【Ming You: Sister Yan, the competition is over. I’m here to share the good news.】
【Ming You: Group photo.jpg】
【Ming You: Advanced to the National Finals smoothly [Yeah]】
After reading the three messages in a row, Yan Ningxi’s cold expression finally softened a bit.
【Yan Ningxi: One step away from victory.】
【Yan Ningxi: Keep up the good work.】
Ming You was holding her phone, typing: Can we watch two movies then?
She deleted it after typing.
She retyped: 【Have you had dinner yet?】
Yan Ningxi replied without thinking: 【No.】
【Ming You: It’s almost six. Not early anymore.】
【Yan Ningxi: Not hungry.】
Ming You typed “Oh” but hadn’t sent it yet when she saw at the top: “The other party is typing…”
What would Yan Ningxi type?
Ming You waited, waiting for Yan Ningxi’s next sentence, light or heavy, waiting for some kind words that could make her forget the farce’s worries and eat a few more bites.
Dozens of seconds passed.
The message Ming You received only flashed for an instant on both their screens, but it wasn’t long, and it didn’t hinder her from reading and understanding the full content.
【Yan Ningxi: Heading back to Huai’an?】
“Yan Ningxi” recalled a message.
【Yan Ningxi: The afternoon competition must have been tiring, right? Eat dinner, relax well, and go to bed early tonight to rest up.】
Tiring? A little.
To establish an image of a diligent and studious good student, Ming You had no plans to go back this weekend. On the other hand, it was also to give Yan Ningxi a breather.
But after seeing that recalled message, Ming You changed her mind. No matter why Yan Ningxi had sent it or why she chose to recall it, she now had only one thought: she wanted to go back, wanted to see her.
“Xirui, I’m not going to the cafeteria or back to the dorm. I want… to go see someone.”
Ming You gave the flowers to Gu Xirui and bolted. Luckily, because of the competition she needed to bring her ID, she had her bag with her, saving a trip back to the dorm.
…
In the waiting hall, Ming You held her ID and checked her phone’s ticket info to find the boarding gate. Afraid of missing it, she hadn’t picked up the paper ticket.
It was a busy weekend with lots of travelers, the hall buzzing with voices. Ming You wove through the crowd to gate 3A. On the big screen, the train she bought tickets for showed “Now Boarding,” with over twenty minutes until departure.
At the same time, in the same waiting area, Yan Ningxi was browsing her phone for cases related to epilepsy surgery.
She wasn’t doing this out of sisterly duty or blood ties. Rather, as long as Li Qin’s illness could be cured, Chen Xuemei would have no legitimate reason to secretly go crying poor to her father and talking “reason.”
During the years her mother was tormented by illness, her father aged visibly at a rapid pace.
Her father hadn’t reached retirement age then. Rooted and steadfast in his education post, he took care of her mother single-handedly, so well that Yan Ningxi, far away in another province, couldn’t even get a hand in, so well that Yan Ningxi reflected on herself for the misunderstandings she’d once had about her father.
Her father wasn’t just a stern father; he also had the side of a good husband.
It was during that special time that she came to understand and comprehend her father, the physics teacher of nearly forty years, on a deeper level.
Understanding her father’s deep love for her mother, comprehending his strictness and severity toward his daughter—they were just his lack of eloquence and expression, not the rigid, unreasonable, unfeeling image others painted of him.
She felt guilty toward her mother; the time she spent fulfilling her filial duty was far too short. To avoid burdening the family, she had applied for a government-sponsored student slot and never used a single cent from home after university, saving up all the living expenses her parents sent.
Between part-time jobs and caring for the sick, she had no choice.
Before her mother passed, she said to her: “Little Yan, once Mom’s gone, don’t carry any psychological burden. It’s Mom who let you down, making you unable to focus on your studies and forcing you to work outside. It’s all my fault, dragging Old Yan and you into suffering with me. You have to know, you’re your dad and mom’s pride. Having a daughter like you makes our lives complete, makes our family complete.”
“That old bone of your dad’s has been stubborn for nearly sixty years. If he wants to stay stubborn, let him take it to the grave. He’s set in his ways, so just go along with him. His life’s his own; if he doesn’t want to die, he won’t neglect himself. If he finds living too tiring, he can come down early to find me and save me a few years of waiting.”
“Don’t listen to those outsiders’ unpleasant, baseless guesses. Your dad and I had you late in life not to raise you up just to care for us in old age. You’ve grown so outstanding—that’s already the best reward for us old folks. From now on, don’t let concern for your dad tie your hands. Be brave, live your own life, get married, have kids, start a family and career, contribute your value, do whatever you want. No matter what you do, Mom supports you. Old Yan… he’ll support you too…”
Her mother’s dying words were long, like a family letter drafted long ago. Only when Chen Xuemei appeared did Yan Ningxi fully grasp their profound meaning.
Five years passed in a blink. Her father had retired, and his hair was whiter.
She had originally planned to take a job back at the school where her parents had worked, to care for her increasingly elderly father.
But her father was resolute, telling her to go to a better city for a better life, not to trap her whole life in a small county town out of filial piety—that was also her mother’s dying wish, and defying it would be unfilial.
Yan Ningxi listened to her father. What she feared was Chen Xuemei; only by leaving the county herself could she reduce the chances of Chen Xuemei going to her father.
