When Song Fang came home and saw the child's face swollen beyond recognition, her fury erupted. She had always believed in the saying that blood ties run deeper than water.
Family members might fight, but they were still bound by blood—yet Song Guoliang had struck his own sister so viciously.
"Song Guoliang, are you even human? Ganging up with outsiders to bully your own sister! I told you again and again not to mix with trash like Shen Luhua, and you never listen!"
Song Fang grabbed a fire poker and lashed out at him, blaming herself for failing her parents in heaven by not raising him properly.
Song Guoliang retorted, "Aren't you close with Shen Mingsong's family too?"
He felt wronged as well. The little girl had started it verbally; he was the only male in the family, spoiled and pampered—when had he ever been beaten?
Song Fang chased him around the courtyard, making a spectacle of him. Neighbors gathered at the gate to watch, pointing fingers and criticizing him. Somehow, in the chaos, he shoved Song Fang to the ground.
"Stupid bitch. I hit her, so what? She's just a little girl—what's wrong with hitting her? Push me again and I'll hit you too!"
Song Fang froze, sitting on the ground for a long moment, unable to process it.
"What did you say?" Her shrill voice cut through the summer night, harsher than cicadas. "Say that again, Song Guoliang!"
She knew her brother wasn't bright and was easily led astray, but she never imagined it had come to this.
At first Song Guoliang felt guilty, but the more he thought about it, the more justified he felt. Who didn't hit kids? As her brother, what was wrong with disciplining his sister?
"So what if I say it again?" he snapped, jutting out his neck.
Song Fang trembled with rage. "Get out! Get out right now!"
"If anyone's leaving, it's you. Grandma said this house is mine to run."
Song Erya clutched her swollen cheek and eyed Song Guoliang, wondering if she should bite him again.
A neighbor couldn't stand it anymore. "Guoliang, how can you talk to your sister like that? She's raised you both by herself—it hasn't been easy. She's still unmarried at her age."
"None of your business." Song Guoliang ran over and slammed the iron gate shut, but the neighbors' eyes still judged him through the bars. After a moment, he opened the gate again and ran off.
Song Fang sat on the ground, tears welling from anger. Song Erya went to pull her up, about to say something to comfort her, when Song Fang caught the smell of something burning in the kitchen. She brushed off the dust and hurried inside.
Her emotions flared quickly and faded just as fast. In Song Erya's memory, her mother never seemed to have much time to grieve.
That evening, Song Grandma came over. No one knew what Song Guoliang had told her, but she scolded the sisters, saying Song Fang should never have beaten her brother in front of so many outsiders—it had made him lose face.
Song Erya could tell the old woman cared deeply about appearances. She insisted on closing the door to "discipline" her granddaughter, her face drawn long and stern.
Song Fang looked humiliated and stifled. She tried to argue once, only to be shut down by a torrent of rebuttals, and in the end could only lower her head and endure the scolding.
Song Erya sprinkled a handful of salt into a glass of water and handed it to the old woman. When the old woman took a sip and spat it out, Song Erya burst into laughter.
Song Fang was stunned.
The old woman, choking from the salt, rushed into the kitchen and gulped down several glasses of water, her chest heaving as if she might keel over.
Song Fang hurried to help her back into a chair. "How could you joke like that with Grandma?"
The old woman recovered and grabbed a broom to hit her. Song Erya reacted instantly, snatching it away and headbutting the woman's belly to force her back into the chair.
Now all the old woman's anger turned on her. She reached out to twist Song Erya's ear and curse her.
Song Yao had been twisted by those ears many times; when it was bad, her calves had even been whipped with a bamboo switch. No wonder she'd been afraid of Grandma.
Song Erya dodged the grasping hands. When the woman tried to hit her again, she turned and bolted outside.
"You little devil!" the old woman fumed, chasing after her.
Age slowed her down. Song Erya kept just out of reach; when the old woman stopped, she darted back, calling, "Grandma!"
Teasing her like a game.
That only enraged the old woman further, and she chased Song Erya clear out of the courtyard. Song Erya suddenly spun around, dashed back inside, slammed the iron gate shut, and locked it.
Song Fang stared, dumbfounded.
Song Erya hugged Song Fang's waist, stopping her from opening the gate. "Sister, are you stupid? Just standing there letting her yell at you?"
Her mother hadn't always been this meek.
When Song Erya was little, relatives on her father's side despised her for being a girl. Her grandmother used to pinch her secretly until she cried. When Song Fang caught her once, she'd rushed over and punched the old woman twice.
Song Fang had taught her never to endure bullying in silence.
