Mingzhu lifted one of her arms. "Yaoyao, did you hurt yourself when you fell?"
Song Erya stared at her without blinking for a long while before finally saying, "Aunt... Aunt Ming, hello."
Mingzhu gave a light nod. Her sickly complexion showed not a trace of color, and she turned to scold Shen Mingsong a few times.
Shen Mingsong stood there with his hands in his pockets, unfazed.
When Song Erya was taken in by the Shen family, Grandma Ming had not yet developed dementia. With no younger relatives to keep her company, she genuinely treated Song Erya like her own granddaughter.
The Mingzhu of today was not yet forty. In Song Yao's memories, she had once been a high school teacher, a beauty who looked like a television star and was famous far and wide. Later, after losing both legs, she stayed at home and rarely went out.
A fortune-teller once said she had a face full of ill fortune, with a mole on the side of her face that brought misfortune to her husband—that it was this mole that had doomed her husband to die at sea.
Mingzhu brushed back her hair, a few loose strands falling to cover that faint beauty mark. "Yaoyao, why are you staring at Auntie like that?"
"Brother and Auntie look very alike. You're both good-looking."
Mingzhu's delicate brows and eyes carried a hint of melancholy. In Shen Mingsong, that melancholy turned into sharp, aggressive edge—his high brow ridge giving him a fierce, unruly wildness.
Mingzhu smiled faintly, opened the drawer of the bedside table, and took out a handful of White Rabbit milk candies for her.
Compared to the Song household, the Shen family was much better off. They had a refrigerator, a television, and a washing machine—luxuries even in 1995.
When Shen Mingsong's father was still alive, he had made a great deal of money trading stocks and even added an extra floor to their single-story house. After his death, however, the Shen family gradually declined.
Shen Mingsong brought over the boiled herbal medicine for Mingzhu. Song Erya watched as she drank it in small sips, her expression unchanged.
Back then, Grandma Ming loved forcing her to drink herbal medicine to regulate her health. She refused, and Uncle Mingsong would pinch her nose and pour it in.
Just recalling that sensation made Song Erya's mouth fill with bitterness.
"Auntie, here." She handed the candy back to her.
Mingzhu smiled and praised her as a good child. She patted the stool by her bed, motioning for her to sit closer. "Your brother will be going out later. Yaoyao, would you like to stay and keep Auntie company today?"
Song Erya noticed many handicrafts made from shells and colorful stones around the room—shell wind chimes, shell-beaded curtains, and unfinished pieces laid out on the table. She sat down obediently, looking around with curiosity.
Before retiring, Grandma Ming had worked in jewelry design. When Song Erya was recuperating at home, aside from studying high school material, she had little to do. One day, on a whim, she decided to open a jewelry studio and create a jewelry brand for Grandma.
Shen Mingsong supported her idea, investing tens of millions and even sourcing high-quality raw gemstones for her.
Originally, Song Erya had only planned to spend a few hundred thousand, just for fun.
She watched as Mingzhu picked up a pencil and began sketching designs. Mingzhu chatted with her—she was still largely self-taught, and her ideas were somewhat naïve.
Song Erya offered a few suggestions from the side.
Mingzhu was surprised. "Yaoyao, you know about this too?"
Song Erya answered honestly, "Not really."
The little she knew had all been learned from Grandma Ming. Her own designers often told her to focus on being the boss, go home and secure more funding, and stop interfering blindly in design matters.
Shen Mingsong paced back and forth. After glancing at her several times, he finally went to the corner of the courtyard, picked up his fishing gear, and prepared to go out.
"Mingsong," Mingzhu coughed lightly, "don't go to dangerous places."
"I know, Mom."
Song Erya stepped forward and gently patted Mingzhu's back, staring intently at her face. She thought that time travel was actually quite nice—it let her see her loved ones when they were young.
Even if the teenage Shen Mingsong was rather hard to describe.
Mingzhu was surprised by her sudden closeness. In the past, Song Yao hardly ever came to her house, let alone behaved so intimately.
Song Erya hugged her arm tightly, resting her cheek against her shoulder. "Auntie, I have so much I want to tell you."
Mingzhu tried to pull away, but couldn't. She found the little girl inexplicably endearing.
Song Erya knew all of Mingzhu's preferences and habits. She spoke sweetly, and in just one day had grown much closer to her. When Song Fang came to take her home after work, Mingzhu even asked her to come again the next day.
