Ever since Yan Xi took away the little bird called “Lu Rou Fan” (Braised Pork Rice), A-Heng and Si Wan’s relationship became much more relaxed. Occasionally, Si Wan would ruffle her long hair, joke around, and smile gently.

Was this… what having a brother felt like?

A-Heng wasn’t sure, but this uncertainty was heartwarming, so she didn’t want to overthink it anymore. Getting stuck on details was exhausting.

She wanted to live earnestly, live properly, slowly give, and slowly receive rewards.

This was ambition—a trembling, cautious ambition.

Days flowed like water, streaming through the small river called time. The autumn leaves had all fallen, welcoming winter with their desolate posture.

No one mentioned Er Er in front of her anymore; the Wen family had reached an unspoken agreement as they tried to accept A-Heng. But A-Heng felt they were enduring, enduring very painfully, and would explode one day.

So, before that balloon called “Er Er” burst, she could only wait calmly, waiting for life to bestow some precious turning points or joy.

Er Er was an objective existence, while Wen Heng was a subjective name.

Objective and subjective, dialectical materialism—these were things her Politics teacher had taught her.

Of course, studying and attending school was tiring—this was a truth that neither objectivity nor subjectivity could deny.

It was only the first year of high school, yet teachers from every subject were fighting like roosters with bloodshot eyes to seize their money. Who was it that said time is money?

Although A-Heng wouldn’t complain when she heard teachers endlessly saying “Just two more minutes” during breaks, her stomach would growl incessantly from hunger.

When class ended, everyone rushed toward the school store.

“Damn! I grabbed the wrong bread! Strawberry flavor, it’s going to be sickeningly sweet!” Xin Dayi shouted while ruffling his bird’s nest-like messy hair, making the stairs shake.

“Little Bian, trade with me! I only eat pork floss ones!” He smiled as he approached a thin, small young man.

A-Heng suppressed a laugh.

The student Xin Dayi called Little Bian was named Wei Xu. He was delicate-looking with a tiny voice and liked to play jump rope and kick shuttlecocks with the girls. When Xin had nothing better to do, he gave him a nickname—”Little Pervert,” shortened to “Little Bian.”

Although Wei Xu’s personality was as gentle and delicate as a girl’s, he was still a boy after all. Hearing the culprit Xin Dayi’s shout, his face turned blue. He let out a “hmph,” swayed his willow-like waist, and gracefully departed with his pork floss bread.

“Ooh, Auntie, you’ve angered Little Bian. Better watch out, he might lead all the girls to denounce you today!” The other boys around them laughed uproariously.

“Get lost! Who’s afraid of those little girls!” Xin Dayi sneered dismissively, “Anyone got pork floss bread to trade with me?”

The boys all disliked sweet things, and hearing his words, they scattered like birds and beasts.

A-Heng looked at the pork floss bread in her hand, hesitated for a moment, then ran to his side, smiling as she extended the bread toward Xin Dayi, saying: “Trade!”

The boy’s eyes were bright beneath his messy hair, but when he saw A-Heng, his gaze became somewhat complicated. He gripped his strawberry bread and awkwardly said: “I’m not hungry anymore!”

Then, in a beautiful parabola, he threw the strawberry bread into the trash bin and turned to leave.

A-Heng stood dumbfounded, looking at the lonely bread in the garbage. She sighed, picked it up, patted off the dust that had settled on it, and muttered softly in Wu dialect: “One yuan fifty each.”

“A-Heng?” A puzzled voice.

A-Heng turned around and saw Si Wan. Although she knew he couldn’t understand the Wu dialect, she still felt embarrassed.

“You bought two pieces of bread? Perfect, give me one. I’m starving!” The young man smiled and reached out his hand—those clean, slender hands. He looked at A-Heng and complained softly, “The student council had a meeting today, we only just finished. My stomach was getting hungry, so I went to the store, but they were sold out of bread.”

A-Heng felt touched and handed the pork floss bread to Si Wan.

“I want the strawberry one.” Si Wan’s dimples were eye-catching; the female students coming and going on the stairs blushed at the sight.

A-Heng smiled and shook her head: “It’s dirty.”

Si Wan smiled to show he didn’t mind, but A-Heng put her hands behind her back, smiling as brightly as mountains and water.

She hugged the strawberry bread, went to the corridor of her classroom’s floor, opened the paper bag, and began taking small bites.

