Children’s temperaments can sometimes be truly hard to figure out. Although last night the two of them had slept next to each other, even sharing bedtime stories like real brothers, come daylight, Lu Qingyuan’s face was taut again. He kept up his state of not acknowledging Chen Annan, not getting close to him either.
This made Chen Annan extremely reliant on Lu Wenyuan in this new environment.
Today, Lu Wenyuan was resting at home and was sitting in a lounge chair on the balcony, sunbathing.
After the snow, the sky had cleared. Thick snow weighed down the boughs of the parasol trees, setting off a clear, washed-blue sky. Sunlight streamed through, overlapping into halos that magnified before his eyes. If he closed them, he could still feel that warm, golden-orange glow.
Chen Annan sat on his uncle’s lap, basking lazily in the sun’s warmth. His feet, too short to reach the ground, swung idly.
“Nannan, once the New Year is over, you’ll have to go to kindergarten. There, you can make new friends,” Lu Wenyuan broke off a piece of sponge cake and fed it to him. The pastry, wrapped in butter paper, was about the size of a palm; the paper had turned translucent from the grease. Baked crisp on the outside and soft in the center, it filled the mouth with the fragrance of egg—a very popular treat in those days.
Both Chen Annan and Lu Qingyuan loved it, so Lu Wenyuan would bring some back every time he went to the market.
“Uncle, will big brother also go to kindergarten?” Chen Annan asked. “Can I go with big brother?”
Lu Wenyuan teased him: “Sure, go ask your brother, see if he’s willing to go with you?”
“Alright.” Chen Annan’s fingers picked restlessly at his pants, a little knot of worry forming.
Uncle had said he’d meet lots of new friends at kindergarten. He didn’t want to make new friends; he was scared. Even though his big brother was always cold to him, his big brother was the only person he knew.
After pondering for a bit, Chen Annan hopped off Lu Wenyuan’s lap and ran into the living room. Lu Qingyuan was sprawled over the big table doing extra practice problems for school, a pile of test papers stacked next to him.
Before the kid could even speak, Lu Qingyuan had already stated: “I’ll never go to kindergarten—unless you get the Bodhisattva to make me a few years younger.”
Chen Annan turned away, utterly dejected.
Lu Wenyuan stifled a laugh, finding these two children endlessly amusing. He beckoned Chen Annan over, called him back, and whispered a few words into his ear.
Chen Annan nodded. Lu Wenyuan cupped his chin, pursing his mouth up like a little duck: “Go on. If it doesn’t work, come back and find me.”
Chen Annan pattered back to the living room again.
Lu Qingyuan flipped his test paper over: without looking up, he said, “No means no. Pleading is useless.”
Chen Annan said nothing. Instead, he picked a spot with the best light and dropped to his knees on the floor with a soft thud.
He pressed his palms together, exceptionally devout: “Please, please, let the Bodhisattva make big brother a few years younger.”
“…” Lu Qingyuan had only said it off the cuff. He never imagined this kid could be so dumb, and for a moment, he was stunned.
With a laugh hidden in his voice, Lu Wenyuan also pressed his palms together, chiming in: “We beg Guanyin Bodhisattva to quickly grant this miracle. Without big brother to accompany him, this child will grieve himself to death.”
“Please, Bodhisattva! Please, please.” Chen Annan was begging very earnestly. One adult, paired with one child, playing off each other—falsely beseeching the Bodhisattva, when in fact they both knew who they were really beseeching.
Lu Qingyuan had never faced such a scene. In previous years, he was the one kneeling to elders to get red envelopes for New Year. How was he supposed to withstand being begged to like this?
His face flushed with embarrassment. His eyes blinked rapidly, and he was visibly flustered: “Stand up and talk properly.”
Chen Annan wouldn’t get up, whining and fussing without end as if throwing a tantrum.
Lu Wenyuan really couldn’t hold his laughter in anymore, doubling over: “Our Nannan is being so sincere. Bodhisattva, please hurry and grant the child’s wish.”
Flustered, Lu Qingyuan said, “How am I supposed to accompany him? I’m almost in third grade!”
Teary-eyed with mirth, Lu Wenyuan laughed on: “Never mind all that. Bodhisattva just needs to say yes.”
Annoyed by the two of them, Lu Qingyuan tossed his pencil aside. Resigned and helpless, he said to Chen Annan, “Alright, get up. I’ll go to kindergarten with you.”
Only then did Chen Annan scramble up, happily scampering over to his big brother and flinging his arms wide, ingratiatingly hugging him.
Lu Qingyuan found it overly mushy and pushed him away a little, but the kid clung to him endlessly like sticky rice cake, his puffy white padded jacket hanging at his waist while he murmured in that milky little voice: “Thank you, big brother. Big brother is the best.”
Lu Qingyuan turned his face away, thinking for the first time that he was still far too easy to persuade.
Winter fades quickly in the south. By February, the last of the snow had almost completely melted away.
As the new school term approached, the city was still wrapped in bustle. Winter vacation had just ended; the streets and lanes were littered with paper scraps and bits of red, mixed with icy shards, stamped into the slushy gray water by passing pedestrians.
The enrollment paperwork Lu Wenyuan had arranged for Chen Annan was quickly processed. These past few days, Lu Qingyuan had been grinding through practice problems—there was an upcoming Math Olympiad competition after the new term started, and the teacher had already called to inform them to prepare.
The exercises involved lots of calculations and word problems. His scratch paper was filled to the brim. Lu Qingyuan either kept his brush moving, or when he stopped, it was a sign that he was really annoyed.
