The late summer sun burned golden over the tiny apartment yard, painting everything in warm light. A little figure sat on the sandy ground, knees pulled up, a pair of messy braids sticking out like stubborn antennae.
Her eyes were red from crying, but her small hands were busy weaving a crooked basket out of straw. Every few seconds, she sniffled dramatically, as if the entire world should stop and pity her.
That little girl was Wang Yanmei, eight years old, professional basket-weaver of traps, full-time troublemaker, and part-time "victim" of her own mother's punishments.
From inside the cramped apartment, a sharp, piercing voice cut through the quiet:
"Yanmei! Wang Yanmei! You dare skip chores and still cry?!"
The little girl flinched but did not answer. Her lower lip jutted out proudly as she muttered under her breath, "Who cares? Hmph! Just because I stole two chicken eggs… why is she being so stingy? It's not like I ate all the chickens."
Her stomach growled in betrayal. She hadn't been given lunch as punishment. For an eight-year-old with a bottomless appetite, that was practically a death sentence.
With all the dignity her short legs could muster, Yanmei dusted her hands and stood. Barefoot, she marched toward the fence at the back of the house, her tiny nose twitching like an offended rabbit. Without a second thought, she scrambled up the wooden boards and swung herself over.
On the other side, she landed with a thud on dusty ground, straight into the middle of someone else's yard.
Blinking, she realized there were strangers here.
A tall, elegant woman in a tailored qipao stood with her arms crossed, her sharp eyes colder than the autumn river. Beside her was a little boy, maybe a year or two older than Yanmei. His hair was neat, his white shirt spotless, and his posture stiff like he had been born with a ruler tied to his back. Unlike Yanmei's scrawny frame and dust-streaked cheeks, he looked like a doll straight out of a fancy shop window.
Yanmei froze. For a moment, she considered climbing right back over the fence.
But then the boy turned his head toward her, and a small, polite smile curved his lips.
And just like that, Yanmei puffed out her chest and pretended she wasn't a barefoot girl with straw in her hair.
"Hi," she said boldly, even though her voice cracked halfway. "I'm Wang Yanmei. I live… over there." She jabbed a thumb at the shabby little apartment behind the fence. The sound of her mother's angry voice still echoed faintly from inside.
The boy nodded slightly, his expression calm, but there was curiosity in his eyes.
The tall cold woman frowned, but Yanmei wasn't paying attention anymore. Her stomach growled again, loud enough for everyone to hear.
Yanmei slapped a hand over her belly and scowled. "What? Don't look at me like that. It's because my mom's cruel! She didn't give me lunch, just because I took two eggs. Isn't that unreasonable?!"
The boy's lips twitched, like he was holding back a laugh.
And in that moment, Wang Yanmei decided this new boy, clean and proper as he was, might just be her ticket out of this dump one day.
The elegant woman's sharp heels clicked away as she followed a man in a black suit toward the front of the house, discussing deeds and contracts. That left Yanmei and the boy standing awkwardly in the wide yard.
The boy shifted slightly, then gave a polite bow, like he had seen adults do.
"I'm Huo Yanzhi," he said clearly, his voice calm and steady, as if he had rehearsed it.
Yanmei blinked. Then she burst out laughing.
"What kind of name is that? Sounds like something out of my dad's opera radio! I'm Wang Yanmei."
He brings his hands out "I'll call you mei mei"
Before he could react, she stomped forward and grabbed his outstretched hand, giving it a rough, clumsy shake like she was wringing laundry. His clean sleeve nearly brushed against her dusty arm.
The boy didn't flinch, but his polite smile wavered a little.
Yanmei, however, had already moved on. Her wide eyes roamed over the mansion-like house. The tiled roof gleamed, the courtyard stones looked freshly scrubbed, and there was even a decorative fish pond.
She gasped dramatically. "You live here now?! It's so… so… big! Do you have a hundred rooms?!"
Huo Yanzhi shook his head. "Just eight."
Yanmei's jaw dropped. "Eight?! My whole house only has two and one of them is smaller than a chicken coop!"
She trotted around the yard like a little inspector, poking at the fish pond, tapping at the stone steps, peeking through the open door at the shiny wooden floor. Her little bare feet left dust marks wherever she went.
Then she spun back to him, hands on her tiny hips.
"You must be rich."
He tilted his head, not sure how to respond.
Yanmei's stomach growled again, louder this time. She winced, pressing her hands to her belly. "Ugh… it hurts…"
The boy looked startled. "Are you sick?"
"No!" she snapped. Then she paused and leaned in, lowering her voice like she was sharing a secret. "Hey… did you eat already?"
He nodded slowly.
Her eyes lit up. "Do you have leftovers?"
"…Leftovers?"
"Yeah! Like rice, or buns, or meat bones, or... or anything really!" She tugged at his sleeve, her face pitiful. "Come on, don't be stingy. My mom didn't give me lunch because she's heartless, but if you give me food, I'll… I'll… let you play with me whenever you want!"
For the first time, Huo Yanzhi's lips twitched into a genuine laugh. It was small, soft, but it lit up his composed little face.
And just like that, the girl from the shabby house and the boy from the grand courtyard stood together ... one starving and shameless, the other amused and oddly charmed.
Yanmei leaned closer, eyes sparkling.
"So? Where's the food?"
Huo Yanzhi blinked. "…I'll check the kitchen."