The truck rumbled westward, sunlight filtering through the sparse shadows of the trees, spreading a patchwork of brightness across the ground. Warm wind blew in through the windows, gentle and soft against their faces.
Xie Yucheng gripped the steering wheel, studying the side of her face. “Why leave the comfort of home to come out and suffer?” he asked.
Outside, the food wasn’t good, the lodging was poor, and nothing was convenient.
If Wen Shiqing were twelve or thirteen, she would have pouted and blurted out her true feelings: I want to be with my brother.
But now, at eighteen, she simply replied, “I don’t want to be alone at home.”
Xie Yucheng didn’t respond. He knew Shiqing liked going out; children were always curious about the world beyond. When he first started working, every time he left home, she would cling to his leg, begging him to take her along.
Yang Ying, however, never allowed her to follow.
Xie Yucheng flicked a cigarette from the pack with one hand, held it in his mouth, and lit it. The flame flared, and he drew a deep drag. “Don’t you miss that little boyfriend of yours while you’re out?” he asked.
The smoke rolled out slowly, thick and rich, with a charred, fragrant warmth, rasping slightly as it slid down his throat.
“What?” Wen Shiqing blinked, confused. The “boyfriend” was just a story she’d told Xie Yucheng.
His voice was deep and slightly husky. “I said, you’ll be gone for over ten days. Don’t you miss that boyfriend of yours?”
“Brother—” Shiqing called him.
“Hmm?”
“That was a lie. I’m not dating Zhou Chen.”
Xie Yucheng tightened his grip on the wheel, tapped the ash out the window, and a faint smile appeared. “Why lie?”
“To deal with Mom.”
He asked casually, “Why? Isn’t that kid fine? And he’s your classmate.”
“He’s fine, but I like someone else.”
His pupils constricted sharply. He nearly slammed on the brakes, fingers trembling as he brought the cigarette to his lips for another drag.
After a moment, he asked, “If you like him, why not bring him home? Why involve someone else in a charade?”
Shiqing’s gaze drifted to the window. The man’s silhouette was cast onto the glass. Calm yet helpless, she said, “They wouldn’t agree.”
Now Xie Yucheng understood. His sister had fallen for a poor boy. With Yang Ying’s mercenary, status-conscious nature, she would never approve. So Shiqing had picked a well-off classmate to play along, to deceive them.
Xie Yucheng felt his heart squeeze like a dry sponge dropped into a pool of lemon juice—full of sour, swelling pain.
Frowning deeply, he exhaled a slow ring of smoke. “How is he with you? Let me meet him when we get the chance—I’ll give you some advice.”
The girl traced the rigid lines reflected on the glass with her eyes, soft and quiet: “He’s… really bad to me, mean, cruel. Often says things that hurt me…”
Suddenly, tires screeched sharply against the road with a harsh “screeeech,” the truck jolted violently, and inertia sent Wen Shiqing forward. She reacted quickly, gripping the handle beside the door.
Xie Yucheng suppressed the anger rising in his chest. Once the truck stopped, he snapped, “Wen Shiqing, are you a masochist? You stay with him even though he treats you badly? Is the world out of men, or are you just asking for this?”
No wonder she hadn’t brought him home or told their parents. So she was dating such a wretched guy.
“Brother—” she looked at him with wide, innocent eyes, feeling wronged. “But I like him… so much.”
Xie Yucheng’s chest tightened, veins bulging on his forehead. He crushed the cigarette with his fingertips and threw it out the window. At home, she had everything she needed—food, clothing, and beauty. The most beautiful girl in the neighborhood. He often thought, what kind of man would be worthy of her?
And now? She was falling for a cruel, poor boy. Liking him so much.
If this isn’t throwing yourself at him, what is?
“Break up with him when we get back. If Mom finds out, you won’t be having any peace.”
She lowered her head. “I know.”
The truck started moving again, silence settling over them.
Amid the rumble of the engine and the shaking of the cabin, Wen Shiqing slowly closed her eyes, drowsiness knocking her unconscious.
Xie Yucheng reached for a cigarette but stopped, not wanting to smoke near her. He lazily wiped his face, lost in thought.
His mind replayed her words—what kind of boy did she like? Was he handsome? Where was he from? What did he do? Had they kissed, held hands? How far had they gone?
When Wen Shiqing woke, it was dusk. She found herself lying in the back bunk, a light-colored short-sleeve men’s shirt draped over her stomach, smelling of clean soap.
The truck had stopped by a secluded courtyard. Xie Yucheng was nowhere in sight.
The area was desolate, with nothing but this single house in view.
Rubbing her eyes, she climbed to the front passenger seat barefoot and saw Xie Yucheng stepping out of the yard, accompanied by an elderly man with graying whiskers.
After a brief exchange, Xie Yucheng strode toward the truck.
He opened the door and saw her tiny, pink-white feet dangling—like the little peach-shaped buns their mother used to make during New Year when she was a child.
Shiqing, just awake, looked at him drowsily from head to toe.
“Brother, why are we stopping here?”
Xie Yucheng lazily lifted his eyes and teased, “To sell you.”
“See? In the middle of the valley, hardly any traffic. If I sell you here, you won’t even be able to run away.”
The last sentence, he said completely straight-faced.
Shiqing froze, blinking around, clarity returning to her mind. She widened her round eyes in shock.
Her bangs were slightly messy; her dazed, innocent look reminded Xie Yucheng of the little silly chicken at home.
He chuckled softly and casually placed the shoes that had slid under the seat by her feet. “Put your shoes on. We’re staying here tonight.”
Only then did Shiqing realize he was teasing her. How could her brother ever sell her?
She slid her feet in and nudged a few times—the shoes fit perfectly.
The Liberation 141 truck wasn’t very tall, but getting in and out always required some effort, holding the door handle for support.
Xie Yucheng stood by the door, blocking her landing spot.
“I’m getting down,” she said, her voice slightly soft and husky, freshly woken, sounding playful.
Xie Yucheng looked at her, thinking she wanted to be lifted, and instinctively extended his hands.
Shiqing’s heart pounded fiercely.
She leaned slightly forward. The tall, strong man gently wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her from the truck. Then, with one smooth motion, he closed the door behind them. Everything was natural, fluid, and effortless.