The personality differences between Lu Qingyuan and Chen Annan manifested in every aspect. Ever since his parents’ divorce, Lu Qingyuan had rarely displayed his emotions outwardly.
In his memory, unlike his father, who was effusive and gentle, his mother had always been rather quiet. Although she would coax him too, Lu Qingyuan knew that only when she was performing on stage did a trace of warmth surface in her cool eyes. The melancholic, mellow melodies would flow from her fingertips, expressing a profound and intense elegance.
It was as if she was born to perform. She belonged there.
And so, she chose divorce—she chose to go alone to the Curtis Institute of Music for further studies.
Lu Qingyuan loved his mother so deeply that, for a time, his resentment accumulated like fine grains of sand, bit by bit.
But his father always said that Mother had the right to make her own choices. She was not an appendage of the family, nor should she be shackled by anyone, preventing her from pursuing her own world. She had to become herself first. Only after that was she his mother, and his father’s wife.
Family and career are often impossible to balance perfectly. Everyone has their own internal scale to weigh the pros and cons.
But whatever the outcome, it would never affect the love his parents had for him.
It was just that from then on, Lu Qingyuan grew accustomed to hiding his emotions away in a cramped corner of his mind. He became less talkative, more withdrawn. Under the soothing balm of time, he grew more and more like his mother. He had never been laid bare so starkly and cleanly before. The embarrassment flushed him from the tips of his ears down to his face.
He practically ground out the word through his teeth: “Dad!”
Lu Wenyuan answered with an “Eh?”: “What’s up, Cub?”
“You’re so annoying.” Lu Qingyuan gritted his teeth. He was like a little balloon pricked by a needle, drifting and wobbling downwards.
Chen Annan, of course, couldn’t decipher his brother’s awkward little moods. He only knew how to act spoiled with coaxing hums. With his uncle’s words, his little heart was overjoyed.
He hugged his brother’s arm, wrapping himself around it. “I just knew you missed me. I miss you very, very much too.”
His father had rendered Lu Qingyuan completely speechless. Annoyed, Lu Qingyuan turned his face away with a snort and just let him be.
Up front, Lu Wenyuan chuckled to himself for a good long while.
Raising one child was truly a drain on energy, let alone two. Before bringing Chen Annan home, he had worried that the children’s personalities would clash, leading to many conflicts. But now, seeing the two kids bicker and interact like this, he found it amusing and endearing. The kindergarten head teacher had said that Lu Wenyuan loved children—that was undeniably true.
Lu Wenyuan’s love for children was evident in many ways.
He was a university professor. In his spare time at work, he would discuss cooking with other teachers in the office. After work, he would stop by a small market to buy groceries, then go home and cook a delicious meal for the two kids, constantly changing up the dishes.
Sometimes, Lu Wenyuan’s classes were scheduled for the weekend. If the two kids were willing to go to the university with him, he’d drive them all over together, plop them in the last row of the lecture hall, and have them listen to his lecture.
Lu Wenyuan was thirty-four this year, yet one could still see in him a kind of youthful, abundant vitality.
Chen Annan loved watching his uncle lecture from the podium.
His uncle was different from any other man he usually saw. His clothes were always clean and neat—a soft shirt under a cream-colored vest, sleeves rolled halfway up to reveal a lean forearm.
When he taught, he wore a pair of narrow-rimmed glasses he didn’t usually wear. He smiled gently and warmly. When the lecture reached a peak of interest, his leather shoes would rest on the edge of the platform, his face bathed in sunlight, the gold-rimmed lenses reflecting specks of light.
He used a low and gentle voice to tell the students about Gabriel García Márquez’s One Hundred Years of Solitude; he spoke of Pushkin and Lermontov. Sometimes, he would also laugh and talk about off-topic matters, telling a few humorous short stories to ease the classroom atmosphere.
His lectures were vivid, and he never yelled at anyone. The students all loved attending his classes.
Chen Annan was too young to understand what his uncle was talking about, but he still listened very quietly and intently. His uncle’s voice always made him feel secure and at ease.
The students knew he was their professor’s child, and as soon as class was over, they loved to come over and tease him.
Chen Annan would rest his chin on the long desk. One tease and he’d laugh. Tease him again and he’d duck under the desk. The female students adored him. Lu Qingyuan, on the other hand, would always respond with a cool “Mm” or two and end the conversation.