Maybe it was because her mother was still too young now, her spine not yet hardened.
The old woman cursed from outside the gate, but after a few lines, neighbors gathered again. Unwilling to air family disgrace, she fell silent, lips pursed, and left on her own.
After she was gone, Song Fang pulled Song Erya back inside. "You can't treat Grandma like that."
"Why not? She scolded us and tried to hit me." Song Erya shrugged.
"She's an elder. We should respect our elders and care for the young."
"She doesn't care for us. If parents aren't kind, children aren't filial; if grandparents aren't kind, grandchildren don't have to be filial either."
Song Fang couldn't argue back. "Twisted logic."
Still, she felt unhappy about being scolded unfairly.
When Song Guoliang returned, he looked sour, glaring sideways at everyone. Song Fang didn't give him a good face either.
Song Erya grabbed a few chilies, crushed them, and rubbed her fingers into his eyes.
Song Guoliang screamed, clutching his burning eyes and grabbing a stick to hit her. She sprinted into the neighboring courtyard and locked the gate behind her. He didn't dare follow.
Shen Mingsong was in the courtyard, lighting a stove to cook. A low chuckle escaped him.
When had this kid become so entertaining?
Within days, Song Guoliang moved to live with Grandma.
After being scolded without cause, Song Erya seized the chance to urge Song Fang to stop caring for him altogether—preferably not even cooking for him. Song Fang was angry too and really did stop.
Worried she wouldn't grow tall, Song Erya ate desperately, scraping the pot clean so there wouldn't be a single grain left when Song Guoliang returned.
After just one hungry day, he hurried to Grandma's to complain. He'd long been sick of the family's plain food and used the opportunity to move in with her.
The old woman, hearing her precious grandson had been starved, rushed over to berate Song Fang again. Song Erya provoked her once more and toyed with her until, finally wary of the trick, the old woman took Song Guoliang away for good.
But Song Erya wasn't someone to mess with. She refused to be scolded for nothing, so she began visiting Grandma's house every day.
Grandma ran a small convenience shop—she couldn't keep the door closed.
Summer heat pressed down; cicadas screeched endlessly, raining droplets from the trees. Wearing a little straw hat, Song Erya walked in the shade, red marks still on her face. After a few minutes, she reached the shop.
It sat at the busiest intersection. A group of elderly men and women gathered in the shade outside, shelling peanuts and watching. Song Erya greeted them loudly so everyone would see, then skipped inside and called cheerfully, "Grandma, I'm here!"
Grandma was dusting the shelves and nearly whipped her with the feather duster. But with so many eyes outside, knowing how fast rumors spread, she restrained herself.
"Didn't I tell you not to come yesterday?" Grandma snapped, snatching a jar of candies off the counter. It was newly opened—Song Erya came daily to grab handfuls, nearly emptying it.
Song Erya grinned. "I like Grandma's place. You have so many tasty things. I want to come every day."
Grandma's sagging flesh trembled. She muttered curses under her breath. Song Erya pretended not to hear and settled in for another day of freeloading.
She didn't make noise or fuss. Her mouth was sweet; she greeted customers and helped out, took whatever she wanted to eat, and at mealtimes played dumb and didn't go home, simply grabbing a bowl and serving herself.
At home she ate neatly; here she copied Song Guoliang's whirlwind style, piling all the good food into her bowl.
After eating, she packed another bowl to take home to Song Fang, praising nonstop. "Grandma is so nice. Your braised pork is delicious. Can you make it again tomorrow?"
She wasn't afraid of verbal abuse. If Grandma tried to hit her, she ran outside to cry among the clusters of elderly women.
Her swelling hadn't faded, and she cried with real force. If asked, she'd say things like "My brother hit me," "I'm hungry," "Grandma won't give me food."
Children without parents were pitiful—little girls even more so. Fourteen years old and still so small, especially compared to her huge brother.
Son preference was common, but even then, starving a child was too much. The Song family wasn't poor; even as a granddaughter, she deserved care.
Within days, the neighborhood committee came to ask questions. Starving a child was illegal now and could land someone in jail. Grandma, mortified, had no choice but to tolerate her.
The oil jug at Shen Mingsong's house ran dry. He brought an empty bottle over and spotted her. One eyebrow lifted slightly, his gaze falling on her half-swollen face. "Didn't apply the medicine."
"I did. It doesn't work," Song Erya said, rubbing her cheek.
The bruise around Shen Mingsong's eye had already faded. If not for her own swollen face, she'd have thought the doctor had prescribed a miracle cure.
She took the oil bottle from him to help fill it.
