Chapter 25 p1
A family melodrama was playing on the TV, showcasing a scene of utter chaos. The female lead was overacting, turning her intelligent and gentle character into a shrew. It was clearly just an ordinary family war; according to the original setting, the heroine should have been able to deflect a thousand pounds with four ounces of force, easily dealing with the family of weirdos. But no, she only knew how to scream and shout, making the situation irremediable.
Finding it rather boring, Qiao Xi washed a plate of grapes and brought them over, eating while watching.
In the new episode, the heroine cried her eyes out, accusing her family of unfairness, recounting how aggrieved she had been over the years and what she had sacrificed, and so on.
The plot was classic and cliché, lacking any novelty. One could guess without thinking that the heroine would eventually return to the family, whether the old one or a new one. A so-called happy ending had to be chosen. This was the nature of domestic dramas; a woman’s happiness was often tied to the family. Thinking about it carefully, it was quite realistic; true art comes from life. However, life is more variable, not so cookie-cutter. If things had developed according to a TV drama, Mother Qiao and Qiao Jianliang wouldn’t have reached the point of divorce back then.
The love they once had was real, and the mutual disgust later was also real. The couple simply drifted apart as they walked on. In the first two or three years, they still considered the child and wouldn’t quarrel in front of Qiao Xi. But as things intensified, they stopped caring about anything.
Watching TV, Qiao Xi was a bit distracted, unable to recall when she started disliking going home and hiding in the Fu house next door all day.
The old lady knew the virtues of the Qiao couple well and was exceptionally lenient, often telling Fu Bei, “Take Little Xi with you wherever you go; don’t leave her alone.”
Time flew by, and five years passed in the compound. She couldn’t remember the specific events she had experienced; her memories were filled with family quarrels and Fu Bei—mostly Fu Bei.
Sometimes this person was willing to take her along; sometimes she left directly with friends. Qiao Xi would wait at the Fu house, leaving only when the person returned.
At that time, Fu Bei was seventeen, and she had grown to twelve—the same age Fu Bei was the year they moved in.
A seventeen-year-old girl was already considered mostly an adult, both in age and physique. Her slender figure, waistline tucking into clean jeans, and long, straight legs carried a different charm.
Twelve-year-old Qiao Xi, however, was still short, not growing much taller. She had entered middle school, her grades mediocre, submerged in the gathering of elites at Jiang City International. Other middle school students were already paving the way for university early, with competitions, foreign languages, and arts flying together. She was still struggling with how to do her homework, unable to keep up with the class progress. She hadn’t paid much attention to studying in elementary school, but middle school was completely different. Everyone around her was doubling their efforts. She was very unadjusted, lost, unable to see the road ahead.
Mother Qiao signed her up for various tutoring classes, spending a lot of money on private tutors, hoping she could develop comprehensively in morals, intelligence, physique, and aesthetics. Unfortunately, Qiao Xi mastered nothing. She could recognize musical notes in music class but couldn’t play a smooth tune. In competition training, she understood the meaning of the questions but couldn’t solve many problems.
“How can you not even know this?” Mother Qiao often said.
At first, she was relatively tactful, but later she criticized directly, always comparing her to others. Other people’s children were good at everything, while her own was stupid and ignorant.
Unqualified parents in the world, like Mother Qiao, generally didn’t think there was anything wrong with themselves. Sometimes when she was anxious, she would speak without thinking: “Just like Qiao Jianliang, dead set in your ways, exactly like him in everything.”
A woman who used to be so gentle had become worldly after wasting away in marriage for so long. Fortunately, her nature was still refined, and she wouldn’t say things too nastily.
However, for the young and sensitive Qiao Xi, every word stabbed her heart.
All couples with failed marriages initially wouldn’t admit they had caused harm to their children. Everyone thought they were compromising for the sake of the child.
Qiao Jianliang didn’t care about these things; he didn’t pay attention.
Qiao Xi gradually became introverted, not talking much, and her behavior didn’t fit in well with the group. She no longer followed Fu Bei everywhere, clinging relentlessly. At twelve, she was much more self-aware than at seven, better at reading expressions, sensible.
But after five years together, it wasn’t something that could change overnight. When exactly did the big change happen? Probably one day when the old lady took everyone in the family to the temple to pray and offer incense. Only Fu Bei didn’t go, so Qiao Xi went to the Fu house as usual.
There was no one in the living room. Going up to the second floor, the room door was open.
There were several people inside, all seventeen or eighteen-year-old girls. This age was the most rebellious period—willful, flamboyant, self-centered, unable to distinguish good from bad, wanting to try anything new. Especially these children of wealthy families; the novelties they could access were countless. A moment of carelessness could lead them into a quagmire. Accompanying adolescence were palpitations and increasing hormones.
Sensing people in the room, Qiao Xi instinctively slowed down, standing behind the wall, debating whether to go in.
However, before she could decide, she heard someone inside say, “Chen Shuo came to find you in class yesterday; did you know?”
The tone was ambiguous, the intonation deliberately elongated and raised.
The room immediately erupted in a burst of teasing noises. Someone asked mockingly, “Fu Bei, you hide things deep enough; you didn’t even tell us this.”
Qiao Xi was stunned, rooted to the spot.
She knew Chen Shuo but wasn’t close. She roughly knew he was from the compound and had a decent relationship with Fu Bei. The Chen family leaned towards officialdom; one was the municipal party secretary, and there were several other public servants, big and small—no worse than the Fu family.
At school, when Chen Shuo appeared beside Fu Bei, discerning people knew what was going on.