A-Heng couldn’t quite tell the difference between strawberry bread and pork floss bread. She just felt that the strawberry jam’s sweetness overwhelmed its sourness—it wasn’t the taste of real strawberries she had tried before, yet it was still legitimately called strawberry bread. It was truly strange.

However, it was delicious.

On the day of Li Dong (the start of winter), it rained. Aunt Zhang repeatedly instructed her to go to the Yan family’s house after school, saying that Old Master Yan had invited the whole Wen family for dumplings.

Old Master Yan was A-Heng’s grandfather’s old friend—they had fought on battlefields together, shed blood together, and exchanged tokens of brotherhood. Before they had risen to their positions, one was a regiment commander, the other a political commissar—one martial, one civil—they were as close as brothers wearing the same pants. They had originally planned to become in-laws through their children’s marriages, but they both had only sons, so the plan was dropped.

Si Wan had originally said he would walk home with A-Heng after school, but he got held up by student council matters. A-Heng waited outside the office for half an hour. Si Wan felt bad about it, so he made a private exception, saying he had business to attend to, and took an umbrella from the office supplies.

“Are you cold?” Si Wan asked A-Heng while holding the umbrella, his starry eyes gentle.

A-Heng put on her hood and shook her head.

The two walked quietly under the umbrella, one on the left, one on the right, an arm’s length apart.

The winter wind was biting, and the rain kept falling. The poorly maintained small alley was difficult to walk through, with mud everywhere underfoot.

The two tried to avoid the mud, but as fate would have it, a passing commuter on a bicycle splashed them both with mud.

The young man and woman took out their handkerchiefs, busy and flustered, attending to one thing and losing another, getting half-soaked by the rain.

“Let’s run!” Si Wan smiled, “Our clothes are already wet anyway.”

A-Heng had grown up in a water town. As a child, she had been mischievous—swimming, and catching fish, accompanied by plum rain during the yellow season. Therefore, she wasn’t used to using umbrellas. Now, with Si Wan’s suggestion matching her thoughts, she nodded at him and rushed into the rain.

A-Heng ran in the rain, yet felt that the rain here was completely different from that in Wu Shui Town.

The distant tenderness that clung to clothes, the immediate hardness that pierced bones.

Two different feelings, heaven, and earth, plucking at the heartstrings called homesickness.

Si Wan walked slowly in the rain, quietly and gently watching A-Heng’s silhouette.

Silk-like cold raindrops slid down his face, his eyes gradually becoming wet from the rain. The old film of memories became blurry in the rain before clearing up again.

He had seen it, scene by scene, a black-and-white movie. There had been a girl who once playfully threw away the umbrella in his hand, grabbed his hand, and ran in the rain. He had grown accustomed to reluctantly running behind that girl, accustomed to having small hands slip into his, accustomed to watching that girl’s figure grow taller than before in the rain, accustomed to calling her “Er Er.”

His Er Er, that laughter in the winter rain, sounded just like swallows murmuring about April in the human world.

He was Er Er’s brother, once thought to be her blood brother, but inexplicably, in a single night, he and his closest sister became strangers.

Sometimes, he resented his grandfather. If he knew the truth, knew that Er Er wasn’t his blood sister, why did he allow them to become so close? Why did he let them mix their blood into each other’s bodies before telling him that the person he was closest to had no relation to him at all?

A-Heng ahead waved and smiled at him, but he couldn’t smile back, not even pretend to.

The splendor of April in the human world had long since fallen away; a spray of peach blossoms bloomed quietly, but it wasn’t as brilliant as before.

When they returned home, the house was empty. Grandfather Wen had left a note saying they had gone to the Yan family first and telling them to hurry over after school.

A-Heng and Si Wan quickly changed out of their wet clothes and left home.

By then, the rain had stopped.

“Where is the Yan family’s house?” A-Heng asked curiously.

“You’ve seen it before.” Si Wan smiled, leading A-Heng around the garden, along the winding stone path, to the white Western-style mansion behind the towering trees.

“We’re here, this is Yan Xi’s home.” Si Wan said teasingly, his slender finger pointing toward the mansion.

“What a coincidence, Grandfather Yan’s surname is Yan.” A-Heng suddenly realized.

Si Wan, unlike his usual measured behavior, burst out laughing, his eyes bright.

What coincidence? If Grandfather Yan’s surname wasn’t Yan, would he take their surname Wen instead?

“Old Third Wen, your little girl is interesting!” A hearty laugh, a deep voice, thunderous.

A-Heng focused her eyes and realized the door was already open, with Yan Xi and a group of adults standing there. Her face immediately turned red.

