The moment the painting was finished, I nudged Sheng Jinhuan, who was dozing off beside me, and handed it over.
She rubbed her eyes, and the second her gaze landed on the canvas, she let out a sharp, breathless gasp.
“Oh my gosh! Yu Ning, this is incredible! It’s literally masterpiece-level. You could seriously hold your own art exhibition!”
I looked at her and offered a soft smile before turning away. Deep down, I knew she was just saying that to make me happy.
Staring at the canvas, she suddenly asked, “Yu Ning… can I take this home to keep?”
Caught completely off guard, I froze, utterly unsure of how to respond.
“Since you’re not saying anything, I’m taking that as a yes!”
But the truth was, I couldn’t speak even if I wanted to.
Oh well. If she likes it, it’s hers.
As dinner time approached, she packed up her things and began wheeling me toward the cafeteria.
The cafeteria was packed with doctors, patients, and their families. For some reason, the moment Sheng Jinhuan pushed my wheelchair inside, everyone turned to look at me with bizarre expressions, whispering urgently to whoever was next to them.
The weight of their scrutiny made me incredibly uncomfortable, and my appetite vanished instantly. I tapped Sheng Jinhuan’s hand on the wheelchair, signaling her to stop.
“What’s wrong?” Sensing my distress, she immediately knelt down beside me.
I couldn’t give her an explanation. I just gave her a gentle shake of my head and looked down, terrified of what I might see if I kept looking around.
She didn’t press for answers. With an unspoken understanding, she stood up and quietly wheeled me back the way we came.
We navigated upstream through the crowd all the way back to my hospital room. She kept a protective silence the entire time, not uttering a single word.
“It’s okay,” she said gently once we were back. “I’ll go grab some porridge for you. You can’t go without eating.”
I didn’t look at her or move, silently consenting.
The heavy click of the hospital door closing left me swallowed by silence once again.
Suddenly, I noticed something new sitting by the edge of my bed. Maneuvering my wheelchair over with great effort, I pulled back the blanket to find an adorable plush white cat.
The sight of the plushie immediately brought back memories of Ning Yu, who had died a horrific death right before my eyes.
But then again, no one besides me would ever remember anything from a past life. This was likely just my mind playing tricks on me.
Yet, the dormant memories anchored to this body were already beginning to unravel.
“Xiao Yu-jie!”
My eight-year-old self was crouching under the massive banyan tree in the park when I caught sight of a pale pink silhouette in the distance. Without a second thought, I bolted toward her.
Zhang Tianyu reached out an arm from behind to steady me, her voice radiating warmth and gentleness. “Careful now! The ground is uneven. Watch your step, or you’ll be crying your eyes out in a second.”
I patted my chest proudly. “I’m eight years old now! I’m a Young Pioneer! I’m a big kid, I won’t cry!”
She chuckled, playfully pinching the bridge of my nose. “Alright, alright~ Our Ah Ning is all grown up and won’t cry anymore.” She then revealed the hand she had been hiding behind her back. “Look, what did Xiao Yu-jie get you for your birthday?”
In her hand was a white plush doll. Its features were tiny and cute, though it was impossible to tell what kind of animal it was supposed to be.
To me, however, it was a priceless treasure. My eyes lit up, and I reached out to grab it.
Anticipating my move, she raised the doll just out of reach. Seeing my anxious face, she teased with a playful grin, “Weren’t you just digging in the mud? Your hands are so dirty. What if you ruin the doll?”
Catching her drift instantly, I nodded and skipped off toward the restroom.
Moments later, with clean hands, I happily cradled the doll against my chest.
We sat together on a park bench. She ran her fingers through my messy hair, her brow suddenly furrowing. “Why is your hair such a mess today? Have you been causing trouble again?”
Oblivious to the subtle displeasure in her voice, I looked up at her excitedly. “My mom wasn’t home when I left today, so I did my hair myself! Pretty impressive, right?”
Her expression shifted into something complex and unreadable. She pulled a coarse wooden comb and two red hair ties from her pocket. “Ah Ning is very impressive, but your hair got all messy from playing. How about sister fixes it into two beautiful braids for you?”
“Okay!” I agreed without a moment’s hesitation, happily turning my back to her.
She began working the comb through my hair. I played with the doll in my lap, lost in my own little make-believe world, narrating a childish play to myself.
“Little doll, blink your eyes, Mommy cries until sunrise. I ask Mommy why she weeps, she says I’m the curse she keeps.”
She gently held my faded, yellowing hair, freezing entirely for a long moment. Confused by the sudden pause, I stopped my chanting and turned around to look at her blankly.
“Ah Ning, who taught you those words?”
I shook my head. “Nobody taught me.”
She didn’t say another word, lowering her eyes as she resumed combing through my tangled hair.
Soon, my hair was perfectly neat, styled into two adorable, bouncy braids that danced with every step I took.
I touched the braids, intentionally pulling a few cute poses to make her laugh. “Xiao Yu-jie, am I cute?”
Sitting on the bench, she watched me with a soft, beaming smile. “My Ah Ning is the cutest girl in the world.”
My smile flashed brilliantly. Holding my doll tight, I dragged her to the shade of the banyan tree, and we spun around in circles together.
