Shen Mingsong lifted the heavy padlock on the front gate and took the key from his pocket.
With his mother at home and her mobility limited, he always worried that someone might break in and do something untoward while he was away. Every time he went out, he made sure all the doors were properly locked.
Fishermen had rest days too. When he didn't need to go out to sea with the boats for a few days, he still couldn't sit idle and went to剪 the lychees in the courtyard that had ripened to a deep red. Eating too many lychees caused internal heat, so each year he kept only some for the family and loaded the rest onto his tricycle to sell.
Sweating, Shen Mingsong wiped his face with a towel as he entered the house. Hearing the sound, Mingzhu looked up. "There's mung bean water on the table."
Shen Mingsong responded with a sound of acknowledgment. As he passed the open doorway, he noticed that a little girl was actually asleep on his mother's bed and paused in surprise.
A pile of books had been kicked onto the floor by the child. She slept soundly beside the fan, still remembering to pull a thin blanket over her stomach, her entire face flushed pink.
Mingzhu gently fanned her to keep the mosquitoes away. She seemed to be in much better spirits than usual.
"How did she get in?" Shen Mingsong asked, puzzled, his gaze shifting from the window to the courtyard wall outside.
Ever since Shen Dabo had once climbed over the wall, Shen Mingsong had collected empty beer bottles from roadside stalls, smashed them, and embedded shards of glass along the top of their low courtyard wall. Anyone trying to climb over would have to see whether their skin was tough enough.
"She squeezed in through the iron bars," Mingzhu replied.
The little girl had struggled hard to wriggle through the bars—her head slightly larger than her body—and even got stuck for a moment. Remembering the comical scene made Mingzhu chuckle.
Compared to that, Shen Mingsong was more curious about how she had persuaded his mother to let her climb onto the bed and fall asleep there. Was this child really that clingy?
"She probably had no one to play with and came to look for me," Mingzhu said. The more she looked at the girl, the more she liked her. Seeing that it was almost six o'clock, she gently shook Song Erya's shoulder, intending to wake her and send her home.
Song Erya had slept for a long time after her nap. The longer she slept, the harder it was to wake up. She scratched her cheek and made a displeased sound, then fell back asleep, stubbornly refusing to get up.
With no choice, Mingzhu asked Shen Mingsong to carry her back.
When Shen Mingsong reached for her arm, Song Erya sensed herself being lifted and instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck, her soft cheek brushing against his neck as she breathed out warm air.
She was soft, her clothes carrying the scent of laundry detergent.
Shen Mingsong awkwardly tilted his head away and raised a hand to push her head aside. "Wake up."
Song Erya slowly opened her eyes, red marks from the bamboo mat still on her face. She murmured softly, "Uncle?"
Her voice was nasal and indistinct; only Shen Mingsong heard clearly.
Mingzhu remarked, "She's not afraid of you anymore."
Shen Mingsong pushed her head again. "If you're awake, get down and walk back yourself."
Still half-asleep, Song Erya rested her head back on his shoulder and said stubbornly, "Sleepy."
As expected—clingy.
Shen Mingsong shook her shoulders harder until she finally woke. Rubbing her eyes, Song Erya spoke immediately. "Brother, I just had a dream."
"What?" Shen Mingsong lowered his gaze. The corners of her eyes were flushed red, a thin mist of moisture lingering there, as if she had been frightened awake by a nightmare.
"I dreamed that you became a big boss in the future, with lots and lots of money. I could spend as much as I wanted, and then I woke up laughing."
"I think you've gone crazy from doing homework," Shen Mingsong said at once, knowing she was talking nonsense. Why would he give her money to spend?
This little brat dared to imagine anything.
Song Erya muttered as she climbed down, put on her shoes, and gathered the books into her backpack. As she left, she suddenly turned back. "Brother, you're really sweaty. You stink."
Shen Mingsong froze, still holding the towel he'd been using to wipe sweat. He swung it at her head to swat her, but Song Erya dodged with a grin and ran off.
In truth, she had had a nightmare. In it, she was still in the hospital, her vision a vast expanse of white. White-coated figures drifted around her. Shen Mingsong held her hand and spoke to her, but before she could respond, his figure blurred, turning into smoke that dispersed the moment she reached for it.
Song Erya refused to think about those things.
When she got home, it was already late. She hurried to wash rice and cook, then went to the small vegetable patch Song Fang had reclaimed in the courtyard to pull some scallions and garlic. As she washed them, she looked up and saw smoke rising from next door as well—Shen Mingsong seemed to be making something, producing steady thudding sounds.
Song Fang rode back on her bicycle, the old kind with a horizontal bar, her long legs barely managing it. A cardboard box was strapped to the back seat.
Song Erya craned her neck to look inside. There were more than ten newly hatched chicks, fluffy and yellow like little balls of yarn.
Song Fang said the chicks would belong to her from now on. If she raised them until the New Year, they could be eaten.
Song Erya was dumbfounded. She had no idea how to raise chickens; she'd never even kept a pet.
But Song Fang was already surveying the courtyard, planning which area to use as a chicken coop.
Song Erya squatted in front of the box and counted—thirteen in total. The chicks' beaks were still soft, pecking harmlessly against her palm.
Suddenly, a lychee dropped into the box. She looked up to see Shen Mingsong sitting in his lychee tree, pruning fruit and looking down at her. "If you play with them like that, they'll die."
Startled, Song Erya quickly put the chick back and apologized to it.
Song Fang looked up as well. "Mingsong, when you have time, can you help me nail together a chicken coop?"
Shen Mingsong thought for a moment. "In a few days."
