Chapter 50: Refining Bricks

About ten minutes later, Chu Qingyang came upstairs and knocked on the door. “Susu.”

“Mm.”

“Dad’s emotions aren’t stable right now. Don’t come out yet, in case he hurts you again.”

These words didn’t seem problematic on the surface, but for some reason, Chu Susu felt a hint of sarcasm in them.

To think their father-daughter relationship had deteriorated to this point—how laughable.

“Give me Pipi first.” Chu Qingyang stood outside the door, her voice carrying a trace of heaviness. “I’ll take care of it tonight.”

“Okay.”

Chu Susu deftly pulled open a small handle at the bottom of the door and passed the little dog through the tiny opening.

Speaking of which, this door had a rather unique design.

When she was little, Chu Susu would occasionally act up and get into mischief, often leading to teachers calling her parents. As punishment, Chu Qingyang would make her stand in the room and reflect, not allowing her to take a single step or fool around—she had to stay put obediently.

But kids could never sit still. After it happened a few times, she secretly hid some tools in the room. One time, when Chu Qingyang wasn’t paying attention, she actually drilled a big hole in the wooden door and crawled out from inside.

Naturally, she was harshly punished afterward.

Though the hole was eventually patched by professionals, Chu Qingyang deliberately left a small handle on it. From then on, whenever she was made to stand as punishment, Chu Qingyang would pass in some food or water.

Just like now—a hand with a thin layer of callus on the fingertips steadily caught Pipi and then passed in a small bread roll.

“…Sis.” Chu Susu didn’t take it. “I’m not a kid anymore. You don’t need to buy these for me.”

“Take it.”

The bread was wrapped in plastic, topped with cheese and bacon. Even though it had gone cold, it still emitted an enticing aroma.

In the end, Chu Susu accepted it. Listening to Chu Qingyang’s footsteps fading away outside, she took a gentle bite.

Delicious.

Ever since moving out, she rarely returned to this room where she’d lived for over a decade, so the items here were quite outdated, with nothing new added in ages.

Though someone cleaned it regularly to prevent dust buildup, the yellowed covers on the bookshelf made it clear these were relics from long ago.

At the very bottom were pressed some award certificates from her extracurricular activities, unopened for many years.

Chu Susu casually pulled out a notebook—it turned out to be her middle school diary.

The cover featured an abstract little figure drawn with pink crayon, probably her self-portrait from back then.

She sprawled on the bed without turning on the desk lamp, flipping through the pages by the glow of the sunset outside the window.

A kid’s diary was nothing but a stream of daily banalities—what happened at school today, how much homework was assigned. Chu Susu skimmed through, gradually losing interest.

Just as she was about to put it back, she noticed a particularly standout page. Judging by the date, it was probably from her sophomore year of high school.

The page was coated in pink, filled with hearts and all sorts of cute doodles. Instinct told Chu Susu something was off.

So much time had passed since her student days that she couldn’t recall what happened that day. Reading on, she spotted a line of small text in the corner—

“XX, ganbatte.”

XX was clearly someone’s name, but it seemed the excessive paint had caused the ink to smudge into a blurry black blob, making it impossible to discern the two characters.

Chu Susu stared at it for a good while but couldn’t remember who it was.

Her sexual orientation had awakened early; she’d been interested in girls since childhood. But during her junior and senior years of high school, with the college entrance exams looming, Chu Qingyang kept a tight leash on her.

She definitely didn’t remember dating anyone early like that.

The following entries continued with pink hearts, but never mentioned that person’s name again.

Suddenly, something clicked for Chu Susu. She set down the diary, went to the wall, and tore off the anime poster stuck there, revealing a dark “mouse hole” in the corner.

Of course, it wasn’t made by a mouse—it was one she’d pried open herself.

Everyone has their little quirks, and Chu Susu was no exception. She sometimes feared sleeping alone but was too proud to tell Chu Qingyang or bother her grandparents, so she endured it solo.

When she couldn’t sleep, she’d write a little note or draw a small picture and stuff it into the hole, whether it was about something or nothing. Over time, she’d accumulated hundreds or thousands of them, and the hole grew deeper and deeper.

Thank goodness the walls were thick, or she might have poked right through.

Now, she reached in and pulled out a big handful of notes, the handwriting evolving from childish scrawl to mature script, as if chronicling her growth.

Chu Susu thought that if she’d really had an early romance back then, there might be some clues in these notes.

Sure enough, a large portion revealed the yearnings of a young girl in love.

“Although my allowance is enough, if I want to buy her breakfast, I still need to save up, hehe. But—absolutely can’t let Sis know, or it’ll be another beating.”

“Argued with Sis today. Never seen her so sad, she even cried. XX went with me to pick out a little gift. Pretty please, I know I was wrong—forgive me, beautiful Chu Qingyang~!”

Once again, the name was illegible.

Chu Susu remembered this incident. One time, she’d gotten into trouble at school and was punished by Chu Qingyang upon returning home. In a moment of panic and immaturity, she’d said many hurtful things.

That was the first time she’d seen the iron-wall-like protector in front of her with tears welling in her eyes, so the memory was fresh.

XX was also two characters, and the timing matched perfectly—it had to be the same person.

Chu Susu remembered buying the gift to apologize to Chu Qingyang, but… she’d gone alone. No one had accompanied her.

And from the look of it, she’d really liked and trusted this XX back then. How could such a pure youthful emotion be forgotten with time?

