When Tao Zhi led Jiang Qihuai back, the man was already gone.

The café entrance was still lit and decorated with lanterns and ribbons; passersby talked and laughed, and heaps of snow that hadn’t yet been cleared away were piled against the wall.

Other than a small patch where body heat had melted the thin layer of snow, nothing was left.

Tao Zhi turned her head and glanced at Jiang Qihuai, then tugged him forward.

At the instant she pushed the door open, the warmth inside the shop surrounded them, and the air was filled with the aroma of coffee. It had been several months since Tao Zhi last came here; nothing much had changed—the slow rhythm of vinyl piano music still played.

It happened to be dinnertime, so there weren’t many customers inside. There were three clerks in total, none too busy.

Tao Zhi pulled Jiang Qihuai toward the little sofa in the corner and reached out her hand to hold his.

The boy’s hands were already red from the cold, his fingers icy.

She wrapped both her hands tightly around his palms, warmed them for a while, and then asked, “What time do you get off work?”

“Ten o’clock.”

His voice was still a bit hoarse.

Tao Zhi wanted to keep talking to him, but since he was working, she couldn’t take up too much of his time. She could only nod. “Then I’ll wait for you here?”

Jiang Qihuai looked at her and gave a soft “mm.”

Regarding what had happened tonight, she hadn’t asked a single question.

And Jiang Qihuai hadn’t said anything either.

Tao Zhi didn’t know whether she should take the initiative to bring it up.

If one didn’t count that former boyfriend who was more like a playmate in their little pretend games, she actually didn’t have much experience in dating.

What things should be asked, what shouldn’t be asked, what might cross a line, what might be meddling in something she shouldn’t—

She couldn’t quite grasp the right distance between a boy and a girl who were dating.

Slowly, she pulled out her exam papers from her backpack, did a few questions, crossed out a few answers, but her mind was blank; she couldn’t concentrate at all.

As dinnertime passed, the shop grew livelier. Girls chatted and laughed with their friends, showing off the trophies they’d bought on the street today. Behind the coffee machine, Jiang Qihuai was taking orders, his tone calm and unhurried. Tall and slender, he stood there with a cool and restrained air.

Clearly, they were all just young people around the same age, yet they always seemed to belong to two separate worlds.

Some were innocent and carefree, with no worries about food or clothing, loved by their parents—the biggest trouble in their lives no more than grades and homework.

And some, surrounded by life’s broken feathers, had to worry about living expenses and care for the elderly. At an age when he should have been cared for, he had grown up early, becoming the only spine of his thin and fragile family.

Tao Zhi had originally planned to wait until Jiang Qihuai got off work. Yet before nine o’clock, she received Tao Xiuping’s call right on time. “Are you back yet?”

Tao Zhi dryly said, “Not yet.”

“I knew it. If I didn’t push you, you’d have no reaction at all,” Tao Xiuping said in a tone that was exactly as expected. “Zhizhi, keep your word. What time did you promise me you’d be back again?”

“Isn’t it not time yet?” Tao Zhi hesitated for a moment. “Dad, can I stay a bit longer? My friend isn’t in a good mood today.”

Tao Xiuping: “Is it your friend or your boyfriend?”

Tao Zhi: “……”

She didn’t make a sound. It was as good as admitting it, so Tao Xiuping became even more unwilling to compromise. “Hurry up, don’t play emotional tricks with me here. If you’re not back by nine, the curfew will be moved up to eight from now on. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Tao Zhi puffed out her cheeks, feeling deflated, and gave a muffled reply of agreement.

After hanging up, she lifted her head to glance over—Jiang Qihuai was still busy and hadn’t noticed her.

She packed up her things, sent him a WeChat message, and left the café.

It wasn’t until he got off work that Jiang Qihuai saw the message Tao Zhi had sent.

A little after nine, the girl had first sent him several cat-head emojis in a row before finally saying something.

【Zhizhi Grape】: I’ll go home and report in first, then sneak out later to find you!

Jiang Qihuai glanced at the corner table that had already been tidied up—clean and empty. The corners of his lips lifted slightly as he typed a few words.

【Smuggling is illegal.】

A boy who worked part-time with him came out from the back, standing by the door to urge him. “A’Huai, let’s go!”

Jiang Qihuai put away his phone and walked out the door.

The boy locked the door, then turned and hooked an arm around his shoulder, asking curiously, “That girl who came in with you today, is she your girlfriend?”

Jiang Qihuai gave a soft “mm.”

“Damn, you move fast, huh? What did you say last time when we asked?” The boy straightened his face and mimicked his tone. “‘Not close, just classmates.’”

“I was even thinking that if you didn’t make a move, I’d ask for her contact info next time she came—” The boy rubbed his chin. “Even if she didn’t fall for me at first sight, with this face of mine, at least she’d have a little crush, right?”

