The small, thin figure was Ding Yi.

At some point—without a sound—he had quietly walked over.

Ding Yi held a blue dolphin ring-toss toy in one hand, while the other awkwardly clutched his opposite arm. He placed the toy in front of Chu Jin, pursed his lips, and murmured softly. “Sorry.”

Adjusting his glasses, he shot a quick glance behind him before crouching down next to Song Qiaoxi’s right side.

Following his gaze, Song Qiaoxi glanced back and spotted a short-haired little girl walking away. Her movements were quiet and unhurried, heading in the direction of the rowhouses.

Ding Miao?

Turning back to Ding Yi, she couldn’t help but laugh at his expression—like someone forced to apologize under duress.

It seemed pretty obvious Ding Miao had given him a lesson.

Who would have thought? That serene, composed little girl had a commanding aura!

Honestly, it was so different from the personality of the original owner.

Though Song Qiaoxi liked playing with this group of boys, deep down, she longed to have a friend her own age—a girl.

In the courtyard, wherever she looked, the only girls around her age or younger—aside from Ding Miao—had all been bullied by the original owner of her body.

Unlike boys, girls at this age held grudges. Deep ones. Song Qiaoxi didn’t dare act recklessly.

Charging in to make friends? That was practically asking for trouble. She could already picture the horrifying spectacle: a full-blown hair-pulling disaster.

She was terrified that the girls she—or rather, the original owner—had bullied would band together to seek revenge on her.

Still, becoming good friends with Miao Miao didn’t seem entirely out of reach.

After all, Ding Miao had spoken up for her earlier in the afternoon.

No rush. Ding Miao had been assigned to the same first-grade class as her at the Normal School-affiliated elementary—Class 5. They’d have plenty of time to bond.

For now, though, she needed to deal with the two troublemakers in front of her.

Chu Jin watched the three little kids squatting in front of him, utterly baffled about what they wanted.

The ringleader, a chubby-cheeked little dumpling, rolled her big eyes and placed a tiny hand on the book resting on his knee. Her short fingers tapped the cover with a gentle pat-pat-pat, a curious rhythm filling the air.

Something about Song Qiaoxi, this mischievous little sprite, made Chu Jin feel she was up to no good. He silently frowned.

Then, he saw her flash a sly smile and say to the two boys on either side of her, “Hands up.”

One small, slender, sun-kissed hand was placed gently on the back of her own hand, followed by another smaller, chubbier hand. The three little hands stacked one atop the other, like a human pyramid, resting on the belly of the giant panda featured on the cover of the encyclopedia.

Chu Jin watched as she tilted her face upward and cheekily stuck out her tongue.

Her plump, round face was offset by a surprising little pointed chin. Dampened by sweat, her bangs curled slightly and clung to her temples. Under the soft, orange-yellow glow of the light, she looked as sweet as a summer apricot—tart yet irresistibly cute.

The little dumpling raised her chin at him, her tone soft and syrupy, yet her gaze was unyielding and surprisingly commanding, carrying just the hint of an order. “Your hand. Put it up here, too.”

No one ordered Chu Jin around. Not even his parents—when they were alive—had spoken to him like that.

Yet somehow, as if under a spell, he found himself closing his English copy of To Kill a Mockingbird without thinking. After hesitating for a moment, he eventually gave in to her urging, lightly placing his right hand on the back of Ding Yi’s.

Even then, Chu Jin held his hand in a way that made the back arch slightly, deliberately minimizing any unnecessary physical contact.

“From today, we officially rename ourselves the ‘Little Four* Gang,’” Song Qiaoxi declared.

The moment the words left her mouth, three boys and six sharp eyes darted toward her, their piercing gazes cutting into her like swords.

Good thing their eyes couldn’t shoot lasers, otherwise, she’d be toast by now…

Awkwardly clearing her throat twice, she flashed an uneasy smile around the group. “Ahem, uh, since all hands are in, no backsies, okay?

From now on, we’re going to be the best of friends—helping each other, sticking together, and spreading love and unity! We’ll be civilized, polite, hygienic, orderly, and moral. We’ll aim for beauty in our hearts, words, actions, and surroundings, doing our part to become true successors of socialism and contribute to building a harmonious society!”

Chu Jin narrowed his eyes slightly as he listened, glancing down at her. She happened to be looking up at him at the exact same time.

Regret swept over him.

Little Four Gang? Seriously?

He didn’t have the time or patience to humor these childish antics.

His brow furrowed as he moved to lift his hand. But before he could, a chubby little paw slapped it right back down with a resounding smack.

Standing tall, Song Qiaoxi leaned in with all her might to keep their hands pressed together. Then, with the cadence of an auctioneer spilling spoilers, she proclaimed:

“Hands are in, so no turning back! A palm-to-palm pact—one hundred years of loyalty! Anyone who breaks it is a big, fat puppy!”

Letting out a long sigh of relief, she removed her hand and shook her almost-numb right hand, grinning with satisfaction. “Alright, from now on, no more infighting! We’re all grasshoppers tied to the same rope now.”

Completely content, the little dumpling turned away and resumed her “post-meal walk to live to ninety-nine” routine.

The three boys left behind exchanged awkward glances.

Then, almost simultaneously, they hastily withdrew their hands, each one grimacing as though they’d touched something unpleasant. They mimed vigorous “dry handwashing” gestures or rubbed their palms furiously against their shorts.

Still, the tension in their expressions had noticeably softened.

Even if the air between them was still tinged with a visible trace of mutual disdain…

But boys will be boys—what starts as a clash often turns into friendship. The more they bicker and tussle, the closer they grow.

How could they possibly know that these seemingly mismatched kids, who could barely tolerate each other now, would one day become brothers who’d risk their lives for one another?

“You’re not joining me for a walk?” Song Qiaoxi called out, all enthusiasm. “My dad says walking a hundred steps after meals lets you live to ninety-nine. Let’s all live to ninety-nine together!”

She waved eagerly at the remaining members of the Little Four Gang.

The trio, however, was surprisingly unanimous in their response, each quickly waving her off with a synchronized chorus of “No, no, no!”

Their movements were synchronized like triplets, and their expressions were identical.

^_^