In her new bedroom on the second floor, Situ Jue slowly sorted through her various odds and ends, occasionally pulling out an earbud blasting deafening music to listen for any sounds from downstairs.
Seven thirty… eight… eight thirty…
The time she and Wu Jiang had agreed to meet was drawing closer and closer. Under her normal routine, by this hour her father would either not be home yet, or would be watching television upstairs with her mother, leaving her free to get ready and slip out the window, off to enjoy an hour of freedom before sneaking back in and going to bed as if nothing had happened. She never imagined that in the span of a single day, she’d lose her entire foothold—that the once-clear path ahead would suddenly be riddled with obstacles.
Snatches of conversation drifted up from downstairs into Situ Jue’s ears. She didn’t need to think hard to guess: her father was having a heart-to-heart with Yao Qiyun, with her mother sitting in as audience.
Situ Jiu’an’s usual grand lectures didn’t get much of a reception from his wife and daughter, but now, at last, he had Yao Qiyun—and he went on and on without pause, from the traditional virtues of the Chinese people, to a man’s ambitions and aspirations, and finally, once again, into the tale of his own revolutionary struggles, expounding at length on the meaning of hardship in a person’s life, as though every unlucky child in the world was destined to be chosen for some great heavenly mission. Yao Qiyun occasionally offered a reply, his voice very low; even Situ Jue’s sharp ears couldn’t quite make out the words, though it was surely something in agreement, no doubt spoken with a face full of admiration for Uncle Situ.
Where else in the world could you find two men more in tune with each other than the pair downstairs? This Yao Qiyun, who’d clearly known hardship and possessed exactly the diligent, tenacious spirit Situ Jiu’an admired most, seemed practically born to fit the image of the perfect son Situ Jiu’an had always pictured in his mind—no wonder he looked so thoroughly gratified.
None of this bothered Situ Jue much. She was already thoroughly sick of the whole worldview her father kept trying to force on her, and had zero interest in Jiu’an Tang and its pharmaceutical business anyway. With Yao Qiyun around, maybe her father’s expectations and his need to hold forth would finally find a more fitting target, and he’d ease up on her a little. But the pressing issue right now was that Wu Jiang and the others were still waiting for her outside, and she desperately wanted to go—yet the scene playing out downstairs made it clear there was no way she’d be able to slip away.
Situ Jue, like Wu Jiang, had become obsessed with cricket fighting around that time—the kind of pastime that, in the old days, would have belonged strictly to spoiled young aristocrats. When Wu Jiang first showed off his prized champion, Situ Jue had actually looked down on it a little, since it seemed like something straight out of a TV drama villain’s toolkit for kidnapping young women. But close association rubs off on you one way or another, and before long she found herself genuinely hooked on the thrill of it too.
The real fun of cricket fighting, in Situ Jue’s eyes, was catching the crickets yourself—that was the main event. This was exactly the right season for it. There were some crickets in the grass near their homes, but not many good ones, so Wu Jiang would carry her on his bicycle, along with a few other enthusiasts, to a spot about fifteen minutes away, near a martyrs’ cemetery. The grass grew thick and lush there, the trees dense, and it was rarely visited by anyone—especially at night—making it something of an insect paradise, and Situ Jue’s own paradise too. Nearly all of her prized specimens had come from that very spot. For this purpose, she’d put together a whole kit: flashlight, mosquito repellent, a hand-woven cricket cage, long-sleeved clothes—none of it could be missed, and all of it was stashed at Wu Jiang’s place. Tonight, all that gear was supposed to come in handy once again; she’d been ready to catch a few great specimens and put Wu Jiang thoroughly in his place—and now she was stuck here instead.
A little past nine fifteen, apparently deciding Yao Qiyun must be tired, Situ Jiu’an and his wife told him to get a good rest and headed upstairs one after the other; Situ Jiu’an went to shower, and Xue Shaoping knocked on her daughter’s door. Situ Jue mumbled that she was sleepy, and her mother went back to her room to watch television.
Situ Jue’s spirits soared, and she began plotting again. Listening carefully and detecting nothing unusual from her parents’ side, she crept downstairs like a thief. The front door was locked, and that wretched door made enough noise opening and closing to wake the entire house. The door to her old bedroom, now closed tight, gave no hint of what that boy might be doing inside. She scratched her head and paced softly back and forth in front of his door, trying to think of some way to slip out the window right under his nose.
After circling several times with no solution, she pressed her ear to the door to listen. She knew the soundproofing in that room perfectly well, and yet, strangely, there wasn’t a single sound coming from the other side—no water running, no footsteps, no music… not even so much as a cough. He was as silent as if he wasn’t even there.