After ordering him around, it was Song Erya's turn. Standing by the courtyard wall, she looked up and asked, "Brother, can you take me with you tomorrow when you go sell lychees? I want to go too."
"No," Shen Mingsong replied.
Song Erya pretended not to hear and decided on the schedule herself. "Tomorrow at eight. We'll leave on time."
~
The next day, after Song Fang left for work, Song Erya hurried next door, stuffed Mingzhu's handmade items into her backpack, and waited for Shen Mingsong to head out.
She wasn't wearing Song Guoliang's hand-me-downs today. Instead, she had dug out a red pinafore dress from the bottom of the wardrobe and paired it with a white blouse with a doll collar, embroidered with lace at the neckline. It made her look bright and lively.
It was one of the few decent outfits she owned.
She placed both hands on Shen Mingsong's arm and gently shook it. "Brother, just take me with you, okay?"
Shen Mingsong reacted strongly, immediately shaking her off. "Talk properly. What are you doing, acting spoiled?"
Song Erya froze for only a moment before continuing to cling to him. "Please, good brother."
Shen Mingsong shook her off again. He didn't have the leisure to spend all day entertaining a child. He stacked the lychees he'd cut the night before onto the tricycle and repeated that no meant no.
Clearly, Song Erya's ability to cling exceeded his expectations. She simply climbed onto the back of his tricycle.
"Take me, take me." She refused to get down, gripping the handlebars tightly and making solemn promises. "I swear I won't bother you."
Investors had recently set their sights on the central area of Moon Crescent Bay, pouring in large sums of money to carve out a tourist zone and build seaside hotels. A commercial street was also being developed along nearby Changlin Road, with shops opening one after another. Street vendors were allowed, and foot traffic was steady from morning to night.
Taking the bus cost money, and Song Erya wasn't familiar with the area anyway. She had her eye on Shen Mingsong's tricycle. As long as it could carry people, it was a Rolls-Royce to her.
Shen Mingsong wanted to drag her down but didn't know where to grab her—her hands or her feet.
He glanced up at the blazing sun, then at her fair, delicate face, and still refused mercilessly.
But Song Erya had been spoiled by Song Fang since childhood, and later even more indulged in the Shen household. She was adept at playing the rogue—slightly better than a true brat only in that she wouldn't roll on the ground screaming.
Mainly because she thought the ground was dirty.
"Get down!" Shen Mingsong barked.
"No!" Song Erya shook her head.
She had already cleared a small space among the piled lychees on the back of the tricycle, wiped it clean with a handkerchief, and sat down.
"Brother, I really won't run around or cause trouble. If you want, you can tie a rope around me."
"Why don't you go pester your real brother? Why cling to me all day?" Shen Mingsong scolded her grimly, half-tempted to actually find a rope and tie her to a tree.
"You don't hit me." Song Erya flattered him shamelessly, her clear eyes shimmering like sunlight on seawater as she smiled. "I just like playing with you, brother."
Shen Mingsong didn't buy it. He grabbed her under the arms and lifted her with astonishing strength, carrying her straight to the lychee tree. With a little effort, he set her down on the trunk.
Song Erya's eyes widened. After a long pause, she muttered, "I... you're cheating. I'm not playing with you anymore."
That threat had no effect on Shen Mingsong.
Realizing how childish she sounded, she saw him about to leave and reached out to grab his hair.
Caught off guard, Shen Mingsong hissed in pain. "Let go!"
"I won't!"
"I'll throw you into the sea to feed the sharks."
From the window, Mingzhu watched the two bickering. Seeing how pitiful it was for a child to have no playmates during summer vacation, she couldn't help speaking up. "Just take her with you."
"Yes, yes," Song Erya echoed, clinging to his hair and refusing to let go.
Shen Mingsong clenched his teeth and glared at her, thinking bitterly that one day under the sun would surely straighten her out. He reached over and lifted her down from the tree.
The moment her feet touched the ground, she darted back onto the tricycle, on guard against being tossed into the tree again.
Shen Mingsong: "..."
Fine. Like a sticky plaster, impossible to shake off.
In the end, he rode the tricycle with her along. With no sunscreen, Song Erya resorted to physical protection, opening a small floral umbrella to shade both herself and Shen Mingsong pedaling in front.
"So delicate, yet you insist on coming," Shen Mingsong snorted.
Having achieved her goal, Song Erya was in high spirits. "That just proves you don't have a girlfriend."
Shen Mingsong didn't understand the logic. He pedaled harder. "Sit steady."
She ignored him, holding the umbrella high with one hand and saying cheerfully, "I think we'll make money today."
"Daydreaming again."
Coconut City wasn't a major metropolis and developed slowly. There weren't many high-rise buildings yet, and office blocks still used garish red-and-green billboards that stood out conspicuously.
Most people still traveled by bicycle. In the newly developed area, however, the streets were bustling, filled with young people and foreign tourists sipping coconuts through straws like soda.
Song Erya glanced at Shen Mingsong's outfit—slippers and beach shorts—and easily distinguished tourists from locals.
He found a shaded spot to set up, unwilling to go too far today with Song Erya along.
Song Erya observed the flow of people, selecting her targets. In those days, anyone who could afford to travel wasn't poor. Couples and college students were the most willing to spend.
Nearby, children her age were selling sodas and straw hats decorated with fresh flowers to tourists.
Before long, a buzz-cut man approached. He was solidly built, his short sleeves revealing arms covered in dragon-and-tiger tattoos, with a scar at his temple. Song Erya watched him warily, suspecting he might be a local boss coming to collect protection money.
"How much for the kid?" the man asked.
Without lifting his head, Shen Mingsong replied, "Ten yuan. Take her away."
Song Erya: "!"
***
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