In May, just before the high school entrance exams, the weather was so hot it made everyone restless and irritable.
Bus No. 47 crawled sluggishly through the morning rush hour traffic like a packed tin can.
Ji Mianmian stood on tiptoe, one hand gripping the overhead handrail, the other clutching her schoolbag to her chest. Her slender frame swayed with the motion of the bus as she silently recited the classical Chinese text she would be tested on today:
“When Heaven is about to confer a great responsibility on any man, it will first exercise his mind with suffering…”
The bus pulled into a stop, the braking inertia causing her to stumble forward slightly.
A dark mass of heads surged toward the doors from the platform.
It was then that Mianmian saw her.
A big sister so beautiful it was impossible to look away.
She stood a few steps away from the bus door, wearing a thin, white gauze dress. The morning breeze brushed past, causing the skirt to cling softly to her slender calves before gently lifting again.
Her hair reached her waist, jet-black and silky smooth, shimmering with a satin-like luster in the sunlight. Mianmian had never seen anyone so beautiful; her features were so delicate and lovely, as if she had stepped out of an ancient painting.
But her belly was enormous.
Round and bulging, it rose high, stretching the white gauze dress taut. The fabric formed a smooth, curved surface over her abdomen, like she was cradling a full moon.
Mianmian froze, her eyes unblinking.
The big sister looked at the bus, at the crowded throng, and didn’t move.
One hand supported her lower back, the other carefully cradled the underside of her belly. Her brow was slightly furrowed, her lips pressed tightly together, as if she wasn’t feeling well. Fine beads of sweat glistened on the tip of her nose in the morning light.
The bus started moving again.
Mianmian grew anxious inside: Hurry up and get on! If you miss this bus, you’ll have to wait a long time for the next one!
Just as the doors were about to close, the big sister suddenly moved.
She walked very slowly, her body leaning back unconsciously, her belly thrust forward, her center of gravity clearly unsteady. Each step was clumsy and strenuous. The white skirt swayed between her legs, her long hair drifting behind her shoulders.
Like a burdened, fluttering white butterfly.
“Driver, there’s still someone!” Mianmian blurted out.
The doors opened again.
The big sister boarded the bus, holding onto the fare box, breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She dropped her fare and moved into the aisle. There were no empty seats. She stopped in the aisle next to Mianmian, one hand grasping the overhead handrail.
The bus started moving, and she swayed slightly.
Mianmian stole glances at her.
Up close, her face was even more beautiful. Her eyelashes were long and thick, casting faint shadows under her eyes when lowered.
Now, with her eyes downcast, her complexion was an unnatural pale, a weakness that even makeup couldn’t conceal. Sweat gathered at her temples into droplets, sliding down past her temples, along her defined jawline, and dripping into her collar.
A small patch of the white gauze on her back was damp, clinging to her skin, faintly revealing the outline of her bra strap.
Her hand never left the underside of her belly.
Mianmian’s gaze fell on the huge pregnant belly. Beneath the thin gauze, the shape of the belly was clearly visible—round, full, like a ripe fruit hanging heavily.
With a belly that big, she must be due soon, right?
The bus reached another stop, and even more people squeezed on.
The big sister was jostled forward, stumbling, her belly pressing against Mianmian’s arm.
Through her school uniform sleeve, Mianmian could feel the raised curve—firm, warm, a curve full of life.
There really is a little baby in there!
The older sister’s breath brushed against her shoulder—rapid, shallow, carrying a pleasant, faint fragrance, like gardenias wet with morning dew.
The bus swayed and jolted through two stops.
The beautiful older sister remained standing. Her body swayed with the rocking of the bus—left, right—her belly swinging along, heavy and sagging.
Mianmian noticed her brows furrowing tighter and tighter, her lower lip bitten so hard by her teeth it seemed about to bleed. The hand supporting her belly kept shifting positions—now palm up to cradle it, now fingers splayed against the lower abdomen, now a fist pressed against the small of her back.
Sweat beaded from her hairline and trickled into her eyes.
She blinked but didn’t wipe it away. Her lashes were damp, clumping into strands. Her lips remained clenched, biting down harder and harder.
Mianmian saw her legs trembling.
Her knees bent slightly, as if she couldn’t stand any longer, then suddenly straightened. She wore delicate white leather flats, the tendons on her feet faintly protruding.
Mianmian glanced around discreetly. Some people were looking down at their phones, some dozed against the windows, and others were staring right at the older sister.
In the seat opposite, a middle-aged man lifted his eyes from his phone screen, his gaze roaming over her without restraint—from her face, to her neck, to her full chest, then to that enormous belly, finally settling on the pale calves beneath her skirt hem.
Mianmian rolled her eyes inwardly. *Her belly is so big, standing must be exhausting. These people won’t even offer a seat—how inconsiderate…*
The bus passed another stop.
The older sister fished her phone from her crossbody chain-patterned bag. Her hand shook, taking several tries to unlock it. She pressed it to her ear and waited a long while. Mianmian faintly heard a man’s voice from the receiver, though she couldn’t make out the words.
Her own voice was soft and gentle: “Honey, are you done with work?”
Something was said on the other end.
She lowered her head, her voice dropping even lower, tinged with tears: “Come as soon as you can… I’ve been in pain all night, I can’t take it anymore…”
A few more words came from the other side.
