched him leave, that figure with prominent shoulder blades wearing the purple-red Armani coat they had spent so long shopping for together.
She vaguely remembered preferring how he looked in the black one at the time, with his fair, slender hands, large eyes, noble and invincible. Unlike this one, which made his features brilliant, like dawn and snowy dusk, beautiful as colored glass, but diluted his soul.
She had insisted on the appropriateness of her choice, yet ended up choosing his choice.
A-Heng didn’t like pork ribs at all, too greasy and rich, but pork ribs were her best home-cooked dish. Home cooking, home cooking – it seemed she only had home cooking when she had Yan Xi.
She didn’t like these so-called family banquets where one table of food cost tens of thousands, because her home was worth more than just money.
She had written a blank check with an astronomical sum, only able to spend time instead, but no one was there to spend it with her.
As her thoughts wandered, silence fell over the dining table as they turned their gazes toward the supposedly gold-and-jade-inlaid door. She turned, quietly placing her hands on her knees, her features showing fragments of dazzling fireworks.
That youth ran back, breathing heavily, black hair dampened with sweat, his slender jade-like hand under the purple coat bracing against the doorframe, his knuckles curved in arcs, releasing all burden.
But those clear black and white eyes only looked at her as he struggled to catch his breath: “A-Heng, are you full?”
A-Heng smiled, sniffled, and nodded.
“A-Heng, do you want to go home with me?”
A-Heng smiled, like ink spreading in water: “Ah, I understand, are you afraid to go home alone?”
Yan Xi smiled, reaching out his hand, still breathing somewhat unsteadily from running so fast, speaking with resignation and indulgence: “Yes, yes, yes, I’m afraid to be alone, okay?” Sweat slid gently down this youth’s fingertips, dampening the supposedly expensive French carpet.
“I knew it, so annoying, so annoying!” But she tilted her head, smiling foolishly and jubilantly, taking his hand.
Who was it that secretly complained about whose childishness, willfulness, and lack of manners, yet offered their childishness completely and without reserve to that someone?
Had others ever seen this kind of Yan Xi? Had they ever seen this kind of Wen Heng?
Look, look how poorly they fit in – if left to their own devices, wouldn’t they be better off?
If they were let go, wouldn’t they be… better off…