The winter mornings in the twelfth lunar month were very cold.
Shen Qingyou gently pushed open the door. The cold air rushed toward her, but the cotton jacket she was wearing blocked it all.
She walked quickly to the kitchen.
Last night, she had banked the stove. All she had to do was poke it open and it would be ready to use.
She had also prepared some dough, which had now risen fully, spilling over the edge of the basin. She poked it with her finger—it was soft and springy.
She added some kindling, put a pot on the stove, and began kneading the dough.
“What are you making?” A voice came from the doorway.
Shen Qingyou turned her head and saw Yan Tingxu standing at the kitchen door.
He had just returned from his morning exercise, wearing a thin set of athletic clothes, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead.
“Good morning, Third Uncle. I’m steaming buns,” Shen Qingyou answered softly.
Yan Tingxu glanced at the steamer basket, then at her.
She was wearing that burgundy cotton jacket today. The soft fur at the collar brushed against her chin, making her face look even smaller, her eyes round and dark.
Her hair was tied back with a simple red string. The whole effect made her look much brighter than when she had first arrived.
His gaze lingered for a moment, then he asked, “How’s the new jacket?”
Shen Qingyou was a little shy. She pressed her lips together in a small smile. “Mm, it’s very warm.”
Yan Tingxu didn’t say anything more and turned away.
Shen Qingyou watched his figure disappear into the courtyard, then lowered her head and continued steaming the buns.
Once the lid was on the pot and the flames licked the bottom of the stove, the kitchen gradually grew warm.
The buns she steamed were soft, fluffy, white, and big.
Yan Tingxu liked them and ate three in one go.
Shen Qingyou had a small appetite and felt full after just over half a bun.
After breakfast, Yan Tingxu took her to school again.
When she first got out of the car, Shen Qingyou didn’t notice anything unusual.
But gradually, she realized that quite a few people were sneaking glances at her.
She looked down at herself. Was something wrong?
Just then, someone called out loudly.
“Shen Qingyou!”
Wang Fang and several other female students rushed over in a flurry.
“Wow, your jacket is so pretty!” Wang Fang’s eyes went wide. She reached out to touch it but felt too shy. “Where did you buy it?”
“Is the fur on the collar real?”
“This color looks so good on you—it makes your skin so fair!”
Shen Qingyou found herself surrounded, a bit overwhelmed by her classmates’ enthusiasm.
In her previous life, she had been a wallflower at school and had never been chattered at like this before.
She answered honestly, “My third uncle bought it for me.”
Someone exclaimed, “Your third uncle is so good to you!”
Wang Fang looked at her enviously. “When I asked my mom to buy me a new jacket, she said I’d have to wait until New Year’s. You’re wearing yours way before the holiday.”
Shen Qingyou pressed her lips together and said nothing.
From nearby, someone let out a soft sneer.
“It’s just a jacket. What’s the big deal?”
The speaker was a girl with two braids named Zhao Xiuying. She usually didn’t get along with Wang Fang.
She looked at Shen Qingyou out of the corner of her eye, her voice neither loud nor soft—just loud enough for everyone around to hear.
“A girl from the countryside. Without her third uncle, would she be able to wear such a nice jacket?”
The atmosphere grew awkward.
Wang Fang glared at her. “Zhao Xiuying, what are you saying?”
“What did I say?” Zhao Xiuying rolled her eyes. “I’m just stating the facts. She’s living off someone else’s charity, and just because she’s wearing a new jacket, she forgets herself.”
Shen Qingyou looked at her.
In her previous life, Zhao Xiuying had been exactly like this—her words sharp as thorns, stabbing straight into Shen Qingyou’s heart.
Back then, she had only known how to hide, hurting so much that she would cry secretly under her covers.
But in this life, she didn’t really want to hide anymore.
“Comrade Zhao Xiuying,” she said, her voice steady, “you’re right. I am living off someone else’s charity.”
Zhao Xiuying froze, surprised that she admitted it so freely.
“But I have a jacket, and you don’t.” Shen Qingyou then added a second sentence. Zhao Xiuying’s expression flickered.
Shen Qingyou continued, “If you envy me, you can ask your family to buy you one. If they can’t afford it, then study hard and earn one for yourself in the future. There’s no need to act like the fox who can’t reach the grapes and calls them sour.”
With that, she turned and walked toward the teaching building.
Wang Fang paused for a second, then burst out laughing and ran after her. “Shen Qingyou, you’re amazing!”
Zhao Xiuying stood where she was, stomping her feet in anger, her face cycling through shades of red and white.
…
Shen Qingyou listened very attentively through the morning’s classes.
When the dismissal bell rang, Li Hongmei leaned over and couldn’t resist touching Shen Qingyou’s collar.
“Qingyou, your jacket is really pretty.”
Shen Qingyou smiled. “Thank you.”
“Um…” Li Hongmei lowered her voice, looking a little embarrassed. “How much did this jacket cost? I want to ask my mom to buy me one too.”
Shen Qingyou thought for a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t know. Third Uncle bought it and didn’t tell me the price.”
“Oh my god,” Li Hongmei marveled, “your third uncle is way too nice! This jacket must be really expensive! My dad makes a fuss just about buying me a hair clip.”
