The bathroom light was off, and by the dim yellow light from the hallway, she looked up at Chu Jin’s thin lips as they clearly enunciated each word.

She immediately felt a pang of guilt.

Blame it on the irresistible allure of sweet and sour pork…

Song Qiaoxi shrank her neck as she obedient returned to the sink. She turned on the faucet and recited the ‘Seven Steps Handwashing Song’ taught by her kindergarten teacher, spending a full-half minute thoroughly cleaning her chubby little hands.

Then, she raised her hands in a surrendering gesture, presenting them to Chu Jin, her lips pouting slightly in a mix aggrieved and anticipation. “Is this okay?”

Seeing Chu Jin’s sharp chin nod slightly, she licked her lips and dragged her right leg as she followed the sweet and tangy aroma back to the living room.

In the center of the dining table were two enamel plates filled with golden-red sweet and sour pork.

Each piece of perfect fried pork was evenly coated in a glossy sauce, sprinkled with a later of white sesame seeds. The sight made the little girl’s mouth water.

Her mother’s sweet and sour pork was legendary—crispy on the outside without being greasy, the oil perfectly controlled so that the sauce didn’t soften the crispy coating. With each bite, the outer later was fragrant and crunchy while the pork inside remained tender and juicy.

Even without rice, Song Qiaoxi could easily devour half a plate on her own.

Holding up her meticulously cleaned hands, she climbed onto her chair, propped herself up on the table, and took a deep breath of the sweet and sour aroma.

Just as her mouth was about to water uncontrollably, she heard her mother call from the kitchen. “Xixi, Chu Jin, come get the rice.”

“Coming!” She replied in a clear and cheerful voice. She pushed herself off the chair with her right leg and hurried into the kitchen, beating Chu Jin to it.

“Are you eating this much?”

She tilted her head up to watch her mom scoop a spoonful of pearl rice from the rice cooker into a bowl, then tilted the bowl slightly to show her the portion.

“Can I have just a little more?”

She swallowed hard and gestured with her right hand, pinching her thumb and index finger close together in the air.

Today, there’s sweet and sour pork! How could such a small amount of rice be enough?

She glanced over at her dad. Oh, he was tossing a cold salad of shredded radish, and on the stove sat a plate of scrambled eggs with tomatoes.

Mmm, all such perfect dishes to pair with rice.

“This much?”

Her mom chuckled, shaking her head, and added another half spoonful.

“Okay!”

With a beaming smile, she carried her little enamel bowl back to the dining table. Soon after, Chu Jin followed, holding a bowl of plain white rice.

On the table were two plates of sweet and sour pork. One plate was meant to be a gift for Uncle Wang’s family, a return gesture for the Wuxi spare ribs and salted duck they had sent over.

Normally, it was Song Qiaoxi who would deliver the dish. But today, she was still upset with Wang Junyang and had a sore leg, so she wasn’t keen on making the trip.

Her dad asked casually, sensing her reluctance, and didn’t push her. He took the plate of sweet and sour pork upstairs himself and returned a few minutes later. The family of four then settled down to eat.

—

After dinner, once the weather forecast following the news broadcast was over, her mom fetched a clean bedsheet and accompanied Chu Jin back to the boiler room to change it.

Song Qiaoxi, her little belly round and full from overeating, insisted on tagging along, treating it as a post-meal stroll.

Changing the bedsheet wasn’t a task for the kids, and her mom didn’t let them help. Instead, she sent them out for a walk to digest their food.

The late August night was pleasant, with a gentle breeze sweeping across the open courtyard of the compound, making it the perfect weather for a stroll.

Song Qiaoxi paced back and forth in the open area in front of the boiler room, counting her steps as she walked. “One step, two steps, three steps…”

Her dad had told her that walking a hundred steps after a meal would help her live to ninety-nine. She wanted to live as long as possible so she could stay with her parents for many more years.

Chu Jin, meanwhile, sat on the steps by the entrance, holding an English book. Under the glow of the corridor light, he slowly turned the pages, engrossed in his reading.

She had just completed a small loop when, in the distance under the dim yellow streetlight of the compound, she spotted two figures—one tall and one short—heading their way.

As they got closer, she recognized them: it was Uncle Wang and Wang Junyang.

Uncle Wang waved at her with a warm smile, while Wang Junyang clutched a thick hardcover book to his chest, his lips pouted and his face filled with reluctance. He glanced at her briefly but said nothing.

“Uncle Wang.”

Song Qiaoxi greeted politely, her gaze drifting past Wang Junyang without lingering.

She didn’t initiate a greeting with Wang Junyang. She had made up her mind: unless he apologized, she wasn’t going to forgive him this time.

Uncle Wang gave Wang Junyang a gentle push toward the steps where Chu Jin was sitting. “What did you promise Mom and Dad at home? Go on, now’s your chance to show it.”

Wang Junyang shuffled his feet, head hanging low, as he walked past her.

With great difficulty, he made his way to Chu Jin and mumbled, “Chu Jin, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spilled drinks on your bedsheet, falsely accused you of wetting the bed, or fought with you. I was wrong…”

After saying this, Wang Junyang placed the book he was holding onto Chu Jin’s lap and then ran over to Song Qiaoxi.

Only then did she get a clear look at the book’s cover. It was a hardcover edition of the “Children’s Encyclopedia,” with a green cover featuring a large panda.

This book was Wang Junyang’s favorite, and when they played at his house, he rarely let anyone else touch it.

Up close, Wang Junyang’s face was as red as a monkey’s bottom, his hands clasped behind his back as he spoke in a very soft voice, “Xixi, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you…”

From the moment Wang Junyang apologized to Chu Jin, Song Qiaoxi’s anger had mostly subsided.

She knew that Wang Junyang wasn’t a bad person at heart, and in fact, the “misbehavior” of him and Ding Yi was, in some ways, connected to her.

Seeing him give away his favorite book and sincerely apologize, she realized that Wang Junyang had come to his senses.

Just as the little glutinous rice ball was about to speak, Wang Junyang gently grabbed her wrist and said cautiously, “Xixi, I… I was just a little scared, scared that you’d only be friends with Chu Jin from now on and wouldn’t want to hang out with me and Ding Yi anymore…”

Stunned for a few seconds, Song Qiao Xi understood Wang Junyang’s worries from his timid words.

Previously at the orphanage, she had long grown accustomed to the comings and goings of her companions. She thrived like a wild weed.

Without parents, without a home, without anyone or anything to care about…

And everything Wang Junyang did was his way, as a six-year-old child, of masking his fear—the fear of losing the precious friendship he had so carefully nurtured.

She should have thought of a better solution earlier.

Song Qiao Xi grabbed Wang Junyang’s wrist, pulling him over to Chu Jin. She signaled for him to crouch down with her, while her other hand tapped on the encyclopedia resting on Chu Jin’s knees.

Seeing Chu Jin look up from his book, his dark eyes gleaming, his expression devoid of any emotion as he stared at them.

At that moment, a shadow fell beside the three of them.

=^_^=

Author has something to say: Xixi: sweet and sour pork is good, sweet and sour pork is sweet, sweet and sour pork is delicious and crispy!