Seeing her turn away in shame and anger, Xie Yucheng curled his lips maliciously. “Little sister, I thought your skin was as thick as a city wall.”
The rims of Shiqing’s ears flushed a vivid red. In the small bedroom, the faint fragrance of her body lingered in the air, drifting and curling.
For some reason, the restlessness inside Xie Yucheng surged. He suddenly stepped forward, caging her behind the door, bent down, and threatened her in a low voice by her ear:
“Stop dangling in front of me. Just like your mother said—I’m not a good man. There’s nothing low or dirty I wouldn’t do.”
He brushed aside the wisps of hair by the side of her fair neck, his lips almost touching her, his scorching breath spilling over Shiqing’s delicate skin.
That breath made her shiver uncontrollably; something in her chest began to race faster and faster.
Next, the man lifted her small face with one hand, leaned in close, and spat out the most hurtful words in an extremely intimate tone:
“Don’t count on time to wash everything away. I’ve always hated you and your mother—and I still do.”
I’ve always hated you and your mother…
Her heart sank completely, as if pressed into a bottomless black pool where she could no longer breathe.
If just a second earlier Wen Shiqing had been so carefree she’d nearly floated up to the rainbow, then at this moment she was utterly shattered, her hopes reduced to ashes.
Her body trembled slightly. Her hand clenched tightly around the doorknob. After a moment, she said softly, “Brother, I’m not afraid of you.”
What did this amount to anyway? Growing up, what cruel words had she not heard?
She knew very well—no matter how venomous Xie Yucheng’s mouth was, his heart was just as soft.
Wen Shiqing touched the pale pink jade pendant hanging at her neck. It was something Xie Yucheng had given her five years ago, the first time he’d gone on a long-distance transport trip. It had been just before her birthday.
When he came home, he’d coldly tossed a velvet box onto the table beside her without saying a word.
She’d watched him for a while, then carefully opened the box. Inside lay a round, crystal-clear, plump piece of pale pink jade. The style was simple, paired with a light beige woven cord—beautiful beyond words.
Grinning, she took it out and excitedly held it up to her neck. “Brother, is this for me?”
“Picked it up by the roadside,” he said. “I’m a guy—I can’t wear it.”
“Brother, you’re amazing. You always manage to pick up such good things.”
“Don’t tell your mom. If you do, it’ll jinx it, and I won’t be able to pick things up anymore.”
Only as she gradually grew older did Wen Shiqing understand that all those so-called “little trinkets he picked up” were gifts he’d deliberately bought for her.
The jade at her neck was smooth and warm, carrying a faint trace of heat.
Behind her, the man’s tall body loomed close, his strong masculine scent enveloping her.
Wen Shiqing steadied herself, her voice winding softly like clinging vines:
“Time really won’t wash anything away—because I’ll always like my brother, just the same.”
With that, she opened the door and walked out on her own.
At the instant the door closed, Xie Yucheng ground his molars and muttered a low curse, seemingly annoyed that he hadn’t gotten to see the flustered, sulky expression he’d been expecting.
He knew the “liking” Wen Shiqing spoke of was the liking of a younger sister for her brother.
Every single day, Xie Yucheng reminded himself not to forget his mother.
Being kind to that pair of mother and daughter was a betrayal of his biological mother.
He wasn’t sure when his father, Xie Guoli, had gotten involved with Yang Ying—before his mother died, or after?
All he knew was that less than three months after his mother’s death, Yang Ying had moved into their home and slept in the very bed his mother once had.
His father packed away all of his mother’s belongings, locked them in a cabinet, and forbade any trace of her from remaining in the house.
How cold and resolute a man.
Xie Yucheng hardened his heart, determined not to show any of them a pleasant face.
And yet—that little Shiqing, the ten-year-old stepsister his stepmother brought with her—after Xie Yucheng had been whipped black and blue by Xie Guoli with a rattan cane, would quietly climb into his bed late at night, pucker her lips, and gently blow on his wounds.
“Brother, if I blow on it, it won’t hurt anymore.”
That night, Xie Yucheng’s heart melted like a cream cake, collapsing bit by bit.
Around eleven in the morning, Xie Yucheng finished packing his clothes, picked up a duffel bag, and prepared to leave home.
Yang Ying came over and said, “Your father’s sick. These past two years his stomach hasn’t been good—he’s often nauseous and eats very little. While you’re home, you should spend more time with him.”
Xie Yucheng was slightly taken aback. He’d always thought the old man, though bad on his feet, was otherwise fairly robust.
“Has he been to the hospital for a checkup?”
“He has. The doctor said it’s just a gastrointestinal issue—needs proper conditioning.”
“I’ll go take a look.” He put the duffel bag back in his room and pushed open the door to the master bedroom.
Xie Guoli was leaning against the bed reading. Having eaten poorly these past few days, he’d lost noticeable weight; his cheeks were slightly sunken.
“How are you?” No matter what, he was his biological father—it wouldn’t do not to ask.
“I’m fine,” Xie Guoli forced a smile. “Just some stomach trouble lately.”
“When are you leaving this time?”