Song Fang sensed something was off and touched her forehead, but didn't think too much of it. She assumed her sister had fully recovered from the fever and naturally become more lively.
A few years earlier, Song Fang had worked at a factory. Later, when state-owned enterprises faced layoffs and wages couldn't be paid, people followed the reforms and sought new livelihoods. Shops of all sizes sprang up in the city, and this month Song Fang found work helping sell clothes at a stall.
That day, ships arrived at the port carrying many goods at lower prices than usual. Seafood was plentiful by the sea, but poultry and vegetables were expensive—only cheaper when brought in by cargo ships. After ration coupons were abolished, everything could be bought with money.
Song Fang gritted her teeth and bought some pork ribs to treat her younger siblings.
Their home didn't even have a gas stove. They used a stove made from an iron barrel filled with cement—honeycomb coal was placed in the opening and lit, then an iron pot was set on top.
Song Erya volunteered to light it with a box of matches but couldn't get it going no matter how hard she tried.
Seeing her little face fall, Song Fang asked if she had fun today. Song Erya said Shen Mingsong had tied her up like a dog.
"You still want to go play by the sea? You fell in last time and still don't know fear!" Song Fang nearly rushed over to beat her.
To avoid getting hit, Song Erya quickly said, "I didn't go out the whole afternoon. I stayed with Aunt Ming."
Song Fang lit the wood shavings, added the honeycomb coal, and soon the fire caught. She muttered, "If you go, go only when there are adults around. If you see your Brother Mingsong, stick with him—he's a good swimmer. Don't go fooling around with your brother; he's unreliable."
Song Erya thought the fierce teenage Shen Mingsong was more likely to hook her onto a fishhook and toss her into the sea.
At dusk, the fooling-around Song Guoliang came back with something in hand. He first rushed into his room to put it away, then came out to lift the pot lid and see what was cooking.
The bone soup, simmered with plenty of lotus root and lotus seeds, filled a large pot and smelled wonderful. Song Fang ladled some into a cylindrical lunch container and told Song Erya to take it next door.
Courtesy required reciprocity—since they had helped watch the child, it was only right to send something back.
Shen Mingsong returned from the sea in the twilight, carrying a heavy bucket. His shadow stretched long under the dim yellow streetlights, swaying like a specter.
He had grown up on this land, living off the sea. His father had once owned a large fishing boat. At eight years old, Shen Mingsong had sat on it, listening to his father boast that the hull was made of fiberglass composite, superior to all others.
His father had even solemnly named it the "Qiming."
At twelve, a rare violent storm struck the sea, dragging that boat—along with his father and the other crew—into the depths. None survived.
To accept the sea's bounty meant enduring its demands. From then on, Shen Mingsong wore the clothes and rubber boots his father had left behind, following other fleets out to fish. On days he didn't go out with them, he would take a small boat alone to fish nearshore.
Seawater soaked him through, leaving a strong fishy smell on his body. As soon as he entered the yard, he went straight for the hose, turned on the tap, and poured cold water over his head.
The icy water streamed down his overheated back, gradually cooling his body. He quickly pulled off his tank top and tossed it aside, revealing a smoothly muscled upper body—then his gaze froze when it swept past the doorway.
The girl from next door had appeared silently behind him. The moment their eyes met, Shen Mingsong abruptly tightened the waistband he had just loosened.
"Can't you make any noise when you walk?" A trace of embarrassment flashed across his face.
Song Erya was embarrassed too. Who bathed openly in the courtyard?
Fortunately, she was fourteen now and could pretend she didn't understand anything. She spoke calmly, saying she had come to deliver something.
"Wait." Shen Mingsong put on his clothes without a word. With no pleasantries, he took the lunch container, then bent over the nearby bucket and pulled out an arm-length sea fish. He put it into a plastic bag and handed it to Song Erya.
She looked at the live fish thrashing inside the bag, then looked up at him, confused.
A moment later, Shen Mingsong realized that with her small build, she probably couldn't handle such a lively fish. He grabbed it by the tail, slammed it hard against the ground several times, stunned it, and then handed it back to her.
Song Erya stared in shock. "Ah... ah?"
"Take it back and eat it," Shen Mingsong said.
Only after taking the fish did she understand—having accepted food from her family, he was returning the favor with a fish. In those days, no household had it easy, and Shen Mingsong didn't like owing anyone.
***
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