Chapter 17

Autumn deepened.

Since school started, Yu Mian had come to absolutely despise PE class.

She was a clever child, but she had been born with a terrible, terrible sense of direction — so bad that when the PE teacher called “turn left, turn right,” she turned into a little scatterbrain.

And she wasn’t the only one — Xu Xiaoyan was even worse. The result: Yu Mian turned the wrong way, Xu Xiaoyan turned the wrong way after her, and the whole class roared with laughter.

That first PE class left Yu Mian with a massive psychological scar. She went home that day sulking, shut herself in her little room, and crouched in the corner practicing “turn left, turn right.”

When Pei Songxi came home from work and found her crouching in the corner, she thought she’d been bullied.

The day before the National Day holiday, the last class was PE. All the children were overjoyed — only Yu Mian faced it like a soldier going to battle, gripping Xu Xiaoyan’s hand. “Don’t turn the wrong way today!”

Xu Xiaoyan, ever carefree, couldn’t be bothered. “It’s nothing. Don’t be nervous.”

When the bell rang, Yu Mian and Xu Xiaoyan stood in the front row, right under the teacher’s nose.

The whistle blew — “at ease,” “attention,” “march in place” — and then came the dreaded segment.

She secretly curled her right hand into a fist and made scissors with her left. The moment the teacher shouted “turn right,” her brain started spinning: right, right, right… the fist! Turn this way!

She was so tense she hardly dared breathe. Phew, phew — she got it right this time.

Right is the fist, left is the scissors… she muttered to herself through the entire class, and finally made no more mistakes.

Ai, she was so dumb.

When the teacher blew the whistle for dismissal, the little boys in class roared with laughter and charged toward the classroom, grabbing their bags and dashing out.

Yu Mian quietly let out her breath. Xu Xiaoyan was ecstatic, dragging her into a wild sprint. “My family’s going on vacation! We fly out on the big plane tonight!”

Yu Mian’s schoolbag wasn’t even on properly before she was hauled forward, and they ran all the way to the gate just as the dismissal bell rang.

Xu Xiaoyan spotted her parents and jumped for joy. “Mianmian! I’m off! I’ll bring you back a present!”

Yu Mian smiled at her. “Remember to do your homework!”

Xu Xiaoyan thumped her. “Why do you sound just like Teacher Qin? I’m going!”

Yu Mian waved at her, then stood by the school gate with her pale-blue schoolbag, rising on tiptoe to look out.

Huh. Auntie Pei wasn’t here yet.

The northern autumn carried a bleak chill. She stamped her feet in place, crushing a few golden phoenix-tree leaves. Gradually the crowd thickened, and she had to step aside — but, but she still couldn’t see Auntie Pei.

A fear she couldn’t control came surging up. She stood there waiting a long, long time — but no one came…

Yu Mian thought it over and decided to take the bus home by herself.

The stop was right at the school gate. Straight ahead one hundred meters, the 512 bus, get off at the Anxi Road intersection… then walk two hundred meters more, turn right…

Yu Mian boarded the bus.

Schoolbag on her back, she gripped the handrail. The driver, seeing how small she was, glanced back to confirm no adult was with her and frowned. “Little one, come stand over here. Do you know which stop to get off at?”

Yu Mian beamed at him. “Thank you, Uncle! I know!”

The bus was crowded, so she stood near the door, clutching the handrail tight, a little wary and a little nervous. Partway through, a boy offered her his seat; she didn’t go, staying beside the driver the whole way.

At the Anxi Road intersection, the doors opened and she hopped off.

The setting sun hung in the sky, the light mellow.

Schoolbag on her back, Yu Mian hopped along the sidewalk, stepping on her own shadow, playing hopscotch.

The spare Key was hidden under the potted plant. She fished it out and opened the door.

The house was quiet. In the vast living room, she was the only one there.

So when Auntie Pei wasn’t home, the house didn’t quite feel like a home anymore.

Yu Mian lowered her head and took a few steps forward, then stopped.

On the coffee table sat a plate of fresh, glossy oranges. She blinked, smiled, picked one up, hugged it, and kissed it — then shouldered her schoolbag and headed upstairs.

…

A heavy rain had just fallen in the mountains.

Autumn deepened; the forests took on their layered colors.

Fallen leaves near at hand were soaked with rain, water droplets still clinging to the tips of the phoenix-tree leaves. In the distance, mist wreathed the layered peaks, lending the scene a cold, detached remoteness, cut off from the world.

Pei Songxi stepped over the railing and walked out. A monk in robes called out, “Benefactor Pei, rest assured. Your mother is in good hands here; she will find peace of mind.”

“Thank you. I won’t come again. Please look after her.”

Pei Songxi lowered her eyes and smiled faintly. She had never believed in gods and Buddhas — but her mother had, and now more than a decade had passed since her death, so she believed along with her.

Today was her mother’s memorial day.

In the past, at home, she’d kept her mother’s portrait in the Small Buddha Hall. Today she’d had a fight with Pei Tiancheng and only then, on the spur of the moment, decided to move it somewhere else.

The air carried that fresh scent unique to after rain. She descended the mountain over fallen leaves, her steps unhurried — pausing only when she passed a tree of red maple, her fingertip brushing the tip of a leaf, thinking: perhaps Mianmian would like this.

Standing on the mountain path looking down, her old cold detachment was gone. Somewhere in the mortal world, there was now a place that held a piece of her heart.

Pei Songxi pressed her lips together faintly and kept walking down.

On the path, Wei Yi came puffing up the slope. “President Pei! The driver couldn’t find Miss Yu.”

Pei Songxi’s features darkened. “Explain.”