Xie Yucheng didn’t tell him he planned to quit his job and buy a truck to work independently. If he did, Xie Guoli would definitely fly into a rage and refuse—so he kept it to himself.
“The factory gave me a long break. Maybe in a few days.”
“Since you’re back, stay home and rest properly. Let your Aunt Yang cook you something nice. You’re always running around outside—don’t you get tired?”
Yang Ying came over wearing an apron. “Stay for lunch.”
Xie Guoli added, “Eat before you go.”
Xie Yucheng thought for a moment but didn’t say anything.
The old man hadn’t been well these past few days. Better not anger him—if something happened, he’d be the sinner.
Seeing his son fall silent, Xie Guoli took it as agreement to stay for lunch. His spirits immediately lifted. He got dressed and sat in the living room chatting with his son.
A black-and-white silent film played on the television. Wen Shiqing made Xie Guoli a cup of honey water and poured Xie Yucheng a cup of tea, then quietly sat at the dining table picking vegetables.
Xie Guoli took a sip from the thermos. It was sweet; warmth spread through his stomach. He smiled at Wen Shiqing, then turned to ask his son:
“Have you found a girlfriend out there?”
The girl’s hands paused slightly as she picked vegetables. She pricked up her ears and slowly plucked away the yellowed leaves.
Xie Yucheng lounged crookedly on a single sofa, not looking at his father. His gaze drifted unconsciously to those hands—slender, fair, soft, with nails trimmed round and neat.
His throat felt dry. He lifted the teacup and took a couple of sips, replying lazily, “No.”
“You’re not young anymore. You should start thinking about your personal life. Auntie Zhang next door has come by several times, saying she wants to introduce someone to you—but you’re never home.”
Xie Guoli reached into his pocket for a cigarette, then remembered Yang Ying had forbidden him from smoking and had put them all away. His hand grasped nothing.
“Don’t feel like thinking about it.”
“Why not?”
“What’s the point of getting married?”
Xie Guoli spoke earnestly. “When you reach the age, you should get married. At least you’ll have a companion. Two people living steadily together is better than being alone.”
“Of course, if you already have a girl you love, you can bring her home for us to see. If she’s suitable, I’ll go speak to her parents for you.”
Xie Yucheng wore a roguish posture. His tongue swept around his mouth as he met his father’s gaze, then he suddenly gave a cold laugh:
“Love? What is love? Back when you were so passionately in love with my mom, you said you loved her every day. And what happened in the end?”
Xie Guoli was furious at those words. His breathing grew heavy as he restrained his emotions. “Don’t bring up your mother.”
“Heh. Can’t even mention her now? Cutting off all feeling and loyalty—well done, Xie Guoli.”
Hearing the father and son arguing, Yang Ying hurried out of the kitchen to smooth things over. “Guoli, Yucheng finally comes home for a meal—what are you doing?”
Then she smiled apologetically at Xie Yucheng. “Yucheng, don’t be angry. Your dad’s just worried about you. Men marry when they’re grown, women wed when they’re of age—like Nannan. She’ll be going on blind dates soon too. You’re all grown up; it’s time to think about your personal lives. If you don’t, we parents have to do it for you.”
It sounded like the biggest joke Xie Yucheng had ever heard. He looked teasingly toward Wen Shiqing sitting by the table.
She looked flustered and hurriedly waved her hands. “No—no, I’m not going on blind dates.”
She said to her mother, “Mom, I told you I’m not doing blind dates. I’m still young. I want to work for a couple of years first.”
Yang Ying replied, “Nannan, Mom’s doing this for your own good. Start a family early, and later you’ll have a man to take care of you and protect you. A matchmaker has come by the house several times—the boy’s family background is very good, about your age, and quite handsome. I agreed the other day. This Sunday, you two can meet. Whether it works out or not is another matter—just treat it as making a friend.”
“Mom, you—”
Xie Guoli also spoke up. “Shiqing, you’re the most obedient. Set an example for your brother.”
Wen Shiqing felt like a duck being roasted alive over a fire—already completely done for.
She drooped her head, letting Xie Yucheng’s chilling gaze bore straight through her.
After lunch, Yang Ying washed the pots in the kitchen, Xie Guoli returned to his room, and Wen Shiqing absentmindedly wiped the table with a cloth.
The hem of her floral dress swayed with her graceful movements. Her slender arms and neck glowed white; her waist was slim enough to circle with one hand. She looked petite and tender, like a newly blossomed flower.
Xie Yucheng picked up his bag, ready to leave. After taking two steps, he came back and stopped behind Wen Shiqing.
A soft, sweet scent filled his nose. He patted her shoulder, his tone edged with mockery:
“Sis, remember to share your blind-date experience with me. If you take a liking to any man, your brother can help you check him out.”
Wen Shiqing’s hand stiffened. After a long moment, she answered, “Okay.”
The muscles in Xie Yucheng’s face twitched. He gave a cold snort, slung the bag over his shoulder, turned, and left.
Outside the courtyard, the thunderous roar of a motorcycle was deafening. With a loud vroom, the sound faded farther and farther away—until it disappeared completely.