Yan Tingxu looked at her and was silent for a moment.
“I’ll try my best.”
Shen Qingyou shook her head.
“Trying isn’t enough,” she said. “You have to promise for sure.”
Yan Tingxu was stunned.
He looked at the girl, her tear-streaked face, her red-rimmed eyes, and that stubborn determination in her gaze.
He had lived over twenty years, and no one had ever made such a request of him.
He had clawed his way through the business world, weathered countless storms and dangers. Getting hurt was a normal thing. No one had ever asked if it hurt. No one had ever told him not to get hurt.
She was the first.
He was silent for a long time. Then he spoke.
“Alright.”
Just one word.
Shen Qingyou looked at him, and fresh tears welled up in her eyes.
But this time, she was smiling through them.
…
That afternoon, the sudden crackle of firecrackers sounded outside.
The popping was so loud it made the windows rattle.
Shen Qingyou was sitting in her room. Hearing the noise, she looked up and glanced outside.
In the courtyard, several children had appeared out of nowhere, setting off small firecrackers. Dressed in new cotton-padded jackets and new cotton shoes, they held incense sticks in their hands, lit the fuses, tossed the firecrackers to the ground, then covered their ears and ran off giggling.
She watched them and suddenly remembered—today was the first day of the Lunar New Year.
It was New Year’s.
She stood up, walked to the door, and looked outside.
The children finished one string of firecrackers and lit another, laughing and fooling around. One little girl noticed her and waved.
Shen Qingyou paused for a moment, then waved back.
Just then, she heard footsteps behind her.
Yan Tingxu came out of the main room, walked to her side, and glanced into the courtyard.
“Want to set some off?”
Shen Qingyou shook her head. “I’m too old for that.”
Yan Tingxu didn’t say anything. He turned and went back inside.
After a moment, he came out again, holding several strings of firecrackers and a handful of incense sticks.
Shen Qingyou was taken aback.
“Third Uncle, where did you get these?”
Yan Tingxu didn’t answer. He just pressed the items into her hands.
“Go ahead.”
Shen Qingyou held the firecrackers, looked down at them, then looked up at him.
He stood there, still wearing that cold, indifferent expression.
But somehow, she felt that Third Uncle seemed a little different today.
Her eyes curved into a smile, and she trotted toward the courtyard.
Yan Tingxu followed behind and stood under the eaves, watching her.
Shen Qingyou crouched on the ground, took apart a string of firecrackers, and laid them out one by one. When she was ready, she lit an incense stick and leaned in to light the fuse.
Her hand trembled slightly. She tried several times but couldn’t get it lit.
She bit her lip and tried again.
Still nothing.
Just as she grew anxious, a hand reached out from behind and grasped her wrist.
“The incense is too close,” Yan Tingxu’s voice came from above her head. “Lean back a little.”
His hand was very steady as he guided her wrist backward.
“Now light it.”
Shen Qingyou held her breath and brought the incense closer.
Tsss—the fuse caught.
She quickly stood up and stepped back. No sooner had she taken two steps than a sharp crackling erupted.
Sparks flew everywhere, smoke rose, and red paper scraps scattered all around.
Shen Qingyou stood there, watching the fireworks, and suddenly broke into a smile.
She turned her head and looked at Yan Tingxu.
He stood under the eaves, hands in his pockets, watching her.
The sunlight fell on him, softening his cold, indifferent face just a little.
She waved at him.
“Third Uncle, come set some off too!”
Yan Tingxu shook his head.
Shen Qingyou ran over, tugged at his sleeve, and pulled him toward the courtyard.
“Come on!”
Yan Tingxu let her pull him a couple of steps, then stopped.
He looked down at her hand gripping his sleeve.
Shen Qingyou followed his gaze and suddenly realized what she had done. She quickly let go.
“I… that…”
Before she could finish, Yan Tingxu had already stepped forward.
He picked up a string of firecrackers from the ground, crouched down, and lit them.
The firecrackers crackled and popped, even louder than the ones before.
Shen Qingyou covered her ears and stood beside him, watching.
The sparks flickered across his face, flaring and fading.
She suddenly noticed that Third Uncle, crouched there setting off firecrackers, didn’t seem so cold after all.
…
By the time they finished setting off the firecrackers, dusk was approaching.
Shen Qingyou went back to the kitchen and started making the New Year’s Eve dinner.
It was really a make-up meal. Last night, she had been all alone and hadn’t eaten anything. The dishes had been reheated and left to cool, then reheated again, and finally thrown away.
Tonight was different.
Third Uncle was here.
She made braised fish, stewed chicken, steamed pork with rice flour, scrambled eggs, eight-treasure rice, lotus root balls, and a large bowl of hot and sour soup.
When she set the dishes on the table, Yan Tingxu glanced at them.
“Making so much?”
Shen Qingyou’s eyes curved into a smile. “It’s New Year’s.”
The two of them sat down and began to eat.
Shen Qingyou ate slowly, sneaking glances at him as she did.
He ate just like usual—nothing seemed off. Except that when he held his chopsticks with his left hand, his movements were indeed a bit slower.
She lowered her head and continued eating.
After the meal, Yan Tingxu went to wash the dishes.
Shen Qingyou wanted to take over, but one look from him stopped her.
She sat by the table, watching his back as he washed the dishes.
Broad shoulders, a narrow waist, his movements crisp and clean—except that when he raised his left hand, it seemed a little unnatural.
She suddenly spoke.
“Third Uncle.”
Yan Tingxu didn’t stop what he was doing. “Hmm?”
“Your wound… when will it heal?”
Yan Tingxu paused for a moment.
“A few days.”
Shen Qingyou didn’t say anything more.
She thought of that wound—long, with its upturned edges, surrounded by red, swollen flesh.
Her heart trembled again.
…
That night, Shen Qingyou lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep.
Her mind was filled with nothing but that wound.
She closed her eyes, forcing herself to sleep.
But as soon as she did, she saw that gaping wound again, that swollen redness.
Then she suddenly remembered something.
That afternoon in the courtyard, their neighbor, Aunt Zhang, had come over to borrow a light and exchanged a few words with Third Uncle.
She had stood beside him and heard Aunt Zhang say, “Third Master Yan, this latest affair of yours was quite dangerous, wasn’t it? I hear things are unstable over there. Quite a few businessmen have come to grief.”
Third Uncle hadn’t replied, only nodding slightly.
After Aunt Zhang left, Shen Qingyou stood there, watching Third Uncle’s back, and suddenly understood something.
The business Third Uncle did might not be as simple as she had imagined.
All those things she had thought of as “negotiating deals” and “going out on business”—perhaps they were all like this.
Dangerous. Life-threatening.
She thought of the news of his accidental death in her past life and suddenly felt a bit foolish.
She had made Third Uncle promise her not to get hurt.
He had said yes.
But…
She turned over and buried her face in her pillow.
Only now did she understand just how hard the word “try” was for him.
This was probably the heaviest, most solemn promise in the world.