While Shen Zhirou lay on the bed lost in thought, Lu Yao had already carried the cooked noodles to the dining room. She then returned to the room to wake her. “The noodles are ready. Eat something first before you go to sleep.”
“Okay.” Shen Zhirou replied. The dizziness had eased a bit by now, and after not eating all day, she was truly hungry.
Shen Zhirou climbed out of bed and followed Lu Yao to the dining room, a faint flicker of anticipation stirring in her heart. This would be the first time she tried something Yaoyao had cooked.
She sat down at the table, her eyes settling on the bowl before her—a simple serving of scallion and egg noodles. Yet Shen Zhirou hesitated to pick up her chopsticks.
“What’s wrong? Is it too bland? You’re still recovering from the fever, so stick to something light for now.” Lu Yao said softly from the seat beside her.
“No, I like anything you make.” Shen Zhirou curved her lips into a gentle smile as she looked at Lu Yao, then began eating the noodles.
Once Lu Yao saw her start in, she picked up her own chopsticks.
Shen Zhirou ate with hurried motions, polishing off half the bowl in short order. She finished the entire thing at breakneck speed.
Lu Yao paused mid-bite, assuming her friend was simply ravenous, and asked, “Want seconds?”
“No thanks, I’m done. I need the bathroom.” Shen Zhirou’s face had gone pale. She set down her chopsticks and hurried toward the en-suite bathroom.
A flicker of puzzlement crossed Lu Yao’s mind, but she chalked it up to a simple bathroom break and kept eating her own noodles.
Back in the bedroom, Shen Zhirou clapped a hand over her mouth and bolted into the bathroom. She locked the door in a flash, cranked the faucet to full blast—letting the rush of water fill the space—before stumbling weakly to the toilet.
Sweat beaded across her forehead, matting her dark hair. Exhausted, she doubled over and heaved, her fever making the world double and blur before her eyes. Her stomach roiled relentlessly, dragging up a painful childhood memory.
She had been nine then, her little sister just three. Their parents’ divorce was a year behind them, and the girls had been dumped at their paternal grandmother’s house. That year, their parents barely showed their faces; Grandma was their sole companion, even attending Shen Zhirou’s parent-teacher conferences.
During winter break, their mother made a rare appearance. Shen Zhirou still remembered her own joy at the news. She had never brought up her parents around Grandma for fear of worrying her, but she was just a child—how could she not miss them?
The night before the visit, Shen Zhirou was too excited to sleep. The next day, their mother picked them up and took them to her new home—where Shen Zhirou first laid eyes on her one-year-old half-brother, Kang Yunheng.
That was when she truly realized everything had changed. In her mother’s new house, she felt awkward and out of place, as if some instinct told her they were mere visitors. Even her three-year-old sister seemed to sense it, becoming unusually well-behaved.
Shen Zhirou watched her mother pour all her love onto the newborn brother. From that moment, she and her sister had become nothing but burdens.
She remembered that midday clearly, when six-year-old Ning Lei was dropped off by his uncle. Compared to her and her sister, Ning Lei acted like the lord of the manor.
Ning Lei lounged on the sofa, swinging his legs and sipping a cola as he smirked at them. “Shen Zhirou, your mom and dad got divorced? I heard nobody wants you or your sister. You’re just unwanted little bastards.”
When Ning Lei saw tears welling in Shen Zhirou’s eyes, he grinned wider, pulling faces at her before buzzing around her and Shen Yumian like a fly—running back and forth, repeating the taunts. He scared Shen Yumian to tears.
Shen Zhirou shoved him. Ning Lei promptly flopped to the floor and wailed like a banshee, playing the victim. “Second Aunt! Waaah! Shen Zhirou hit me! It hurts so bad!”
“Mom, I didn’t…” The young Shen Zhirou barely got the words out before her mother cut her off.
“Zhirou, you’re nine years old. Your brother’s only six. Can’t you let him have his way a little? Look at you—you’ve been here no time at all, and you’ve already made him cry.” Ning Jianfang refused to hear her out, instinctively pinning all the blame on Shen Zhirou.
The young Shen Zhirou stood frozen in place with red-rimmed eyes, murmuring, “I didn’t bully him. It was he who said that my sister and I are unwanted wild children.”
Ning Jianfang glanced at Shen Zhirou, seemingly thinking that squabbles between children were nothing worth fussing over, and continued, “Even so, you can’t go hitting people. Our family only has Ning Lei as a boy—what if you hurt him badly?”
The young Shen Zhirou froze stiffly in place. Ning Lei, nestled in his mother’s arms and basking in her comfort, bared his teeth in a grin at her, as if triumphantly showing off. By then, she was already starting to realize that she and her sister could only rely on Grandma. Yet Shen Zhirou still clung to a faint hope for her mother deep down—after all, her mother had brought her and her sister home, which proved that her mother still cared about them somewhat.
