That night, lying in bed, Shen Qingyou tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
Her mind was full of the day’s events.
The way he held her hand, teaching her to skate.
The way he skated backward, his eyes on her the whole time.
The way he handed her the handkerchief and said, “Wipe your sweat.”
She turned over and buried her face in the pillow.
Her heart was beating a little too fast.
She didn’t know why.
But she knew she really liked today.
Really liked skating with Third Uncle.
She closed her eyes, the corners of her mouth curving upward.
Tomorrow, she’d go skating again.
……
On the second day of the Lunar New Year, she went again.
On the third day, she went again.
After several days in a row, she finally learned to skate on her own, without needing him to hold her up.
But she still preferred having Third Uncle hold her.
It always felt safer that way.
……
The fifteenth day of the first lunar month — the Lantern Festival.
When she got up that morning, Shen Qingyou noticed something new in the courtyard.
A brand-new bicycle. A Phoenix brand. Gleaming.
She froze.
Yan Tingxu came out of the main room and stood beside her.
“Bought it for you.”
Shen Qingyou turned her head and looked at him.
“Third Uncle, this…”
“Normal school is far,” he said. “A bike makes it easier.”
Shen Qingyou stood there, looking at the bicycle, then at him. Suddenly, she didn’t know what to say.
He looked at her, then paused.
“What? You don’t like it?”
Shen Qingyou shook her head.
“No,” she said, her voice a little hoarse. “It’s just… too expensive.”
Yan Tingxu didn’t say anything.
Shen Qingyou lowered her head and looked at the bicycle.
A Phoenix — even better than her old Forever bike. A piece of cloth was tied around the seat, brand new, to keep it from getting dirty.
Her nose suddenly stung.
“Third Uncle.” She looked up at him.
Yan Tingxu looked back at her.
Her eyes were glistening, something shimmering inside them.
He wanted to say something but didn’t know what.
After a moment of silence, she suddenly smiled.
“Thank you, Third Uncle,” she said. “I really, really like it.”
Yan Tingxu nodded.
“Good that you like it.”
……
That evening, Shen Qingyou sat in her room, looking out the window.
The moon was full, shining down on the courtyard, bright and clear.
The new bicycle sat in the yard, moonlight glinting off its handlebars.
She looked at the bicycle and suddenly remembered something.
Third Uncle was leaving tomorrow.
She lowered her head and buried her face in her knees.
Her heart suddenly felt a little empty.
……
Early the next morning, the car arrived.
It was the same black sedan, parked at the gate.
Yan Tingxu gathered his things and came out of the house.
Shen Qingyou stood in the courtyard, watching him.
He walked up to her and looked down.
“Study hard,” he said.
Shen Qingyou nodded.
“Mm.”
He paused for a moment, then added, “If you don’t have enough money, write to me.”
Shen Qingyou nodded again.
“Mm.”
He looked into her eyes.
The girl stood there, her eyes glistening, just looking at him.
He suddenly remembered the year she first arrived.
It was the same then — her eyes glistening as she looked at him and asked, “Will you come back tomorrow morning?”
He looked away.
“I’m leaving.”
He turned, got into the car.
The engine started, and the car slowly moved out of the alley.
Shen Qingyou stood at the gate, watching the car go farther and farther, until it finally disappeared at the end of the alley.
She stood there for a long time without moving.
The wind blew, a little cold.
The courtyard felt empty.
The new bicycle still sat at the base of the wall, its gleaming handlebars shining in the winter sunlight.
She walked over, touched the seat, then touched the bell.
Dingling — a crisp, clear sound.
She looked down at her toes.
The new cotton shoes had been sent back by him last winter, stuffed thick with cotton, warm and snug.
After standing there for a while, she turned and went back inside.
……
Normal school started on the eighteenth day of the first lunar month.
Shen Qingyou began packing on the sixteenth.
She folded her new clothes and put them in her bundle, packed her textbooks into her bag, along with the pair of ice skates.