She picked up another note and immediately recognized it—the handwriting was completely different from hers, like the neat block letters of a more reserved girl.

The first half was still unclear.

“…and I’ll be by your side.”

Chu Susu glanced at it and found it amusing. Middle schoolers confessing felt so cringe and non-mainstream.

But who on earth was this person? She racked her brains but couldn’t recall anyone like that.

It was too tedious to unfold each one to hunt for more clues from that time.

Outside, the faint sounds of Chu Qingyang arguing with her father drifted in, but Chu Susu had no interest in the details.

After all, given Chu Zhen’s attitude toward her, he wouldn’t say anything nice.

She stuffed the notes back, resealed the hole with the poster, and flopped wearily onto the bed. She sent Chu Qingyang a message.

Chu Susu: “Sis, don’t argue with him anymore. It’s fine.”

It wouldn’t change anything anyway—she was still the daughter Chu Zhen wished he could disown.

She thought of Qiao Qian again and casually asked Fang Chen if he had any extra birthday banquet invitations, but before his reply came, she drifted off into a hazy sleep.

…

Memories she couldn’t recall no matter how hard she tried flashed by like a lantern show in her dream.

Chu Susu saw a high school girl in a school uniform—her sixteen- or seventeen-year-old self.

The teenage Chu Susu bounded into the room with a flashy blue backpack, calling to the girl behind her: “Xingxing, hurry up.”

Who was Xingxing?

(Xingxing means Stars)

From a god’s-eye view, Chu Susu curiously observed, but she couldn’t make out the girl’s face, only hearing a soft “Mm” in response.

The girl was a bit shorter than her back then, exceedingly thin, her hair in a low ponytail—like a frail little thing who might break in the wind.

Teenage Chu Susu dropped her backpack and pulled out a paper bag, presenting it like a treasure: “Eat up. I specially lined up to buy this for you.”

The girl looked at it and said “Thank you,” then murmured softly, “How did you skip evening self-study again? That’s not good.”

“Are you gonna eat or not? No nagging.”

Teenage Chu Susu shot her a dissatisfied glance, quickly silencing whatever else she wanted to say.

She ate in silence, big bites—not exactly elegant, wolfing it down until the entire burger was gone.

“Was it good?” Teenage Chu Susu asked expectantly. “This is my favorite burger joint—super hard to get. That was the last one today.”

The girl let out an “Ah”: “You gave it to me… Aren’t you craving it?”

“No biggie. I’ve had it loads of times. Next time for me.”

Teenage Chu Susu acted nonchalant, though she secretly swallowed hard.

The girl paused, then mumbled, “Actually… it’s not that great.”

“What?” Questioning her taste?

The girl shook her head frantically: “I mean, I can make you something even better.”

“Sure.”

Teenage Chu Susu didn’t take a kid’s words seriously. She lay on the carpet, lazily writing a note. “Then I’ll wait and see.”

The girl obediently cleaned up the trash and crawled over to peer closely:

“What are you doing?”

“Writing little notes. Kinda like keeping a diary.”

“Then… why not just write in a diary?”

“It’s just fun, okay? Not everything needs a reason.”

Then, teenage Chu Susu proudly showed her her secret world—the “mouse hole” behind the poster.

“Do you want to write a couple too and put them in? Many years later, when looking back, how meaningful it would be.”

“Me?” The girl hesitated for a moment. “Is that okay?”

The young girl Chu Susu tossed paper and pen over to her, urging, “Hurry up, don’t dawdle.”

The two fell quiet, rustling sounds as each wrote their own.

The young girl Chu Susu finished quickly. She folded her note into a small square and clutched it in her hand. “Let me see yours.”

Unexpectedly, the girl who looked soft and easygoing refused:

“No way, this is a secret.”

Although from God’s perspective Chu Susu still couldn’t see her face clearly, she inexplicably felt certain that she was blushing.

“What secret? Is there something you know that I don’t?” The young girl Chu Susu pretended to be angry and pounced over to tickle the girl.

“Th-then you show me yours first.”

“How can I do that!”

“You, you won’t show me yours, so I won’t show you mine.”

The girl was too skinny and weak, no match at all for the well-developed Chu Susu. She was quickly defeated, but still held firm, refusing to hand over her note.

Chu Susu didn’t push her further.

In the end, neither looked at the other’s note. They stuffed them into the deepest part of the “rat hole,” promising neither would peek.

While the young girl Chu Susu carefully cleaned up the paper scraps, the girl beside her quietly lifted her eyes to stare at her face, stars sparkling in her gaze.

… …

Chu Susu drowsily sat up from the bed, feeling like she’d had a very long dream.

As for the contents, she couldn’t remember them, only vaguely sensing… it had been quite sweet.

The window had cracked open at some point. Chu Susu padded over barefoot to close it, then suddenly spotted a small blade of grass clamped on the windowsill.

Slender and vibrant green, not very eye-catching. Its common name was “star grass.”

There weren’t any such plants growing downstairs in her building. Had it been blown over by the wind?

Chu Susu casually slipped it into that diary as a bookmark.

The notes in the “rat hole” behind the poster seemed to exist only in the dream. Upon waking, she had completely forgotten them.

Only the forceful ink marks penetrating the paper served as witness.

The blue ballpoint pen strokes were neat and deliberate, as if the pen tip had condensed some unspeakable feelings of a young girl.

“Call my name, and I will appear by your side.

——Xingxing.”