We stayed in that park for hours that day, talking about everything and nothing. It remains one of the few genuinely happy chapters in my memory.
That was my eighth birthday.
That night, as I held the doll close and noticed its rough, uneven stitching and asymmetrical limbs, the realization hit me: she had sewn this birthday gift entirely by hand.
An overwhelming wave of warmth surged through my chest. I silently vowed that we would be together forever, best friends for the rest of our lives.
Children’s fantasies are always beautiful…like a dreamscape hiding inside vibrant, brilliant clouds, temporarily blocking out the dark and offering a fleeting taste of color.
But that same year, on a completely ordinary afternoon, my mother put on a beautiful dress. Smiling warmly, she took my hand and told me she was taking me somewhere new.
She rarely ever cared for me. Most days, she either looked at me with a cold, hardened face or used me as a scapegoat to vent her frustrations. She had never looked this kind or gentle before.
Overjoyed by her sudden warmth, and terrified of doing anything to break the spell, I rushed over, gripped her hand tight, and followed her out the door.
She took me to a cafe to meet a man with a heavy stubble. Frightened by his cold, stern demeanor, I immediately shrank behind my mother, clutching her skirt tightly to hide.
“What are you hiding for, child? Come out, stand up straight, and greet your uncle.”
My mother hoisted me forward by the collar like a helpless little chick. The man stared at me, finally breaking into a faint smile as he initiated the conversation. “Well hello there, little one. You’re very cute. What’s your name?”
“Speak up. Did you become a mute?” My mother struck my back sharply.
Even though it stung terribly, the fear of angering her pushed me to summon my courage. I stepped forward bravely. “My name is Wen Yuning. I’m eight years old.”
“Eight?” The man’s smile vanished instantly as he shot a sharp look at my mother.
The next second, a violent blow landed on my back. The sheer force made me gasp for air through the blinding pain.
Yet, my mother instantly forced a bright smile for the man. “Of course not, she’s only six. Children don’t know any better, they just spout whatever nonsense comes to mind.”
The man looked back at me, studying me in a heavy, prolonged silence before getting up and walking away.
My mother dragged me out of the cafe with brutal force.
The moment we stepped outside, she yanked me into a secluded alley. Before I could even steady my footing, a sharp slap stung across my face.
I was completely dazed. It wasn’t until the burning sensation flared up on my cheek that tears began to spill over, hot and fast.
“What the hell were you blabbing about back there?! If you don’t know how to speak, then don’t speak for the rest of your life! You ruined everything!”
I didn’t understand what I had done wrong. Terrified by her sudden explosion, my sobbing only grew louder.
My crying seemed to trigger her further. She lunged forward, shoving and shaking me violently. “What are you crying for?! What right do you have to cry?! My entire life was ruined the day I got stuck with you, you have no right to cry!”
Trembling from head to toe under her screams, I clamped my hands over my mouth, desperate to stifle the noise so I wouldn’t provoke her further.
Suddenly, she turned her back to me and dropped to the ground, clawing at her own hair, weeping hysterically.
Still choking back my sobs, I wiped my tears away. I walked over with unsteady steps, stood by her side, and gently patted her back with my tiny hands to comfort her.
“Don’t cry, Mommy. Yuning knows she was bad.”
She didn’t look up, her cries only growing more desperate and broken.
A week later, she packed up every single piece of our luggage. Together with another man, we boarded a long-distance bus out of the city.
The night before we left, looking at the completely hollowed-out apartment, I already knew what was happening. In the dead of night, I slipped out the front door.
I crept down the stairwell and stood outside Zhang Tianyu’s door. I didn’t knock. Instead, I pressed my ear against the wood, listening for any sign of life.
Inside, it was a silence so profound you could hear a pin drop.
Choosing not to disturb her, I pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and a pen from my pocket. Crouching on the steps, I used a messy mix of pinyin and Chinese characters to scribble a crooked letter.
When I finished, I folded the paper up. Looking around the empty stairwell, panic set in. If I tucked it into a corner, she might miss it. If I left it right on the doormat, it might be thrown away as trash. I had no idea where to put it.
Then, a sudden spark of inspiration hit me. I sprinted out of the neighborhood to the park across the street and jammed the letter into the branches of our favorite banyan tree, securing it tightly with twigs and pebbles. This was my absolute favorite tree…if she couldn’t find me, she would definitely come here.
But as fate would have it, a heavy downpour struck the next morning. Rain drenched the streets, and fierce winds swept away the fallen leaves. I had no way of knowing if my letter would ever make it to her hands.
I followed my mother to a place far, far away. It was a town defined by the sea, endless sandy beaches, and massive wind turbines towering along the coastline. It was a world I had never seen before.
Life there was unique, and parts of it I genuinely loved, yet everything felt hollow.
In the dead of night, I would occasionally sneak out to a roadside payphone, using the coins I had spent months scraping together to dial Zhang Tianyu’s number. But every single attempt ended with the same automated message: The number you have dialed is a dead line.
I waited for two years, and for two years, the crushing weight of disappointment grew. I assumed my letter had never reached her.
Until the year I turned ten, when a letter unexpectedly arrived for me.