Shen Qingyou didn’t say anything, but the corners of her lips curved upward.
“Oh, and one more thing,” Li Hongmei leaned in, looking mysterious. “Don’t pay any attention to Zhao Xiuying from this morning. She’s just jealous. Her family’s not well off, she’s competitive, and she can’t stand seeing others do well.”
Shen Qingyou nodded. “I know.”
Li Hongmei looked at her and suddenly said, “Qingyou, you seem… different from other rural students.”
Shen Qingyou’s heart gave a little jump. “Different how?”
“Well…” Li Hongmei tilted her head, thinking. “The way you talk, the way you carry yourself—you seem especially confident. What you said this morning was so satisfying.”
Shen Qingyou smiled but didn’t explain.
Confidence?
She looked down at the burgundy cotton jacket she was wearing.
Maybe that was it.
In her previous life, she hadn’t realized the value of what she had. In this life, she would cherish everything.
…
When she got home from school, Yan Tingxu was already in the courtyard.
He was crouched next to the black sedan, wiping it down with a rag.
When he heard her approach, he didn’t even lift his head.
“You’re back?”
“Mm.” Shen Qingyou walked over and stood beside him, watching him wipe the car.
After a while, Yan Tingxu looked up.
“What are you looking at?”
Shen Qingyou blinked. “Watching Third Uncle wipe the car.”
Yan Tingxu paused for a moment, then continued wiping, his head down.
Shen Qingyou stood still, then suddenly spoke. “Third Uncle, a lot of my female classmates complimented my jacket today.”
Yan Tingxu’s hands didn’t pause.
“Mm.”
“Wang Fang said she wanted to buy one and asked me how much it cost. I said I didn’t know.” She paused. “Someone also said that without Third Uncle, I wouldn’t be able to wear such a nice jacket.”
Yan Tingxu stopped what he was doing and looked up at her.
Shen Qingyou stood there, wearing her red scarf, her brows and eyes curved in a smile, as if the girl hadn’t said anything hurtful at all, but rather had been complimenting her.
“What did you say back?” he asked.
“I said, if you envy me, ask your family to buy you one. If they can’t afford it, then study hard and earn one for yourself in the future.”
“Mm. Well said.” Yan Tingxu glanced at her, then continued wiping the car.
This girl—she had a temperament he rather appreciated.
Hearing Third Uncle’s approval, Shen Qingyou felt even lighter at heart.
“Third Uncle, I’ll go make dinner.”
She turned and walked toward the kitchen.
Yan Tingxu looked up and watched her figure disappear through the kitchen doorway.
That burgundy cotton jacket stood out vividly in the twilight, like a small flame.
He looked away and continued wiping the car.
As he wiped, the corner of his mouth curved almost imperceptibly.
…
The next morning, when Shen Qingyou got up, she noticed a cloth bag on the table.
She opened it and froze.
A new pair of navy blue pants, made of thick fabric, folded neatly, lying there.
She held the pants, stunned for a good long while, then ran out into the courtyard.
Yan Tingxu was in the yard.
“Third Uncle,” she held up the pants, “this…”
“To go with your jacket,” he said, still with that cool, indifferent air, his face expressionless.
“Third Uncle,” she began softly, “why did you buy me more things…”
Yan Tingxu didn’t answer.
Shen Qingyou looked at his cool, detached profile and suddenly didn’t know what else to say.
“Well then…” She paused. “I’ll go make breakfast.”
She turned and walked back. After two steps, she looked over her shoulder.
“Third Uncle, thank you.”
Yan Tingxu didn’t look up, just grunted in acknowledgment.
…
The wind picked up at night. Yan Tingxu stepped outside and suddenly noticed that on the clothesline by the backward-facing building, that burgundy cotton jacket was still hanging there.
He frowned.
This girl—she couldn’t even remember to bring in her laundry.
He walked over and took the jacket down from the line. The night wind had made it a bit cold, but it was still dry, not wet.
He stood there holding the jacket for a couple of seconds, then turned and walked to her door. He was about to knock when he stopped.
At this hour, she was surely asleep.
He thought for a moment, folded the jacket, and gently set it on the stone step by the door.
But as soon as he set it down, he thought better of it—what if it got dirty from being on the ground?
He picked it up again. This time, without hesitation, he pushed open the storage room in the courtyard. Inside, there was a clean wooden board. He spread the jacket flat on it, where it wouldn’t wrinkle.
When he was done, he straightened up, took one look at that patch of burgundy, and turned back to his room.
The wind was still blowing, but the jacket was fine—it wouldn’t get damp.
…
The next morning, Shen Qingyou got up to collect her laundry and found the clothesline empty.
She was confused for a moment, searched everywhere, and finally spotted the jacket in the storage room.
It was folded neatly and laid out on a wooden board, without a single drop of dew on it.
She stood there, looking at the jacket, and suddenly remembered that the wind had picked up last night.
She looked up through the storage room window and saw that gleaming black sedan parked in the yard.
In both this life and her previous one, he never said anything—he just quietly did things.
She lowered her head and gently touched the fur collar of the jacket with her fingers.
It was still soft, just as it had been the first time she wore it.
“Third Uncle,” she whispered, so softly that only she could hear.