By custom, Lu Qingyuan spent half of every Summer Vacation at his mother’s place, and stayed with his dad for Winter Vacation. But this year in winter, Xiao Qingxiang needed to go to Sydney for a performance, followed by a tour. Not knowing when she’d have free time again, she wanted to spend some time with her son before leaving.
Lu Qingyuan was sent away again. This made Chen Annan extremely upset. Listless, he slumped in the back seat of the car, staring vacantly at the gray haze outside.
They were now taking Lu Qingyuan to the airport, where Xiao Qingxiang’s assistant would pick him up.
That year, the road to Lukou Airport wasn’t yet built to be very spacious and grand. Snow had fallen the previous night; the car tires crunched over the thin rime, leaving two faint tracks. Chen Annan’s head was propped against the car window glass. As the car bumped along, his head knocked lightly against it a few times.
Hearing the sound, Lu Qingyuan said to him, “Come here.”
Chen Annan shifted his bottom over. Lu Qingyuan first took off his shoes, then guided his head onto his lap, saying, “Sleep for a bit.”
Chen Annan grabbed Brother’s hand resting on him and lay quietly on Brother’s lap. He didn’t sleep, nor did he make a sound. His scarf wrapped him so warmly he was stifled, his neck covered in sweat, but he didn’t take it off.
It was the one his mother had knitted for him. He wore it every winter, year after year.
Blinking his eyes, Chen Annan could see Brother’s jaw from this angle. For some reason, he always felt Brother looked different from when he first saw him, yet couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was different.
Lu Qingyuan grew quickly as the years flowed by. They were all growing up, without exception. It was just that Lu Qingyuan’s brows and eyes had shed some of their childishness. His jawline had become more defined, his profile much clearer than before.
“I’ll call you once every day at eight o’clock in the evening,” Lu Qingyuan suddenly said. “Can you remember the time?”
Chen Annan’s fingers rubbed the corner of his clothes nervously. His reaction was a beat slow, his train of thought winding for a while before finally catching up to the meaning of these words.
Lu Qingyuan continued, “If I call twice and no one answers, I’ll assume you’re not home, or busy, and then I won’t call again.”
Chen Annan froze for a moment, then nodded slowly.
The airport lobby was noisy with human voices. Lu Wenyuan took a phone call and told the two kids to wait a moment.
It was terribly cold. Without any heating in the lobby, all their body heat was swept away by the draft outside. Hands left exposed were stung by the cold like needle pricks, quickly becoming stiff and numb.
Lu Qingyuan held Chen Annan’s hand, wanting to put it in his pocket to warm up. It would be nice and toasty there, but Chen Annan had to stretch his arm very long just to fit his hand into Brother’s pocket.
In the end, it was Lu Qingyuan who crouched down, breathing warm air onto his hands, rubbing them to warm them up.
Chen Annan obediently spread his palms open. He could feel the tickle of the warm breath spraying into his palms, but couldn’t feel that heat. His mind was still stuck in the sadness of Brother leaving, utterly miserable.
“Once you finish reading those few comic books on the table, I’ll be back,” Lu Qingyuan said.
Chen Annan’s eyes were rimmed red. He blinked and blinked for ages, and finally lowered his head entirely, half his face tucked into his scarf. His voice sounded very small: “But I don’t want you to go…”
Lu Qingyuan didn’t hear him. The airport announcements were too loud.
A household, now only one kid, one dog, and one adult remained.
Lu Qingyuan kept his promise, calling Chen Annan on time every day. And what surprised him was that during this entire period, the phone never rang a second time. Usually, Chen Annan would rush to answer it the very first ring.
Their phone calls lasted over an hour each time. Lu Wenyuan simply moved a little stool next to the cabinet for Chen Annan, so the kid wouldn’t have numb legs yet still be unwilling to hang up.
Every day, Chen Annan would read the comic books while waiting for Brother’s call. He read those books over and over until their old, worn edges got frayed.
He thought that if he read faster, Brother could come home sooner. But the Winter Vacation was too long. Chen Annan had never before felt that these twenty-some days could stretch on so endlessly.
Every day, he waited for the call until night fell and every household’s lights came on. Only after finishing the call with Brother would he drag himself, step by slow step, back to his room. Then he’d count the remaining pages, calculating when Brother would return.
But he had read these little comic books seven or eight times already, and Brother still hadn’t come back.
Chen Annan was very dejected. However, what he didn’t know was that Lu Qingyuan had been so busy these days, he could barely find time to call him.
Nowadays, junior high schools assigned students based on proximity. For her son’s transition to junior high, to allow him to cross districts and attend that best junior high, Xiao Qingxiang had enrolled him in advance in an Intensive Cultural Training Course. It was staffed with the most top-tier, advanced teachers, extremely strict. He had to study there for the entire Winter Vacation.
The time Lu Qingyuan could spare each day wasn’t much. The only free time he had was used to call Chen Annan. Occasionally, when he had a moment, he was also dragged by Xiao Qingxiang to the theater to watch performances.
Xiao Qingxiang actually hoped her son could cultivate some artistic sensibility. Unfortunately, Lu Qingyuan simply couldn’t muster any interest in these musical performances, finding them only dry and boring. He often secretly napped when his mother wasn’t looking.
If a performance went past eight o’clock, he’d find an excuse to run outside and call Chen Annan. Chen Annan had been waiting all day; if he couldn’t get the call, he’d be disappointed.
Lu Qingyuan felt he was turning into a spinning top. Yet it was on that very day that, because he was catching up on sleep, he slept too deeply. When he opened his eyes again, the clock hand had already passed ten.
An ominous premonition arose spontaneously. Sure enough, Lu Qingyuan skillfully dialed the number. From the other end came only a steady, drawn-out dial tone. No one answered.
This was the first time in all these days that Chen Annan hadn’t picked up his call.
Was he sulking? Anxious, Lu Qingyuan dialed the home landline several times again. But the phone consistently played the measured female voice recording, reporting no answer.
Lu Qingyuan’s drowsiness instantly vanished into thin air. He bolted upright from the bed. A jumble of chaotic thoughts racing through his mind, he immediately called his dad’s cell phone.
But unexpectedly, no one answered on Lu Wenyuan’s end either.
Lu Qingyuan was now fully awake. He thundered down the stairs, threw on a coat, grabbed his keys, and was about to rush outside. Not forgetting to inform his mother first this time, he dialed Xiao Qingxiang’s number as he ran.
But just as the call was midway through dialing, the doorbell rang abruptly. Thinking it was his mother returning, the moment he opened the door, the words blurted out: “Mom, I—”
His voice stopped the instant he clearly saw who it was.
Lu Qingyuan’s eyes widened in disbelief. Standing at the door were one big and one small figure. The temperature difference between inside and outside in winter was huge; their exhaled warm breath swirled under the dim yellow light, coiling, spreading.
Lu Wenyuan’s eyes and brows were full of laughter. Pitifully, he said, “It’s freezing out here, Brother. Will you take us in tonight?”
Chen Annan stood within Uncle’s shadow, also lifting his head, grinning as he said, “Brother, take us in.”
Then, spreading his small arms wide, he threw himself into Lu Qingyuan’s full embrace. “I really, really, really, super super super miss you!”