Wei Yi stopped, panting, and seeing her cold, grim expression, instinctively tensed. “President Pei, it’s like this…”

All this while, out of worry, Pei Songxi had been picking Yu Mian up herself. If not for being called out here today, if not for this downpour, she would have made it back in time.

Wei Yi had run up the mountain to deliver her report, then run back down to call Teacher Qin, asking her to let Yu Mian know.

The rain was heavy and the roads slick, and there was no signal on the mountain; Wei Yi had run all over before finding a single bar — and time slipped away regardless.

The driver was out on an errand; called at the last minute, he’d need half an hour to get there. Wei Yi called Teacher Qin again, asking her to have Yu Mian wait in the office for the driver.

But no one expected the last class to be PE — Teacher Qin couldn’t find Yu Mian anywhere, and the family driver arrived to an empty gate.

But a child that small — where could she have gone?

…

Yu Mian heard tires on the pavement outside the window, rose on tiptoe to look, and came rushing down in delight. “Auntie Pei!”

Downstairs, the newcomer had just opened the door and stepped in — those usually cool brows, hair damp at the temples, lake-calm eyes as if steeped in frost, giving her only a single faint glance.

Yu Mian stopped mid-run, blinking. “…Auntie Pei.”

“You came back by yourself?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“By bus.”

Pei Songxi let out a slow breath and turned to stand before the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out.

She hadn’t felt an emotion this raw and overwhelming in many years. When Wei Yi told her on the mountain path that Mianmian was missing, that the driver hadn’t found her… she had been so utterly lost — anxiety and dread had swept over her, an emotion that felt foreign.

Yu Mian stood where she was, dazed, not daring to come closer.

The person before her was cool as moonlight; the rare, faint tenderness that slipped through made her instinctively depend on her, yet she never dared get too close.

“Auntie Pei…”

“I don’t need you to pick me up. I can do it myself. That time the car broke down, you took me on the bus once… I remember all of it.”

Pei Songxi turned to look at her. She wasn’t sulking at her — her heart simply wouldn’t settle. She was so small; she had no idea how many dangers lurked in this world.

As Yu Mian spoke, tears welled in her eyes:

“…I didn’t want to be a burden to you.”

“They said I’m a Burden.”

“Auntie Pei…”

Pei Songxi froze, a foreign emotion close to heartache flooding her chest.

After a long moment, she beckoned to her, her cool voice faintly hoarse. “Mianmian. Come here.”

Yu Mian nodded and walked over obediently. “…Auntie Pei.”

Pei Songxi crouched down to her level, seeing the anxious, uneasy look on the little girl’s face. “You’re afraid I’ll stop wanting you, aren’t you?”

Yu Mian didn’t know whether to nod or shake her head, only saying hesitantly, “I thought you weren’t coming…”

Pei Songxi tapped her forehead. “Haven’t I told you? This is our home, and you are my family.”

Yu Mian sniffled. “Mm!”

“I have never once thought of you as a burden. On the contrary — I come to pick you up because when I stay home with nothing to do, I’m not happy either. But when I see Mianmian, I am happy.”

Yu Mian stared at her, eyes round and wide. “Really?!”

Pei Songxi’s lips curved slightly. “Of course.”

Yu Mian, in a small voice: “Really?”

She asked so carefully, so timidly, as if seeking some kind of proof.

Pei Songxi’s tone was calm and certain. “Of course.”

Yu Mian flung herself forward, throwing her arms around her neck. “I know now!”

Pei Songxi stroked her hair. “Today was my fault. I’m sorry… something came up suddenly, I couldn’t get back, and my phone had no signal. Your Teacher Qin said she couldn’t find you, and the driver couldn’t find you either. But you mustn’t go wandering off by yourself again, Mianmian.”

Yu Mian leaned against her shoulder. “Mm! From now on I won’t go anywhere. I’ll wait right where I am for you.”

Pei Songxi smiled and set her on a chair. “Dinner’s gone cold. I’ll heat it in the microwave — wait a moment.”

“Okay!”

Yu Mian sat on the chair, hands on her knees, her posture exceptionally proper.

After dinner, Yu Mian’s homework was done. She couldn’t stand being alone in her room, so she went over to Pei Songxi’s room and knocked.

Pei Songxi had just hung up from Wei Yi when she saw a certain restless little creature slip into the room.

Her long hair fell over her shoulders, her lake-calm eyes holding a smile. “What is it, Mianmian?”

Yu Mian climbed onto a stool and sat beside her. “Auntie Pei, from now on just have the driver pick me up.”

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry for worrying you today.”

Pei Songxi straightened her collar. “It’s all right. Trust me from now on, okay?”

Yu Mian lowered her head, lying on the table, her left cheek squished flat, yet looking up at her with a smile. “Mm! I trust you. Today you… did you have something very important to do?”

“…My mother passed away many years ago. Today, many years ago.”

Yu Mian startled and sat up straight at once. “Ah…”

Pei Songxi’s expression was mild. “Many years now… I wasn’t grown yet then. I don’t even remember her face anymore… All she left me was this string of Prayer Beads.”

Yu Mian blinked.

The Red Sandalwood Prayer Beads, faintly scented with Sandalwood Incense… She had once wanted to touch them, and Auntie Pei had stopped her.

“Do you miss her very much?”

“No.”

She only felt hollow inside, without a single tether — which was why, year after year, she went, searching for some connection slowly dissolving into time.

But, she thought, perhaps now she had a new one.

Yu Mian tilted her head up, puzzled. “If you miss her, don’t cry secretly, okay?”

Pei Songxi’s lips curved. “I won’t. I told you — when I see Mianmian, I’m happy.”

Yu Mian’s eyes curved. “And when I see Auntie Pei, I’m happy too.”

“Good night, Auntie Pei.”

“Good night, Mianmian.”