Just then, a faint click sounded. Situ Jue froze for half a second, and before she could react and slip away, the door opened, catching her still crouched in a thoroughly suspicious pose.
Situ Jue gave a couple of awkward laughs and straightened up, pretending she hadn’t just been acting like some peeping pervert, and offered the new occupant of the room an embarrassed greeting. “Hey!”
Under her radiant smile, Yao Qiyun—looking tense and startled—seemed even more at a loss than she was, his face still red, his eyes refusing to settle anywhere near her face as he spoke. “Do… do you need something?”
“Um…” Situ Jue thought fast. “It’s like this—I used to live here, and I only just moved upstairs today. I suddenly remembered I forgot some things I actually need, so I came down to look for them. You’re not asleep yet, are you? Can I come in?”
Yao Qiyun said nothing, quickly stepping aside to let her in.
The room looked largely the same as when Situ Jue had moved out. His luggage was pitifully sparse—just one old, battered travel bag tucked in a corner beneath the desk. On the desktop lay an open book; as she walked past, Situ Jue glanced at it, pretending it was nothing, and saw it was a first-year high school English textbook. Her admiration for him surged like the Yellow River in flood—he was barely older than her, and yet the gap between them, in this regard, was enormous.
She’d always had a lot of things, and there was no way she could have cleared the room out completely in such a rush—there were still odds and ends left behind in the drawers, the closet, on the desk. Since she was already there, she felt she ought to at least make a show of it, so she absently rifled through the books and knickknacks in the desk drawer.
Yao Qiyun stood behind her, and with her back to him, she still couldn’t detect the faintest sound of movement from him. After tidying for a little while, she thought it was genuinely strange for someone to be this silent, and wondered whether he’d actually left the room.
She glanced back hopefully—and was immediately let down. He was standing right by the closet next to the door, still as a standing lamp shaped like a person. Even stranger, that “lamp’s” beam seemed to be trained directly on her back, and the moment she turned, it flinched away as if startled.
Awkwardness, it turned out, was contagious, and his obvious discomfort made the whole scene feel unbearable to Situ Jue too. She turned back and dug through a couple more notebooks, stalling, until she genuinely couldn’t stand it any longer. She set down what she was holding and asked, with a broad smile, “Are you going to take a shower?”
“What?” Yao Qiyun blinked at the abrupt question, seemingly baffled by both her words and her intent.
Even Situ Jue thought that had come out strangely, so she quickly added, “I mean, you’ve been on the road all day. A shower would probably make you feel better.”
“No need… I mean, I’ll shower. I’ll do it later,” Yao Qiyun stammered.
“Go ahead and shower now, don’t worry about me, I still need a bit more time here.”
“It’s fine, you go ahead and sort things out, I’m not in a hurry.”
“You’ve got nothing else to do anyway, so why not go take a shower?”
“It’s fine, really… I’ll wait until you’re done.”
It made sense, really—any normal person wouldn’t think of showering with a stranger in the room. Situ Jue understood that perfectly well, but there was nothing to be done about it. For the sake of her path to freedom, he had to shower. He absolutely had to!
So she laughed and said, “What are you afraid of? I’m not going to peek.”
“That’s not what I meant, I’m not afraid of you seeing me… no… I don’t mean you’d look at me…” The more Yao Qiyun tried to explain himself, the more tangled he got. He genuinely couldn’t understand why the two of them were having such an intense discussion about his bathing habits.
Under normal circumstances, Situ Jue would have been laughing uncontrollably by now, but at the moment all she wanted to do was physically stuff this boy into the bathroom.
Her gaze was so full of longing it practically spoke aloud: shower, shower, shower…
Under that kind of pressure, Yao Qiyun began to feel as though refusing to bathe made him look like he had some skin condition that couldn’t touch water. He hesitantly approached the desk, and Situ Jue instantly sensed he was wavering—clearly about to dig a change of clothes out of his bag—and quickly cleared the way from the desk.
Just as Yao Qiyun, red in the face, was rummaging through his travel bag, Xue Shaoping’s voice came from the stairwell.
“Situ Jue, what are you doing down there?”
Situ Jue’s heart, brimming with hope a moment ago, went cold instantly. “I came down to get a few books,” she answered quickly.
“Did you find them? Don’t bother Qiyun. Come up here, your mother wants to have a word with you.”
Moonlit fields, grass thick with the smell of dew, the laughter of friends, fierce and glorious crickets… Situ Jue’s heart shattered, watching her hopes dissolve into nothing right before her eyes. She understood, now, one harsh reality: tonight, there would be no getting out.
