Chapter 23: Such a Huge Mishap Meant This New Year’s Was Doomed

Such a massive accident had occurred, so of course this New Year’s celebration was a complete disaster.

Eldest Aunt threw a full-on tantrum, wailing and shrieking while her two sons howled from the blows. No one could pull her off them. On New Year’s Eve, Grandpa led Eldest Uncle, Dad, and the others around the village, apologizing left and right. Luckily, no one was hurt and nothing important had burned. With half the village being relatives in some way or another, they finally made it home just as the Spring Festival Gala kicked off with its lively singing and dancing, settling down at the New Year’s Eve dinner table.

But lunchtime’s heated arguments were the last thing on anyone’s mind now. Even Chen Binwei sat there listlessly, not stirring up trouble. Everyone silently finished their meal, then silently watched TV.

The atmosphere hit a new low of awkwardness. Chen Nian let out a long yawn. Grandpa nudged Grandma, who rolled over and fished four red envelopes out from under the bedding.

One for each of the four children. Chen Binwei peeked inside his, only to get smacked on the hand by Eldest Aunt. He pouted and froze.

Chen Nian took her red envelope and bowed deeply. “Thank you, Grandpa and Grandma.”

Fang Zhi copied her, bowing at the waist. “Thank you, Grandpa and Grandma.”

The same gesture looked utterly charming when Fang Zhi did it. Her hair was combed into two little space buns tied with red ribbons, just like a doll from a New Year painting.

Grandpa and Grandma finally cracked smiles. They asked Fang Zhi a few gentle questions—”Are you full?” “Are you sleepy?”—the kind that were easy to answer.

Fang Zhi didn’t say much, but she looked so sweet and obedient. Among the dark-skinned Chen kids, she practically glowed.

Finally, Grandma stroked Fang Zhi’s head and said to Chen Junjie, “She’s a good one. A girl’s like her parents’ little padded jacket.”

Chen Nian leaned in close. “I’m a padded jacket too.”

Grandma gave her ponytail a tug. “You’re a padded jacket too.”

Chen Nian yawned again, tears welling up. “This padded jacket wants to sleep…”

There was never any real obligation to stay up all night for the New Year, and tonight’s mess made it even less appealing.

Grandma led Chen Nian and Fang Zhi to the inner room. The old house had plenty of rooms, all spruced up to make the family feel at home.

But there weren’t enough for everyone to have their own, and naturally Chen Nian and Fang Zhi ended up sharing one. The two were thick as thieves, always together.

The floors in that old house were still bare brick.

The room was spacious, with a massive kang built against the wall, covered end to end in a bright patchwork quilt.

Grandma had stoked the kang ages ago, and now it was deliciously warm.

Chen Nian eyed the quilt uncertainly, then ventured, “Grandma, do you have any extra blankets?”

Grandma looked surprised. “You girls want separate quilts? This one’s big enough for both.”

Chen Nian twisted her fingers. “I kick around a lot when I sleep. Better not share with Zhizhi.”

Fang Zhi glanced at Chen Nian a couple of times.

Chen Nian gazed up at Grandma earnestly.

“Alright then. Grandma will grab another for you. Though the spares are on the thin side.”

“Thin is perfect!” Chen Nian beamed. “Grandma’s kang is scorching hot! It’ll be just right!”

It really was scorching. Grandma laid out the extra quilt for them and shut the door behind her.

Chen Nian shucked off her outer clothes and pants in a flash, diving under the covers in her thermal undies. Her body warmed up in no time.

She took the outside spot, Fang Zhi the inside. Truth be told, this was Chen Nian’s first time sharing a bed with little Fang Zhi.

The lamp was off, but moonlight streamed in from the window. Rural nights were profoundly quiet, broken only by the occasional distant crack of fireworks.

Chen Nian lay there staring at the ceiling. After a while, she felt Fang Zhi shift beside her.

She turned her head and came face-to-face with Fang Zhi. Her eyes were closed, but her lashes fluttered faintly, lips pressed thin—she was clearly wide awake.

Chen Nian whispered, “Zhizhi, you awake?”

Fang Zhi’s lashes trembled, and her lovely eyes met Chen Nian’s.

Chen Nian’s breath caught for an instant. She’d gazed into Fang Zhizhu’s eyes under moonlight countless times before, but that Fang Zhizhu had weathered so much, harboring endless secrets.

Those eyes were like a deep lake rippled by a spring breeze, drawing people in, ensnaring them without a thought.

Little Fang Zhi’s, though, were still innocent.

A child’s small head and face made those same eyes seem all the larger, her pupils bright and clear in the dim night glow, like a lost kitten’s.

Before such eyes, Chen Nian held her breath, not wanting to disturb her. Her voice softened to a mere whisper of warmth. “Aren’t you sleepy?”

