The last streak of sunset clouds hung on the horizon. When Wen Shiqing got home, the courtyard had already been cleaned spotless—not a single feather left.
If it weren’t for the lone, bewildered, anxious little chick remaining in the coop, one might have thought the accident at noon had never happened.
Her nose stung again. Just as she stepped inside, Yang Ying seemed to hear the noise and came out of the room. Seeing her daughter’s reddened eyes, she sighed. “I saved you some food. Eat a little before you sleep.”
Shiqing shook her head dully. “I’m not hungry.”
Yang Ying went up and took her daughter’s hand, softening her tone. “Sweetheart, really—getting mad at your mom over a chicken?”
“Mom, that wasn’t just any chicken. Someone gave it to me to raise. You saw it—I fed it and cared for it for more than two years. How could you just kill it like that?”
Yang Ying frowned, catching the key point and pressing on. “Who gave you that chicken? A boy? Why would a boy give you a chicken instead of something nice? I’m telling you, don’t let that kind of boy sweet-talk you so easily…”
With a bang, the door to the opposite room was yanked open. Xie Yucheng stood there with a gloomy expression, hair sticking up, clearly just woken.
He shot the two of them a sideways glance, hands shoved into his pockets, and walked out without a word.
Watching his straight, broad back, Wen Shiqing’s heart gave a hard thump. She turned to Yang Ying. “Mom, I’m a little tired. I’m going back to my room.”
Warm yellow light filled the small bedroom. The pink-striped bedsheets were neatly spread, and the air carried a sweet, youthful fragrance unique to a young girl.
Shiqing’s gaze suddenly landed on an exquisite box sitting incongruously on the desk. It looked elegant and expensive.
Her breathing grew light. She reached out, picked it up, and opened it. Inside lay a beautiful, refined ladies’ wristwatch.
Shanghai brand—definitely not cheap.
The silver-white band gleamed softly; the dial was a warm ivory, with twelve Roman numerals finely outlined in black. The time had already been set. Each tick of the second hand tapped against Shiqing’s heart.
The strap length was just right, as if it had been made to measure for her.
Her eyes grew moist. A gentle smile curved her lips as her fingers lightly stroked the watch face. She didn’t need to think to know who had given it to her.
Scenes flashed through her mind.
“Brother, what time is it? The news is about to start, right?”
“Brother, can you check the time for me? I’m heading to class.”
“Brother, what time is it now? My classmates asked me to go shopping at two.”
…
Covering her mouth with the back of her hand, Shiqing let out a soft laugh through tears. She bent over, laughing so hard she could hardly straighten up, her shoulders trembling.
She was always asking him what time it was. Xie Yucheng must have thought she wanted a watch.
He was the biggest fool in the world!
As she laughed, the tears came faster, dropping one by one into the pillow. Hugging it, she began to sob quietly again.
She couldn’t remember exactly when it was. She had gone to Wang Changlin’s factory to look for Xie Yucheng and accidentally overheard a conversation.
“I’m telling you—do you really have no other thoughts about your sister?”
“What thoughts?”
“A man’s thoughts about a woman.”
“Don’t talk nonsense. She’s my sister!”
“You’re not even blood-related. Your parents never registered their marriage—you don’t even count as relatives.”
“She’s still my sister. I could have thoughts about anyone, but never about that little brat.”
Luckily Wen Shiqing heard that exchange—luckily.
Because at the time, she had no idea where she’d gotten the nerve, but she had been planning to confess to Xie Yucheng.
That tiny spark of wanting to speak her feelings was extinguished right then and there, sparing her an awkward, humiliating confession before it ever happened.
Her pillow was soaked with tears. Sadness filled the girl’s beautiful eyes. Xie Yucheng was really good—just one flaw: he didn’t love her.
Early the next morning, heavy fog, overcast skies.
Xie Yucheng got up and opened the door. Seeing the offerings prepared just as they were every year, his steps paused. He glanced at the tightly closed door next door, his brows lifting unconsciously.
After washing his face, he picked up the items, got on his motorcycle, and headed for his mother’s grave.
A solitary, low mound stood on a hillside at the edge of the city. The tombstone was new, engraved with his mother’s name—Yuan Ningwan. Xie Yucheng had had it made after he started earning some money from work.
The wind swept dead leaves across the newly grown weeds before the grave. He stood there like a statue, stray hair lifted by the wind, his jacket flapping loudly.
Morning light fell on the bridge of his nose; his sharp jawline was drawn taut. The eyes that usually carried a playful smile were now heavy with gloom.
He bent down, carefully wiped the dust from the tombstone, arranged the pastries, lit the paper money, then knelt and kowtowed three times.
He poured a cup of baijiu and slowly spilled it onto the ground. His Adam’s apple bobbed faintly as he spoke hoarsely, “Mom, Shiqing bought all these for you.”
His gaze stayed fixed on his mother’s name carved into the stone. He said nothing more, standing there for a long time, the moisture in his eyes shrouded by the damp morning mist.
After that, it rained lightly for two days straight, and Xie Yucheng never came home.
At a car factory on the outskirts of the city.
Five brand-new heavy trucks were lined up in the open lot. Manager Wang Changlin took Xie Yucheng around for a look.
“Well? Buying this time or not?”
Xie Yucheng had come many times. For a long-haul driver, the greatest dream was to own a heavy truck of his own.
His large hand brushed carefully over the gleaming door. These were all big rigs—cheaper ones cost eighty to ninety thousand, pricier ones over a hundred thousand. He said flatly, “I can’t afford it.”
Wang Changlin didn’t believe him. “Bullshit. You’ve been driving rigs for years—how could you have no money? You must’ve saved some. Scrape together a bit more, get your old man to add some—we can buy a cheaper one.”
Xie Yucheng stayed silent for a long while, then asked, “Any modified second-hand ones?”
Wang Changlin thought for a moment. “There is one, but it’s smaller. Want it?”
He knew Xie Yucheng had always wanted a big rig, something like the Great Wall JN162—ten-ton capacity, more cargo, better pay. A smaller one might not catch his eye.
“What model?”
“Jiefang 141. A friend’s truck. It had a minor accident once, but all the parts were replaced. The cab’s been modified too—there’s a sleeper in the back. Automatic unloading, five-ton rated load, great performance.”
With a standard load of five tons, it could actually haul up to eight.
Xie Yucheng’s heart stirred. “Gasoline version?”
“Yeah.”
“How much?”
“Not sure yet. I can ask for you.”
Xie Yucheng took out a cigarette and handed it to him. “Alright. Thanks.”
Wang Changlin grinned and shoved his shoulder. “With our relationship, thanks my ass.”
They’d been classmates since childhood, brothers from the same neighborhood. Xie Yucheng was sharp, hardworking, and loyal—Wang Changlin wanted to give him a leg up.
He always felt Xie Yucheng would amount to something extraordinary one day.
As they were leaving, Wang Changlin suddenly asked, “Hey, your sister’s at home, right?”
Xie Yucheng lazily lifted his eyes. “She is. Why?”
“Ran into her last time—damn, I was stunned. Girls really change at eighteen. She’s getting purer and prettier by the day.”
He shot Xie Yucheng a meaningful look, testing the waters. “Hey, next time we hang out, bring your sister along.”
Xie Yucheng’s brows knit tightly. He slapped a heavy hand onto Wang Changlin’s shoulder, his face cold, and spat out five crisp words:
“Dream on.”