Grandfather looked at her, his eyes full of smiles. On his left stood Mother Wen, and on his right was a very tall and strong elderly man, slightly overweight, with graying hair, thick eyebrows, and piercing eyes that commanded natural authority.

Yan Xi was stunningly beautiful, his appearance completely different from the old man’s, but the look in his eyes was exactly like his—the same pride, the same spirit.

“Hello, Grandfather Yan.” Si Wan politely bowed, then went to stand beside Yan Xi with a grin, and the two young men began to whisper.

“A-Heng, say hello, this is your Grandfather Yan.” Mother Wen looked at A-Heng with a rare smile on her face, seemingly amused by her daughter’s behavior.

Since A-Heng had come to the Wen family, this was the first time Mother Wen had properly looked at her daughter.

She was a woman who loved deeply, and since she couldn’t take back the love she had for her adopted daughter, she would continue loving her. As for the girl before her, her heart trembled slightly, but she didn’t dare get close.

“Grandfather Yan.” A-Heng’s Mandarin was still hopelessly clumsy, but her bowing posture was perfectly proper.

“A-Heng, Wen Heng, good! A good name!” The old man smiled, looking at A-Heng with increasing tenderness. The matter from years ago had been arranged by his hand, and he felt full of guilt and sympathy for this girl.

“General Yan, tell us, what’s so good about this name?” Grandfather Wen asked with a smile.

“Good is good, if I say it’s good, it’s good!” General Yan glared at Old Wen, his thick eyebrows furrowing with a hint of childishness.

“No respect for heaven or earth or law!” Old Wen mocked.

“Third Brother, don’t give me all these twists and turns. I’m a rough man, carried a gun all my life, never carried a writing brush!” General Yan’s eyes grew huge, his tone crude.

“‘Heng’ comes from a line in ‘Han Fei Zi • Yang Quan’: ‘The balance beam differs from mere weight.’ In this world of thousands, with its turbulent rises and falls, rights and wrongs, choosing between light and heavy depends on a scale. Our little girl is precisely someone who can maintain balance.” Old Wen looked at his granddaughter, wisdom flashing in his eyes.

General Yan roared with laughter: “Third Brother, you old fool, who compares their daughter to a scale?”

Old Wen shook his head and sighed.

But A-Heng’s eyes brightened.

When she was young, her foster father had named her “Heng” (恒), meaning perseverance, which together with her brother’s name “Zai” (在) made “Heng Zai” (恒在), hoping the two of them would live long lives and bring joy to their parents. However, when registering for household registration later, the police officer wrote the wrong character, using “Heng” (衡) instead. It wasn’t as Grandfather Wen said, taken from ancient texts.

But these carefully crafted, gentle words nearly folded away all the grievances in her heart, and even her eyes looking at her grandfather became joyful.

“Old man, when are we eating dumplings? I’m hungry, I’m hungry!” Yan Xi, who hadn’t interrupted while the adults were talking earlier, now found his chance. His bright, clear eyes looked at General Yan, his appearance very well-behaved, but his words were not.

“Your grandmother’s bear! What did you call me?!” General Yan got angry, crude words bursting out as he bent down to take off his cotton slippers, ready to swat the young man.

But the youth cleverly dodged behind Mother Wen, making faces and sticking out his tongue at General Yan, looking completely innocent.

A-Heng watched his behavior, so different from his usual haughty, above-it-all manner, and quietly giggled.

“See, little sister is laughing at you, how immature!” Mother Wen smiled and patted the youth’s slender hand, then turned to look at General Yan, “Uncle Yan, don’t be angry. Little Xi is just childish and a bit mischievous. You wouldn’t hit him, would you?”

“I’ll let you off today, for your sister’s sake!” General Yan’s eyes were perfectly round.

“Old Yan, you’re just showing off with words!” Old Wen laughed and scolded.

Old Yan’s doting on his grandson was famous among their old crowd.

Yan Xi had been naughty since childhood. When he was really angry, he would raise his hand to hit him. But before the palm could complete its arc, the child would cry like a howling wolf, crying and singing “Little Chinese cabbage, yellow in the field, lost father at three, lost mother at five…” The neighbors would all wipe their tears and point at Old Yan’s nose, cursing his cruelty, saying the child growing up like this was the Yan family’s good fortune, if anything happened to him, how could he face eight generations of ancestors?