Chen Shuo was handsome, upright, and refined, with good conduct and excellence, matching Fu Bei well. Moreover, the Chen and Fu families were also a good match, compatible in every aspect. So there were many rumors. Qiao Xi didn’t know, but actually, everyone tacitly assumed they were a couple.
Inside the room, Fu Bei frowned, only saying softly, “I know.”
Another burst of teasing.
Adolescent boys and girls always liked doing this kind of thing. Regardless of whether there really was a relationship, they would pair people up first.
Qiao Xi didn’t go in, leaving the Fu house with quiet steps.
At twelve, she still didn’t understand what liking meant, couldn’t figure out feelings. It was just a little uncomfortable, an indescribable bother in her heart. But this definitely wasn’t love; what it was had no specific definition.
The chatter in the room continued. Fu Bei stood behind the windowsill, listening to others talk, speaking a sentence occasionally. Inadvertently turning her head to look outside, she suddenly saw Qiao Xi walking slowly towards the Qiao family’s main gate.
Her back looked truly lonely, appearing exceptionally thin.
A friend asked curiously, “What are you looking at, so lost in thought?”
Fu Bei didn’t answer.
Adolescent boys and girls had feelings bursting forth like a flood after a storm, easily liking someone, and loving to do annoying things that only moved themselves.
Chen Shuo calculated the time to intercept Fu Bei in her class. After school, he rushed to the door of Class 1 to wait. Bringing people out, he used the excuse of wanting to join Zhao Shihuan and the others just to walk from the classroom to the school gate together.
Leaving the classroom, Qiao Xi happened to meet the group. Zhao Shihuan grinningly pulled her over, hugging her like a doll, her hands itching to ruffle her hair, calling out shamelessly, “Qiao Qiao, what a coincidence, meeting you here.”
Separated by a teaching building, but there was only one way out; the probability of meeting was high. Where was the coincidence?
Glancing quickly at the tall and thin Chen Shuo, Qiao Xi pulled at her backpack strap, following the crowd forward, and called out, “Sister Huan.”
Zhao Shihuan beamed again, even helping to carry her backpack.
Chen Shuo was cheerful and generous, distributing snacks to everyone as they walked—imported candies and such. He gave them to everyone else first, then finally to Fu Bei, a bit of a cover-up.
This routine had been used countless times. The first few times, everyone really thought he was just nice. Slowly, they figured it out, knowing they were benefiting from Fu Bei’s light. The candies were different every day, sweet and sour, perfectly suiting little girls’ tastes. So Qiao Xi, the second to last, grabbed a big handful, leaving only two.
Chen Shuo was stunned, not expecting this.
The little girl seemed quite dissatisfied with him, just not saying it out loud.
He was instantly a bit awkward but couldn’t argue with a child. Holding the two candies, he handed them to Fu Bei. “These two are for you. I’ll bring more tomorrow.”
Fu Bei didn’t accept, taking long strides ahead. “Keep them; I don’t eat them.”
As she grew older, Fu Bei had changed a lot. Before, she would show her emotions on her face, happy or unhappy. But gradually, she became inscrutable, treating everyone the same—gentle and refined to classmates and friends, disciplined at home, outstanding in studies, excellent in everything.
Zhao Shihuan remained unchanged year-round, still catching rides with the Fu family. However, Zhou Jiaqi didn’t follow anymore—or rather, hadn’t come for a long time. Whether she didn’t want to or something else was unknown. Qiao Xi didn’t care about these things; after all, family matters were messy enough, and petty squabbles were nothing.
She kept eating candy. It was clearly sweet, but she ate until her jaws ached.
Zhao Shihuan teased, “If you like candy so much, I’ll bring you a bag tomorrow.”
She said, “Don’t want it.”
“Eating others’ but not mine; you’re favoring outsiders,” Zhao Shihuan said, misusing idioms.
Qiao Xi didn’t explain, continuing to eat.
Entering the compound area, Zhao Shihuan got off first, leaving only her and Fu Bei in the back seat. Approaching the Qiao family’s door, Fu Bei finally said, “Stop eating.”
Qiao Xi paused, turning her face away from this person.
“Don’t like Chen Shuo?” Fu Bei asked.
Whether at seven or twelve, the other party could always see through her thoughts. It was just colder before; now it was slightly better, only slightly.
Qiao Xi’s temperament wasn’t as sullen as when she was seven; she had become somewhat willful. She immediately said, “I’m not close to him anyway. What’s the use of liking or not?”
Her tone was aggressive, as if someone had offended her.
Fu Bei said, “Not close, yet you eat his candy every day.”
Taking whatever was given, completely impolite, not even saying thank you. Eating another mouthful, definitely not close—a perfect example of an ungrateful little wretch.
Qiao Xi froze, unable to find words to refute. Ultimately still too young, she held it in for a long time, facing the window, and whispered senselessly, “It wasn’t for me to eat anyway…”
Small person, big ghost; she understood everything.
Fu Bei scrutinized her. Perhaps she really didn’t understand, or perhaps it was intentional. She asked in a suppressed voice, “Then who was it for?”
The girl’s voice was different from before. Speaking in a suppressed tone felt strange. Qiao Xi couldn’t delve into what exactly that feeling was. Or perhaps the little girl was shy about mentioning this so-called boy-girl liking. Her ears inexplicably felt a bit hot. Not daring to meet Fu Bei’s eyes, she clung to the window looking out, her voice as faint as a mosquito’s hum: “It’s not like you don’t know.”