The older sister suddenly began to cry. No sound, just large teardrops falling one after another, splashing onto her phone screen.
She didn’t speak again, hung up the call, and lifted her head to look out the window. Her profile in the morning light was pale, almost fragile, tear tracks glistening.
The bus stopped at another station.
A young man with dyed yellow hair pushed his way on, phone held high, chattering nonstop:
“Check out the morning rush on the bus, folks—packed like sardines! Double-tap 666!”
He swiveled his phone camera around, finally focusing on the beautiful older sister, his eyes lighting up.
“Whoa, check this out! A pregnant lady! Belly this big and still squeezing onto the bus—tough life!” He shoved his phone forward, the lens nearly hitting her face. “Hey, how many months along? Almost due, right?”
The older sister ignored him, turning her face away.
“Give us a smile! You’re so pretty, the live-stream viewers are waiting!” The yellow-haired guy persisted, lowering the camera to aim at her prominent belly. “Folks, the most beautiful pregnant lady—look at that round belly, definitely a boy! Gifts coming in! Let’s get a closer shot—”
She raised her hand, using the back of it to shield her face.
The yellow-haired guy tried to move closer, but the bus suddenly braked hard. The crowd lurched forward, and the older sister was shoved backward, her back colliding with a middle-aged man behind her.
That hand, whether intentionally or not, brushed past her side, the back of it grazing her skirt-covered hip.
The older sister stiffened all over.
She didn’t turn around, just shifted her body slightly to the side, trying to create some distance. But where was there any space left in the crowded bus? This slight movement only made her belly protrude even more, drawing even more attention.
The middle-aged man’s gaze fell on her belly, lingered for a few seconds, then shifted away. Just before looking away, his hand lifted again, seemingly unintentionally, and gently pressed against the taut skin around her navel.
Mianmian saw the older sister’s shoulders tremble violently.
She bit her lip, making no sound, only curling her body tighter. The hand that had been supporting her belly withdrew, now shielding her side.
Mianmian opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but the words caught in her throat. She clenched the strap of her backpack, her nails digging into her palm. In the end, she just quietly shifted half a step closer to the older sister, moving her backpack between them, creating a barrier between her and the man.
The older sister glanced down at her lightly.
Her eyes were moist, like a lake shrouded in mist. She didn’t speak, just continued to brace her waist, continued to press her lips together, continued to endure.
Mianmian saw tiny droplets hanging from her eyelashes—whether sweat or tears, she couldn’t tell.
The bus jolted again.
The older sister’s body lurched forward, her belly nearly colliding with the back of the seat in front.
She frantically grabbed the overhead rail, barely steadying herself, but suddenly bent over, clutching her stomach.
Mianmian saw the fabric at the back of her skirt, where her hips met her thighs, darken slightly, dampened in a small patch that clung tightly to her skin.
The older sister remained bent over, holding that position for a long time. So long that people around began to glance over, whispering among themselves. Only then did she slowly, slowly straighten up, panting, her face paler than before.
She leaned closer to Mianmian, her back gently pressing against Mianmian’s backpack.
Mianmian’s heart softened. She didn’t move, letting the older sister lean on her, using her own body to offer a small, insignificant support.
The bus swayed and jostled, passing another stop.
The beautiful older sister’s breathing suddenly changed.
It grew heavy and rapid, like a bellows. She seemed unable to stand any longer, her legs giving way as her whole body sank downward, her face buried in the crook of her arm, her shoulders heaving violently.
A few seconds later, she forced herself to stand up straight again, but as soon as she did, she couldn’t hold on any longer. Her knees slowly bent, her body gradually sinking into a crouch.
Mianmian saw her back shuddering with each breath.
Finally, someone stood up. A middle-aged woman with permed hair patted her arm:
“Young lady, take my seat! Standing must be so tiring for you!”
The older sister lifted her head, her face as pale as paper. She shook her head, her voice so faint it was almost inaudible:
“Thank you, Auntie… no need.”
“What do you mean, no need? Just looking at your belly makes me tired!” The woman reached out to pull her.
The older sister didn’t move. She leaned on the nearby seatback, her body trembling violently. After a long moment, she finally forced out a sentence through gritted teeth:
“I… can’t sit…”
Before she could finish, her knees buckled, and she knelt down.
Her hands braced against the floor, her forehead pressed against the seatback, her long hair cascading down to the ground. Her white skirt spread out around her like a blooming flower.
“Oh dear! Young lady! What’s wrong with you?” the woman exclaimed.
“This way… it’s more comfortable.” Her voice, muffled by her hair, trembled uncontrollably. “It’s fine… I’ll just kneel for a while… and I’ll be okay…”
Mianmian stood to the side, completely stunned.
She saw the small wet patch on the back of the fairy-like woman’s white dress, right below her hips, slowly spreading. It had already grown to the size of a palm and was still expanding.
Someone gasped in shock, others stood up to get a better look, and a few raised their phones even higher.
“Oh my god! Did her water break? It’s all over the floor! How can anyone sit here now? There’s a smell!”
“Tsk! If she’s going to give birth, don’t do it on the bus! What bad luck!”
“Driver! Get her off the bus now! We’re all going to be late for work! Who’s going to cover our lost attendance bonuses?”