The plan had been set, and Gao Xinhe never expected that Cheng Ye would suddenly back out.
“What? How come you’re suddenly not going anymore?”

Cheng Ye stubbed out his cigarette in the damp soil nearby.
“Don’t feel like going.”

“That’s it? That’s your reason?” Gao Xinhe couldn’t accept it. “I already packed my stuff, just waiting to set off with you. Now you say you’re not going, what am I supposed to do?”

“You want to go, then go. You don’t, then don’t,” Cheng Ye replied flatly.

“…”

The look Gao Xinhe gave him was like staring at a heartless scumbag.

Cheng Ye ignored the resentful gaze, stood up, and patted the dust off his pants.
“Let’s go, otherwise we’ll be late to the construction site.”

The job had been introduced by Gao Xinhe’s dad — carrying bricks on a construction site, fifty yuan a day. Gao Xinhe was there because he didn’t want to study; his dad deliberately sent him to suffer a bit. Cheng Ye was simply short on money.

By the time they arrived, a group of workers were already gathered, squatting or standing around smoking. The two half-grown boys climbed up from the roadside, Gao Xinhe’s bright red-dyed hair particularly eye-catching.

A middle-aged man squatting on a stone caught sight of that red hair, picked up a rock, and hurled it.
“You little bastard! How many times have I told you to dye your hair back? You just won’t listen, huh?”

Gao Xinhe dodged nimbly and hid behind Cheng Ye.
“You don’t get it, this is called fashion.”

Gao Quan’s face turned green with fury.

Laughter rippled through the crowd.

Cheng Ye dragged Gao Xinhe out from behind him and greeted the man.
“Uncle Gao.”

Gao Quan knocked his dry tobacco pipe against a stone, then took a few puffs. His clouded eyes rested on Cheng Ye for a few seconds.
“I heard from Xinzi that you were planning to go out to work?”

“That was the plan before. Now I’m not going.”

Surprisingly, Gao Quan smiled.
“Not going is better. You’ve got good grades — just study steadily, get into university. That’s more important than anything. Don’t worry about money, a good future beats any fifty or hundred yuan a day job.”

Then he turned, glaring at Gao Xinhe.
“And look at you. Fooling around all the time. You hear Cheng Ye’s going to work, so you want to tag along? You really think labor is that easy?”

“What’s so hard about it?” Gao Xinhe muttered. “I heard from my aunties that if you go sit in the factory and pack stuff, it’s a hundred a day. Besides, my grades are lousy, tuition at No.1 High is so expensive — spending it on me is a waste.”

Gao Quan nearly smashed a stone over his head.

They waited around for more than twenty minutes until a few big trucks rolled in, loaded with bricks and cement. Their job was to carry it all up.

Cheng Ye was tall and broad, though only seventeen, and when he stood there he looked sturdier than many adults. Silent and withdrawn, he didn’t say much, but he worked fast and hard. His strength impressed even those who’d complained about him being brought along; after watching him haul three cement sacks at once, they shut up.

They worked until six in the evening. The distant mountains looked like ink wash, village houses lit up one by one.

The foreman, a miner’s lamp strapped to his head, swept the beam across the crowd.
“Quiet, quiet — line up, time for wages!”

Fifty yuan a day, but since Cheng Ye and Gao Xinhe only worked half a day, their shoulders rubbed raw, they got twenty-five each.

On the way back, they took a shortcut through the fields. Gao Xinhe was so exhausted he could barely walk, his red hair turned grey from cement dust. He tried moving his shoulders; pain burned all over.

“Damn! Half dead for just twenty-five. Might as well work in a factory.”

Cheng Ye squatted by the river to wash his hands.

Gao Xinhe chewed on a willow twig, “Cheng-ge, my dad said you should come over for dinner tonight.”

Cheng Ye started washing his face, the icy water running down his skin. His brow didn’t even twitch.
“Not going. I’m eating at Aunt Jiang’s today.”

“Huh?” Gao Xinhe chewed his twig. “You’re not even close with her. Why suddenly going to her place?”

“Wait— I remember now…” He smacked his thigh. “Yesterday I went to my grandpa’s and didn’t come back, but I heard my mom say Aunt Jiang’s long-lost son went missing. She had half the village out searching for him last night.”

