She had never seen Dad so angry.

Song Qiaoxi had always seen her father as someone who, despite his love for teasing, had a remarkably good temper. He never lost his cool, never raised his voice at anyone, and was even softer with her and her mother.

He was often joked about by the other uncles, who would say he was ‘afraid of his wife’ or ‘a slave to his daughter.’

The child that Dad was talking about, was it Chu Jin?

He was the only person who came to mind.

Another uncle, whose voice sounded like Uncle Wang’s, spoke with a touch of impatience but was clearly more level-headed than Dad: “The child is in a difficult situation. Old Chu and Xiao Sun are our old neighbors and colleagues. We can’t just stand by and let the child be neglected. We need to come up with a solution together.”

The bike stopped in front of the simple shed near the communication room. Song Qiaoxi and her mother were close to the group gathered there.

Song Qiaoxi saw that under the shed, a group of five or six people had gathered—just the uncles who had finished work and were home in the compound, including her father, Uncle Wang, and Uncle Ding.

“Brother Song, try not to be too impulsive. Have you and the others discussed this matter? … Oh, hi! Sister-in-law, you’re back from school? Why are you so late?”

Uncle Ding’s smile was somewhat forced as he patted Father Song heavily on the shoulder.

Song Qiaoxi noticed her mother’s clear displeasure; her usually gentle and attractive eyebrows had suddenly turned serious.

A few uncles, scratching their heads and laughing nervously as they lit cigarettes, quickly dispersed.

Uncle Ding also seemed to signal a retreat, moving quickly to stand by Aunt Ding’s side and making a ‘retreat’ gesture toward Uncle Wang.

All eyes immediately shifted to Song Qiaoxi’s father.

His face was flushed red, and he cast a strained glance at the communication room, as if about to say something.

Song Qiaoxi instinctively looked toward the open door of the communication room, which was unlit.

Just a brief look made her already anxious heart race uncontrollably.

In the corner of the room, she saw a dark shape. Upon closer inspection, she noticed the strap of a school bag being tightly gripped by a slender, pale hand.

One thought dominated her mind: she couldn’t let herself regret this moment as she had before.

She tugged at her mother’s skirt and whispered urgently, “Mom, carry me down.”

Her mother quickly lifted her out of the bike seat.

Song Qiaoxi looked up to see her father approaching with a smile, taking the handlebars from her mother’s hand. He leaned in and began speaking quietly to her, his ear pressed close to her mother’s.

Seeing her mother’s expression soften, Song Qiaoxi’s racing heart began to settle. Without looking back, she hurried into the communication room with her short legs.

Inside the dimly lit room, her eyes were drawn to a simple set of wooden tables and chairs. On the desk sat an old enamel teapot marked ‘For the People,’ which the janitor, Master Li, usually used for his tea.

The corner was blackened by the winter coal stove. A boy, thin and huddled in the dirty, darkened corner, clutched his knee with one hand while the other tightly gripped the strap of his bag, his fingertips white with tension.

Hearing the heavy footsteps, Chu Jin slowly lifted his head.

Without the fringe of hair covering his face, his small, unnervingly pale face was exposed, leaving only his large, peach-blossom eyes visible.

But now those eyes, rimmed with red and dark as a cold abyss, stared at her with a mix of indignation and coldness.

Song Qiaoxi met his gaze directly, refusing to look away.

She opened her mouth to call his name, but for some reason, seeing him like this, her throat felt constricted.

The hatred in Chu Jin’s eyes didn’t frighten Song Qiaoxi in the slightest.

Because she knew that the hatred wasn’t directed at her.

She had witnessed the most vulnerable side of this boy who had shut himself off from the world—seen his tears of pain in his sleep and watched him struggle to maintain what was left of his self-respect.

From the moment she had unintentionally seen Chu Jin at school, she had been worried all afternoon.

Song Qiaoxi didn’t claim to fully understand him, but she could relate, having grown up without parents herself, feeling lost and hardened.

She could say that she understood Chu Jin’s pain. Even if she couldn’t fully grasp his hatred, she understood him better than most.

Despite Chu Jin’s grim gaze, Song Qiaoxi walked steadily to his side.

Trying to maintain her balance, she crouched down at a distance of about two fists away from him, her small body pressing against the dirty corner of the wall.

She remained by his side, wordlessly crouching there for a while.

As the boy slowly lowered his eyes, resting his pointed chin silently on his knees, the tension and hostility in his body seemed to dissipate

Chu Jin now appeared like a soulless, pale puppet.

Remembering something, Song Qiaoxi decided to take a bold step.

The last time she tried this, even though he was asleep, it seemed to help.

She turned her head slightly, gazing at Chu Jin sitting on the ground.

Hesitantly, she extended her little, slightly sweaty hand and gently patted his small arm. In a soft, soothing voice, she murmured, “It’s okay, don’t be afraid… don’t be afraid…”

Chu Jin was enveloped by the sweet aroma of the glutinous dumpling his grandmother used to make. His bare arms felt like the soft fur of a white rabbit, and the three petals of his mouth exhaled warm, damp-breath that was both comforting and gentle.

This sensation was so familiar…

The upheaval of the past year had sharpened his memories, and the only time he had experienced such care was the half day he spent at the Song family home.

That night, as he slept, he remembered the comforting milky scent and the soft, gentle touch of small hands patting him.

Chu Jin’s weary gaze shifted slightly to the left. The little girl’s big, grape-like eyes shone brightly, and she looked at him without a trace of fear. Her soft, childish voice said, “Chu Jin, don’t be afraid…”

Afraid?

