I caught a cold, in the middle of summer.

My nose feels terrible. Drawing back the curtains, I can see diagonally across—the neighbor’s neighbor’s neighbor, that empty house, finally filled with people.

Lying in bed, reading for a while, someone from the company called, asking about the new administrative building construction bidding. Dayi was competing—did we need to give him special consideration?

I thought for a moment and said no.

Dayi has an inherent pride that, when provoked, is even more frightening than Yan Xi.

These two—when I first knew them, one had just learned to crawl, the other to walk.

I liked Dayi but detested Yan Xi.

Because I could snatch Dayi’s candy, but I couldn’t take any food from Yan Xi, including the milk bag he always had hanging from his mouth.

He liked drinking one particular brand of chocolate milk. When the factory ran out, he’d rather not drink than switch brands—stubborn, thoughtless.

Before age five, we got along peacefully. I had my playmates; he had his Dayi and Si Wan. Occasionally we’d build sandcastles together. Yan Xi’s houses were always beautiful. He loved holding his head high, hands on hips, telling us: “I’m going to marry the most beautiful person in the world, and we’ll live in the house I build.”

Even today, I remember how he looked then—white clothes spotted with mud, that watermelon-shaped head held high, so arrogant it made you want to smack him.

Back then, Si Wan always had his sister following behind, her big eyes blinking, always wearing two little braids, soft hair ends tied with pretty butterfly knots.

I liked watching her, really liked it. She wasn’t talkative like Yan Xi; when she smiled, her face would turn rosy, always soft and delicate.

But seeing her eyes always reminded me of Yan Xi, and then I particularly wanted to see what she looked like crying.

Because I’d never seen Yan Xi cry, even when pinching his face.

I pulled Wen Si Er’s braids, and then she cried. Those big eyes filled with tears wronged and grieved, yet still bright and sparkling like two crystal-clear grapes.

I felt great, but then Yan Xi came. He beat me for no apparent reason, even though her real brother Wen Si Wan just stood there stupidly. I fought back just as senselessly because I didn’t want any connection with him at all.

After that, I became enemies with the Yan family’s grandson, and the whole compound knew about it.

My grandfather loved scolding me: “Can’t you just let things go with Yan Xi? He grew up without parents—does that mean you didn’t have any upbringing either?”

Everyone knew Yan Xi’s parents didn’t like him.

But I refused to yield to him. It started with fighting over Wen Si Er, but later, whether happy or upset, with reason or without, we’d always end up fighting.

Why should I? Whatever happens, happens. Why should others say he has no upbringing and I do, or he does and I don’t? If we’re well-bred, let’s both be well-bred; if not, let’s both not be!

Later, Lu Liu appeared by his side.

He doted on Yan Xi, indulged him, defended everything Yan Xi said, and covered for all his troubles—completely different from me.

After that, I never fought with Yan Xi again because Lu Liu was always by his side.

It’s strange—I got along well with Lu Liu, with Dayi and Si Wan too, but only with Yan Xi was it like we were mortal enemies from a past life, a knot that could never be untied.

Especially after entering No. 7 Middle School. Even wearing the notoriously plain and ugly school uniform, he still raised his eyebrows, tall and proud, making me detest him even more.

In junior high, Lu Liu and I were in the same class, becoming quite close.

At that time, in junior high, girls were starting to develop, and boys had vague stirrings in their hearts, poorly concealed. They loved lifting girls’ skirts, loved seeing girls blush and scold them, but ask ten boys what was under those skirts, and nine couldn’t tell you.

I bet Lu Liu that the class beauty wore earth-yellow underwear. He absolutely wouldn’t believe it. I called that girl over and, while pretending to ask her about homework, lifted her skirt from behind.

White, slender thighs and earth-yellow boxer shorts.

Lu Liu collapsed on the desk behind, laughing himself to death. The girl let out a startled cry, her cheeks reddening as she stared at me, dazed.

She had been secretly in love with me for a long time.

I said sorry, looking at her with a smile. But she cried, with large teardrops in her eyes, crystal clear.

That night, I dreamed of a very beautiful face. I had him pinned beneath me like I was going mad. There were tears in his eyes, so similar to Si Er’s from years ago.