Reluctantly, she started toward the door, only to hear Yao Qiyun’s distinctive voice, tinged with a rural accent, speaking standard Mandarin.
“You didn’t take your things!”
That reminded Situ Jue why she’d come down in the first place. Sulking, she went back and gathered up a few books, and as she passed by Yao Qiyun, still unwilling to give up entirely, a sudden idea struck her.
“Yao Qiyun, can you do me a favor?”
“Me?” Her sudden eagerness startled him; he genuinely couldn’t imagine what favor he could possibly do for her.
“I’m used to living in this room. I really don’t want to move up to the second floor. Could you switch rooms with me? You just got here, after all—any spot in the house should feel about the same to you.” Even if tonight was already a lost cause, getting her room back was the fundamental solution to the whole problem.
“But…”
Yao Qiyun’s hesitation only fueled Situ Jue’s hope further. She knew exactly what was holding him back. “I already talked to my parents about it, but it didn’t work—they think this room is bigger, and my dad wants to give you the best of everything. If you go tell him you’d rather live upstairs, he definitely won’t object. Are you willing?”
Yao Qiyun fell silent.
“Please, just say something, yes or no?” Situ Jue pressed her advantage while the iron was hot, urgent now, gently pushing at Yao Qiyun’s arm. “Will you or won’t you?”
Yao Qiyun looked flustered and drew his hand back behind him. “You really like this room that much?”
“Of course!” Situ Jue nodded eagerly, then ventured, “So you agree?”
He didn’t say anything—just gave a small, somewhat shy smile.
Situ Jue’s heart soared with delight, and even her reply to her mother’s summons upstairs came out bright and cheerful.
“Coming, I’ll be right there.”
She ran to the doorway, then remembered she’d forgotten something. She popped her head back in with a bright smile.
“Thank you. You’re the best.”
Looking at him now, this Yao Qiyun really wasn’t so unpleasant after all—even his looks seemed to have grown on her considerably. No wonder her father praised him so much. And thinking of his sad circumstances, newly arrived, dependent on the kindness of others, sure to struggle with all sorts of adjustments—a wave of sympathy rose in her. Since they’d be running into each other constantly from now on, she figured it was better for everyone if they got along.
With that thought, she gave herself a solemn formal introduction. “I’m Situ Jue—same ‘Situ’ as my dad, and the ‘Jue’ that means a piece missing from a jade ring.”
“I know,” Yao Qiyun said quietly.
Situ Jue laughed. “My dad’s introduction doesn’t count.”
He opened his mouth, but before he could get anything out, Situ Jue had already pulled the door shut behind her from outside.
Situ Jue went upstairs in high spirits. Her mother was already waiting in her “temporary” room, and once Situ Jue came up, she pulled her onto the bed for a bit of mother-daughter heart-to-heart—nothing more than the usual: get along well with Yao Qiyun from now on, don’t throw tantrums or play tricks on him, don’t upset her father, and remember she was a girl now, too old to run around as carelessly as she had as a child, especially with a boy in the house—she needed to be more mindful of her own words and behavior.
Situ Jue nodded along like a chick pecking at rice, agreeable to absolutely everything. The moment her mother left the room, she yanked every piece of clothing she’d just hung up in the new closet back out and repacked it all, grateful she hadn’t unpacked most of her things from the boxes yet. Tomorrow, she’d reclaim her old territory.
Downstairs, Yao Qiyun was also sorting through his own meager belongings, which hardly needed sorting at all—but keeping his hands busy helped clear his head.
Every door, window, table, and chair in this house struck him as impossibly fine, almost unreal. Uncle Situ had told him this was his home now, and he’d never in his wildest dreams imagined that someone like him—struggling in the mud of poverty like a weed—would ever have a day like this, or any of this at all.
He could never repay Uncle Situ’s kindness in a lifetime, that went without saying. As for Auntie Xue—though there was an edge to some of what she said, she’d still been kind enough to him. He was an extra person, an outsider; it wasn’t strange that she felt some reservations. It didn’t matter. In the days ahead, he’d let time and his own actions completely change her opinion of him.
Everything before him now already exceeded the very limits of what Yao Qiyun had ever dared to hope for. All he wanted was to get along well with them, to repay the Situ family for raising him, and to make absolutely sure he never gave Uncle and Auntie Situ any reason for disappointment.
And then there was her—Situ Jue. Her hair was longer now than it had been two years ago, when he’d first seen her in the countryside; she’d grown taller, and… prettier too. Yao Qiyun straightened up and caught sight of an unfamiliar version of himself in the tall dressing mirror—unfamiliar not just because of the jarring new clothes, but because of the smile that had lingered at the corners of his mouth ever since the moment she’d left the room.