The oil was pressed from homegrown peanuts, stored in a large jar. Using a small ladle, she carefully poured it into the bottle, utterly focused—even her eyelashes trembled with concentration.
From Shen Mingsong's height, her profile looked round and soft, making one want to pinch it.
"That's enough, enough," Grandma cut in anxiously, staring at the rising oil level.
It still filled to the brim. Whenever anyone bought oil or vinegar, Song Erya deliberately overfilled it. Grandma finally snapped—at this rate, the shop would go under.
She pulled a long face and, with great reluctance, took a ten-yuan bill from the cash drawer to shoo her away, telling her never to come again.
After days of working there, Song Erya accepted the money with a clear conscience, thanked Grandma, then dragged over a stool, climbed up, and grabbed a hidden jar of candy from the top shelf.
Grandma swung the feather duster at her in panic. Shen Mingsong tugged her aside just in time, and she bolted.
The shop was a distance from home. Grandma couldn't catch her. Song Erya ran all the way back, sat on a stone stool by the gate, twisted open the jar, and started eating candy.
By the fourth piece, Shen Mingsong arrived and stopped before her, a hint of laughter in his eyes. "You're clever."
To him, younger sisters were either obedient and cute or tomboyish like Tao Dongdong. Song Erya gave the impression of being docile.
Quiet and well-behaved on the surface, wilder than Tao Dongdong underneath.
Like the kitten Old Lady Zhang raised—soft fur, big bright eyes. Touch it and it'd raise its paws to scratch, claws sharp but harmless; lift it by the scruff and it'd mewl and act cute.
Song Erya chuckled, unconcerned whether it was praise or mockery, and even offered him some candy.
Shen Mingsong didn't eat sweets. He took a few bills from his pocket instead—the money from selling seafood last time, some change and some notes—and told her to split it with Tao Dongdong.
She remembered she still owed him for the medicine, but he didn't ask for it.
She ran home to stash the candy jar, then remembered what Song Fang had said and went next door. "Brother, my mom said I have to help Auntie wash her hair today."
Shen Mingsong answered and came over in slippers. He carried Mingzhu to a stool in the washroom, then called Song Erya in.
Mingzhu's pant legs hung empty; everything below her knees was gone. She had always valued dignity—clean and neat even at home, never allowing herself to look unkempt.
In the past, Song Fang had helped her bathe daily. Later, after strengthening her arms, Mingzhu managed on her own, though it was still far harder than for an able-bodied person. When Song Fang had time, she still came to help.
Song Erya soaked Mingzhu's hair in a basin, carefully lathering it.
Mingzhu closed her eyes, enjoying the service. Suddenly she said, "If only Auntie had a daughter."
Song Erya blinked. After Ming Grandma developed Alzheimer's, she treated Song Erya as her daughter, often reminding her that Shen Mingsong was her brother, not her uncle.
Only after gaining Song Yao's memories did Song Erya learn that Mingzhu had indeed once been pregnant—but the child was never born.
Mingzhu had been in a multi-car accident on the way to a prenatal checkup. The driver died on the spot. Mingzhu barely survived, losing both legs and the unborn child.
After Ming Grandma became senile, her memories grew confused. One day she even dug out an old photo and showed it to Song Erya, saying it was Shen Mingsong's sister—Song Erya herself.
The photo was taken by the sea. A girl in a green dress, long hair like ink. It was badly damaged and the face unclear, but the silhouette did resemble Song Erya.
She took the photo and kept it. Every time she traced the girl's face, she felt inexplicably drowsy and would fall asleep without realizing it.
Once she slept on a hammock swing, seemingly dreaming a long dream, yet remembered nothing upon waking. Opening her eyes, she saw a dark figure.
She had woken too suddenly and caught Shen Mingsong before he could withdraw that gentle gaze—different from his usual mildness, stripped of distance.
He stood by the swing. As soon as she sat up, he turned away.
The photo slipped from her arms to the ground. He picked it up and froze when he saw it.
She asked, "Uncle, Grandma says this is your sister. Why haven't I met her?"
After a long silence, he replied like dead wood, "I don't have a sister."
She pressed him about who the person in the photo was. He said it was his beloved.
That answer left her sleepless.
Shen Mingsong had no children, never married, never brought a mistress home, letting Song Erya run wild in the Shen household.
At first she secretly suspected he had adopted her just to give Ming Grandma some company.
Later she guessed it was because she resembled that girl, so he indulged her.
Poisoned by online novels, she had been furious, thinking she might be a substitute for some white moonlight.
She jealously claimed the photo, locked it in her little chest. Later it vanished, as if it had never existed.
She even wondered if she had burned it in a fit of anger.
***
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