Looking around, Fang Long noticed one little girl who hadn’t come over to collect her gift; she was wearing a red sweater, standing quietly a short distance away.
Zhou Ya noticed too, and asked a somewhat older girl standing nearby, “Xiao Hong, is that girl new here?”
Xiao Hong nodded. “Yeah, she came last month.”
“Go call her over to get her gift.”
“Okay!”
Just as Xiao Hong ran off, two middle-aged women came striding quickly out of the building. Like most of the kids, they were both dressed in red—one in a red dress, the other in a red sweater—both fitting the festive occasion.
“Zhou Ya, you’re here!”
“Happy new year, happy new year!”
Zhou Ya nodded to them. “Auntie Chen, Auntie Zhang, happy new year.”
He introduced them to Fang Long: the one in the red dress was Auntie Chen, the one in the red sweater was Auntie Zhang. Both had worked at the welfare institute for many years, and Auntie Chen was currently the director.
Fang Long followed Zhou Ya’s example and nodded in greeting too. “Happy new year, Auntie Chen, happy new year, Auntie Zhang. I’m Fang Long.”
The two women’s eyes crinkled with smiles, and Auntie Chen teased Zhou Ya directly, “You’re finally willing to bring your girlfriend along this year!”
Zhou Ya froze for a second, then quickly explained, “No, she’s my sister.”
Auntie Zhang said, “We understand, we understand, you young people these days like calling each other ‘brother’ and ‘sister’ when you’re dating, right?”
Zhou Ya’s head ached. “That’s not—”
Just then, Xiao Hong arrived, leading the little girl over. “Here, I brought her.”
The little girl looked timid, her eyes dark as grapes, lips pressed tightly together, hands nervously rubbing at the seams of her pants, at a loss for what to do.
Just as Zhou Ya was about to speak, Auntie Zhang bent down, patted the girl’s shoulder, made a few hand signs to her, and then pointed toward the van full of gifts.
The girl finally opened her mouth, making a couple of vague “ah, ah” sounds, her hands signing back a response to Auntie Zhang.
Both Zhou Ya and Fang Long paused. Auntie Chen, standing beside them, explained quietly, “Her name is Wang Qi, eight years old this year. You can probably tell her situation… her parents died in an accident, and she was sent here.”
With Auntie Zhang’s sign language helping bridge the gap, Wang Qi seemed less anxious and withdrawn. Zhou Ya thought for a moment, then bent down and climbed into the back of the van, picking out the largest box among the pile of gifts and handing it directly to the little girl.
Wang Qi was small and thin; the large box nearly blocked half her body. She hugged the box and looked up in astonishment at the tall, sturdy uncle in front of her, who was actually signing to her with his hands.
Fang Long was equally astonished—she hadn’t known Zhou Ya could sign.
The box was too bulky, so Wang Qi set it down on the ground for the moment and signed a response; Zhou Ya quickly signed back.
The two exchanged a few silent words, and finally a faint smile appeared on the little girl’s face as she picked up the box and walked off to the side.
“Not bad, A’Ya, you still remember your old sign language.” Auntie Zhang gave Zhou Ya a thumbs up.
Zhou Ya continued unloading things from the van. “The simple stuff’s fine, the harder signs I’ve forgotten.”
Fang Long said, “I didn’t even know you could sign.”
Zhou Ya’s voice was flat. “There’s a lot you don’t know.”
Fang Long pressed further. “Oh? Like what? Go on, tell me.”
Zhou Ya ignored her and went back to sorting the gifts.
With just a few left, he had Xiao Hong and a few other kids help carry the remaining gifts upstairs, to give to the children who hadn’t come out to the playground.
Fang Long asked him quietly, “Are there other kids upstairs too?”
Zhou Ya nodded. “A few who can’t join group activities.”
He took down the stack of steamers and said to Auntie Chen and Auntie Zhang, “I made the kids some red bean buns, they’ve gone cold by now, I’ll go heat them up in the kitchen.”
“Sure, we’re actually wrapping wontons right now.” Auntie Chen took Fang Long’s hand, her smile kind. “Stay and have a simple lunch with us, why don’t you?”
Fang Long wasn’t quite used to such warmth from an elder, but she didn’t pull away, answering in a clear voice, “Sure!”
Zhou Ya, heading toward the cafeteria, called out to Xiao Hong. “Xiao Hong!”
