Chapter 33: Chen Qiao presents candy

Zhang Hai Xia glanced back at the dilapidated brick house, shrouded in darkness, without even a proper door—too poor for thieves to bother.

The new house, built on village-allotted vegetable land, sprawled wide, modeled after the familiar rural “villas.”
Real estate fever had hit the countryside, with messy land deals—buying and selling homesteads and fields, some even eyeing farmland for houses.
In remoter villages, people bought town plots for kids’ schooling.
Soon, permits would cost money; later, building would be banned outright, renovations needing layers of approval, and illegal structures bulldozed to protect farmland.

This “home” held no warmth for Hai Xia, no happy memories.
Was it even a home?

“Sister-in-law, have a lollipop,” Chen Qiao said, pulling two from his pocket.

“I’m good, keep them.
Thanks,” she said, patting his head, smiling.
To her, his gesture—offering his most prized possession—was sweeter than any candy.

“It’s sweet, try it.
Been in my pocket and bag for days, practically glazed.
It’ll melt into syrup soon, and too many give me cavities.”

One hand clutching clothes, the other holding a lollipop, he stood on tiptoes, unable to reach her mouth.

Helpless, she bent down, tucking loose hair behind her ear, and took the lollipop in her mouth.

So sweet, it melted her heart.

On the walk, he brought up Xin Yu’s situation.

Hai Xia empathized deeply—she’d had her mom until her mid-teens, but Xin Yu, so young, had no parents, with awful grandparents.

“Good thing your family’s there,” she said.

“We do what we can—keep her fed,” he replied.

“That’s already a lot.”

Nearing his house, Hai Xia hesitated.
Others brought gifts when visiting; she was showing up with luggage, no manners—what would people think?

“Maybe I shouldn’t,” she said, backtracking.
She’d agreed in the heat of the moment, eager to meet Chen Li Li, her idol, for a deep talk.
Now, cooled by the night breeze, doubt crept in.

“You’re at our door—come in, sit.
My parents are welcoming,” Chen Qiao urged.

Once inside, she wouldn’t leave tonight.

“I should at least buy a gift—cigarettes, liquor, or peanut milk cans.”

“No need!
Dad getting smokes or booze would tick Mom off.”

He pushed her inside.
Mom and Fei Fei, back from the garden, pant legs rolled, were washing their feet.

“Xia Jie,” Fei Fei said, stunned, seeing her brother brought Hai Xia and her luggage.

“Hai Xia, what’s up?
Your deadbeat dad causing trouble again?
Eaten yet?
Want me to heat something?” Chen Li Li asked, worried, assuming a crisis.

Working at the clinic, she heard gossip from elderly patients, especially about Hai Xia, tied to their family.
They’d ask if rumors were true; she always said she didn’t know, whether she did or not.

She’d heard of Hai Xia’s plight but couldn’t help much.
Her own past—using dowry money for school—still drew Grandma’s ire, unforgiven.
Helping Hai Xia poorly could spark a family rift.

“I… ate,” Hai Xia said, uneasy.

“When I went to her place…” Chen Qiao recounted Zhang Da Fu smashing bowls, demanding money, and pushing remarriage, plus her plan to quit and take the college entrance exam.

“That took guts.
I support you,” Chen Li Li said, holding her hand, speaking as an elder.
“Girls need education.
I thought it was a shame you didn’t go to college.
Study hard to keep toxic people and things away.”

“I’m still here because the kids aren’t grown, and the elders need care.
Ignoring them completely?
You’d get cursed out.”

“What’s going on?” Fei Fei whispered, nudging Chen Qiao.

“Just what I said.”

“Why’s she got luggage?”

“Oh, she’s staying tonight.
Her place feels unsafe, all drafty.
She’ll stay at plant dorms till she quits, then school dorms to study.”

“That makes sense.
What’s in your hands?”

He glanced down, clutching Hai Xia’s clothes, hands squashing her bra.

“Her clothes,” he said, unfazed.
No lewd thoughts, just kid innocence—pure.

Fei Fei snatched them, stern.
“You can’t hold a girl’s private clothes.”

“I handle yours and Mom’s all the time.”

Would he have to stop?
Growing up so fast stung—he wasn’t ready for “super transformation mode.”

“Xia Jie’s different from me and Mom.
Be careful, got it?”

“Okay,” he nodded, feigning confusion, not daring to say, She’s family too.

Calling her sister-in-law earned a glare from Mom, but correcting him in front of Hai Xia was awkward—it was the basis of their tie.

“Go upstairs, watch TV.
I need to talk to Hai Xia privately,” Mom said, shooing them like kids.

Fei Fei stuffed Hai Xia’s clothes into her bag, pulling Chen Qiao from the living room.

“Sis, let’s eavesdrop,” he whispered.

“Not good…” Fei Fei hesitated, but as the big sister, she shouldn’t lead him astray.
Still, he’d suggested it.

“It’s fine.”

“If we’re caught, it’s on you.”

“It is…”

He crouched behind the wall, Fei Fei behind him, arms around his neck, chest against his head, her weight pressing down.

“After college, what’s your plan?” Chen Li Li asked gently.

“I wanted to work to repay the dowry.
Now, it’ll take years post-graduation,” Hai Xia said.

