White doves burst forth in A-Heng’s mind, all chirping “I like you” in unison, each one bearing Zai-Zai’s dark eyes.

She recalled when he was just a baby, drooling as she changed his diapers.

She remembered when he was a toddler, crawling backward on his tiny paws whenever she pulled at the bedsheet.

She thought of when he was small, with a single corn kernel growing on his gums, using her finger to soothe the ache.

And now this person—no, this little bean sprout—actually said “I like you.”

A-Heng’s face twitched as she stared at the podium. There he stood, projecting the image of a perfect young man, while girls and boys around her whistled and clapped, the noise making her head throb.

A-Heng took a deep breath. This was her child after all—she had to save some face for him. So she maintained a mysterious smile, neither moving nor showing anger, letting others scrutinize as they wished.

Fortunately, his speech was the last item. The school leaders collectively took a deep breath, and in keeping with their prestigious school’s spirit of inclusiveness and ambition to surpass Q and B universities, they pretended not to hear, patted their bottoms, and dismissed the assembly.

Others continued their activities—some cracking sunflower seeds, some munching peanuts—all staring at her with gleaming eyes and dubious intentions.

A-Heng felt indignant, silently crying out, “Grandfather Principal, please take me with you!” When she looked up again, the little bean sprout was already leisurely walking down from the stage.

A-Heng felt split—she wanted to grab him and give him a good scolding, yet couldn’t help but look at him with loving eyes.

So conflicting.

The bean sprout meandered over, seemingly oblivious, swaying until he reached her side, then plopped down in the seat next to her.

She pointed at him: “You!”

But he just yawned, smiled, showing teeth white as fine rice grains, and mumbled softly: “A-Heng, I’m tired.”

Then, naturally, without any sense of generational gap, he wrapped his arms around her waist, rested his head against her chest…

And fell asleep.

The auditorium became so quiet you could hear a pin drop, everyone staring in shock.

A-Heng gritted her teeth, wanting to smack him dead, raised her clenched fist above his head, hesitated, then gently lowered it, stroking his soft hair, pulling him closer, and calmly announced: “He’s asleep.”

“Whatever business you have, wait until he wakes up.”

“Hmm, it has nothing to do with me… find him.”

A-Heng found it all bewildering.

The person in her arms was indeed her brother, but he slept so peacefully and carefreely that these past five years seemed shorter than five hours.

It seemed as if there was no such thing as distance between them.

Yet he had grown a head and a half taller than when he was thirteen! Even his features had largely changed from his childhood appearance, though he still couldn’t break his old habit of sleeping too much.

When he was little, his health was poor, and winters were cold. It was a bad habit she had spoiled him into—the child couldn’t fall asleep unless he was nestled in her arms.

A-Heng smiled as she looked at his profile. The entire auditorium had emptied, leaving only the early autumn breeze. She took the white coat from the armrest and draped it over him, her gaze growing increasingly tender.

As she lowered her head, her eyes reddened slightly. She even wanted to thank all the gods and Buddhas for bringing Zai-Zai back to her side.

That was before she knew this was all Yan Xi’s careful planning.

When Yun Zai woke up an hour later, his first words were: “A-Heng, I wasn’t dreaming, how wonderful.” He smiled contentedly, his eyes like moonlight rippling in a well.

A-Heng shook her slightly numb hand and asked him: “How are A-Ba and A-Ma doing?”

He stood up and stretched, saying: “They’re well, A-Heng.”

The two syllables “A-Heng” were pronounced with perfect clarity.

A-Heng frowned: “Yun Zai, what did you just call me?”

Though A-Heng had been extremely close with Yun Zai in childhood, they had always maintained proper hierarchical etiquette. She considered everything from her brother’s perspective, and Zai-Zai had always refused to speak without addressing her as a sister.

He mimicked her tone: “Wen Heng, I called you A-Heng.” Then he smiled like spring flowers blooming several times over.

Now he was calling her A-Heng.

A-Heng put on a stern face and said seriously: “Yun Zai, call me that again and I’ll hit you.”

This was about a sister’s dignity.

Yun Zai covered his face and sighed deeply: “It’s been five years since I’ve had plum blossom cake.”

A-Heng’s anger instantly dissipated, and she looked at the little bean sprout with guilt: “It’s sister’s fault. I’ll make you plum blossom cake this winter.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist and whispered in her ear: “You’re not lying, are you?”

