Lin Qianqian was on the hillside, bent over looking for wild vegetables.
There weren’t many wild vegetables left in spring. The good ones had already been dug up by others, leaving only tough stems and bitter leaves.
She crouched on the ground, picking them one by one, putting the picked vegetables into her basket. If she didn’t fill the basket, she wouldn’t escape a beating when she returned.
She wasn’t afraid of being beaten.
She was tough and could endure a few hits.
But she was afraid of Ah Long being beaten.
Ah Long was only eight years old, too young to endure it.
The sun had tilted slightly westward, so she walked a bit further up the hillside.
The basket still wasn’t full. Her heart grew anxious, and beads of sweat rolled down her forehead.
“Qianqian-jie! Qianqian-jie! Where are you?”
Someone was calling her.
Lin Qianqian straightened up and looked back. It was Xiaohu from next-door Auntie Ding’s house, running so hard he was out of breath.
“Qianqian-jie, hurry, hurry back—your stepmother is going to beat Ah Long to death!”
The basket in Lin Qianqian’s hand fell to the ground, scattering wild vegetables everywhere.
She didn’t bother picking them up and sprinted down the hillside.
The thirteen-year-old girl, skinny as a bag of bones, ran like a madwoman.
Stones on the hillside path cut her feet, but she didn’t feel the pain; thorns tore her pants, but she didn’t feel the pain.
There was only one thought in her mind: Ah Long, Ah Long must not be hurt.
When she rushed to the big tree at the village entrance, she saw her younger brother curled up on the ground, with Ding Yuxiang kicking him.
“Stop!”
Ding Yuxiang, feeling unsatisfied, grabbed a large stone nearby and was about to smash it onto Lin Yulong.
Xiaohu shouted “Ah Long!” but it was already too late.
Lin Qianqian steeled herself and threw herself over, covering her younger brother with her entire body.
The stone came down with a whoosh, hitting the back of her head.
“Jie—!”
Lin Yulong’s voice was heart-wrenching.
Lin Qianqian’s vision went dark, and warm liquid flowed down her hair.
She wanted to say something, opened her mouth, but only a faint, indistinct breath escaped her throat before her entire body went limp.
“Jie… jie, what’s wrong… jie, don’t scare me…”
Lin Yulong struggled to get up, cradling his sister’s head in his arms.
Blood seeped through his fingers, sticky and frighteningly hot.
He tried to cover it with his hands, but couldn’t stop it; he tried to wipe it with his sleeve, but couldn’t clean it.
“Jie, wake up… say something…”
Lin Qianqian’s face grew paler and paler, like a sheet of paper.
“Mom… she’s not really dead, is she?” Lin Yuanyuan took a step back, her voice trembling slightly.
Ding Yuxiang also froze for a moment, then kicked Lin Qianqian’s leg with her foot: “Little bitch, stop pretending to be dead.”
Lin Qianqian didn’t move.
Ding Yuxiang felt a chill in her heart and grabbed her daughter: “Let’s go, home! Don’t say anything, understand?”
The mother and daughter ran faster than rabbits.
Only a pool of blood remained on the ground, along with Lin Yulong holding his sister and Xiaohu standing nearby.
“Jie…” Lin Yulong held her, pressing his face against her forehead, tears falling one by one, “You said you’d take me to see Mom’s grave… You said you’d make me new shoes… You said…”
The blood was still flowing.
He didn’t know what to do, only knowing to hold her, to keep holding her.
She was the only person in this world who wanted him.
She couldn’t die.
If she died, he would truly be a wild bastard.
“Jie, wake up…” His voice trembled, tears covering his face, “I’ll be good, I won’t cause trouble, I’ll never fight again… Jie, wake up…”
The sun beat down on his back, but he felt cold all over.
“I’ll go get my mother!” Xiaohu’s voice came from the distance, followed by the sound of retreating footsteps.
Lin Yulong held his sister, waiting.
Time passed especially slowly. So slow it felt like a lifetime had gone by.
He didn’t know how long it had been when Huzi’s Mother’s voice finally came from the doorway.
“Heavens, what a tragedy!”
Huzi’s Mother ran over, crouched down, and reached out to check Lin Qianqian’s breathing—she was still alive, but very faint, as thin as a strand of hair, as if it would break at the slightest touch.
“Quick! Give me a hand!” Huzi’s Mother hoisted Lin Qianqian onto her back and shouted over her shoulder to Xiaohu, “Support your brother Yulong!”
Lin Yulong, propped up by Xiaohu, limped along behind them.
His eyes remained fixed on his sister’s dangling hand. That hand was very thin, with prominent knuckles, and the green juice of wild vegetables was still embedded under her fingernails.
The back of her hand was covered in cuts, new wounds layered over old ones.
That hand swayed with Huzi’s Mother’s steps, like a leaf about to drift away.
Lin Yulong stared intently, not daring to blink.
He was afraid that if he blinked, that leaf would drift far away.