“It’s not your fault.
He had no luck.
Mining’s dangerous—I urged him to switch jobs, but he wanted to earn big while young and fit.
I’ll talk to my brother and sister-in-law.
You’re young—no need to widow yourself.
It’s a new era.”

“They were upset, and your dad’s too much.
If we don’t act, the village thinks we’re pushovers.
It’s hard on you.
Focus on studying, don’t worry about the rest.
Need help?
Come to me, no need to feel shy.”

Nothing secret, just sparing Hai Xia embarrassment by shooing the kids.

“Achoo!” Fei Fei sneezed, tickled by his hair.

“Fei Fei, Abiao,” Chen Li Li called.

Fei Fei bolted upstairs, then turned, seeing Chen Qiao still crouched.

“Run, dummy!” she hissed, stomping in place.

“Leg’s asleep.”

Numb from her weight for minutes.

“Why didn’t you say?”

He couldn’t admit he enjoyed it.

She ran back, scooping him up—arm under his knees, another around his waist—in a princess carry, sprinting upstairs.

She’s princess-carrying me?

“Those kids,” Chen Li Li laughed.

Hai Xia’s eyes brimmed with envy, wrapped in family warmth she’d never known, maybe long ago…

“Showered?” Chen Li Li asked.

“Not yet, Gu—” Hai Xia faltered, unsure how to address her.

“Call me Aunt Chen if you’re okay with it.”

“You go first, Aunt Chen.”

“I’m not rushing.
I’m chatting with neighbors.
Our bathroom’s basic, old.
Thinking of renovating, but we might not stay long.”

“Couldn’t be worse than mine,” Hai Xia said, self-deprecating.

“It’ll get better,” Chen Li Li said, patting her shoulder.

“So light, eat more, don’t be picky, or girls will bully you again,” Fei Fei teased, tossing him roughly onto the sofa, less gentle now, turning on the TV to news.

Noticing him watching, she asked, surprised, “You into news now?”

Before middle school, pre-evening study, they’d fought over the 7 p.m. remote—kids’ channel’s prime time versus news.
He hated missing cartoons; they’d bicker over reruns.
When she started evening study, they agreed she’d get news on Fridays and Saturdays.

“News helps with essay material,” he said.

“Exactly!
You’re growing up,” she said, ruffling his hair.
She loved it, especially when it grew out before Dad enforced a buzz cut.
She thought he could keep it longer—school wasn’t that strict, as long as it wasn’t too wild, like one-eyed emo bangs.

Donate the unused eye to someone in need.

“Cartoons help with essays too,” he insisted.

“Such a kid.”

She found him cuter, pinching his cheeks harder, unrebuked lately.

“I am a kid,” he declared, wanting to stay one, yet wishing his “little brother” would grow up—a conflicting mess.

“Fei Fei, wanna shower?” Hai Xia called from downstairs.

“You go, I’ll check the weather for tomorrow’s market.”

Market day meant stalls—nothing bought, just fun to browse.

“You shower, Sis.
I’ll check the weather.”

“Don’t forget to dry my hair—you promised.”

“Got it.”

He’d love to see Hai Xia post-shower but cared more about the weather.

“Next few days, cold air and low-level shear will bring heavy rain to Jiangnan and South China…”

“Cloudy to overcast tomorrow.”

National forecasts were vague; local ones, unreliable.
He’d carry an umbrella starting Monday—better safe than sorry.

He cleared toys off the spare bed, laying simple bedding.
Hai Xia would likely sleep there tonight.
A three-person sleepover?
Unlikely—they weren’t that close.
Maybe in the future.

Downstairs, Hai Xia, post-shower, wore her middle school uniform as pajamas, studying at the dining table, hair half-wet.
Fei Fei did the same post-graduation—school uniforms were durable, some pants better than branded ones.

“Change and give me your clothes—I’ll wash them,” Fei Fei urged.

He stripped in the bathroom, passing dirty clothes through the door crack.

“Getting shy now?” she teased.
“Seen every inch of you.”

If not for some shame, he’d do an “elephant dance” to show her plenty.

After drying Fei Fei’s hair, he offered to dry Hai Xia’s, but Fei Fei grabbed the dryer, stealing his chance to charm.

At the dining table, they worked—him on homework, then his novel.
Mom, back from gossiping, nodded approvingly.
Drunk Dad was banished upstairs, barred from TV to not disturb them.

Dad would haul bricks tomorrow, passing the plant—perfect for Hai Xia’s commute.

Near 10 p.m., Fei Fei stretched.
“Late—bedtime.”

Watching Fei Fei and Hai Xia chat and laugh ahead, he realized a problem: if they shared a bed, he’d sleep alone—no hugs, let alone double.

Two sisters, no sips?
He’d been too focused on bringing Hai Xia home.

If Fei Fei got used to separate beds, his cuddling days were over.

“Abiao, why’re you standing?
Bed!” Fei Fei called, patting the empty spot beside her.

Wait—she was on their usual bed.
Hai Xia took the wooden one.
The catch?
Only one pillow left—the other went to Hai Xia.

Sharing a pillow meant tighter hugs, maybe neck strain, but thrilling.

Fei Fei’s plan—cuddling him, fully justified.