A-Heng’s ear tickled, and she felt this child had grown up—his actions and words were strange in every way.

Pushing him away, A-Heng rubbed her ear vigorously and said seriously: “Why would I lie to you? How old are you now, still acting spoiled with me?”

She had always maintained an adult demeanor in front of Yun Zai, which was related to their childhood upbringing. The first book both she and Zai-Zai had memorized was the “Three Character Classic.”

“At age four, share your pears. As a younger to an elder, you should know this first.”

“Father and son have affection, husband and wife follow. Elder brothers befriend, younger brothers respect.”

“Elders and youngers in order, friends and companions too. Respect your ruler, be loyal as subjects do.”

“These ten relationships, all people share. Follow these teachings, never from them stray.”

Though Zai-Zai was weak in health, he was very clever and memorized it after just one reading. She had the additional task of practicing calligraphy, copying this passage no less than ten times in the coldest winter days. Even with frozen hands, she memorized it by heart, reflexively giving Zai-Zai pears in winter and peaches in summer.

Thinking carefully, her kindness to Zai-Zai seemed to stem not only from sibling love but also carried traces of forced education.

The more A-Heng thought about it, the more guilty she felt, thinking she was quite like a close-minded parent. What was wrong with the little bean sprout wanting to call her by name? So she smiled at the young man and said: “If you like, you can call me A-Heng from now on.”

Yun Zai smiled, his gaze like clouds, beneath the gentleness lay unfathomable depths. He said: “Alright.”

A-Heng looked him over from head to toe and asked softly: “I asked the hospital before, and they said after your surgery you were almost completely recovered. How’s your health now, do you still often have trouble breathing?”

Yun Zai frowned: “Occasionally.”

A-Heng’s eyes dimmed, but though she held his hand, she said nothing.

“You’re saying Yun Zai is your brother, and he was just too excited to see you, just joking?” Little Five scratched his head, muttering, “How come all the handsome ones are from your family?”

Little Four spoke flatly: “That joke went a bit too far.”

Third Sister nodded: “A-Heng’s sudden fame—conservatively speaking, this topic will keep you shining for three months.”

Big Sister Wu Ying thought for a moment and smiled: “If he weren’t your brother, he’d make a good match with A-Heng.”

Little Five said dejectedly: “I was hoping to see Yan Xi and Yun Zai face-off, but alas, he’s your brother.”

Little Four said: “Are you sure he’s the Zai-Zai you talked about?”

Everyone in the dorm knew about A-Heng’s background, so Yun Zai had quite a presence in their minds. All those descriptions of being sensible, gentle, adorable, and pure—came from A-Heng’s descriptions, but now looking at the young man on stage, nothing matched up.

A-Heng was puzzled: “What’s wrong? He is Zai-Zai.”

Little Four smiled: “Nothing, growing up naturally makes one different from childhood.”

In A-Heng’s eyes, Zai-Zai was still the Zai-Zai from childhood, but she couldn’t understand what Little Four meant.

She called Yan Xi and said: “The person in the photo was indeed Zai-Zai, I met him today.”

There was some noise on Yan Xi’s end. He covered the phone softly and said: “Please wait a moment.”

A-Heng seemed to hear Lu Liu’s voice. Though she had only met him three times and exchanged no more than three sentences, somehow this person’s voice had sunk deep into her heart, like a stone.

She vaguely remembered the Tiffany gift, dazzlingly bright.

Yan Xi walked outside.

The night was cold and clear. It was a weekend, and Lu Liu, Si Wan, and he had come to the bar to discuss business. The other party was from the gay community, with some peculiar habits, insisting on discussing business while playing at B City’s famous gay bar.

He said: “What did you just say, A-Heng?”

A-Heng looked at her toes and spoke softly: “Nothing much.”

Yan Xi asked: “Did you see Yun Zai?”

She made a sound of agreement.

Yan Xi had drunk quite a bit, undid a shirt button, and leaned against a utility pole covered with advertisement papers. He closed his eyes slightly and asked: “A-Heng, are you happy?”

A-Heng thought about the word “happy,” it seemed three-quarters of her joys and sorrows were related to this person. She thought of his eyebrows, eyes, nose, and lips, and said: “I am happy.”

I am happy because Yan Xi is still here.