By the time the new school semester was halfway over, Lu Qingyuan had grown a bit taller again. Lu Wenyuan helped him let down a section of the trousers he had previously sewn up. Taking advantage of the sewing kit still being out, he mended a loose seam on Chen Annan’s Snoopy, finally biting off the thread.
Chen Annan had been in their home for over half a year now. He buzzed around Uncle Lu Wenyuan incessantly, like a cheerful little magpie. Every time he had a falling out with Lu Qingyuan, he would run to Lu Wenyuan to act spoiled for a while, saying, “From now on, I’m only going to be good to you.” But once his bad mood had run its course, he would run right back to Lu Qingyuan.
Once children become familiar with each other, they lose that initial, cautious politeness. They no longer hide their good or bad moods. Conflicts could break out in all sorts of creative ways.
In the brief time it took Lu Wenyuan to peel a fruit, he saw Chen Annan storm up to him again, puffing with anger. The boy grabbed one of his arms, pressing his face against it in a classic sulking posture.
Another little emotional storm was brewing.
Lu Wenyuan put down the peeler and moved his arm slightly. “What’s wrong now?”
Chen Annan didn’t speak. He just turned his face the other way and pressed it against his uncle, looking utterly displeased from head to toe.
“Did Brother upset our little one again?” Lu Wenyuan asked.
“He confiscated my erasers.” Chen Annan said only half the story, his voice trailing off weakly. “He said I poke my erasers with my pencil and won’t let me use them anymore. He took all three of my erasers.”
“Is that so…” Lu Wenyuan paused his hands. He furrowed his brow, appearing to think for a moment, then put on a troubled look. “Well, in that case, Uncle has to go out for a bit later. I just won’t take him along. Let Brother stay home alone.”
Chen Annan was stunned. “Why?”
Lu Wenyuan wiped his damp hands on his apron. “He made you angry, so why bring him? Spare you the sight of him getting on your nerves.”
Chen Annan pursed his lips and said quietly, “Don’t do that.”
Then, fearing his uncle might really blame his brother, he quickly added, “Actually, I wasn’t that angry.”
“Really?” Lu Wenyuan picked up the fruit platter and walked toward the living room.
Chen Annan followed behind him like a little tail, chattering away. “Uncle, take Brother with you. He’ll be too lonely at home by himself. Take him… please take him…”
Lu Wenyuan deliberately stayed silent. Chen Annan then said urgently, “Okay, I’m not angry anymore, alright?”
“Cub, did you hear that? Your little brother isn’t angry anymore. Dad solved the problem for you. No need for you to coax him.” Lu Wenyuan finally spoke, a smile melting into his eyes. He casually set the fruit platter down on the living room coffee table.
As he bent over, it revealed Lu Qingyuan, who had been sitting on the sofa with a cold expression the entire time.
Lu Qingyuan had been sitting there all along. Lu Wenyuan had been completely blocking him from view, so Chen Annan hadn’t seen him.
Lu Qingyuan stared straight at the little person. I didn’t do anything wrong, he thought. Why should I have to coax him? I don’t even want to talk to him. Though he thought this, he didn’t say it out loud, lest Chen Annan start crying and fussing again, annoying him. He turned his face away coldly and uttered, “Tattletale.”
Chen Annan’s eyes widened in shock, too embarrassed to speak.
“Oh?” Lu Wenyuan raised an eyebrow, his smile gentle. “Now Brother is angry. What do we do?”
Chen Annan was flustered by the remark and feeling a bit guilty. He clung to Lu Wenyuan’s shirt hem, not letting go, utterly at a loss.
“Go coax your brother.” Lu Wenyuan gave his back a gentle push.
Chen Annan trudged over, reluctantly. He sat down on the sofa first. Lu Qingyuan didn’t look at him. So Chen Annan didn’t move any further.
Lu Wenyuan also came and sat down, as if unintentionally crowding Chen Annan’s space. Chen Annan had no choice but to scoot sideways, ending up very close to Lu Qingyuan—close enough that a slight move of his hand could touch the other’s arm.
Lu Qingyuan shifted a distance away, refusing to be near him.
Chen Annan stole a glance at his brother, then another. The difference in mood was obvious. His head drooped low. Even the fruit tasted bland and flavorless.
After they finished the fruit, Lu Wenyuan asked, “I’m heading to the university. Are you two coming?”
Lu Qingyuan said icily, “Not going.” Chen Annan looked at his uncle, then at his brother. Finally, he shook his head too.