Cheng Ye reached up to touch his head, came back with a handful of dust, then bent to wash his hair.

“They say Aunt Jiang’s real son is really handsome. You seen him yet? Is he as handsome as me?”

Cold water slid down Cheng Ye’s face and chest. He stood, wiping his face.
“You go back. I’m heading out.”

After babbling half the way without a reply, Gao Xinhe: “…”

He trailed after Cheng Ye.
“How about I come with you? If she invited you, one more won’t matter, right?”

Cheng Ye stopped, lowered his brow, and looked at him.

“…”

Alright then.

---

Jiang Shi steadied himself against the wall, following Jiang Xue as she washed scallions and pulled out a bunch of cilantro from the corner.

“Um…”

She shoved a stick into his hands. “Don’t help. Go sit.”

“I just wanted to say… I don’t eat scallions or cilantro.”

“…”

She went on peeling garlic.

“I don’t eat garlic either,” Jiang Shi added weakly.

“…”

“Fine.” Jiang Xue patted her apron, stood up. “Just like your father. Doesn’t eat this, doesn’t eat that.”

The sudden mention of “father” stunned Jiang Shi. His eyes instinctively flicked to the main room, where a photo hung on the wall. The blurry cut-out from an old group picture still couldn’t hide the man’s aura.

Jiang Xue never avoided talking about her late husband in front of the boy.

“Your dad was picky like you. But back then we were so poor, barely had food, so of course there was no picking. Later life got a little better, but before he could enjoy it, he was gone.”

She smiled faintly.
“You really look like him. Honestly, I married him just because he was handsome. I thought, our kid will definitely be good-looking. And I wasn’t wrong.”

As dusk faded, the last light slipped through the lattice window, darkness spreading.

Jiang Xue pulled the string for the single bulb.

“He was an orphan, abandoned by the river in midwinter. An old rag-picker found him. It was the eighteenth that day, so they called him He Shiba (Eighteen).”

“When I was three months pregnant with you, he went out with others to collect herbs by the cliff. He fell. Died on the spot.”

The man who’d promised to spend a lifetime with her — now just a photo on the wall.

“Everyone has their fate. What’s meant to come, will come.”

…

Jiang Shi sat at the doorway, holding a thick stick, as cold stars dotted the sky. Wind stirred the bare branches of the pear tree. Cheng Ye arrived, damp with river water.

In the dim light, Jiang Shi studied the tall figure before recognizing him.
Didn’t expect this guy to show up right on time for dinner.

Well, not exactly freeloading — after all, the chicken for dinner was brought by Cheng Ye.

This time Jiang Shi remembered to act like the host.
“Chair’s over there. Get it yourself.”

He himself didn’t budge an inch.

But Cheng Ye didn’t fetch a chair. Instead, standing about a meter away, he pulled a bag of candy from his pocket and handed it over.
“For you.”

Jiang Shi held it up to the light. The label read “Little White Rabbit.” He chuckled.
“Where’d you buy this?”

Not knowing whether he’d like it or not, Cheng Ye’s gaze skimmed from the curve of Jiang Shi’s eyes down to his lips.
“At the village shop. Not expensive — just five yuan.”

For Jiang Shi, five yuan really wasn’t much. He unwrapped one and popped it into his mouth.

Smacking his lips, he tasted little milk, mostly strong artificial flavoring.

No wonder five yuan bought such a big bag.

He tossed the rest of the candy onto Cheng Ye’s lap.
“You eat it.”

Cheng Ye, breathing in the sweet scent drifting from him, pinched the edge of the bag.
“It’s for you.”

“I don’t want it,” Jiang Shi said. “Doesn’t taste good at all.”

Then he felt maybe that was too harsh. The guy had gone out of his way to bring him candy, and here he was complaining. Unable to see Cheng Ye’s expression, Jiang Shi quickly added,
“Uh… I just don’t really like this flavor.”

Cheng Ye lowered his head, pulled out a piece, and popped it in his mouth.

The cheap artificial taste spread.

“I get it now.”

He’ll have to buy the more expensive ones.

Jiang Shi: “??”

Get what??

---