He walked over to the window, feeling the night breeze slip in through the gap in the curtains and cool his flushed head. He was just about to draw back the curtain, wanting to properly look outside—to see the view she woke up to every morning, to understand what it was about this room that made her so reluctant to give it up.
He’d only just lifted a corner of the curtain when a few sharp whistles sounded from outside. As he hesitated, someone rapped on the glass, just beyond the curtain.
“Situ, Situ…” It was a boy’s voice, kept as low as possible, calling softly.
The heavy curtain was silently clenched tight between his fingers.
“What are you playing at, Situ? I’ve been waiting forever—if you weren’t coming you could’ve said something… Situ, is that you in there?”
No one answered.
The boy outside seemed to sense something was off, realizing he might have made a mistake, and quickly ducked down and ran off.
From the narrow gap where he’d lifted the curtain, Yao Qiyun only caught a glimpse of an agile figure vaulting over the evergreen hedge, along with a few leaves knocked loose in his wake.
He didn’t know how long passed before the curtain finally slipped from his fingers entirely.
The night wind really was a remarkable thing—it could, in an instant, clear a person’s head completely. And, of course, it could just as easily shatter a dream freshly woven, and leave a heart running cold.
The next morning at breakfast, by the time Situ Jue came downstairs, her mother already had breakfast ready, Situ Jiu’an sat at the table reading the morning paper, and Yao Qiyun was off to the side, setting out the bowls and chopsticks.
Seeing his daughter, Situ Jiu’an poked his face out from behind a corner of the newspaper, but before he could say a word, Situ Jue had already pointed quickly at the clock. “I woke up ten minutes earlier than you asked—lecturing me first thing in the morning will give you a stomachache!”
Situ Jiu’an could only shake his head.
Between sitting down and picking up her chopsticks, Situ Jue had already yawned twice.
“You slept the longest of anyone and you’re still the sleepiest one here. Were you out sneaking around last night?” Situ Jiu’an said, none too pleased.
Situ Jue certainly wasn’t about to admit she’d actually spent the time repacking everything until nearly dawn. She took a big gulp of soy milk and muttered, “I just switched to a new bed, I’m not used to it yet, couldn’t sleep.”
She seized the moment to kick Yao Qiyun, who had just sat down, under the table, signaling that now was the perfect time to bring up the room swap.
Whether he simply didn’t catch on or was just naturally slow to react, Yao Qiyun pulled his foot back and kept his head down over his food, looking utterly oblivious.
Growing anxious, Situ Jue tried to kick him again but couldn’t reach his foot this time, so she resorted to deliberately clattering her bowl and chopsticks, catching his eye and blinking rapidly at him.
He still showed no sign of picking up on her hints.
It was Situ Jiu’an who noticed something was off. “Just eat your food, Situ Jue. What’s gotten into you?”
Situ Jue glanced at Yao Qiyun and decided to just say it outright. “Dad, he has something to tell you.”
“Who?”
Situ Jue pointed at Yao Qiyun, thinking, surely even the slowest person alive would get it by now.
“You don’t know how to say someone’s name? The older you get, the ruder you become.”
“I can’t bring myself to call him ‘brother.’ If I use his name, you can’t say I’m being rude.”
Situ Jiu’an gave up on her and finally turned toward Yao Qiyun, who’d been quietly eating off to the side, staying out of it. “Do you have something you wanted to say to me, Qiyun?” he asked kindly.
“Of course he does,” Situ Jue jumped in.
“Was I asking you?”
“Mom, look at Dad—when he talks to him it’s like a warm spring breeze, and when he talks to me it’s like autumn wind stripping the leaves off the trees. Isn’t that a little unfair?” Situ Jue whined to Xue Shaoping.
Xue Shaoping pressed her lips together, suppressing a smile. “Don’t interrupt. Let’s hear what Qiyun has to say.”
Yao Qiyun swallowed the last bit of food in his mouth, then finally smiled, a little shy. “Oh, right, I remember now. A’Jue mentioned wanting to switch rooms with me. That’s no problem—it’s all the same to me where I stay. I can move my things over later.”
“You—honestly, didn’t I already tell you not to do this? Can’t you ever just let things be?” This time, before Situ Jiu’an could even open his mouth, it was Xue Shaoping who turned toward her daughter with a note of reproach.
Situ Jue seemed to freeze, unable to say a single word, just staring hard at Yao Qiyun—her expression shifting from shock, to confusion, and finally, in a fresh reassessment, going cold as steel.