“What’s up?”
“Show Sister Fang Long around the welfare institute, okay?”
“Of course!” Xiao Hong agreed immediately.
So Fang Long followed a group of children upstairs.
In just that short time, Xiao Hong had already introduced herself—her full name was Guo Meihong, fifteen years old this year, in ninth grade, and a big fan of Jay Chou.
Fang Long didn’t dare ask too many questions, but the young girl spoke without any hesitation, bringing up on her own the reason she’d come to the welfare institute. “My mom passed away, my dad’s in prison, no relatives could take me in, so I came to live here.”
Xiao Hong climbed up half a flight of stairs before noticing Fang Long wasn’t keeping up; she turned back. “Sister, what’s wrong?”
Fang Long stood rooted to the spot, her chest rising and falling, as if a fledgling bird about to hatch was nestled inside her left chest, pecking at her over and over with its not-yet-sharp beak.
A sore, tingling ache, with a bit of pain mixed in.
The stairwell window had been wiped spotless, sunlight pouring in, stinging her eyes until they watered.
Fang Long lowered her head and wiped at her eyes, steadying her breathing before catching up. “It’s nothing, nothing—think I just got some sand in my eye.”
Xiao Hong looked worried. “Oh, want me to blow on it for you?”
Fang Long smiled. “No need, but thank you.”
Fang Long followed Xiao Hong to the doorway of a classroom; through the window, she saw three children inside, each seated at a different desk, heads down, focused on drawing.
It was an art classroom, bright and clean, the walls covered with many children’s paintings, colorful and vibrant. An aunty sat quietly in the corner of the room, not speaking, not disturbing the children who were drawing.
Xiao Hong and the other kids didn’t push the door open directly, instead waving at the aunty through the window; she made a shushing gesture and got up to come outside.
Xiao Hong handed Zhou Ya’s gift to her and introduced Fang Long as well. The aunty took the gift with a smile, saying she’d thank Uncle A’Ya on the children’s behalf.
The other kids, having finished their errand, went back downstairs to play. Xiao Hong led Fang Long through the rest of the tour, and finally back to her own dorm room, where she quietly explained that the children in the art classroom all had autism, didn’t mix well with the other kids, and preferred staying in the room to draw.
There were currently a dozen or twenty children living at the welfare institute, none of them particularly young—all past the age most suitable for adoption.
“There’s no way I’ll ever be adopted—even though I’m an orphan, I’m too old now, and I’m a girl on top of that.”
Xiao Hong pulled over a chair for Fang Long to sit, then sat down herself on the lower bunk of the metal bed frame, shrugging. “But it’s fine this way too. I’ve been living happier here than before. In a few more years, once I turn eighteen, I can support myself with a job.”
As if a floodgate had opened, the girl talked on and on, and Fang Long didn’t interrupt much, letting her speak her fill.
She sat by Xiao Hong’s desk, where study materials and books were neatly organized. Several award certificates were pinned to the wall, along with a photo of Xiao Hong and her mother.
In the photo, Xiao Hong was still a child, and the picture had clearly been cut—half of someone’s shoulder was missing from beside the little girl.
Fang Long could easily guess who had been in that cut-away portion.
She was the same way—before leaving that place that had never really been a home, she’d cut up every photo in the album that had Fang Deming in it.
Before she knew it, some time had passed, and music chimes rang out from downstairs. Xiao Hong jumped up. “Ah, it’s mealtime! Sorry, sister, I’ve kept you talking for so long.”
“It’s fine, it’s fine, I’m really happy to have met you today.” Fang Long took out her phone. “Should we add each other on QQ?”
Xiao Hong suddenly looked a bit embarrassed, scratching her ear. “I don’t have QQ yet… only the teachers can use the computers here, and I don’t have a phone, haven’t even been to an internet cafe…”
Fang Long paused for a moment.
“Ah, sister, wait a second.” Xiao Hong walked over to her desk, pulled a notebook with a colorful cover from the bookshelf, opened it, and handed it to Fang Long along with a pen. “Sister, write your number in here! Once I get QQ, I’ll add you!”
Fang Long took it—it was a classmate memory book, pink paper printed with cute cartoon kittens on it.
“Sure, no problem.” Fang Long wrote quickly, adding her phone number as well. “If you ever want to talk to someone, just call my phone anytime.”
Xiao Hong broke into a radiant smile. “Okay!”