After nearly half a month had passed, Shen Mingsong returned the day before the new school term began. He went to the bank and paid off the last remaining debt his family owed.
Uncle Tao asked him for the repayment receipt, lifted it high with both hands, and held it up to the sunlight. When he saw the words "fully settled," the tension on his face finally eased. "Good lad. You really did it."
When misfortune struck the Shen family, all that remained were Mingzhu, who had difficulty moving, twelve-year-old Shen Mingsong, and the debt borrowed to buy the boat. Mother and son truly lived in hardship, with little hope of repaying what they owed.
As the guarantor of the loan, Uncle Tao naturally had the responsibility shifted onto him by the bank.
Yet Shen Mingsong had come to him, knelt down, and knocked his head against the ground, calmly and stubbornly insisting that he would take responsibility for the debt his father had left behind—so long as he could join Uncle Tao's fleet and go out to sea to earn money.
Uncle Tao had thought about it all night and could only sigh. There was no other way. Even without the debt, Shen Mingsong would still have to shoulder that household and swallow the bitterness fate had dealt him.
In the end, he agreed to let a twelve-year-old child join his fleet.
Now that the debt had finally been repaid, Uncle Tao couldn't help but admire the boy's resilience. Someone like this was bound to accomplish great things in the future.
He patted Shen Mingsong on the shoulder. "What are you planning to do next?"
Shen Mingsong tilted his head up to look at the sky. Letting go of that burden didn't make him feel any lighter. The future was still bleak, and he occasionally revealed a trace of confusion.
"I want to go see my dad," Shen Mingsong said.
On the way to buy incense, candles, and paper offerings, they passed a clothing shop. A green dress caught his eye. It was displayed on a mannequin outside the storefront to attract customers, the thin layer of gauze on the skirt fluttering gently in the wind.
When Shen Mingsong returned home, Mingzhu was nowhere to be seen. He dropped what he was holding and went out to look for her. Song Fang chased after him from the yard, still holding a handful of green beans, telling him not to worry—her sister and Mingzhu had gone to the coastal road to watch the sunset.
Shen Mingsong stopped in his tracks. Ever since his father had died at sea, his mother had not gone out to look at the ocean for a very long time.
What on earth had that child fed her to make this happen?
The coastal road led toward the school. It had been paved smooth, so even a wheelchair could pass without much resistance. There was grass alongside the road, and at dusk it became lively, with young people gathering to sing and dance.
Song Erya pushed Mingzhu along the roadside, feeling the sea breeze against her face.
Mingzhu said, "Your Uncle Shen used to bring me here often, too."
In Song Yao's memories, that uncle had been gentle and kind. Song Erya couldn't think of much to say. Anyone Mingzhu remembered fondly must have been a good husband. They must have loved each other deeply.
Mingzhu gazed out at the sea, reminiscing about her late husband. Song Erya tactfully didn't interrupt her memories. Seeing the faint sorrow lingering between Mingzhu's brows, she thought of Shen Mingsong.
He had inherited Mingzhu's eyes—long black lashes framing dark, lustrous pupils. When he looked at people, he always seemed affectionate, though in truth his gaze was usually tinged with aggression and sharpness.
Song Erya lifted her head to look at a sunset from thirty years ago. The evening glow melted into the sea, the tide murmured endlessly, seagulls scattered in flight, and the sky shimmered with color, reflecting against her profile.
She was hidden within the dusk—and also fell into Shen Mingsong's eyes.
He found the two of them at the moment when the sunset was at its most beautiful.
Having spent years on boats, he rarely had time to look up and admire the morning sun or the evening glow. When he lowered his eyes, all he ever saw were the towering waves that had dragged the Qiming into the depths, the sea wind carrying the stench of dead fish. And yet, at this moment, his heart surged like the waves.
He could not understand that surge.
Song Erya framed the scenery with her hands as if taking a photograph, thinking how wonderful it would be if she had a camera. When she turned her head, she saw Shen Mingsong slowly approaching from the far end of the road.
"Brother!"
She ran toward him, her high ponytail swaying in the gentle sea breeze, her smile as brilliant as the fading afterglow of the sun.
Suddenly, Shen Mingsong felt that life was not always bleak. In that instant, he saw vivid color.
He stayed with them until the sunset ended. When they returned home, he handed her what he had bought earlier that day.
"What's this?" Song Erya asked in confusion as she took the item out of the bag. It was a green dress with a layer of sheer gauze, faintly gleaming, and it didn't look cheap.
She tilted her head. "Is this for me? Why?"
Shen Mingsong didn't know how to explain it, nor did he understand why he'd suddenly acted on impulse and bought it. Feeling awkward, he said, "My mom told me to buy it for you."
Song Erya looked skeptical. Lifting the dress to inspect it, she found that even the smallest size was still far too long for her—it would drag on the ground if she wore it.
"I don't like it," she said.
"Didn't you say it was pretty yourself?" It was the first time Shen Mingsong had ever bought clothes for a girl, only to have them rejected. His expression changed as he looked at the dress, then back at her.
There must have been some minority heritage in her family. Her features were striking: a pert nose, deep-set eyes, and pale amber irises beneath thick lashes. Her fair skin, constantly exposed to running and jumping outdoors, had taken on a faint rosy glow from the sun.
Among children who grew up by the sea, it was rare to see such snow-white skin. Once she grew a bit older, she would attract plenty of attention.
The shop assistant had said this style sold best—that young girls loved it, that it looked refreshing and bright when worn.
"When did I ever say that?" Song Erya asked.
Shen Mingsong knitted his dark brows, looking prematurely mature, carrying the air of a traditional parent. "It's already bought. You can't return it."
"I don't like it."
He tossed the dress over her head and threatened gruffly, "Don't you dare waste my money. If you throw it away, I'll beat you to death."