Jiang Qihuai let out a faint, indifferent laugh and gave him a sidelong glance. “Whether she’d have a crush or not, I can’t tell. But thick-skinned—you definitely are.”

The boy hooked his arm around Jiang Qihuai’s neck, pressing it down forcefully with a grin. “Hey, is that how you talk to your senior?”

Jiang Qihuai bent his body slightly, showing no particular reaction.

The two walked all the way toward the bus stop. The boy stayed quiet for a while before suddenly remembering, “Oh right, that guy today—the one who called you out—he didn’t do anything, did he? Who is he?”

Jiang Qihuai frowned, his expression turning unpleasant. He stiffly replied, “Nothing.”

Seeing that he didn’t want to talk about it, the boy nodded. “Alright.”

As they talked, they reached the bus stop. The two didn’t take the same bus. The boy’s bus came; he greeted Jiang Qihuai and left.

Jiang Qihuai stood alone under the empty bus stop sign, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, staring blankly at the layers of small advertisements pasted on the sign.

When Jiang Qihuai was four years old, he met Jiang Zhi for the first time—on the day Jiang Qinghe brought him home.

At the entrance of the courtyard, the director auntie smiled at him for the first time. Holding Jiang Qinghe’s hand and carrying a small backpack, he walked out through the big gate.

Jiang Qinghe tried to help him carry it. “Is it heavy?”

Little Jiang Qihuai shook his head.

It truly wasn’t heavy. Only after packing did they realize he had almost nothing—inside the bag were only a towel and a toothbrush, loosely rattling in the cloth pouch.

He came alone, and he left alone.

But from that day on, he would have someone who was willing to like him, and he could have a home.

Like an ant, he thought.

Little Jiang Qihuai stood before the vermilion-colored door, looking at the small hole that would belong to him, his eyes shining with quiet excitement.

Jiang Qinghe opened the door, stepped aside, and smiled kindly at him. “Come in.”

Jiang Qihuai clutched tightly at the strap of his little bag, lips pressed together in nervousness. Cautiously, silently, he stepped inside.

This room was much smaller than where he had lived before. There was no big courtyard—but it was warm.

That warmth came rushing toward him along with a voice. “Took you long enough. What were you doing?”

Jiang Qinghe’s expression instantly changed; he frowned. “Who told you to come back?”

“Why can’t I come back to my own home?” the man drawled.

Little Jiang Qihuai secretly raised his eyes and looked inside.

A man was lying on the living room sofa, holding a beer bottle, reclining lazily. When he sat up, his gaze fell on Jiang Qihuai.

Jiang Zhi stared at him for a while, then set the beer bottle down on the coffee table with a clatter and spoke hoarsely. “Whose kid did you bring back?”

Jiang Qinghe swallowed his anger. “This is your son!”

“I don’t have a son,” Jiang Zhi said.

Little Jiang Qihuai stood silently beside them, head lowered.

Looking at the small, soft crown of the child’s head, Jiang Qinghe sighed tiredly. “A’Zhi, I’ve found the child. From now on, cut ties with those people, stop doing those ridiculous things. Find a job, live properly, and let’s raise the child together, alright?”

Jiang Zhi didn’t speak. He just looked at the small boy.

Uneasy, Jiang Qihuai bit his lip, his little body shrinking back imperceptibly, as if trying to melt into the background.

The room was silent for a moment. Then Jiang Zhi looked away, let out a mocking laugh, and said, “Don’t even know whose belly he came out of—raise what? I can barely survive myself. Don’t know what kind of dreams you keep having, old man. You want to raise him, raise him yourself.”

Irritated, he grabbed the bag on the coffee table and turned to leave.

His leg brushed past Jiang Qihuai’s small body; he didn’t even glance at him as he walked out.

The security door slammed shut with a loud bang.

In the silence, little Jiang Qihuai turned around and lifted his head to look at Jiang Qinghe.

The old man stood motionless where he was, his shoulders slumped, as if using all his strength just to stay upright.

“Grandpa.” Little Jiang Qihuai called to him softly.

Jiang Qinghe took a deep breath, raised a hand to wipe his face, then crouched down. “Hey, Grandpa’s here.”

“That person just now—is he my dad?” the child asked in his soft, milky voice.

Jiang Qinghe smiled faintly and reached out to ruffle his hair.

The child lifted his head, his eyes bright and clear. “He doesn’t want me. Will Grandpa send me back?”

The boy was only four years old, yet when he said this, not even a trace of sadness showed on his face.

Jiang Qinghe wept.

He pulled Jiang Qihuai into his arms, holding him close, gently stroking his back. “Grandpa won’t send you back. Grandpa said he’ll stay and watch our A’Huai grow up.”

“Grandpa will see our A’Huai study, work, grow up, get married, and become a man who can stand tall and straight.”

“Grandpa will teach you how to be a good person. He’ll watch you become someone kind and upright,” the old man’s voice choked. “Grandpa won’t make the same mistake again.”