Fang Zhi shook her head.

Chen Nian pulled her blanket tighter around herself. “Then can we chat for a bit?”

Fang Zhi nodded.

Chen Nian thought for a moment and didn’t dive straight into the main topic. Instead, she approached it indirectly. “Zhizhi, are you happy that you came to my hometown today?”

“Not happy,” Fang Zhi answered bluntly.

“Ah…” Chen Nian panicked a little and began reflecting on whether there had been any oversights in how they’d treated Fang Zhi since she arrived. But a few seconds later, she realized that when a kid said they weren’t happy, it was just that—pure, simple unhappiness.

Even the cherished granddaughter of her grandparents wasn’t happy here. How could Fang Zhi, a complete stranger, feel any different?

“You’re right,” Chen Nian said with a frown. “I’m not happy either.”

“Actually, I really like my grandparents,” Chen Nian confessed, laying bare her feelings. “If it was just coming home to see them, I’d be perfectly happy. But it’s the New Year, so you always end up running into people you can’t stand.”

“Mm.” Fang Zhi nodded deeply in agreement.

Chen Nian scooted closer to her, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as she badmouthed them. “Who do you hate the most?”

Fang Zhi clutched her blanket tight, just like Chen Nian, as if that would keep their secret talk from leaking out.

“You first,” Fang Zhi said cautiously.

Chen Nian had nothing she couldn’t share with Fang Zhi. “Eldest Aunt.”

Fang Zhi nodded. “Me too.”

Chen Nian continued, “I don’t like Eldest Uncle either, or his two sons.”

Fang Zhi chimed in. “Me too.”

Chen Nian went on, “The adults don’t set a good example, and the kids they raise have no manners. The older one’s sly and mean, the younger one’s a fool now and will be just as bad grown up. Today Chen Binwei threw that firecracker under my feet—it was his brother who taught him that. Hate them so much.”

Fang Zhi let out a soft hum. “Mm.”

Chen Nian looked at Fang Zhi and paused. “But kids will be kids. When kids make mistakes, adults usually don’t hold it against them…”

Fang Zhi cut her off, staring at her intently. “I’m a kid too.”

That direct gaze made Chen Nian suspect Fang Zhi had already figured out the real point of this conversation.

But she had no choice—she still had to say it.

What Fang Zhi had done today was wrong. Her revenge had been too reckless. If anything had gone wrong, forget everyone else—Fang Zhi herself would never have a moment’s peace for the rest of her life.

Fang Zhi wasn’t some inherently evil child. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have had those sweaty palms, or sat there with her back ramrod straight from nerves. She wouldn’t have been too scared to even look at Chen Bin and Chen Binwei when they came in.

Fang Zhi had to be scared, guilty, and confused right now. Truth be told, Chen Nian didn’t care about any psychological scars her cousins might carry—they’d have little to do with each other for the rest of their lives anyway. But she was afraid Fang Zhi might develop the wrong worldview, pick up bad habits for dealing with things, and end up harming herself down the line.

Chen Nian met Fang Zhi’s eyes without flinching. She was convinced that if her intentions were truly good, Fang Zhi would sense it.

“You’re right, you’re a kid,” Chen Nian said. “So if you make a mistake, it’s okay. Everyone messes up, especially kids, because there are so many things we don’t know or can’t foresee. As long as we recognize our mistakes and correct them in time, we can still grow up to be good people.”

“You grow up then,” Fang Zhi said. “I’m not a good kid.”

Chen Nian: “…”

So rebellious…

Chen Nian changed tack. “Fine, let’s talk about it another way.”

She pulled her hand out from under the blanket and gestured back and forth. “There were all those cornstalks piled up over there. If that fire hadn’t been put out in time, it wouldn’t have just been the cornstalks burning. Houses on both sides belong to other families—rural homes have stacks of firewood and straw, wooden beams, even mud walls for some…”

Chen Nian patted the kang beneath her. “A mud wall is like this kang under our butts. If Grandma hadn’t controlled the fire properly when heating it today, our bedding and blankets would catch fire right now. If it got any bigger, the whole kang would collapse…”

Chen Nian didn’t want to scare the girl, but now that she’d started, she couldn’t hold back. She clapped her hands to her head. “If the kang collapsed, boom—we’d both go up in flames.”

Fang Zhi’s eyes flickered, and she even scooted back a little, putting some distance between them.

Chen Nian felt a pang of heartache and softened her voice. “Fire is really dangerous—you know that.”

“I know you hate those two, and I know you did it to protect me, to get revenge for me…” Chen Nian poked at Fang Zhi’s blanket. “Sis, thank you.”

Fang Zhi shrank back a little, then turned over, leaving Chen Nian with nothing but the round, blanket-wrapped curve of her back.