“Really, neither of you is going?” Lu Wenyuan asked.
The two children each silently nodded.
Lu Wenyuan actually didn’t take them. He put on his jacket, grabbed his keys, and said, “Fine. But you two better not start fighting at home, you hear?” This one sentence was completely unnecessary, and he said it deliberately to gauge the children’s reactions.
Lu Qingyuan, resigned to his father’s ways, gave an “Mm.” Chen Annan, whose mood hadn’t yet resolved, felt a surge of grievance welling up inside him and didn’t speak.
The door clicked shut. Without Lu Wenyuan’s calming presence, the atmosphere in the house instantly dropped to a freezing point.
After finishing his fruit, Lu Qingyuan went straight back to his own room. Normally, Chen Annan would have followed him in, but with their quarrel today, Chen Annan just took his picture book and went into Lu Wenyuan’s room.
He had actually just wanted to act cute and playful; he wasn’t genuinely angry. But that one sentence from Lu Qingyuan made him feel like he was disliked again.
Chen Annan felt both wronged and sad inside.
He decided that Lu Qingyuan was the meanest person in the world, and he was never going to be nice to him again. This time, he meant it.
The two children ignored each other for most of the day. By the time it was well past dinner, Lu Qingyuan got a call from his father. The message was that something urgent had come up at work, and he likely wouldn’t be back tonight. He told them to have the housekeeper, once she arrived, take the frozen wontons from the fridge, boil them, and eat them with his little brother to fill their stomachs.
Lu Qingyuan knew that his father sometimes had very taxing work.
The housekeeper came around dinnertime. She was an hourly worker. After tidying up the house a bit, she made two bowls of wontons, even chopping some scallions and stirring in lard and dried shrimp.
The aroma wafted from the kitchen into the bedroom. Chen Annan stayed holed up in the room, as if nursing a grudge.
Lu Qingyuan finished his entire bowl of wontons, and Chen Annan still hadn’t come out. He put down his spoon and walked impatiently to the bedroom door. He knocked twice and said coldly, “Your food is on the table. If you don’t eat it, don’t come crying to me when you’re hungry tonight.”
Chen Annan didn’t make a sound in the room.
Lu Qingyuan wasn’t one to indulge him either. He went cleanly back to his own room to do practice problems. It wasn’t until ten o’clock at night that he tidied up and prepared to shower and go to bed.
When he came out, the housekeeper was long gone. Chen Annan’s bowl was still sitting untouched on the table. The soup had been diluted by half, the wontons reduced to an unappetizing, congealed lump.
Lu Qingyuan frowned. He reheated the small wontons in the microwave for two minutes, then carried the bowl and pushed open the bedroom door. He presented it in front of Chen Annan. “Get up and eat. Don’t dawdle.”
Chen Annan was bundled up in his blanket, curled into a tiny ball.
Hearing the voice, he weakly peeled open a small crack in the blanket, revealing eyes that were struggling to stay open. His voice was thick with nasal congestion. “Leave me alone.”
Normally, if he spoke like that, Lu Qingyuan would, ten times out of ten, just toss out a “Suit yourself” and turn and leave. But his voice today was quiet and hoarse, different from his usual state when he was just feeling down.
Lu Qingyuan sensed it. He set the bowl down and stepped forward, lifting one side of Chen Annan’s blanket.
The child was well-behaved, hugging his knees, curled up. When he reluctantly lifted his face, it was blotchy with an unhealthy red flush.
Lu Qingyuan pressed the back of his hand against Chen Annan’s forehead. A scorching heat immediately burned up against his skin. Only then did he realize what was happening—the changing season, the tricky in-between weather where one extra layer makes you hot, one less makes you cold. Chen Annan had, just like that, caught a sudden fever.
Lu Qingyuan asked, “Why didn’t you say you weren’t feeling well?”
Chen Annan’s eyelids were heavy with fever. He sniffled, aching all over. All the bad feelings he’d bottled up the whole day had nowhere to go. For a child this young, every emotion was written on his face, and now, mixed with his sickly pallor, he just looked pitiful.
He pulled the blanket back over himself, muffling his voice. “You always snap at me. I’m not gonna be nice to you anymore… Go away.”
“…” Lu Qingyuan fell silent for a long time. It wasn’t until Chen Annan’s eyes were closing again that he forced out a comforting sentence. “Fine, I’m going.”