When I woke up, the sheets were wet.

That was the first time, like a catastrophe. I couldn’t accept it, couldn’t even face Lu Liu comfortably because he was so close to him, seeming to carry his scent.

Like sunshine.

I grew increasingly distant from him but closer to Lu Liu.

On the bus home, Lu Liu and I got on at the first stop; Yan Xi, Si Wan, and Dayi at the third.

We’d go home together. Back then, Lu Liu’s family hadn’t moved away yet.

They would usually horse around while I sat reading. When tired of reading, I’d look out the window at the fleeting time.

Dayi teased Yan Xi, asking if he had a crush on Lin Wanwan from his class.

Unusually, Yan Xi didn’t raise his eyebrows but blushed. However, Si Wan’s face darkened. And Lu Liu—he remained motionless and unangered, smiling like a Buddha, but the drink box in his hand was twisted beyond recognition.

Through my book, sitting beside him, I saw it.

Some days later, Lu Liu and Yan Xi seemed to have fallen out. After school, Yan Xi often wandered alone, drawing random things, and living a solitary life. He exiled himself, isolating himself from us.

More days passed, and there was an explosion in the southern capital, killing exactly thirty-three people. Yan Xi was lucky, crawling out of the fire by himself.

He was hospitalized for a long time, wearing away some of his childhood edge.

My grandfather and parents visited him in the hospital. I just sat in the garden outside his ward, continuing to read my books.

I sat there for many days, watching many people come and go, including Lu Liu and his cunning, vicious grandfather.

By the time Yan Xi recovered, Lu Liu had gone to Vienna.

Overnight, this world lost even the air of Yan Xi’s presence—that domineering, brilliant sunshine-like essence disappeared into the air.

Yan Xi took a break from school.

I don’t know why. Late one night, Dayi and I climbed his family’s wall—though I just served as a human ladder, hoisting Dayi to the second floor.

That black window curtain, the window I could see every day lying in bed, was tightly closed.

Dayi pried open the window with pliers and climbed in. I huddled in the corner of the Yan family wall keeping watch, waiting.

When Dayi came back out, his face was red from holding back tears he dared not shed. He said Yan Xi had gone mad.

After school, carrying my backpack past the Yan house, I’d always stare at the second floor for a long time. Looking and looking, as time passed, it didn’t feel tiring anymore.

I wanted to steal him away and fight with him one more time.

Much, much later, so long that Yan Xi’s presence beside me had weakened to near imperceptibility, they said Yan Xi had recovered.

I watched as his room’s curtains changed back to pink and smiled.

This madman…

But he was no longer the Yan Xi I knew. Cold, cold enough to wear a smile on his face while his heart remained undisturbed, gradually becoming similar to Lu Liu’s fake appearance.

Yan Xi’s presence vanished, died.

From that day on, my first act upon returning home was to close the windows, draw the curtains, and do anything in darkness except stop thinking.

From my parents’ conversations, I vaguely guessed that Wen Si Er was Yan Xi’s real sister, and soon after, the legitimate Wen young lady returned to the Wen family.

Yan Xi had always protected and defended Si Er tremendously, even taking her debts of gratitude upon himself, treating the legitimate Wen young lady with uncharacteristic kindness and magnanimity.

I coldly watched him act, then coldly watched as he fell into the act, unable to extract himself.

He had too many black holes, and now, another weakness was added.

When Yan Xi’s delusional disorder relapsed, I had already realized nothing was coincidental. I spent large sums investigating the Lu family, then, without my grandfather and parents discovering—or perhaps they noticed but didn’t expose it—learned to trade stocks to fill the gaps.

That year, I had just turned eighteen when I entered the stock market. I took many falls, but fortunately had some cleverness and earned it back.

By the time all investigations revealed the truth, Yan Xi had already recovered under Wen Heng’s care.

I tried to pretend to reconnect, establishing contact with Lu Liu who was lurking in Vienna. From my perspective, I could provide a much more reliable account of Yan Xi’s living conditions than the fragments he heard from Si Wan.

He trusted me, at least within the limits of trust that should be given to friends.

That winter was very cold.

Yan Xi designed a card with “Myheng” written below.

That day in the elevator, I stood very close to him.