Chen Nian gazed at that little back, torn between laughter and the urge to pull her into a hug and comfort her.

But in the end, she hadn’t done anything wrong, yet she stubbornly pressed on, finishing her unpopular words. “Zhizhi, you’re very smart. You’ll grow up faster than the other kids around you. Your intelligence is like a strong body—if you use it to get revenge or bully others, it’ll be incredibly easy. But there will always be people smarter and stronger than you. So how do you keep them from bullying you? Adults created a set of rules. These rules protect most people who haven’t done anything wrong and punish most who have.”

“We all need to follow these rules if we want a stable life, free from fear.”

“Harming someone else’s life or destroying their property is something these rules absolutely forbid.”

“And…” Chen Nian paused, softening her voice. “Beneath these rules lies another, softer one. It’s the voice in our hearts. After you do something, only you know if it makes you truly happy inside or not.”

“Don’t make yourself unhappy. The most important thing is to live freely, feeling good from the inside out.”

At this point, Chen Nian zoned out a little.

She had rambled on too much and wasn’t sure if Fang Zhi even understood. She doubted most adults would get it either.

She was just thinking of simpler phrasing, more concrete examples from real events, when Fang Zhi suddenly turned around.

Their gazes met once more, Fang Zhi’s eyes still shining brightly.

“They follow you, throwing firecrackers at you,” Fang Zhi said. “What do the rules say?”

Chen Nian smiled, a touch helpless. “Before it causes any real harm, it’s too minor for the rules to intervene.”

Fang Zhi: “What about the soft rule?”

Chen Nian: “We can hate them. We can yell at them, curse them out, scare them off…”

Fang Zhi: “Hit them.”

Chen Nian: “???”

Fang Zhi: “Can’t we hit them? Just a little, before it hurts.”

Chen Nian burst out laughing. “Sister, the two of us couldn’t take them even if we tried.”

Fang Zhi: “My way’s still better.”

Chen Nian: “Sister, what does your heart say?”

Fang Zhi frowned. “Too annoying. Won’t do it anymore.”

Chen Nian slapped her thigh. “Hey! That’s exactly right!”

Fang Zhi twisted away, about to turn back over.

Chen Nian quickly grabbed her quilt and tugged, forming a little tent. “Actually, you could learn from me too.”

Fang Zhi: “???”

Chen Nian: “Do you get how I grossed out Eldest Aunt?”

Fang Zhi’s face scrunched up in clear distaste.

Chen Nian: “Looks like you get the gist. That’s high-level stuff—tit for tat, no bloodshed, totally safe and healthy.”

Fang Zhi: “I can’t say that many words.”

Chen Nian: “I’ll teach you…”

Fang Zhi looked utterly repulsed. “You talk too much.”

Chen Nian: “…………”

I talk too much? It’s all for you, you little ancestor!

Chen Nian felt wounded. She fell silent, still clutching Fang Zhi’s quilt. Her lips pursed into a pout, and her eyes brimmed with grievance.

Fang Zhi watched her, then bit her lower lip until it flushed bright red. With great effort, she extended one hand from under the covers and patted Chen Nian on the head.

“Sleep,” Fang Zhi said.

She turned away all the same. Chen Nian stared at the back of her head, her own lips curving into a smile.

In the time that followed, Fang Zhi’s breathing grew steady and even as she slipped into a deep, peaceful slumber.

Chen Nian lay awake for a long while. She reflected on her words to Fang Zhi, picking out the parts that weren’t quite right or effective enough, vowing to do better next time. She pondered child-rearing issues too, resolving to read more books on the subject.

Finally, her thoughts wandered every which way until her mind grew fuzzy. Then the firecrackers outside exploded once more.

In the decade or so that followed, New Year’s firecrackers would boom even louder. But after that, cities began restricting fireworks and firecrackers, allowing grand, dazzling displays only at set times and places.

Chen Nian and Fang Zhizhu watched many such shows together, always booking the highest hotel rooms, no matter the cost.

As the fireworks bloomed overhead, surging crowds filled the streets far below. Looking up, though, there was only Fang Zhizhu’s smiling face.

Chen Nian captured countless such moments with her camera.

Tonight, without one, she committed the sounds, the silhouette, the cozy warmth of the night to memory.

At the height of the firecracker barrage, Chen Nian gazed at the sleeping Fang Zhi and whispered softly, “Happy New Year.”

Fang Zhi rolled over in her sleep, not waking. Perhaps feeling too warm, she flung out her arms and legs, draping them heavily across Chen Nian’s quilt.

Her hair lay in disheveled tangles, her dainty nostrils fluttering rhythmically with each breath, as if even they were whispering to her, “Happy New Year.”