Jing Mian felt extremely awkward.
In his short four years of life, this was the first time he experienced what it felt like to be completely ignored.
Rather than responding to his words, the other person remained cold and indifferent, not even sparing him a glance before standing up and leaving.
Jing Mian was later found by Song Zhinian, who had rushed over, and was sternly lectured for ten minutes about running off on his own.
Holding his fish-shaped toy, Jing Mian nodded obediently while listening to his mother’s scolding, but his mind had already wandered far away, back to that beautiful older brother who had ignored him earlier.
Their residences didn’t seem too far apart. Based on the little landmarks he noticed, they were probably just two buildings away.
This time, he must have come at the wrong moment.
Jing Mian thought that if he ever got another chance, he’d like to introduce himself properly.
The other boy didn’t know his name was Jing Mian.
And he hadn’t gotten the chance to learn the older brother’s name either.
With these thoughts lingering in his mind, Jing Mian wrapped himself tightly in his little blanket at night, unable to fall asleep for a long time. The old apartment buildings were generally small, and mosquitoes were rampant at night. Jing Mian was woken up several times before his mother applied some floral-scented mosquito repellent to his neck and behind his ears.
The night sky was clear.
Jing Mian lifted his head and asked, “Is Dad not coming home tonight?”
Song Zhinian replied softly, “Mm, Dad called earlier. He’s very busy today.”
Jing Mian’s voice carried a hint of disappointment as he whispered, “I miss Dad.”
Song Zhinian ruffled Jing Mian’s hair gently. “Dad misses you too. In a few days, he said he’ll bring a gift back for you.”
Jing Mian’s eyes instantly lit up. “A globe?”
Song Zhinian couldn’t help but laugh. “How did our MianMian get so smart?”
Jing Mian giggled along, his cheeks soft and adorable.
Song Zhinian teased, “So smart already, looks like you’re ready for kindergarten.”
Jing Mian: “…”
That night, Jing Mian did not sleep.
But he couldn’t escape fate. The next day, Song Zhinian took Jing Mian to the local kindergarten office.
Since their household registration was already settled, the transfer procedures weren’t troublesome. Within a few days, Jing Mian was reluctantly strapped with a small backpack and led by his mother into a kindergarten classroom.
The kindergarten wasn’t far from their street, just a ten-minute walk away. Across from it was an elementary school, so once Jing Mian graduated from kindergarten, he could directly attend the school opposite them.
This was also Jing Mian’s first time in an unfamiliar environment, separated from his mother and spending the day alone.
The next day, Song Zhinian expected her son to cry and refuse to go like other children, but Jing Mian simply shouldered his backpack and waved goodbye as she left.
After testing it out for a day, it seemed her little one quite enjoyed kindergarten life.
Relieved, she began looking for part-time jobs and online work in the area to help support the family.
This routine continued for nearly half a month.
Until one day.
While playing in the yard, Jing Mian suddenly heard the sound of someone hitting the fence with stones nearby.
Several children around him noticed it too, but Jing Mian was the closest. When he looked up, he unexpectedly locked eyes with the source of the noise.
“Hey.”
It was a group of kids much taller than them, some tall, some chubby, likely around third grade. One of the chubby boys lifted his chin and barked, “You’re the new kid?”
Jing Mian froze.
Looking around, he realized all the other kids had run off, leaving him alone in the corner of the yard.
Jing Mian felt a little scared and nodded slightly. “Mm.”
“Did your mom give you any pocket money?”
Jing Mian swallowed hard. “She gave me ten yuan… for milk.”
“That much?” The chubby boy’s eyes lit up greedily as he growled, “Hand it over now.”
Jing Mian: ?
“Give it to you?” he asked.
“Duh.” The chubby boy clicked his tongue impatiently. “Brother Fat here needs to treat my buddies to sodas, and I’m short on cash. Lend me yours.”
Jing Mian: “But… Mom told me to buy milk.”
He whispered, “…No.”
The chubby boy got angry. “You little brat, refusing me?”
“Just wait. You’ve messed with the wrong people. After school, don’t let us catch you!”
“You kids over there! What are you doing? Which grade are you from?!”
The shout came from a teacher running over from nearby. These elementary school troublemakers were repeat offenders who always scattered the moment teachers appeared.
The teacher picked Jing Mian up from the ground and held his hand, leading him back to the classroom with small, careful steps.
From then on, Jing Mian felt lingering fear every day after school.
Though they never actually caught him, the threat had been made, and once fear took root, it only grew.
Fortunately, his mother always picked him up from kindergarten right on time, which gave him a sense of security.
But this security lasted only until the day Song Zhinian didn’t show up at the usual dismissal time.
Of course, Jing Mian had long memorized the way home—a ten-minute jog if he hurried.
If he waited for his mother, the elementary school across the street would let out half an hour later, and he might run into those bullies.
After some hesitation,
Jing Mian decided to jog home with the crowd.
Though small, his little legs moved surprisingly fast as he dashed through the tree-lined path, soon reaching familiar streets.