The sunlight scent on his body seemed to be slowly reviving. I felt somewhat dizzy.

I sat in one spot, watching him strive for Wen Heng, watching his eyes, as if reborn.

That window hadn’t been opened for so long; when pushed open, the pink curtains in the distance fluttered in the spring breeze. Whatever he wanted—whether listening to rock music or drawing; whether playing games or playing violin out of missing Lu Liu—whatever it was, it was fine, as long as he had a source of happiness.

He and Wen Heng always stood together. He loved holding her hand, excited to the point of dancing. That child, however, always just smiled gently and gracefully, watching him with an indulgent look, proper and gentle.

Lu Liu told me his time had come. Lin Ruomei had made several wrong decisions at the Lu corporation, and her planted people were suppressed by Lu Liu’s grandfather’s people, her reputation at its lowest—the timing was perfect.

I don’t know if he had any intention of revenge for Yan Xi, because he had contributed significantly to pushing Yan Xi to this state.

For instance, the bar explosion wasn’t just a coincidence; for instance, Lin Ruomei sent the photo album to Wen Heng with his tacit approval.

But Lin Ruomei’s fate was tragic. Her power was stripped away, and then her father-in-law and son sent her to a sanatorium under the pretext of poor health—on the surface, a scene of noble appearances and filial piety.

Lu Liu returned to Yan Xi’s side, but Wen Heng left.

I called to tell Yan Xi that Wen Heng had been kneeling at the Wen family gate for a day. He flew back overnight from America, but because of one plea from the Wen family—they begged him to let Wen Heng go—Yan Xi fell silent, compromised.

He followed behind Wen Heng the whole way.

I clearly remember their silhouettes then, parallel in the distance but never intersecting.

Yan Xi wore black clothes with a hood.

When we returned and went drinking at a bar, he got completely drunk, his face very red. He stared at a point in the air for a long time before starting to cry.

Only then did I realize I had been wrong—when he cried, he didn’t look like Si Er at all.

When Si Er cried, I would laugh, but when he cried, I couldn’t laugh. The strings in my heart broke one by one, silently.

I told him the Earth can hear people’s wishes. You just have to say it—if you say it enough times, someday it will fulfill your wish.

He said: “If possible, could you ask this ball to send my baby back to me?”

I thought for a moment, smiled, pinched his cheek, and said: “Yes.”

I initially bought Lu Corporation stocks in scattered shares, selling, looking for patterns, and spending three years. Then I increased my investment intensity, buying continuously. For a long time after, Lu Corporation’s stock kept soaring wildly.

Although Lu Liu had some doubts, the Lu Corporation had always been cautious and shouldn’t have left loopholes.

But I was even more cautious, using false names and identities, trading like an ordinary middle-level stockholder for many years. He couldn’t find anything suspicious.

But through all these years of being so close to him, I understood the Lu Corporation’s dynamics clearly.

When he asked me when the new company was established, Yan Xi beside him had already grown gaunt beyond recognition. He wouldn’t eat, but the sunshine essence about him remained unyielding.

I thought it was time.

Looking at Yan Xi, pinching his cheek again, the baby fat from childhood was long gone, but unchanged was that he wouldn’t cry.

Wouldn’t let me see his tears.

I sold all my Lu Corporation stocks, making a huge profit, while the Lu Corporation board all lost their capital. Without proper management, overnight collapse was possible.

While Lu Liu was overwhelmed, Dayi and I sent Yan Xi to the airport.

I told him: “The Earth has fulfilled your wish, Yan Xi.”

I called his name, never before as naturally or gently as that day.

Some more years passed, bringing us to today, with me having a cold.

From behind the pink curtains across the way, there’s always the sound of a baby crying and his father acting spoiled, while the lady of the house is both helpless and happy.

That presence grows increasingly mellow, like aged wine, dispersing into the air, never dissipating.

My new girlfriend, hearing I had a cold, came to visit. Seeing me reading again, she laughed.

“Sun Peng, since the first time I saw you, you’ve been reading the same book.” She asked, “What’s its title?”

I flipped to the title page: “Oh, ‘I Love You.'”

The book’s title is “I Love You.”

The “I love you” that you’ll never know.