He must have been out of his mind to buy her a dress. She wasn't even his real sister.
By the time Song Erya lifted the skirt from her face, Shen Mingsong had already left, his back cutting through the air, looking genuinely angry.
She held up the dress and examined it again. It was a classic sleeveless style with a white ribbon tied at the waist. The hem was very long—someone short really couldn't pull it off.
The image of Ming Qiuyue surfaced in her mind. This was the kind of dress that suited someone like her.
As for Song Erya—she was still a little beanpole.
~
Summer ended with a torrential rain, and on September 1st, the new school term began.
The money Song Erya had earned over the summer was enough to cover her own tuition, and middle school fees weren't high to begin with.
Song Guoliang came to ask Song Fang for money. She still hadn't completely washed her hands of him. Complaining that her salary wasn't much, she still told them both to study hard.
Song Guoliang, who had repeated a year and was still in his final year of middle school, found it unbearable to listen and started arguing with her again. Song Fang finally ignored him altogether, telling him to ask whoever else he wanted.
The nearest school combined middle and high school, called Crescent Bay Secondary School. After finishing middle school there, students could move straight on.
Shen Mingsong attended Deyu High School on Changlin Road and had to take the bus. Though it wasn't the best high school in the city, its teaching quality was very good, and it didn't require boarding—convenient for him to return home every day to look after his mother.
Because their routes differed from Song Fang's commute, Song Erya walked to school with Tao Dongdong and Jiang Ling. Jiang Ling held her hand and couldn't help touching the bow at her waist, admiring it. "Song Yao, your new dress is so pretty."
An invisible little tail practically perked up behind Song Erya. "Of course it is. My sister made it for me."
Song Fang was skilled with her hands, and having sold clothes and seen countless styles, she could replicate them well enough.
Just because Song Erya had been willing to wear Song Guoliang's cast-off clothes before didn't mean she didn't care about looking nice. Once she had new clothes, she wore them everywhere with pride—except for that green dress.
She still wasn't tall enough to carry it.
As they passed the bus stop on the coastal road, Shen Mingsong glanced over just before getting on.
Tao Dongdong, with the sharpest eyes, swung a straight stick she'd picked up and lashed at the roadside weeds. "Did Shen Mingsong just glare at us?"
"Probably not," Jiang Ling shook her head. "We didn't offend him."
Song Erya said nothing. She was certain that look had been directed at her.
Completely inexplicable.
Returning to school left Song Erya on the verge of tears. Her academic journey had been full of twists and turns. After repeating years of study for so long, she had somehow ended up back in middle school again.
Tao Dongdong was in the second year. Jiang Ling wasn't assigned to the same class. The first lesson was self-introductions and getting to know new classmates, but since many had come from the same primary schools, they quickly bonded.
Song Erya's desk mate was a boy even shorter than she was, who childishly scratched a dividing line down the middle of their old desk.
She didn't bother talking to him. The new textbooks smelled strongly of ink, with grayish illustrations. The material was unfamiliar, but the knowledge itself wasn't so different. At least it wasn't as if all her previous years of studying had been wasted.
Middle school age carried a strong sense of dissonance. On one side were childish kids drawing dividing lines; on the other were a few delinquent boys at the back of the classroom who even smoked during breaks, whistling flirtatiously at the girls.
The Chinese teacher was a fresh graduate assigned there as a trainee. She was often so angered by them that her face flushed red, yet she could do nothing about it.
After starting high school, Shen Mingsong had no time to spare. Acting as a supplier, he handed off that batch of low-priced cassette players to others for consignment sales. During the day he attended classes; after school, he went to Lin Hai's place to keep watch.
Lin Hai was the local boss of the area, running several shops and owning the "Jinda" building, which housed every form of entertainment. Young men and women flocked there daily.
Shen Mingsong returned very late. He handed money to Song Fang, and the two households began eating together. Their meals actually improved.
After all, no matter how poor or difficult life was, one couldn't starve the mouth. A growing teenage boy never ate his fill, so Shen Mingsong added quite a bit to the food budget.
Song Erya watched as he finished his fifth bowl of rice, eyes wide. "Brother, how tall are you now?"
He was definitely over 1.8 meters. Every time he entered the door, he had to duck slightly. His long, lean frame was like a straight pine tree.
After the meal, she found a measuring tape and measured herself—just over 1.5 meters. When Shen Mingsong glanced over, he let out a merciless snort of laughter.
Once her body finished developing, Song Erya would reach 1.64 meters, yet she would still seem petite next to Shen Mingsong. He wasn't just tall; he was solidly built—not the exaggerated muscles of a gym-goer, but the strength forged by years of physical labor.
She shot him a glare. Only then did Shen Mingsong stop laughing and comfort her. "One and a half meters is already pretty tall."
"It's one point five three!"
Shen Mingsong merely smiled without replying.
~
With her outgoing personality, Song Erya soon made many new friends and even opened a small "classroom shop" during breaks, her backpack stuffed with snacks.
Song Fang often helped her grandmother's shop restock and could get snacks and small toys at wholesale prices, but she worried that Song Erya might become too money-minded and neglect her studies.
Song Erya promptly blocked her with exam papers—perfect scores in every subject except Chinese. Song Fang beamed with joy. When she signed them, she felt light as air, convinced that the family would produce a college student in the future.
Breaks lasted only ten minutes. The school shop was a full lap around the field away, leaving no time to play. Compared to that, buying from Song Erya was far more convenient, and her classmates were happy to come to her for snacks.
The only annoyance was that the delinquent boys at the back kept coming over to ask if she had matches.
Her lips twitched. Even if she did, she wouldn't sell to them. They smoked all day in the back of the classroom, subjecting her to secondhand smoke—utterly uncivilized.
***
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