But then his running figure gradually slowed… and froze.
Because by a sausage stand ahead stood several students with dirty uniforms and backpacks.
They were the same group who had threatened him outside the fence that day!
The chubby one was unmistakable.
Jing Mian’s fingers went cold.
He turned around, lightening his footsteps as his small frame attempted a silent escape. But before he’d gone far, a voice suddenly rang out from the sausage stand: “Hey, wait!”
Jing Mian recognized that voice instantly—it was the chubby boy’s.
So the next second,
Jing Mian ran without hesitation.
Soon, shouts of pursuit rose behind him—the chubby boy’s and others’.
Before long, Jing Mian was panting heavily, his pace slowing as cold sweat beaded on his forehead, his small face pale with exhaustion.
He should have waited for Mom after all.
So when he saw that vaguely familiar back at the next street corner, his heart skipped a beat.
Last time, he’d greeted that person.
Though ignored, it still qualified as somewhere between stranger and acquaintance.
Jing Mian saw salvation.
He sped up, reaching the teenager just before his pursuers could catch up.
His abrupt stop forced the other to halt as well.
When their gazes met again, Jing Mian sensed not only the familiar coldness but also a trace of bewilderment.
Jing Mian reached out and grabbed the hem of the boy’s clothes, his small hand clenching into a tiny fist.
“…Fairy Brother.”
Jing Mian whispered, “Save me.”
After being rescued last time, those people never dared to trouble him again.
It wasn’t so much that Brother had stepped in to save him—rather, he had simply stopped, turned around, and looked at the group chasing after Jing Mian.
Yet that alone had been enough to make them freeze in their tracks.
Through the gap beside Brother’s waist, Jing Mian saw fear and apprehension in their eyes.
Jing Mian: “?”
Later, Jing Mian thought that since Brother had helped him, he should do something in return.
One day, it suddenly occurred to him—when his mother did needlework and accidentally hurt herself, she would put on a band-aid.
Though he didn’t understand how it worked, the cuts on her fingers always healed quickly after applying one. So, band-aids must be able to heal Brother’s wounds too.
So Jing Mian asked Song Zhinian for two.
He planned to put them on Brother the next time they met.
But despite his intentions, Jing Mian didn’t see Brother again for a long time afterward.
Every time he passed the building where they had first met, Jing Mian would pause for a few seconds, secretly hoping the boy would appear.
But contrary to his wishes, even after so long that he had nearly forgotten about it, Brother never showed up again.
Until one summer evening.
The sun had set, leaving the sky a warm, golden hue tinged with darkness.
Song Zhinian took Jing Mian to a small bookstore on the corner.
The shop wasn’t large, but it was cozy and tightly packed, its warm, amber lighting resembling the glow of sunset.
Because of this, many students liked to stop by after school to read.
Jing Mian was too young to understand most of the books, so he was just tagging along with his mother for fun.
His mother seemed to be preparing to resume her former career as a lawyer, as the books she bought were all related to that field. The shop owner was friendly and chatted with her at the counter for a while.
Curious, Jing Mian wandered around the store.
The bookshelves and tables were all taller than him, making him feel as though he had stepped into a vast forest made of books. Tilting his head back, he ventured deeper into the maze of shelves.
Until he suddenly stepped on something.
The sensation was soft, making him freeze mid-step.
His heart skipped a beat.
He realized that in this neglected corner, someone was half-lying down, seemingly resting. The book in their hands was half-open, its pages fluttering from the distant fan, yet the owner remained oblivious.
It was Brother!
Others might mistake him, but Jing Mian would never misrecognize Brother.
Excitement bubbled up in Jing Mian’s eyes.
His heart pounded wildly.
He crouched down and, seeing that Brother hadn’t woken from his presence, carefully rummaged through his little backpack for something.
Slowly, he peeled open the wrapper of a band-aid.
Holding both ends, he raised his hand, hesitated for a moment, then leaned back slightly and lowered his gaze, about to press it onto Brother’s hand.
The next second, his wrist was seized.
Jing Mian’s fingers trembled.
The boy looked up, his eyes icy, his voice just as cold when he spoke for the first time.
“What are you doing?”
…
Jing Mian jolted awake.
The night was deep and thick, with even the soft glow of the moon barely seeping through, leaving the room dim and dark. It took Jing Mian a while to adjust to where he was and realize that the long scene he had just experienced was merely a dream from his memories.
A profound sense of loneliness washed over him. At times like these, he would often start to suffer from insomnia, unable to fall back asleep for an hour or two, waiting alone for the sunrise and the morning light.
But slowly, his eyes adjusted to the darkness.
The surroundings gradually became clearer.
At some point, he realized he was being held in Mr. Ren’s embrace. The man’s breathing was light, but his heartbeat was strong and vibrant—so close that Jing Mian could feel it.
The world around them was utterly silent.
Jing Mian’s throat moved slightly, his back damp with a thin layer of sweat.
He whispered, “Brother…”
Then he felt the arm around his waist tighten slightly.
Mr. Ren responded, “Hm.”