She wiped the skates again and again, wrapped them in old newspaper, and tucked them into the very bottom of the bundle.
On the afternoon of the seventeenth, she rode her bike to the supply and marketing cooperative.
She bought some soap, a towel, and two catties of brown sugar.
The sugar was wrapped in oil paper. She carefully placed it in the bike basket.
By the time she got back, dusk was falling.
……
The small backward-facing room where Shen Qingyou lived hadn’t changed much over the years.
Against the wall stood a single bed, covered with a mattress she had sewn herself.
Beside the bed was a desk, and on the desk sat the lamp. By the window was the brand-new wardrobe, which held her clothes inside.
She closed the door, pulled the curtains shut, and began to undress.
She took off her cotton jacket and draped it over the chair back. She took off her long-sleeved undershirt and laid it over the jacket. She took off her pants and laid them on top.
There was no mirror in the room. She couldn’t see herself.
But she looked down at her wrists — thinner now, paler, no longer as gaunt as when she’d first arrived.
Then she looked at her hands. Her fingers had grown longer, and her nails were a healthy pink.
Steam rose from the hot water in the bucket. She wet her towel and began to wash herself.
The hot water on her skin felt warm and soothing.
She wiped from her neck down to her shoulders, from her shoulders down to her arms, from her arms down to her waist.
When she reached her waist, her hand paused.
Her waist seemed thinner than before.
She glanced down, and her face suddenly flushed.
She didn’t know why she was blushing.
She was alone in the room.
She bit her lip and continued.
……
In the courtyard, a figure stood at the door of the main room.
Yan Tingxu stood there, looking at the window of the backward-facing room. The light was on.
The curtains were drawn tight. Nothing could be seen.
But a warm yellow glow seeped through the paper window, especially striking in the winter night.
He knew what she was doing.
The kitchen was short by one bucket of hot water.
He had come back briefly to take care of some unexpected business when he saw her light turn on, saw her draw the curtains, and through the paper window, the faint, shifting shadow of a figure moving inside.
He knew he shouldn’t look.
He turned to leave.
But the shadow on the window paper reminded him of three years ago, when she first arrived.
So small back then.
Her face no bigger than his palm. Her wrists so thin he could circle them with one hand.
He’d given her a blanket, and she’d said, “Third Uncle, that’s your blanket.” He’d given her money, and she’d said, “Third Uncle, can I hold onto it myself?”
Back then, she called him “Third Uncle” in a thin, careful voice.
And then, little by little, she grew up.
She learned to cook. Learned to ride a bike. Learned to knit a sweater. She grew taller, too — when she first came, she only reached his shoulder; now she reached his eyebrow.
He didn’t know when it started — that pause in his gaze when he looked at her.
Or when it started — that turning away of his eyes when she stood before him.
Like just now.
He turned and strode out of the courtyard.
At the gate, he stopped again.
He glanced back.
The light in her window was still on.
At the alley entrance, the driver was still waiting.
He got into the car and said, “Let’s go.”
The engine started, and the car pulled out of the alley.
……
On the twentieth day of the first lunar month, Shen Qingyou received her first letter.
The envelope was blank, just sitting on her desk.
She opened it and froze.
There was only one line on the paper.
“Arrived. Study hard.”
She read it several times, folded the paper, and tucked it under her pillow.
……
The days passed, one by one.
Every day, she rode her bike to school and back. Every time she passed the alley, she would glance toward the courtyard.
The courtyard was empty.
The door to the main room was shut.
She’d look away and keep pedaling.
On weekends, when she came home, she’d make two extra dishes and leave them covered in the pot to stay warm.
Even though he wasn’t there.
But she was used to it.
……
On the second day of the second lunar month — the Dragon Raises Its Head — Shen Qingyou came home from school to find Auntie Zhang standing in the courtyard.
When the woman saw her, she smiled and came over.
“Qingyou, you’re back! Perfect timing — let me tell you something.”