Ding.
New message.
A red dot appeared in the top right of Li Qin’s WeChat avatar.
She hadn’t added Chen Xuemei on WeChat. If Chen Xuemei wanted to contact her, she could only call, or send voice messages through Li Qin’s WeChat.
Chen Xuemei’s face was loathsome.
She didn’t want to hear a single word from Chen Xuemei. She took a deep breath, long-pressed, converted to text…
The waiting hall aisle was spacious, but two naughty little boys were running around chasing and roughhousing, accidentally bumping into Yan Ningxi.
“Bang!” The phone flew from her hand, bounced, and smashed back to the floor. The upward-facing screen was shattered.
Looking at the phone covered in cracks, Yan Ningxi’s grievances pent up all day erupted. Her mood, irritated all day, plummeted to the worst in an instant. Add to that the accumulated resentment toward Chen Xuemei, and the taut string snapped.
She bent down, head low, hands covering her face, shoulders shaking.
The two little boys kept shoving and playing, running off indifferently as if it were none of their business.
A woman with medium-long hair wearing a baseball cap, sitting next to Yan Ningxi, bent down to pick up the phone for her.
“The phone breaking is entirely the fault of those two kids. No matter the phone’s value or whether they meant it, you should defend your rights and find their parents for compensation. I can testify for you.”
Everyone has their own difficulties.
Good and evil coexist; sorrow and joy mingle.
The stranger’s kindness didn’t soothe Yan Ningxi’s emotions. Instead, it made her feel even more sorrowful and desolate for her life swept by storms.
Someone reached out and wrapped an arm around her shoulder: “Sister Yan, what a coincidence.”
It was Ming You’s voice.
How did she appear here? Coincidence or…
Yan Ningxi didn’t struggle; struggling would only let Ming You see her ugly crying face. But her tense body relaxed, allowing herself to accept Ming You’s embrace and the warmth Ming You offered.
“You two know each other?” the woman who picked up the phone asked.
“Yeah.” Ming You freed one hand to take the phone. “Thanks. Might need you later…”
“I get it.” The woman nodded knowingly. “Kids these days are spoiled rotten by their families, no manners at all. The parents must take responsibility.”
Ming You just gently patted Yan Ningxi’s back, said no comforting words, didn’t ask why she was in Hengyuan, and didn’t explain why she was at the station herself.
She scanned the hall, eyes locked on the troublemaking little boys and their parents.
After about two or three minutes, feeling Yan Ningxi’s emotions had eased a bit, Ming You handed her a pack of tissues and whispered in her ear: “Sister Yan, wait for me. I’ll be right back.”
Yan Ningxi kept her face covered, silent.
“Don’t leave me behind. I’ll go back to Huai’an with you.” Ming You finished, straightened up, and smiled at the woman. “Thanks for the trouble.”
The woman nodded: “It’s nothing.”
…
The two quietly talked as they walked over to the boys. Ming You unceremoniously grabbed one boy’s shoulder, not using much force.
“Kid, you were running around wildly and bumped into a big sister, breaking her phone. You’re young, but you still need to own up to your mistakes and be accountable.” She looked up at the adults sitting in the row.
“You’re his parents, right? You heard what I said. The lady next to me is an eyewitness. Besides her, several other passengers saw it too. The phone screen is a small fix, just a few hundred bucks, but the mistake was his. As parents, you should cover it.”
The woman chimed in: “Everyone, what she said is true. I saw with my own eyes your two kids chasing and bumping a lady’s phone to the ground and shattering it—the one in her hand.”
Ming You held up the cracked phone screen for them to see.
“Don’t touch my kid.” The mother stood up, pulling the boy into her arm. “We believe whatever you say? Scammers are everywhere. Who knows if you’re in cahoots scamming in a crowded place like this.”
“Scamming? Hah.” They had evidence, yet accused of being a gang?
Ming You pointed at the cameras and pretended to make a call. “Public place, cameras everywhere. A few hundred bucks—I’m not bored enough to lie and extort you. If you don’t believe the witness, refuse to admit fault, I’ve got time to waste with you. How about we get staff, check the footage, then settle it.”
The boy’s father, hearing it would be such a hassle, was displeased.
Ming You recognized the brand of his jacket—starting at four figures, usually three to five thousand.
Just then, the broadcast announced: “Passengers to Huai’an, please note: Train Gxxx is about to arrive. Gates 3A and 3B are now open. Please have your belongings and luggage ready…”
The other boy’s mother seemed more reasonable, holding her child’s hand and asking: “Baby, tell Mommy, did you bump into someone just now?”
The boy looked about to cry, timidly saying: “Mommy, it was little brother who bumped. I didn’t bump anyone.”
“Okay, okay, Mommy knows. Don’t cry. If you didn’t, you didn’t. Mommy’s not scolding you. But if you did bump someone, you have to apologize. Apologizing makes you a good kid. Mommy won’t blame you; she’ll praise you. Got it?”
With words so pointed, the nearby “culprit” burst into loud wails.
The two parents lost face. The man said: “Fine, fine. Just say how much you want.”
Ming You kept a cold face: “The lady next to you is very reasonable and spot on. More important than a few hundred in compensation is an apology.”
