“Of course I’ll agree to a divorce, but don’t you know what day it is today? Why insist on bringing this up now?”
Qiu Xuan had just opened the door when she heard her mother’s repressed yet sharp voice coming from the entrance.
That tone was like a special ringtone—once it rang, you knew exactly who was on the other end.
Sure enough, it was her father, replying calmly, “Is the Second Child not home?”
Qiu Xuan disliked being called the “Second Child.” It wasn’t like being the Eldest, burdened with expectations, nor like the Youngest, who naturally garnered affection.
She was the Second Child.
“Upstairs, having breakfast at Chu Hui’s,” her mother answered irritably but still moved aside to let him into the living room, huffing, “Do you even care if the kids are home or not?”
“Lianhua, the divorce is a consensus. Now that it’s at hand, I thought maintaining appearances was also our common understanding.”
“It’s all about Sheng Mingfeng’s appearances, isn’t it? What about mine? How much is that worth?”
Qiu Xuan glanced down at her bare feet—if only this plastic marriage would spare a glance at the shoe rack, they’d see her shoes still neatly placed there. She hadn’t even left the house yet.
Two minutes ago, she’d called out that she was going to Jiang Chuhuai’s for breakfast, but on the way out she realized she was wearing her clothes inside out. She went back to change, and just after fixing it, she ran into this scene.
Sheng Mingfeng said, “I start my new post tomorrow, so I have to leave tonight. Once the terms are settled, I’ll pick a time next week to come back and finalize things. Since we agreed to divorce, there’s no need to delay.”
“Delay?!” Wang Lianhua exclaimed incredulously. “Your probation period was the reason before, you said maintaining stability was good for your promotion, and the kids’ future depended on you, so I cooperated without a word. Then it was Eldest’s High School Entrance Exam; to avoid affecting her, that was also agreed upon. So how did this suddenly become me delaying?”
“Sorry, I misspoke,” Sheng Mingfeng cut in deliberately, “But now that summer’s High School Entrance Exams are over, and A Xuan’s Primary School Graduation Exam is done too, this is the appropriate time.”
Wang Lianhua shot back, “Do you really not know what day it is today?”
Sheng Mingfeng glanced at the calendar on his phone, as if remembering, frowned, and remained silent.
Qiu Xuan turned and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror—dressed up.
Today was June 21st, the Summer Solstice; the third Sunday in June, Father’s Day; her Primary School Graduation Ceremony; and her twelfth birthday.
Which one of these did her father remember? Or did he remember none?
“Forget it,” Wang Lianhua had lost her temper. “I’ll send my requests to your secretary later. Just put the child custody terms in black and white. I won’t ask for anything else from you. Once the agreement is written, send it to me—I’ll print it, sign it, and mail it back. No need for any more face-to-face talks. Now leave, A Xuan will be back soon.”
Sheng Mingfeng promised, “Don’t worry, I’ll consider your rights too. But the kids will have to know sooner or later, so you might as well—”
Wang Lianhua interrupted fiercely, “They will know, but not today! My kids are mine; you stay out of it. Get out, and don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”
Her father left, and her mother sat silently on the sofa, rubbing her forehead.
Qiu Xuan leaned against the doorframe, unsure whether she should open the door and go out.
Her parents had been separated for years; she was used to it, and knew they’d eventually divorce, but she never expected it would be on her birthday.
Suddenly there was noise outside again. She heard Chu Auntie’s voice: “Why hasn’t Xiao Xuan come down for breakfast yet?”
Wang Lianhua was surprised and suspicious. “She hasn’t gone upstairs?”
“No…”
“Let me check…”
Hearing this, Qiu Xuan quickly jumped onto the bed, grabbed the blanket, and wrapped herself inside. She scratched at her carefully braided hair, kicked her legs straight, and pretended to be asleep.
The next second, Wang Lianhua knocked, opened the door, hurried upstairs, and pulled the blanket off her. “You were just fine a moment ago. Why are you still sleeping? The ceremony will start soon—get up now!”
Qiu Xuan slowly sat up, rubbing her sleepy eyes and replied, “Okay, okay, you’re so naggy.”
Wang Lianhua, unusually silent, breathed a sigh of relief and patted her on the head. “Hurry up, then Chu Auntie will take you to school. I’ll go to work first, but I’ll definitely be at your school before the ceremony starts.”
“Whatever. I’m not performing anyway.”
“You’re not, but Chu Huai is.”
“Then you can claim him as your son.”
“I wish I could.”
“Oh.”
“Just kidding.”
“Whatever.”
They bickered as they went about their business. Qiu Xuan repeated her usual routine and finally went upstairs for breakfast.
Jiang Chuhuai was already ready and leisurely inspecting his instrument without looking up when she entered.
Qiu Xuan was used to it. Normally, she might tease him a bit, but today she had no mood. Still, she washed her hands and checked her braids in the mirror, making sure they were neat.
“Zhanzhan, get Xiao Xuan’s bowl…” Chu Auntie busied herself cooking longevity noodles while giving orders.
Jiang Chuhuai stood, took the sanitized bowls and chopsticks, and placed them in front of her.
