Spring came early that year. Along the streets, the snow-covered branches of the parasol trees had sprouted new green buds; lush, vigorous green quietly spread on the southern wind, carrying away the winter’s chill.
And so, the start of the school term silently dispersed the discord at home.
Chen Annan sat in the back seat of the car, his long, white down coat wrapping him up like a fat little bird.
His head hung low, half his face buried in his old scarf. Only by breathing in that familiar scent could his heart feel at ease.
Uncle had said kindergarten would be full of new friends, but Chen Annan was afraid. He didn’t want to meet other kids—not one little bit.
He had asked Uncle whether he could just not go to school, but Uncle had said all the other kids were going. Kids who didn’t go to school would become dumb, and Chen Annan didn’t want to become a big dummy.
The scenery outside swished backward, linking up with fresh new colors. Chen Annan’s eyes would occasionally glance out, then shift back inconspicuously, skimming over toward Lu Qingyuan.
Big brother was eating a steamed rice roll. A white glutinous rice bun wrapped around a fried dough stick and pickled mustard greens, topped with sesame seeds. The aroma drilled straight into his nose.
Chen Annan’s fingers picked at the leather seat. His mouth pursed and opened, then pursed again. Carefully, slowly, his bottom scooted over, bit by bit—so slowly, so meticulously—until his down coat brushed against Lu Qingyuan’s clothes.
At last, Lu Qingyuan’s gaze settled on him: “Are you getting this close so you can steal my rice roll or something?”
The sudden remark carried a tone that kept him at arm’s length. Immediately, Chen Annan sat ramrod straight. He blinked, not daring to lean any closer. Stiff-backed, he looked rather dazed.
When little kids fell out and wanted to make up, the process was long and awkward. They hadn’t spoken for many days now. Chen Annan didn’t know how to start.
The road to kindergarten was truly too short. So short that while the words churned around in his belly, his big brother finished breakfast and even drank all the soy milk, yet his own words still hadn’t managed to spring past his lips.
Perhaps from the heat in the car, or from wearing too many layers, a thin film of sweat gradually formed on Chen Annan’s forehead. His face was pale, making his cheeks look flushed. Every time the car stopped, he had to crane his little neck and peer out the window to see if they had reached the kindergarten.
When the car turned a corner and drove into a narrow lane, the view suddenly constricted. The car slowed early, rolling to a gentle stop with its remaining momentum.
Chen Annan’s eyes instantly widened—the most dreaded thing was unavoidable after all. Even now, he still hadn’t been able to exchange a single word with his big brother. His breathing grew quick and shallow with anxiety.
Lu Wenyuan carried Chen Annan out of the car. Immediately, Chen Annan wrapped his hands tightly around Lu Wenyuan’s neck and refused to let go, clinging to his uncle with all four limbs, a layer of fear visible in his eyes.
The entrance to the kindergarten was crowded with parents dropping off their children. Car horns urged the traffic along, the noise mingling through the streets. Breakfast stalls also crammed into the already tight lane, making the street so squeezed and narrow it was like a clogged stream, entirely immobile.
A colorful jumble of children in all kinds of clothes crowded at the gate, wiping away tears, clutching their parents’ hands, wailing as if they’d rather slam their heads on the ground than let go.
Amid this piercing chorus of cries, Chen Annan was flustered.
“It’s alright, Uncle’s here,” Lu Wenyuan felt the fine trembling beneath his hands and gently soothed him.
Chen Annan’s fingers were clenched tight. He burrowed into Lu Wenyuan’s embrace like a little hamster.
Holding him in the crook of his arm, Lu Wenyuan also pulled Lu Qingyuan close and said, “Don’t be scared. We’re different from those other kids—you’ve still got your big brother with you, right?”
Lu Qingyuan looked up but made no sound.
Holding his hand, they walked into the kindergarten together. His own first day of school was also today, but Lu Wenyuan had requested leave for him and brought him along to the kindergarten to accompany Chen Annan for drop-off.
Parents were only allowed to escort their children into the classroom during the first few days of school; after that, it wouldn’t be permitted.
As they approached the school building, the loudest crying came from the younger classes. The children cried, and the parents worried, unable to let go. A dark mass of people gathered outside the doors, reluctant to leave, peering through narrow glass windows at their kids, occasionally waving—but refusing to truly leave.
Since Chen Annan was a new student, the teacher exchanged a few extra words with Lu Wenyuan at the door. Chen Annan lay motionless on his uncle’s shoulder. By the time Lu Wenyuan set him down, two large damp patches from tears had soaked the shoulder of his coat.