Chen Annan sat next to him, eating sponge cake. When he choked, he’d wash it down with milk, drinking until it left a rim of foam around his mouth, never bothering to wipe it himself.
Once full and content, that playful nature of his crept up. He entertained himself by fiddling with his little trinkets, occasionally making small, subtle sounds.
Irritated by this endless tiny racket, Lu Qingyuan—when he couldn’t solve a problem, any little thing was enough to wear down what little patience he had left.
“Come here,” Lu Qingyuan said, beyond forbearance.
Obediently, Chen Annan crawled onto his chair and sat down.
“I’m giving you a mission. Do you accept?” Lu Qingyuan asked.
Chen Annan nodded vigorously with two “Mm-hmms.”
Lu Qingyuan held up a pencil worn down to a stub in front of Chen Annan and said, “In a bit, watch what I do.” He said it so gravely that Chen Annan fixed his eyes on him without blinking, thinking it was some monumental task, listening with utmost seriousness.
Lu Qingyuan pulled out a pencil sharpener from his schoolbag.
It was shaped like a little house, the kind you crank to turn a stubby pencil into a sharp point.
Lu Qingyuan first demonstrated it once, then pushed his pencil case in front of Chen Annan, commanding: “Sharpen all of these, then put them back in place.”
The sharpener was nudged over to Chen Annan. Chen Annan felt as tense as if receiving an imperial decree, though a little sprig of joy couldn’t help but sprout in his heart—
This was his first contribution to this household. Although it was just a tiny, insignificant task, every bit adds up. And his big brother had actually spoken to him on his own initiative. This job was simply wonderful!
Chen Annan’s delight practically sent his tail wagging up to the sky.
For the rest of the day, he did only one thing: gleefully sharpened pencils and then reverently placed them one by one back into the pencil case.
By evening, footsteps sounded in the hallway, drawing closer and closer. Letting out a quiet cheer, Chen Annan hopped down from his chair.
By now, he could already tell who it was just from the sound of the footsteps.
The sound of the key turning in the lock came. Chen Annan flung himself joyfully onto his uncle, tilting his face up: “Uncle, I helped big brother sharpen his pencils today!”
As he hung up the keychain, Lu Wenyuan saw the child’s big eyes full of childish eagerness for praise and scooped him up with a smile: “Our Nannan is so useful, huh?”
Chen Annan wrapped his arms around Lu Wenyuan’s neck, nuzzling him lovingly. Lu Wenyuan also tilted his face, rubbing his stubbly chin against the boy, playing with him.
That blue-gray stubble tickled Chen Annan’s face, making him giggle.
Lu Qingyuan also lifted his eyes and called out blandly, “Dad.”
With Chen Annan still cradled in one arm, Lu Wenyuan used his other hand to ruffle Lu Qingyuan’s hair, laughing: “Our Xiao Yuan is so responsible too, even managing to look after his little brother while busy.”
Lu Qingyuan put his books away without a word.
In the days that followed, what Chen Annan looked forward to each day shifted from when Uncle would come home, to when his big brother would start doing his homework.
“Big brother, did you write any characters today?”
“I’ll write in the afternoon.”
“Big brother, it’s afternoon now—aren’t you going to write?”
“At two o’clock.”
“It’s two o’clock now, big brother. You should start on your homework.”
“…” Lu Qingyuan was completely defeated. He felt this kid was even better at chasing homework than the class representative.
Once his big brother started writing, Chen Annan would busily sharpen the stubbed pencils for him next to him, wholeheartedly believing himself to be very useful.
But this relentless pace barely lasted two days before Lu Qingyuan noticed he was using up pencils faster than ever. A brand-new Zhonghua pencil would be worn down to just a stump in a mere two days.
Hearing that whirring sound yet again, Lu Qingyuan paused mid-word, looked up, and saw Chen Annan happily cranking the little tail at the back of that little house at full speed.
Fast at sharpening pencils now, fast at peeling sugarcane later. Lu Qingyuan figured it could be considered an early start on a survival skill—just one that was a bit costly on pencils at the moment.
So he put on a stern face, abruptly confiscated the sharpener from Chen Annan’s hands, and dropped a curt: “Stop sharpening those.”
Chen Annan’s mouth gaped, letting out a surprised and helpless “Ah?”: “But I haven’t finished yet?”
“You don’t need to do it anymore,” Lu Qingyuan lowered his head to keep looking at the problems.
Chen Annan rubbed his fingertips hard against the table and, after hemming and hawing for a long while, said, “Fine, then I’ll help you sharpen them tomorrow.”
“No need tomorrow, either.”
“Then the day after tomorrow.”
“Or the day after that.”
“The day after that?” Chen Annan persisted.
“…No.”
“What about the day after that?”
“Don’t ask anymore. From now on, you don’t need to sharpen them for me at all.”
Chen Annan blanked for two seconds. His sensitive little heart took this as a blow to his meager pride—
His sole way of contributing to this household had been stripped away.
Chen Annan felt far too disheartened. He turned his back to his big brother, pursing his lips into the tiniest pout.
Although his emotions were written plainly on his face, Lu Qingyuan had no awareness that he ought to coax him.
Their relationship stiffened over this small incident. Lu Qingyuan wasn’t exactly interacting with him much to begin with, and now Chen Annan, with his drooping little face, no longer called out “big brother” either. Naturally, their rapport couldn’t warm up. Whenever Lu Wenyuan was at work, the atmosphere at home was, for a time, even colder than the harsh winter outside.
Apart from still eating meals together, the two were like strangers under the same roof, ignoring each other.
However, this cold war didn’t last long. By the first day of school, the nearly splintered relationship between these two children was forcibly ended by yet another small incident.