At that time, Jiang Qihuai was still too young to understand what “making the same mistake again” meant.

He only nestled quietly in the old man’s embrace, then nodded lightly, his childish voice soft and earnest: “A’Huai will also grow up together with Grandpa.”

When Jiang Zhi didn’t appear, everything moved toward the better.

Jiang Qinghe taught Jiang Qihuai to read and recognize words. The little boy learned everything quickly—almost any storybook he read once, he could recite word for word without missing a syllable.

Jiang Qinghe also taught him to play chess.

He would hold the boy in his arms, explaining each piece one by one. Only sometimes, his gaze would linger on one of the chess pieces, his expression filled with deep sorrow. “Grandpa also used to teach your dad to play chess. He was just as smart as you, learned especially fast.”

The small bundle in his arms would clutch a wooden chess piece and ask brightly what it was.

Jiang Qinghe had once named his son Jiang Zhi in the hope that when he grew up, he would become a doctor—one who could heal and save others.

But he hadn’t been able to guide him.

While he was busy working, busy earning money, busy with all sorts of things, that unpruned sapling had slowly grown crooked—and never straightened again.

Little Jiang Qihuai sat quietly in the old man’s arms, listening to him talk about those past days.

He didn’t particularly like Jiang Zhi. Because every time he was mentioned, Jiang Qinghe would become unhappy.

He thought that as long as Jiang Zhi didn’t appear, everything would be fine.

But Jiang Zhi would still come back.

Sometimes after a few weeks, sometimes a few months—he would return to ask Jiang Qinghe for money. When Jiang Qinghe refused, the two would quarrel.

Usually, by the time Jiang Zhi came back, Jiang Qihuai was already asleep.

The old house in the county town had poor sound insulation, and sometimes Jiang Qihuai would be awakened by the noise.

He heard the sound of an argument coming from Jiang Qinghe’s room next door, followed by the crash of something being struck. He ran out of his room and saw the drunken Jiang Zhi shove Jiang Qinghe hard to the floor, then, without even glancing at the old man lying there, began to rummage around like a madman—tearing through the place in a frenzy.

He pulled every piece of clothing out of the wardrobe to check the bottom, yanked open drawers, and smashed vases.

Jiang Qihuai rushed forward and wrapped himself around the man’s leg, biting and hitting like a crazed little beast. The tall man merely reached out one hand, grabbed him by the collar, and lifted him clean off the ground. The reek of alcohol hit his face. “You little bastard—trying to rebel now?”

Like a helpless chick, he had no strength to resist. He clawed at the man’s hand, trying desperately to break free, his nails digging into flesh.

The man gave a loud cry, flinging him away viciously.

He felt his head slam into something hard, and in front of his eyes, everything turned into a dark blur. Warm liquid flowed down from his forehead, dripped from his chin, and fell onto the floor—plip, plip—gathering into a crimson pool.

Jiang Qinghe lunged forward, holding him and calling his name.

Just before his eyes closed, Jiang Qihuai heard Jiang Zhi laughing. He saw him finally pull a brown wallet out from under the cabinet, then stagger away, swaying and reeking of liquor.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Jiang Qihuai lived in that old house for two years.

The following year, it seemed Jiang Qinghe had made up his mind. He took Jiang Qihuai and moved away.

The house was sold, everything inside disposed of secondhand. The house itself wasn’t worth much, and even after selling it, the money wasn’t enough for them to buy another place to live.

Jiang Qinghe’s bank cards and passbooks had long been emptied by Jiang Zhi. They moved to another city and rented a small apartment in an area with cheap rent.

After moving, there were no more fights or crashes in the middle of the night from next door.

They had both escaped a life that was like hell.

A few months after settling into the new home, Jiang Qinghe received a phone call—Jiang Zhi, together with a few small-time thugs from the county who already had criminal records, had broken into a house to rob it, seriously injuring two people. He’d been arrested; the victims were still in critical condition.

The person on the other end spoke for a long time, but the old man didn’t respond much.

He held the phone, listening blankly, but his hand trembled. Then he hung up.

Jiang Qihuai looked up at the old man, whose reddened, clouded eyes were filled with despair and grief.

He raised his hand and, with his fingertips, wiped the tears from that aged face. In a soft, childish voice, word by word, he said clearly: “Grandpa, I’ll take care of you.”

Jiang Qinghe choked out a sigh. “Fate… it’s all fate. I just hope that if he ever gets the chance to come out, he’ll turn over a new leaf. If he still has the chance.”

Jiang Qihuai held the old man’s hand, pressing his lips together, his eyes lowering into shadow.

Jiang Zhi was Jiang Qinghe’s son—he couldn’t bear to let him go. But Jiang Qihuai had never thought of him as a father.

He hoped Jiang Zhi would never come out. That he would die silently in prison—using the rest of his life to atone for his sins.