While their mother was making breakfast, Shen Zhirou and Ning Lei started arguing again, sparked once more by Ning Lei’s provocation.
Children always want to prove they’re more important in the adults’ eyes, and Ning Lei was no different. He clamored for Ning Jianfang to add two eggs to his instant noodles, then sidled over to mock Shen Zhirou. “Wild children like you and your sister don’t deserve eggs. Want some? I’ll get you some.”
Ning Lei’s eyes gleamed with excitement as he darted to the kitchen table, grabbed an egg, and came back. Shen Zhirou had no intention of engaging with him and simply sat quietly at the table with her sister, waiting for breakfast. But Ning Lei had no plans to let her off that easily.
He cracked the egg against the table to split its shell, then flung the leaking, juice-seeping egg straight at Shen Zhirou. She had no time to react before the foul-smelling egg yolk and whites splattered across her face along with bits of shell. The sticky mess quickly dribbled down her cheeks and onto her clothes.
That outfit was Shen Zhirou’s favorite, the one she’d deliberately put on to visit her mother’s house clean and neat. Overwhelmed with grievance, she burst into tears, which only made Ning Lei beside her erupt into laughter. “Hahaha, wild children deserve rotten eggs! Bullseye~”
Ning Jianfang heard the crying from the dining room and felt a massive headache coming on. She’d felt a twinge of guilt over not seeing her two daughters for a year, but now she just saw them as trouble. She should’ve been like their father—send money and pretend they didn’t exist.
When Ning Jianfang entered the dining room, she saw her eldest daughter covered in mess. Even at nine years old, Shen Zhirou was still just a child, and in that moment, she naturally yearned for her mother’s comfort.
The timid Shen Yumian at Shen Zhirou’s side pointed at Ning Lei in her childish, milky voice. “Ning Lei threw an egg at Jie Jie.”
“I did throw it—what about it? Nyah nyah~,” Ning Lei shot back, not only refusing to apologize but pulling a vicious face at Shen Yumian.
Ning Jianfang’s head throbbed even more. She handed Shen Zhirou some tissues to wipe her face while chiding her, “Ning Lei’s still little. You’re the big sister—you have to give in to your little brother. And on your very first day here, you cause this mess… I shouldn’t have brought you over at all…”
Shen Zhirou dazedly wiped the egg off her face and clothes, but her tears wouldn’t stop flowing. Sobbing, she begged Ning Jianfang to send her back to Grandma’s. Ning Jianfang grumbled irritably and told Kang Defa to drive her and her sister home.
From that day on, Shen Zhirou could never stomach eggs again—not even the mere smell of their raw scent made her gag. Even after all these years, she still instinctively avoided them while eating.
She’d eaten one just now because she thought she’d grown up, that she was no longer the nine-year-old girl who’d been so traumatized, and that she’d gotten over her aversion. But she’d been wrong. Some things might seem trivial, yet they leave indelible scars on a child’s heart. Even if time makes the wounds look healed, touching them reopens the pain, cutting just as deep. She wasn’t nearly as strong as she’d believed.
Shen Zhirou vomited up nearly everything in her stomach. She stood to rinse her mouth, but her legs trembled beneath her. Forcing down the nausea, she braced herself against the toilet and staggered to the sink, where she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror.
Her face was ghostly pale, her forehead slick with fine beads of sweat, her dark hair dampened and clinging to her skin. The lingering taste of egg in her mouth still churned her gut, though there was nothing left to throw up.
Shen Zhirou hurriedly gargled with mouthwash several times until she felt a bit better. Worried that Lu Yao would fret over her, she washed her face, dried her slightly wavy black hair, and lingered in the bathroom a while longer to recover before finally returning to the bedroom.
Lu Yao lay on the bed and, seeing her come out, asked with concern, “Why did it take so long? Are you feeling unwell again? If you’re still uncomfortable, we should just head to the hospital for emergency care.”
“No need. My head’s just a bit dizzy. A good sleep will sort it out. You should rest too.” Shen Zhirou forced herself up onto the bed, burrowed under the covers, and closed her eyes.
Lu Yao touched Shen Zhirou’s forehead again, confirming the fever wasn’t too high, before abandoning the idea of rushing to the ER.
Having emptied her stomach completely, Shen Zhirou felt utterly drained and quickly drifted off to sleep. She woke to the gnawing pangs of hunger, her belly rumbling loudly. Blinking her eyes open slowly, she found Lu Yao staring right at her stomach.
Still feeling queasy, Shen Zhirou instinctively scooted closer to Lu Yao and nuzzled her face into the crook of her shoulder and neck.
Seeing Shen Zhirou acting all coquettish, Lu Yao’s eyes crinkled with a gentle smile. “Hungry? What do you feel like eating? I’ll make it for you.”
“I want some plain congee.” Shen Zhirou was ravenous by now. To steer clear of anything egg-related from Lu Yao’s cooking, she named her request outright.
