Chapter 6: Wanting a Sister

“What’s with the blood on your uniform?”

Chen Fei Fei’s sharp eyes spotted something off.
She examined the red scarf at Chen Qiao’s collar, noticing darker red stains.

“Did you fight?
Bullied by a girl again?
Useless—are you even a boy?
I tell you to exercise, but you just play games.”

Why “again”?
Sure, he had a record, but from now on, he’d be the one doing the bullying!

“It’s not that.
I got hit by a basketball and got a nosebleed.
Wu Xin Yu threw it.”

Wu Xin Yu was a middle school teacher’s daughter.
She and his sister often received awards together in elementary school.
Of course, his sister knew her.

“You’ve got some nerve saying that.
Can’t even dodge a girl’s throw.
Feeling dizzy?
Much blood?” Chen Fei Fei asked, worriedly touching his forehead.

Chen Qiao was a premature baby, frail and sickly, raised on medicine.

He got seriously ill two or three times a year—anaemia, low blood sugar.
During gym class, his vision would blur, nearly fainting.

His butt had needle scars from injections, building drug resistance.
Now, medicine and shots barely worked—only IV drips did.

In fifth and sixth grade, he ate stewed chicken with longan and bitter ginseng, strengthening his body.
By eighth grade, when he started growing, he rarely got sick.
By then, the family was broke from the accident, and he couldn’t afford to be ill, not wanting to burden them.

“I’m fine.
The bleeding stopped.”

“You lose blood, and it takes so much meat to make up for it.”

Chen Qiao nudged Chen Fei Fei toward the kitchen.
“Okay, rice is almost done.
Veggies are washed—just waiting for you to cook.”

“You washed the veggies?”

Chen Fei Fei checked: water spinach was clean, cucumbers peeled, green beans trimmed and snapped to even lengths.

“Chen Qiao, why’re you so responsible today?
Usually, you’re upstairs watching cartoons.
Trying to borrow money again?
I lent you ten yuan two days ago—where’d it go?
Bubble Dragon?
Scratch cards?
Lottery tickets?
Should I tell Mom and Dad?” Chen Fei Fei asked suspiciously.
Something was up.

Bubble Dragon was a gambling machine disguised as an arcade game.
Arcades got a bad rap, linked to gambling machines—parents saw them as trouble.

Scratch cards and lottery tickets were kids’ gambling.
You could win up to twenty yuan or junk toys.

“None of that.
I hate gambling.
I just want to help out at home.”

“Uncle bought me candy.
I told him not to,” Chen Xin Yu explained.

“Oh, Sis, want some candy?”

“No.”

Chen Qiao pulled out a lollipop, unwrapped it, and popped it into Chen Fei Fei’s mouth.

“Mmph… I said I don’t want it.”

“Tasty?”

Chen Fei Fei frowned.
“It’s sour.
Got other flavors?”

It was plum-flavored.

“There’s chocolate, green apple, and blueberry.”

“I want chocolate.”

His sister loved sweets but rarely had them as a kid and couldn’t bear to buy them later.

“What about this plum one?”

“You eat it.
What, grossed out by my spit?
You used to steal my noodle soup.”

“Not grossed out.”

He couldn’t just say he liked tasting what she’d had.

Chen Fei Fei tied on an apron, opening the coal stove’s valve to boost the flame and setting up the wok.

“Sis, can you teach me to cook?” Chen Qiao asked, laying groundwork for future dinners.

“Did Wu Xin Yu’s basketball break your brain?
Why the change?”

She wasn’t wrong.

“I’m graduating elementary soon.
You’re almost in ninth grade, focusing on studies.
I want to take on some of your chores.”

“Focus on your own studies first.
Worry about yourself before me.
Dad’s gonna nag you.”

“I want to learn to cook for Grandma too.”

Xin Yu mostly ate with their grandma.
Her cooking wasn’t bad—fine for a change—but everything was dark, fried, oily, and salty.
Not great for kids or the elderly long-term.

They’d considered having Grandma eat with them, but she refused, insisting on cooking herself.
She felt healthy and maybe didn’t like their food.

Second Uncle’s family couldn’t handle it either, sometimes eating at Grandma’s.
Big Uncle had passed years ago, his family worked in Peng City, rarely returning.
Third Uncle died young.
Two aunts married into nearby villages—not far, but everyone had their own struggles.
They’d visit during market days, if lucky.

“Okay, I’ll learn with Xin Yu,” Chen Qiao said, lifting her.

“Stay back—don’t get splashed by oil.”

Chen Fei Fei’s cooking was standard, nothing fancy.
She stirred with a spatula, explaining, carefully adding salt and MSG from the spatula or her palm.

“Taste this.”

She picked up a cooked cucumber slice with a bit of pickled veggie, blew on it, and fed it to Chen Qiao.

