Gu Yan moved with extreme caution, first darting a quick glance toward the interior of the house.
Then, like a nimble yet timid little creature, he swiftly reached out and grabbed a dark object from a broken bowl on the stove. Judging by its shape, it appeared to be a coarse corn bun with wild herbs mixed in large quantities.
After obtaining the bun, he didn’t eat it immediately.
He scanned his surroundings again before quickly stuffing it inside his tattered jacket, pressing it tightly against his chest, and retreating to his corner by the firewood pile.
The boy had his back turned to Meng Jiao, his shoulders trembling slightly as if desperately suppressing the motions of devouring the food.
He ate rapidly, urgently—a clumsy and wary behavior born from prolonged hunger.
Meng Jiao’s heart felt as if pricked by something sharp.
Remembering her aunt’s words and witnessing this scene, she gained a deeper understanding of Gu Yan’s pretense of foolishness.
In such an environment, without feigning stupidity and hiding his true capabilities, he might not even get to eat something as meager as this cold bun?
Weren’t those his biological parents? How could they treat him like this?
As she pondered, Meng Jianhua called out from the kitchen, “Jiaojiao, bring me a bowl.”
“Coming!”
Meng Jiao responded, standing up and heading toward the kitchen.
Perhaps her movements alerted the neighbor, as Gu Yan suddenly turned his head.
This time, his gaze directly met Meng Jiao’s.
His mouth was still stuffed full with the bun, crumbs clinging to the corners of his lips.
Those astonishingly beautiful eyes no longer held their previous emptiness, replaced instead by a flash of panic.
Like a trapped animal whose most shameful secret had been exposed, baring its immature fangs.
Meng Jiao paused mid-step but didn’t look away or run off like an ordinary girl would when frightened.
She looked directly into those fierce yet undeniably beautiful eyes.
The faint blush spreading across his dirty cheeks from tension made Meng Jiao realize he was just a teenager after all.
Without saying a word, she calmly averted her gaze as if she had merely glanced at something unimportant, walking straight into the kitchen to pick up the bowl.
Only when turning to leave did she let out a nearly inaudible sigh, so quiet only she could hear it.
This Gu Yan lived just like tenacious yet humble wild grass growing in the corners.
Meanwhile, beneath the neighboring wall, Gu Yan stared intently at the kitchen doorway where Meng Jiao had disappeared, his chewing motions halting.
The panic and fierceness in the boy’s eyes gradually faded.
She… didn’t shout, nor did she show the disgust or pity others typically displayed.
He looked down at the messily gnawed bun in his arms, then after a long moment, extended his tongue to slowly lick the crumbs from the corner of his mouth.
Carrying the bowl into the kitchen, Meng Jiao’s mind remained occupied by Gu Yan’s defensive and fierce eyes.
Meng Jianhua was plating the stir-fried cabbage when she entered. “What were you looking at? Anything interesting outside?”
“Nothing, just looking around.”
Meng Jiao shook her head and handed him the bowl.
Dinner consisted of simple greens paired with dry provisions brought from the city, but Meng Jianhua’s cooking skills were decent, and Meng Jiao ate heartily.
After the meal, father and daughter cleaned up together before Meng Jianhua boiled water for Meng Jiao to wash up.
As night deepened, village lights extinguished one by one, leaving only the chirping of insects and occasional barks in the darkness.
Meng Jiao lay on the kang covered with freshly sun-dried bedding, listening to the faint sounds of a man’s snoring and muffled coughs from next door. Tossing and turning, she found it hard to fall asleep.
The image of that slender figure huddled by the firewood pile, secretly eating a cornbread bun, kept flickering before her eyes.
Early the next morning, Meng Jianhua went to report to the village committee.
Left alone at home, Meng Jiao meticulously tidied up both the inside and outside of the house.
By late morning, as she gazed at the plump, vibrant tomatoes she had traded for the day before, an idea formed in her mind.
She picked the two largest and reddest tomatoes and washed them clean.
Then, she took a freshly steamed cornbread bun—whiter and softer than the one Gu Yan had stolen the previous day—and wrapped it carefully in a clean cloth.
Taking a deep breath, she walked over to the fence separating the two yards.
Gu Yan was indeed in his usual corner, his back turned to her as he traced chaotic lines on the ground with his fingers, as though that were his entire world.
Instead of stepping across, Meng Jiao called out softly through the fence, “Gu Yan.”
The boy’s back stiffened abruptly. Then, as if he hadn’t heard, he buried his head even lower, his fingers scratching faster and more erratically at the ground, radiating resistance.
Meng Jiao wasn’t bothered. She carefully slipped the cloth-wrapped bundle through a gap in the fence and placed it on the ground on his side.
“This is for you. The tomatoes are clean, and the bun is freshly steamed.”
Her voice was calm, devoid of pity or excessive enthusiasm, as if she were stating something entirely ordinary.
The moment the bundle touched the ground, Gu Yan whirled around, his eyes glaring fiercely at her, his grimy face filled with wariness and rejection.
He even lifted his foot, poised to kick the bundle away.
“Don’t want it!”
His voice was hoarse, roughened by the cracks of adolescence, his tone unyielding.
Meng Jiao met his predatory glare but didn’t retreat.
“No poison.”
She pointed toward her own kitchen.
“My dad made it. I ate some. It’s fine.”
Gu Yan stared fixedly at her, then at the bundle on the ground, his lips pressed tightly together.
His eyes were full of struggle and suspicion. He clearly didn’t believe in kindness without reason.
Knowing she couldn’t rush this, Meng Jiao said nothing more. She turned and walked back into her own yard, starting to hang the freshly washed laundry to dry.
It was as if she had merely tossed a pebble into a well, not expecting an immediate echo.
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the neighboring yard.
Gu Yan remained in that defensive posture for a long time.
Only when he was certain Meng Jiao had truly left and her attention was no longer on him did he snatch up the bundle almost violently, clutching it tightly to his chest.
He didn’t eat immediately. Instead, he warily scanned his surroundings before retreating into the deepest shadows of the firewood pile.
With his back to the outside world, he cautiously unwrapped the cloth.
First, he picked up the pale, soft cornbread bun and brought it to his nose, inhaling the pure, untainted aroma of grain.
Then he looked at the two temptingly red tomatoes, extending a grimy finger to lightly brush one. The cool, smooth texture made his fingertip tremble slightly.
After a long hesitation, he picked up one tomato as though handling a fragile treasure, quickly lowered his head, and took a small bite.
The sweet and tangy juice burst in his mouth—a fresh, vibrant flavor he hadn’t tasted in a very, very long time.
He paused for a moment, then could no longer restrain himself and began devouring the food ravenously. While eating, he remained vigilant, keeping a watchful eye on his surroundings—especially in Meng Jiao’s direction.
Meng Jiao pretended to focus intently on hanging the laundry, but inwardly she breathed a small sigh of relief.
Willingness to accept was the first step.
Over the next few days, Meng Jiao would occasionally toss some food over the fence. Sometimes it was a few crackers, other times half a boiled corn cob.
She never spoke, simply leaving the items in the usual spot before walking away.
Gu Yan gradually shifted from extreme resistance and hostility to merely casting her a cold glance. Yet each time, he would swiftly retrieve the offerings after she departed.