The last streak of sunset clouds hung on the horizon. When Wen Shiqing returned home, the courtyard had been completely cleaned, without even a single chicken feather left.
If not for the sight of only one confused and anxious chick remaining in the coop, one might have thought the incident at noon had never happened.
Instantly, her nose tingled with emotion again. She had just stepped into the house when Yang Ying, perhaps hearing the noise, emerged from her room. Seeing her daughter’s red-rimmed eyes, she sighed, “I saved some food for you. Have something to eat before sleeping.”
Shi Qing shook her head blankly, “I’m not hungry.”
Yang Ying stepped forward and took her daughter’s hand, her tone softening: “Nannan, why are you so upset with Mom over a chicken?”
“Mom, that wasn’t just an ordinary chicken. Someone gave it to me to raise. You saw how I worked hard to feed it for over two years. How could you just kill it like that?”
Yang Ying frowned, catching the key information and pressing further: “Who gave you that chicken? Was it a boy? Instead of giving you something valuable, why give you a chicken? Let me tell you, don’t be easily fooled by that kind of boy…”
With a loud “bang,” the door across the room was pulled open. Xie Yucheng stood there with a gloomy expression, his hair disheveled, looking like he had just woken up.
He glanced sideways at the two speaking, then coldly stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked out.
Wen Shiqing watched his tall, straight back, her heart pounding fiercely. She turned to Yang Ying and said, “Mom, I’m a bit tired. I’m going back to my room first.”
Warm yellow light illuminated the small bedroom. The pink striped bedsheet was neatly spread, and the air was filled with the sweet, youthful scent of a young girl.
Shi Qing’s gaze suddenly fell on a conspicuous, exquisite box on the desk. The box looked elegant and luxurious.
Her breathing became very light as she reached out to pick it up and opened it. Inside was a beautiful, elegant ladies’ wristwatch.
A Shanghai brand—quite expensive.
The silver-white bracelet glowed softly, the dial was a warm off-white, and the twelve Roman numerals were delicately outlined in black lacquer. The time had already been set, and the ticking of the second hand struck Shi Qing’s heart with each beat.
The strap length was just right, as if custom-made for her.
Wen Shiqing’s eyes grew slightly moist, a gentle curve forming at the corner of her mouth. She gently stroked the dial with her fingers. There was no need to wonder who had sent it.
Scenes flashed through her mind.
“Brother, what time is it? Is the news about to start?”
“Brother, could you check the time for me? I need to go to class.”
“Brother, what time is it now? My classmates asked me to go shopping at two.”
…
Shi Qing covered her mouth with the back of her hand, bursting into laughter mixed with tears. She bent over, laughing so hard she couldn’t straighten up, her shoulders trembling.
She was always asking him what time it was, what time it was—Xie Yucheng must have thought she wanted a watch.
He was the biggest fool in the world!
As she laughed, her tears flowed even more fiercely, falling drop by drop onto the pillow. Then, hugging the pillow, she began to sob and whimper.
When was that? Wen Shiqing couldn’t remember the exact time. She had gone to Wang Changlin’s factory to look for Xie Yucheng and accidentally overheard their conversation.
“Tell me, do you really have no other thoughts about your sister?”
“What thoughts?”
“A man’s thoughts about a woman.”
“What nonsense are you talking? She’s my sister!”
“You’re not related by blood, and your parents never registered your relationship. You’re not even legally considered relatives.”
“Then she’s still my sister. I could have feelings for anyone, but never for that little brat.”
Fortunately, Wen Shiqing overheard these words. Fortunately.
Because at that moment, with some inexplicable foolhardy courage, she had been planning to confess her feelings to Xie Yucheng.
That tiny flame of intended confession was thus extinguished in her heart, helping her avoid an embarrassing and awkward confession disaster in advance.
Tears soaked her pillow, the girl’s beautiful eyes filled with sorrow.
Xie Yucheng was truly wonderful, with just one flaw—he didn’t love her.
Early the next morning, heavy fog, overcast sky.