Old Yan would look at the child’s big eyes, blinking with tears, and get more and more pleased with himself, saying: “That’s right, look whose grandson he is. Which family’s child looks as good as my grandson? The Wen family’s, the Lu family’s, the Xin family’s all together aren’t worth a look!”

But when this got out, Old Xin wasn’t happy. The commanders always liked to compare the two of them, and they both found each other disagreeable—the higher their military rank, the more grievances they had. They compared taking wives, having children, and especially having grandsons.

Old Xin carried his grandson Xin Dayi to argue with Old Yan: “Your grandmother’s bear! Why do you say our Dayi isn’t as good-looking as your Yan Xi! Look at your Yan Xi, his mouth so small he can’t even suck up noodles, just like a girl, not a bit of manly spirit! You have the face to say that, I’m embarrassed for you!”

Old Yan slapped his hand down, also getting angry: “Your grandmother’s grandmother’s bear! Does your Xin Dayi look good? That mess of hair, people might think you’re carrying a monkey! A monkey child is a monkey child, and he’s a mute baby too, I’m too embarrassed to call you a friend!”

At that time, Dayi was almost three and still couldn’t speak. But Yan Xi, at two years old, could already go around the streets saying “Handsome uncle, beautiful auntie” to get candy; at three years old, his high notes were close to a professional singer’s standard, although not a single note was in tune.

This deeply wounded Old Xin’s fragile old heart, and he would hold Xin Dayi every day cursing the Yan grandfather and grandson, while Xin Dayi listened with great interest.

Finally, when Xin Dayi was three years, three months, and three days old, he opened his noble mouth, and his first words were: “Yan Xi, your grandmother’s bear!”

This one sentence made everyone in the compound laugh for several months.

But young Yan Xi’s tender self-esteem was hurt, and he chased Xin Dayi around the compound, catching him to yell: “Xin Dayi your father’s bear your mother’s bear your grandfather’s bear your grandmother’s bear your whole family are bears, and black blind bears!”

Thus, it became another classic, sung endlessly.

This child Yan Xi, lawless and unruly, had been vengeful since childhood. If someone bullied him even a bit, he would take back tenfold, and if he was short one part today, he would make it up in the future.

Because of this, Old Wen didn’t like Yan Xi, but considering his old friend’s face, still treated him like his own child. What he worried about most was Si Wan getting too close to Yan Xi and being corrupted by him.

“Still, Auntie loves me best.” Meanwhile, Yan Xi, as if performing a stage play, dramatically knelt on one knee and grabbed Mother Wen’s hand, his red lips upturned in a mischievous smile, “Auntie, you’re so good to me, does that mean you’ve fallen for me? Oh my, I’m getting embarrassed. Why don’t you just leave Uncle Wen and marry me instead, ah!”

“How old are you now, not a bit of seriousness, if your Uncle Wen heard this, he’d whip you again!” Mother Wen was caught between laughter and exasperation as she tapped the youth’s fair forehead, her tone gentle and intimate.

“But he’s not here!” Yan Xi said carelessly, his beautiful eyes growing more mischievous as he looked at Si Wan.

Si Wan didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Yan Xi was only half a year older than him, and since childhood had insisted that he call him brother. When he refused, he didn’t know how many times the little tyrant Yan Xi had beaten him up.

Finally, the little tyrant Yan Xi had made a fierce declaration: “If you won’t call me brother, I don’t care anyway! When I marry Aunt Yun Yi, I’ll make you call me father!”

So, he had dreamed of becoming Si Wan’s stepfather for over ten years.

A-Heng moved her lips, staring blankly at Yan Xi, dumbfounded. How could someone show such different faces in one day? So unstable!

“You rascal, stop fooling around!” General Yan’s face turned red with anger as he grabbed Yan Xi’s red sweater collar and brought him before A-Heng, grinding his teeth, “Tell your sister A-Heng, what’s your name?”

General Yan didn’t know that A-Heng and Yan Xi had already met several times.

The “Yan” of Yan Xi, the “Xi” of Yan Xi. These two characters were already carved in her heart, carefully and fearfully, never to be forgotten.

“Yan Xi.” He looked at her casually, black eyes and black hair, flowers blooming at his lips.

“Wen Heng.” She smiled, her eyes clear, her words harmless.

At that moment, she finally had a definite way to call his name.

At that moment, after several chance encounters, they finally became acquainted.

This understanding, she hadn’t expected it, he hadn’t cared about it.

One fifteen, one seventeen, both in their youth.

Just so happened, that meeting on a narrow path, a good show was about to begin.