Shen Qingyou froze. “What is it?”
Auntie Zhang took her hand and lowered her voice.
“Your Third Uncle — this trip, I heard he went down south.”
Shen Qingyou nodded. “I know.”
Auntie Zhang hesitated, then said, “Things aren’t peaceful down there. You know that, right?”
Shen Qingyou’s heart tightened.
“What’s not peaceful?”
Auntie Zhang glanced left and right and dropped her voice even lower.
“I heard it from my old man. The south is a mess right now — several factions are fighting. Your Third Uncle went down to make a big deal, and the people there are dangerous.”
Shen Qingyou stood there, her face going pale.
She remembered her previous life.
Third Uncle died that year.
He left in the first lunar month. The news came back in the third.
She never knew the details. She only knew he never came home.
She thought this life would be different.
She thought that by coming here, she could change something.
But he still left.
Still went to that place.
“Qingyou?” Auntie Zhang shook her arm. “What’s wrong? You’ve gone so pale.”
Shen Qingyou snapped back to the present and shook her head.
“It’s nothing,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “Auntie Zhang, I’m going inside.”
She turned and walked into the house.
She took two steps, then stopped.
“Auntie Zhang,” she turned back, “do you know exactly where in the south he went?”
Auntie Zhang thought for a moment.
“I think it was Jiangcheng?”
Shen Qingyou froze.
Jiangcheng.
In her previous life, that letter had come from Jiangcheng.
……
That night, Shen Qingyou didn’t sleep at all.
She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind full of images from her past life.
The letter.
The men in black.
The way she had crouched beneath the window, shaking with cold, too terrified to move.
Only later did she learn — that was the last time she would ever hear news of him.
She closed her eyes and tried to push those images away.
But they wouldn’t leave.
She turned over and buried her face in the pillow.
Under the pillow was his letter.
She reached out and touched it. Suddenly, tears fell.
Third Uncle.
You can’t die.
You promised me.
She didn’t know when she fell asleep.
In her dream, she saw him standing on the ice rink, holding her hand, telling her to “glide forward.”
She glided forward. When she looked back, he was gone.
……
Early the next morning, Shen Qingyou went to the post office.
She wrote a letter and sent it to Jiangcheng.
There was only one line on the page.
“Third Uncle, when are you coming back?”
After mailing it, she stood at the post office gate and watched the green postal truck drive away.
The wind blew, a little cold.
She tucked her hands into her pockets and touched the fountain pen.
A Hero brand pen. A small flower was carved on the cap.
His reward to her.
She stood there for a very long time.
……
Half a month passed. No reply came.
She sent another letter.
Still no reply.
She began to panic.
Every night she couldn’t sleep. Every day she drifted off in class. When the teacher called her name, she’d stand up, not even knowing what the question was.
Li Hongmei saw her like this and grew worried.
“Qingyou, what’s wrong with you?”
Shen Qingyou shook her head. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Li Hongmei stared at her. “This is nothing? You’ve got circles under your eyes like a panda, the teacher calls you three times before you hear her, and you tell me nothing?”
Shen Qingyou didn’t speak.
Li Hongmei looked at her, then lowered her voice.
“Did something happen to your Third Uncle?”
Shen Qingyou’s heart clenched.
“No,” she said. “He… he’s just away on business.”
Li Hongmei looked at her as if she wanted to say something more, but held back.
Finally, she sighed.
“Qingyou, if something’s going on, tell me. We’re best friends, remember?”
Shen Qingyou looked at her, and her nose suddenly stung.
She nodded.
“Mm.”
……
On the third day of the third lunar month, Shen Qingyou received a letter.
It was from Jiangcheng.
She stared at the handwriting on the envelope and froze.
It was Third Uncle’s.
She tore open the envelope, her hands trembling.
There was only one sheet of paper inside.
And on it, only one line.
“Things are complicated in Jiangcheng. Return date uncertain. Don’t worry.”
She stood there, and the tears fell.