Xie Yucheng got up and opened the door, catching sight of the neatly prepared sacrificial items, just like every year. His figure paused slightly, his gaze drifting toward the tightly shut door next door, his eyebrows unconsciously lifting.
He then washed his face, picked up the items, mounted his motorcycle, and headed to his mother’s gravesite.
A lonely, low grave stood on a hillside at the edge of the city. The tombstone was new, engraved with his mother Yuan Ningwan’s name. This marker was newly made by Xie Yucheng after he started working and saved some money.
The wind swept withered leaves past the newly grown weeds before the tombstone. He stood there like a statue, his disheveled hair lifted by the wind, his jacket flapping loudly.
The morning light fell on his high nose bridge, his cold, hard jawline taut and straight. Those eyes that often held laughter were now deeply somber.
He bent down, carefully wiping the dust off the tombstone, arranged the pastries, lit the joss paper, and knelt before the grave, kowtowing three times.
He poured a cup of baijiu, slowly sprinkling it on the ground. His Adam’s apple moved almost imperceptibly as he spoke hoarsely, “Mom, all these things were bought for you by Shi Qing.”
The man’s gaze remained fixed on his mother’s name on the tombstone. He said nothing more, standing silently for a long time, the moisture in his eyes veiled by the damp morning mist.
It drizzled continuously for two days afterward, and Xie Yucheng never returned home.
At an auto factory on the city’s outskirts.
Five brand-new large trucks were parked in the factory yard. Manager Wang Changlin showed Xie Yucheng around.
“So? Going to buy one this time?”
Xie Yucheng had come to look many times. For a man in long-distance transport, nothing was more desirable than owning his own big truck.
The man’s large hand carefully brushed over the gleaming truck door. These were all heavy-duty trucks—the cheaper ones around eighty to ninety thousand, the more expensive ones over a hundred thousand. He said lightly, “Can’t afford it.”
Wang Changlin didn’t believe him. “Bullshit. You’ve been driving trucks for years—how can you not have money? You must have saved up some. Scrape together what you can, and you might manage tens of thousands. Get your old man to chip in a bit more, and we could get a cheaper one.”
Xie Yucheng didn’t respond, lost in thought for a long while before asking, “Do you have any second-hand, modified ones?”
Wang Changlin thought for a moment. “There is one, but it’s a bit smaller. Interested?”
He knew Xie Yucheng had always wanted a big truck, like the Great Wall JN162 model—ten-ton load capacity, more cargo, higher freight earnings. He might not be interested in a smaller one.
“What model?”
“Jiefang 141. It belongs to a friend of mine. Had a minor accident once, but all the parts have been replaced. The cab’s been modified too, with a sleeper berth in the back. It can unload automatically, five-ton load capacity, excellent performance.”
If the standard load was five tons, it could actually carry up to eight tons of cargo.
Xie Yucheng felt a stir of interest. “Gasoline version?”
“Yeah.”
“How much?”
“Haven’t discussed it yet. I can ask for you.”
Xie Yucheng pulled out a cigarette and handed it to him. “Alright, thanks.”
Wang Changlin broke into a smile and gave him a shove. “Between us? No need for thanks.”
The two had been classmates since childhood, brothers who grew up in the same neighborhood. Xie Yucheng was sharp-witted, hardworking, and loyal. Wang Changlin wanted to give him a leg up.
Wang Changlin always felt Xie Yucheng was destined for greatness.
As they parted, Wang Changlin suddenly asked, “Hey, is your sister home?”
Xie Yucheng slowly lifted his eyelids. “She is. Why?”
“Last time I saw her, damn, she blew me away. A girl changes so much as she grows up—she’s getting more pure and beautiful.”
He shot Xie Yucheng a meaningful glance and probed, “Hey, bring your sister along next time we hang out.”
Xie Yucheng’s brow furrowed deeply. He slapped Wang Changlin’s shoulder heavily, his face cold and stern, and spat out five crisp words: “In your dreams, asshole.”