The teacher took Chen Annan’s hand. Chen Annan looked at Lu Wenyuan, then at Lu Qingyuan. His lips quivered as he bit them, quietly making no sound. Only when he turned away did he wipe his eyes with the back of his hand.
The teacher spoke to him in gentle tones, praising him, saying that since he wasn’t crying or throwing a fit, he was the class’s best-behaved child.
Chen Annan’s heart ached so badly it was hard to breathe. His eyes were rimmed red as the teacher led him by the hand into the classroom. He kept turning back with every step to look—
Lu Wenyuan’s eyes were full of smiles as he waved at him.
Lu Qingyuan stood to the side, neither smiling nor waving, cold and expressionless as an emotionless stone.
The classroom door was shut. When Chen Annan was guided by the teacher to his seat, his bottom landed on the little stool, and he looked up. Lu Qingyuan and Lu Wenyuan were gone.
A moment of bewilderment struck him. After that, fear climbed its way up from the depths of his heart. He wildly scanned the area again and again. After confirming over and over that the figures of his uncle and big brother were nowhere to be seen, his whole world collapsed.
Without any familiar person beside him, he was simply too scared—as if the world had abandoned him once more.
Chen Annan sat properly with his hands on his knees. Every so often, he glanced toward that little window, then looked again. In the end, he sat upright on his little stool, tears streaming silently.
Crying was, indeed, an excellent way for children to vent their emotions.
Chen Annan started with quiet sniffling, then, swept along by the other children, broke into loud sobs. The teacher’s soothing words all turned to empty air.
A heap of kids wailed themselves into a mess, and only Chen Annan sat honestly on his little stool, crying. Lu Wenyuan watched through the window for a long time, then silently beckoned one of the homeroom teachers over.
The classroom door was opened again. After the teacher stepped out, an older child came in.
Chen Annan was being comforted by the teacher when, at the sight of the person approaching, his crying stalled briefly.
Lu Qingyuan wove his way around the pile of kids and walked toward him.
Seeing his big brother, Chen Annan felt as if he’d laid eyes on a savior. Frantic, he pulled away from the teacher and threw himself into Lu Qingyuan’s arms, wrapping both hands around him. In a tearful, trembling voice, he whispered, “Do you not want me anymore…?”
The sudden embrace caught Lu Qingyuan off guard; there was nowhere to dodge. The teacher looked up in slight surprise—she didn’t know this boy, nor had she heard about a much older student transferring in.
Wanting to set the kid aside, Lu Qingyuan tried but couldn’t pull free. The attention this was drawing made him feel deeply embarrassed. He swatted at Chen Annan: “Paws off.”
Chen Annan refused. Like someone clutching a lifesaving straw, he clung tightly to Lu Qingyuan, his crying threaded with a quaver: “Big brother, please stop being mad… I know I was wrong.”
Inside the classroom, the children’s cries shook even Lu Qingyuan’s ribcage, giving him a headache—especially this one, hanging on him and weeping so piteously.
“What am I mad about?” Lu Qingyuan couldn’t push him away, “Let go now. You’re squeezing me so hard I can’t breathe.”
“You are mad. You said I ruined your pencils,” Chen Annan clung to him, that rare stubbornness long since crumbled under his fear of kindergarten. No matter what, he refused to let go. “I won’t sharpen pencils anymore. Just don’t abandon me… I’ll never do it again, okay?”
This whole heartfelt confession baffled Lu Qingyuan. Had he known he’d be dragged to a kindergarten to endure the demonic screeching of children, he’d rather have let Chen Annan sharpen a few more pencils over winter break.
But Chen Annan sounded so pitiful.
“Stop crying,” Lu Qingyuan finally yielded to the piercing noise, his tone softening. “I’m not leaving.”
Chen Annan lifted his tear-streaked little face, now a mess: “So… are you still mad at me?”
“I’m not mad at you. If you have something to say, say it properly. Don’t hug me,” Lu Qingyuan said. “Everyone’s watching.”
Indeed, the teacher who had been comforting Chen Annan was watching, as were several other curious children nearby.
But Chen Annan still wouldn’t; his clinginess had flourished too quickly in this unfamiliar place. No matter who told him, he just grabbed onto Lu Qingyuan and refused to let go. As the other kids’ wails subsided, he still clung limply to his big brother’s waist, his face buried in his brother’s clothes, standing there pitifully like he was doing penance.