He couldn’t hear this part, but still smiled and said: “A-Heng, I promise you, Yun Zai will never leave you again in this lifetime, so baby, always remember your happiness at this moment—it’s the beginning, and it’s forever.”

Hearing him call her baby, her heart suddenly felt blocked. She asked: “Yan Xi, are all couples like us?”

No kissing, no desire, no physical intimacy, just longing and doting—is that all?

Are they all like us? She asked him this way, tenderly with a hint of childish sadness, but he smiled and said: “Yes, they’re all like this, really, baby, trust me.”

Ah, what an accomplished actor.

He hung up the phone, and wiped his face with his hand—it was all tears.

In the mist, his backbone was stark. When he turned to go back, Lu Liu was standing under the streetlight, his face half-lit, half-shadowed, unclear.

When Lu Bing from the 2003 Computer Science class went downstairs for breakfast, he saw a black-haired girl in a white coat, her features as gentle as an ink painting. After thinking for a moment, oh, she was the senior from the Medical School that Yun Zai had confessed to on stage, who seemed to be called Wen Heng.

He approached and called out: “Hello senior, are you waiting for Yun Zai?” People nearby all perked up their ears.

A-Heng smiled and said yes, then raised the misty breakfast in her hand and said softly: “Just brought him some breakfast.”

Lu Bing said “Oh,” scratched his head, and said: “When I left, Yun Zai wasn’t awake yet. Should I go up and call him?”

A-Heng smiled: “No need, his health isn’t good, let him sleep a while longer.”

Lu Bing had just mounted his bicycle when he thought of something and asked: “Senior, you and Yun Zai…” A circle of eavesdroppers walked increasingly slowly.

A-Heng’s eyebrows curved: “I’m his sister.”

“He’s surnamed Yun, you’re surnamed Wen, how could you be…”

A-Heng smiled patiently and answered: “His parents are indeed my parents too.”

Everyone nodded, oh, one followed the father’s surname, one the mother’s.

When Lu Bing returned to the dorm that evening and mentioned this to Yun Zai, he laughed: “Yun Zai, you little rascal, pulling such a stunt in the auditorium, lucky your sister is good-tempered.”

Yun Zai was slightly nearsighted, originally wearing glasses and reading under the desk lamp. Hearing this, he looked up, his face ice-cold, without his usual smile: “Who told you she was my sister?”

Lu Bing saw his expression change and felt confused: “Your sister said so.”

Yun Zai squinted and smiled: “She’s a woman who lies, she was lying to you.”

Lu Bing clicked his tongue: “Then she’s your girlfriend? You’re something, confessing on the first day, and the next day she’s bringing breakfast downstairs.” Then he elbowed Yun Zai, making faces, “What time did you go down today? It was seven-thirty when I went down.”

Yun Zai looked at his book and said: “Ten o’clock.”

Lu Bing: “Ah, so late, she must have left then?”

He smiled but said nothing.

Initially, Lu Bing naturally thought A-Heng had left after waiting in vain, but after seeing that foolish senior downstairs time after time, month after month, he finally couldn’t help but kick the blanket of the lower bunk: “Yun Zai, are you a pig? Just sleeping, making a girl wait every time. Wait, wait, wait, I see mushrooms growing on her head from all the waiting! Brother, let me remind you, it’s December now, it snowed just yesterday!”

Remembering the scene of meeting Wen Heng downstairs just now, Lu Bing was fuming. In below-zero weather, a girl standing still in place, stamping her feet from cold, several hot buns and a cup of hot soy milk wrapped in her coat.

Yun Zai was kicked awake by Lu Bing but said nothing, yawned and started slowly getting dressed.

When he went down, Wen Heng was still there, her nose red from the cold, stiffly fumbling in her coat for the paper bag with breakfast to hand to him—still hot.

Habitually frowning, A-Heng said: “I’m going to class now, you go to class too after eating.” Then, looking at his clothes, she shook her head, “No good, too thin, go back and put on more, ah, be good.” After speaking, she hurriedly turned to leave.

Yun Zai looked at the paper bag in his hand but grabbed the corner of her coat. He smiled and said: “A-Heng, I don’t want to eat buns tomorrow, don’t come anymore.”

A-Heng sighed, the little bean sprout had grown up but became less obedient than when he was small. She asked: “Then what do you want to eat?”

Yun Zai was silent for a while, gently lowered his head to look at her features, and said: “I want to eat food you cook, let’s move out and live together.