“Zhanzhan, Xiao Xuan’s milk cup…”
Jiang Chuhuai turned and grabbed the cup near the water dispenser.
“Shaomai’s in the microwave. See it?”
Jiang Chuhuai said nothing, poured the milk, and opened the microwave.
He bustled about; Qiu Xuan just ate.
The more Wang Lianhua liked Jiang Chuhuai, the more Qiu Xuan liked Chu Auntie. Beautiful, gentle—like the mom from another family.
Her elder sister once said their mother was somewhat reclusive by nature, and only got along well with Chu Hui, her colleague. They lived in the same building, and their departments’ busy and slow seasons were opposite, so whoever had free time took care of both families’ kids’ meals.
The Jiang family had only one child, Jiang Chuhuai; their own family had three, which seemed uneven. But elder sister boarded school since junior high, younger sister attended a special education school and didn’t live at home, so in fact, Qiu Xuan was the one who often troubled Chu Hui.
Jiang Uncle and Sheng Mingfeng were both rarely home long-term; the difference was, Jiang Uncle was busy, while their own father was separated.
Now, it wasn’t just separation, but divorce was coming.
Soon, she would truly be a child from a single-parent family.
Qiu Xuan had no real concept of it before, but now that it was so close, she suddenly felt panic. From now on, she would be different from her classmates.
Different from Jiang Chuhuai.
At the Graduation Ceremony, Qiu Xuan played the role of a qualified audience member, sitting in the least conspicuous spot but giving the loudest applause.
When Jiang Chuhuai performed, the audience raised their cameras in the densest cluster.
Qiu Xuan scanned the parents’ section but saw no sign of Wang Lianhua.
Why wasn’t she here yet?
No interest in watching her daughter, and not even for her “son” either?
Even at the signing and group photo session, Wang Lianhua still hadn’t appeared. Chu Hui called, but the line was busy; when she looked back, Qiu Xuan had disappeared.
Qiu Xuan didn’t want to go home. Watching the crowd of people disperse after the group photo, a thought suddenly came to her: if she disappeared, would anyone be worried?
She walked out of the school and randomly took a path, wandering aimlessly.
She browsed stationery stores and boutiques but didn’t buy anything.
She took a set of photo booth stickers, spending her last bit of pocket money, then started to regret it—she had no lunch, and had lost the energy to keep wandering.
People always say knowledge is power.
Qiu Xuan ducked into a bookstore and pretended to study junior high exam prep books.
She couldn’t understand any of it—from math to English, nothing made sense.
“Is junior high really something you have to go to?” she muttered, flipping open the Chinese textbook.
The extracurricular vocabulary section read:
“Golden Hairpin Year refers to a girl’s twelfth year, often paired with terms like Maiden’s Years…”
She understood this line because she was in her Golden Hairpin Year now. The term sounded bright and radiant, but—
Twelve years old was incredibly boring.
In the end, Qiu Xuan dove straight into her beloved manga section.
Today she didn’t want suspense or sci-fi; after all, she was creating her own suspense.
She didn’t want action-packed school stories either, since she had no shred of passion.
She picked up a manga with a pink cover, the art style exactly her taste, and the male protagonist barely spoke—just like Jiang Chuhuai.
Once immersed in this setting, she couldn’t help but replace the male lead’s face with Jiang Chuhuai’s.
At the moment the male lead kissed the female lead, Qiu Xuan covered her flushed face and jumped up from the floor.
“Get away from me!” She hurriedly put the manga back on the shelf but then froze.
The male lead in the manga was staring at her coldly through the gap in the bookshelf.
“I’m looking for you because my mom said it’s time to go home.” He even spoke.
No, it wasn’t the manga—it was Jiang Chuhuai.
Qiu Xuan felt heat rush from her fingertips all the way to her ears.
“I… where’s my mom?” she said, pushing the book in and looking away.
Jiang Chuhuai shook his head.
“Then I’m not going back.” She turned and walked out of the bookstore, sitting on the bench outside.
Jiang Chuhuai stood beside her, his expression seeming impatient, but he didn’t leave.
Maybe it was the heat or something else, but Qiu Xuan felt like a baked sweet potato.
Unable to bear this runaway’s misery, she was about to leave when a voice came from above.
“Look up,” Jiang Chuhuai said.
She instinctively looked up.
“What do you see?”
Qiu Xuan: “The cicadas are about to die from calling so much.”
Jiang Chuhuai: …
“The sky is holding the big tree,” he said after a long pause. When her gaze really settled on the sky, he added, “The tree is holding you.”
Qiu Xuan thought, shojo manga still wasn’t beautiful enough.
Like now, beneath the vast blue sky, a boy’s tousled hair swayed in the breeze.
No manga could depict this.
For the past twelve years, she had always known she was not a child born to meet her parents’ expectations.
Today, she understood why Wang Lianhua hadn’t come.
But she didn’t understand why Jiang Chuhuai hadn’t left.
In any case, on the first day of her Golden Hairpin Year, she decided to say goodbye to the expectations she once lived for.