Chapter 12: On the way to school

The next morning, Chen Qiao woke to roosters crowing, birds chirping, his sister’s reading, and the rumble of their dad’s dump truck heading out to haul bricks.

Early starts beat the heat and avoided lines at the brick factory, maximizing time.

Propping himself up, yawning, Chen Qiao sat on the bed.
It was still warm, with a few strands of his sister’s hair on the pillow—she’d just gotten up.

Chen Fei Fei, holding her Chinese textbook by the window, asked, “Up so early?
Did I wake you?
It felt cold this morning, so I didn’t go to the roof to study.”

She shivered slightly.

Late spring, early summer mornings were chilly.

“Nah, I woke naturally.
Your reading made me think I was in class—slept better.”

“That’s…” Chen Fei Fei trailed off, unsure how to respond.

“Go back to sleep.
It’s not even 6:30.
I’ll wake you near 7.”

“Mm.”

Chen Qiao pulled the blanket over, aiming for a quick nap.
The bed smelled of his sister—familiar, comforting.

The alarm, set for 6:50, blared sharply.

He reached to shut it off, but a slightly larger hand covered his.

“Too slow, woke you up,” Chen Fei Fei said.

“I was getting up anyway.”

He looked at her and froze.
She was changing, her blue nightdress tossed on him over the blanket.

Wearing only plain white underwear with a small bow, her skin was pale, arms and shoulders slightly darker.

Noticing his gaze, unfazed, she slipped on school pants and a uniform.
“Hurry and change.
Don’t dawdle.”

Chen Qiao blushed, cheeks and ears burning, grabbing his uniform from the nightstand, changing under the blanket.

Something felt off.
Shouldn’t she be the shy one?
He was too much the little brother.

She tied her hair with a band in her mouth, pulling it into a ponytail, securing it.

Her ponytail swayed, brimming with youth.
She grabbed her textbook to head downstairs but rushed back for her desk mate’s battery.

His sister could be scatterbrained—still just a normal, excellent girl.
To reborn Chen Qiao, her halo had faded; he only wanted to cherish and protect her.

She’d cooked porridge during her morning routine, reheated leftovers, fried pickled veggies, and made scallion eggs.
Their mom, on night shift, brought back buns, steamed bread, and fried dough sticks—a hearty breakfast.

After eating, the school’s morning music played over the radio.

“Sis, let’s walk together?” Chen Qiao called, slinging on his backpack.

“What’s with you today?
You used to hate walking to school with me—either lagging behind or sprinting off.
Once, you even took a longer route.”

Chen Fei Fei puffed her cheeks, turning away, a bit annoyed.

The elementary school was under construction, its gate porous, paths leading everywhere.

“Uh…” Chen Qiao scratched his cheek, unsure how to explain.

Before, he was embarrassed—walking with his sister felt like inviting ridicule.
He cared too much about others’ opinions as a kid.

With her, his friends hesitated to greet him; she shone too brightly.
Her female classmates had no such qualms, surrounding him with older girls.

Plus, teachers and parents always compared him to her.
He was decent among peers, but her excellence raised his bar, amplifying his inferiority and sparking resentment.

“Your scarf’s all wrinkled.
Some guidance team member,” she said.

He thought remembering to wear it was enough.

Handing him her textbook, she untied his red scarf, adjusted the corners, tied a knot, and threaded the right corner through.

Her warm breath tickled his face; her fingers brushed his neck and ears.

She pushed the knot up snugly, neat but not tight, circling him to fix his collar and smooth the scarf’s back triangle, clapping her hands, satisfied.

It reminded him of his first job interview.
She’d tied his tie.
Facing elite graduates, his ordinary degree failed him.
On the way home, he saw a delivery ad and started working in his suit.

Morning light cast a halo on her, her hair tips glowing, ears translucent, faint veins visible, fine fuzz on her lobes.

“Your bag’s so light,” she said, patting and lifting it.

“Didn’t bring homework home.
Finished it at school.”

“Rare.
You’re never that eager with homework.”

His vacation assignments piled up until the last days—one night, one pen, one miracle.
She’d help at crunch time.

He’d done morning make-up work too, like copying essays—a miserable task.
His advice to the owner’s daughter, Meng Jia, came from experience.

“Anyway, it’s good.
Hold my Chinese book.”

She unzipped his bag and tossed it in.

“Don’t forget it.”

“You won’t.”

“Auntie, morning!” Chen Fei Fei greeted neighbors and relatives.

Chen Qiao nodded politely, shy and reserved since childhood, often scolded to be more courteous.
His sociability came from society’s beatings, forcing him to adapt.

“Brother and sister off to school?”

“Yeah, we’ve always gone together,” she said, grabbing his hand, raising it proudly.

She’d taken him to kindergarten, handing him math problems to do.

He didn’t pull away, gripping her hand, then loosening slightly, wary of seeming odd.

The road filled with students, many eating buns or sipping soy milk on the go.

Ye Qing Lan, a familiar face, jogged up.
The town was small—many knew each other since kindergarten, like Chen Qiao and Lin Na.

As a top student, his sister was popular, lending homework, helping boarders charge phones, and being flexible as a class officer.

“Fei Fei, morning!
Wow, you and your brother are tight.
Not me—fought my brat brother last night.
See scratches on my face?
He’s ruthless.”

Chen Qiao guiltily relaxed his grip, but she held on.

“Heh…” Chen Fei Fei laughed awkwardly, avoiding comment on others’ family matters, thinking her brother was better.

No one found their hand-holding odd.
His small size and her early development—middle school versus elementary uniforms—made their two-year gap seem wider.
He was overthinking it.

In his sister-raising plan, she’d eat well, sleep well, bear less family burden, and grow worry-free—taller, maybe curvier.

At the elementary’s winding uphill entrance, food stalls, toy shops, and a mobile service center lined the path, a calligraphy class advertised above.

She still hadn’t let go.
Chen Qiao reluctantly pulled free.
She turned, “Oh, we’re here?
Didn’t notice.”

“Your book, don’t forget.”

He handed her the Chinese textbook.

“Right, almost forgot,” she said, tapping her head, chuckling behind her hand.
“Be careful.”

“I’m at the gate—what’s to be careful of?” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Watch out for basketballs and girls…”

Her voice and figure faded as he turned, climbing the slope to school.
His short elementary days would be spent writing novels and… guiding his desk mate.