He chuckled. He wasn’t afraid.

He was filled with hatred.

He hated the drunk driver who took his parents’ lives, and he hated his uncle for deceiving his dying father with promises of care, only to sell off the family assets and disappear without a trace.

He resented his uncle and his family. Despite the support and sacrifices his parents made for them, they treated his family poorly and took advantage of them when they sold the property without giving any money.

He despised his younger uncle, who pretended to care for him and let him go to school, but actually intended to use him to smuggle drugs. As the son of a drug enforcement officer, he was well aware of those powdery substances and the terrifying sight of his uncle when he was high.

But above all, he hated himself the most.

He hated himself for not being strong enough to avenge his parents, for being weak and incompetent, and for lacking the ability to live independently. When his hatred reached its peak, he wished for the destruction of the entire world.

Listening to the little glutinous dumpling’s gentle coaxing, gazing into her clear eyes, and feeling her soft, trembling hand lightly patting him, a strange, dark rage began to rise in Chu Jin’s heart.

He released the strap he was holding with his right hand and, in frustration, swatted away the small hand on his left arm.

The loud ‘smack’ echoed in the room.

Chu Jin thought bitterly to himself: Get lost. He didn’t need anyone’s pity, and he didn’t want to be a burden to anyone.

She has a happy and fulfilling family; how could she possibly understand his hatred and pain?

Chu Jin caught a glimpse of the little glutinous dumpling’s shocked expression from the corner of his eye and instinctively withdrew her chubby hand.

Staring blankly at her little hand, Song Qiaoxi’s initial reaction was that she had hurt him with the slap.

Oops, Chu Jin had no flesh on his arm, and she had only intended to pat him lightly. It seemed she had used too much force.

With a light sigh, she muttered, “I really didn’t expect to hit so hard. Little Fatty’s hands are surprisingly strong.”

“I’m sorry if I hurt you with that pat,” she continued softly, as she placed her hand behind her back and leaned her face closer to him. “I’ll be more gentle next time.”

“……”

Chu Jin turned his face in silence. Was there going to be another chance?

Holding his breath, he deliberately avoided the overwhelmingly sweet milk scent from the little glutinous dumpling, which made it hard for him to think clearly.

The light in the reception room flicked on with a click.

As Song Qiaoxi’s eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, she could now make out shapes more clearly.

A hoarse, heavily accented voice came from above: “Comrades, we can’t keep messing around every day. Solving problems still depends on leadership. The senior director of the neighborhood committee needs to be notified. This boy can’t stay with me tonight.”

“Uncle Li, the child will be coming back to my house today,” her mother’s voice announced. After a few hurried footsteps, Song Qiaoxi was lifted by a pair of strong hands, her legs going numb. She had to cling tightly to her mother’s neck. “Old Song, carry Chu Jin’s backpack,” her mother instructed.

“Certainly, wife.” Dad winked at his daughter with a playful grin. He quickly stepped into the reception room, affectionately ruffled Chu Jin’s hair, and picked up the backpack from the floor. “Chu Jin, what kind of treasure do you have in here? It’s quite heavy!” he teased.

Dad extended his large hand to Chu Jin, helping him up from the ground.

Whether it was due to excessive force or intentional humor, Dad leaned back dramatically and burst into hearty laughter.

Song Qiaoxi, nestled in her mother’s arms at a short distance, couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of her father’s antics.

To her surprise, she noticed a faint smile at the corner of Chu Jin’s pale face.

—

That evening, after arriving home, Song Qiaoxi carefully observed her parents’ expressions throughout dinner.

She clearly remembered her mother’s displeased reaction when her father said, “We want to raise Chu Jin ourselves.”

She worried that this issue might lead to arguments and conflicts between her parents.

Although they rarely fought seriously, this was the first time she had seen her mother so upset in front of her.

Even though her parents were kind and attentive to both her and Chu Jin throughout the evening, Song Qiaoxi remained anxious as she brushed her teeth and climbed into the big bed in the bedroom.

Chu Jin went to the bathroom to freshen up after her, while her parents whispered in the kitchen. With the door closed, she couldn’t hear their conversation.

As Song Qiaoxi was pampered with fragrant incense and covered in Six Divine Flower Dew by her mother, her damp hair fell over her shoulders. She lay on the cool mat, flipping through a “Mickey Mouse” magazine absentmindedly.

Her mind wandered over the scant details about Chu Jin’s childhood from the original book. It mentioned that he was abandoned by relatives, lived on the streets, and was eventually sent to a reformatory for ‘problem children’ due to his anti-social behavior.

However, the book didn’t mention the Song family taking him in twice, nor did it note that Chu Jin’s brother-in-law was indeed the last relative to abandon him.

In any case, she believed that her parents and the uncles and aunts in the compound wouldn’t let Chu Jin end up living on the streets.

But was something starting to change?

If things were heading in this direction, how could it possibly be seen as a positive change?

A loud crash came from the bathroom like something had been thrown or dropped.

Startled, Song Qiaoxi quickly sat up from the bed, scrambling on her hands and knees to the edge of the bed to search for her slippers.

She heard the kitchen beaded curtain rustling chaotically, followed by the hurried footsteps of her parents in slippers.

“Chu Jin, what’s going on?”

Her mother knocked anxiously on the door and turned the handle, but it was locked, and no one responded from inside.

Dad, his forehead covered in beads of sweat from worry, pulled Mom aside. “Is everything alright? Uncle Song will count from one to three and then force the door open!”

End of Chapter~