Seeing that Chen Annan had stopped crying, the teachers simply went off to soothe the other children. After all, these two brothers were getting along so well that no one else could get a word in.
Even Lu Qingyuan’s hardened temper was worn down by this sticky pest. Frowning, he said, “Let go, and I’ll stay with you all day today. If you don’t let go, I’m leaving right now.”
“Ah,” Chen Annan’s mouth dropped open, a string of teardrops hanging from his chin. “Don’t go.” With that, he slowly released his grip, but, afraid Lu Qingyuan would trick him, kept his hands hovering in the air, pinching just the edge of his big brother’s clothes, following step by step behind him.
Lu Qingyuan grabbed his hand firmly and led him back to his seat.
By now, most of the parents waiting outside had gradually left; even the most reluctant adults had things to do, leaving only a few stragglers who couldn’t bear to go.
Lu Wenyuan stood with crossed arms by the window, watching for a long time: watching a bunch of kids cry themselves out, then watching as Lu Qingyuan coaxed Chen Annan and guided him back to his seat.
The teacher who had communicated with Lu Wenyuan earlier had added an extra seat for Lu Qingyuan right next to Chen Annan.
With his big brother there, Chen Annan’s nerves settled considerably. He obediently sat in his seat, tears no longer falling. When the teacher wiped his face, he meekly tilted his head up to let her clean it.
After a long while, the children quieted down. Only Lu Qingyuan sat stiffly on his stool with a cold face. He was much taller than the other kids, sticking out among the little radishes like one that had suddenly shot up too high, blatantly out of place.
Chen Annan sat right next to him, pressed close. His restlessness made his hands disobedient; under the table, he kept touching his big brother’s hand, poking his arm. His face was constantly turning, looking—but not fully, just catching a glimpse from the corner of his eye before turning back.
Lu Wenyuan watched the two children in the classroom, and kept watching. All the other parents had left, yet he was still watching.
He really couldn’t bear to make such a young child adapt to a completely unfamiliar environment that had completely cut him off from his past. That was why he had specially requested leave for Lu Qingyuan and discussed with the teacher to let Lu Qingyuan stay with Chen Annan for today, to help him get used to things first.
Chen Annan had no idea his uncle was outside watching them. All morning, he stuck close to Lu Qingyuan. When the teachers led them in games, he trailed behind him, his fingertips barely holding the hem of his big brother’s clothes, timid and fearful.
Playing games helped kids get along quickly. After one round of “Drop the Handkerchief,” the stiffness of the post-winter-break estrangement melted away, and the children became familiar with each other. Midway through, a few classmates came over to talk to Chen Annan, and he responded quietly. Clearly, he was less nervous and shy than at the start; he was adjusting to the new environment fairly quickly.
By free-play time, other kids in the class were also drawn to this new classmate. Chen Annan had an unusually pretty face. When he lowered his head and someone suddenly called his name, those big, grape-like eyes would instantly lift, like a startled little rabbit.
He was eye-catching to begin with, and on top of that, he had his tall big brother sticking by his side every step of the way.
Soon, Chen Annan was surrounded by a cluster of children. His voice when speaking was a little soft; when he kept still, he looked like a delicate porcelain doll. Little girls gathered around to ask him what he liked and gave him a few White Rabbit creamy candies and some small round biscuits.
He haltingly organized his words to answer their messy questions, poking Lu Qingyuan from time to time with his finger to make sure he was still there.
Fed up with the poking, Lu Qingyuan simply took hold of his hand. The children chattered away making friends, occasionally breaking into exclamations. Lu Qingyuan grew even more fed up, feeling this short half-day had shaved a full year off his life. Had he known, forget sharpening pencils—Chen Annan could sharpen fountain pens and he’d agree.
Unfortunately, his dad had no idea of his suffering and was still chatting and laughing with the kindergarten teacher in the office. The office window faced the plastic-surfaced playground below, offering a clear view. Throughout the conversation, Lu Wenyuan’s gaze remained on that gaggle of little radish heads of all sizes.
After outdoor class, the little radishes placed their hands on each other’s shoulders, forming a little train and chugging back to the classroom.
Lu Qingyuan excused himself to the restroom for a moment. Without his big brother, Chen Annan had to join the train with the others on his own. He stood near the tail end of the train, constantly looking back to see if his big brother had returned yet, which made him slower on the stairs.
The little boy behind him, impatient with the dawdling, pushed him from behind without any thought of restraint.
Lu Qingyuan had just caught up to the group when he saw Chen Annan being pushed, stumbling and falling on the stairs—the impact producing a heavy “thud.”