Their recipes often included pickled veggies.
When the garden was bare, fried pickles could be a dish alone.

“Too salty?
Cooked enough?”

“Just right,” Chen Qiao nodded.
Anything his sister made was tasty, but he couldn’t say that—flattery would make her suspicious.

“Xin Yu, want some?” Chen Fei Fei asked.

“I’ll eat at dinner.”

“Very good girl,” Chen Fei Fei said, smiling.

She dished up the food.
“Take it out.”

Three dishes, no soup: pickled cucumber with pork, lean pork with green beans, water spinach.

Chen Qiao’s rice was perfect—not too hard, not too soft.

Before eating, he took Xin Yu to wash her hands, cleaning dirt from her nails and fingers, then wiped her face and neck with a towel.
She looked cleaner, cuter.

Xin Yu couldn’t use chopsticks yet, gripping a spoon to scoop rice, adorably getting grains on her face.

Chen Fei Fei and Chen Qiao kept adding food to her bowl.
“Eat more—you’re growing.”

“You too, talking about others,” Chen Fei Fei said, rolling her eyes, piling food into Chen Qiao’s bowl.

The three sat on one bench, Xin Yu in the middle—partly so she wouldn’t fall, partly because they all fit comfortably, with short arms for easy reaching.

“We look like a family of three,” Chen Qiao mused.
They’d had many days like this.

“What nonsense.
We’re already family,” Chen Fei Fei said, not overthinking it.

After eating, Chen Qiao instinctively collected the dishes to wash.
Chen Fei Fei was surprised but not shocked, given his behavior tonight.
She’d hoped he’d grow up, but his sudden maturity felt oddly lonely.

She took a handkerchief to wipe Xin Yu’s greasy mouth.
Their mom came home right on time.

“I’m back.
Xin Yu’s here too.”

“Fourth Grandma!” Xin Yu called sweetly.

Chen Qiao saw his mom’s kind face.
Barely forty, she looked older than her peers—no time for self-care, overworked, sometimes on night shifts, days and nights flipped.

Unlike rushing to hug his sister, Chen Qiao hadn’t been clingy with his mom since starting elementary.
He’d spent too long with his sister.

He desperately wanted his mom to rest.
Even without the accident, she’d collapse from exhaustion someday.

“Mom, I want a little sister.”

“What’s this now?
You two fighting again?”

When they bickered, they’d say petty things.

“I don’t want a mean sister—I want a little sister.”

“I don’t want a naughty brother—I want a little sister.”

Last Sunday, they’d fought over the TV remote—a common spat.
They only got along well after the family’s troubles, bonding through hardship.
Carefree days allowed for quarrels.

Chen Qiao never beat his sister in fights.
She was stronger, taller, often pinning him.
If he fell or got hurt, he’d cry, and she’d comfort him.

“No, I really want a little sister.
The policy’s looser now, not as strict as when we were born.
If you wait, it might be too late.”

“They don’t jail people anymore, but fines are still there.
Isn’t Xin Yu like a sister?” their mom said, bending to tease Xin Yu.

“Xin Yu’s my niece, not the same.”

“It’s my fault for not calling Uncle ‘brother.’
He doesn’t want me, like my dad doesn’t,” Xin Yu said, sniffling, tears falling.
A tough girl, mature for her age, she rarely cried.

Chen Qiao panicked—his sister plan was backfiring.
He picked her up, rocking her.
“I don’t not want you.
I’ll never abandon you.
Want more candy?”

He offered the leftover lollipops.
Xin Yu threw them on the floor, crying harder.

“I don’t want candy.
I want Uncle.”

“Okay, I’m right here,” Chen Qiao soothed.
Chen Fei Fei picked up the lollipop.
“Xin Yu, let Auntie hold you.”

“No, I want Uncle.” Xin Yu clung to Chen Qiao’s neck.

“Want Auntie to hit this bad Uncle?”

“Okay.”

Chen Fei Fei tapped Chen Qiao with the lollipop.
He faked pain, wailing and making faces.
Xin Yu finally smiled through tears, soon feeling sorry.

“Don’t hit him, Auntie.
Uncle’s hurting.”

“He’s just hurt, not scared.”

Chen Fei Fei, caught up in play, glanced at the clock—6:10.
A top student, she never allowed herself to be late.
She stuffed the lollipop in Chen Qiao’s pocket and rushed out.

“Shoot, it’s late.
I need to get to evening study.”

“Sis, you’re still wearing the apron,” Chen Qiao called.

“Huh?”

Chen Fei Fei ran back, yanked off the apron, tossed it to him, and dashed off.

“You kids…” their mom said, smiling warmly, her day’s fatigue melting away.
This was why she worked so hard.