Always Home

The title "Flower of Four Waters" was indeed real.

In response to the call for quality education, the county television station launched a competition open to all elementary school students. Chen Huan'er, then a fifth grader, fought her way through every round—knowledge quizzes, talent showcases, and on-the-spot challenges—exceeding expectations and emerging as the dark horse champion. For the first time in her life, she was surrounded by flowers and applause. Overwhelmed with emotion during her acceptance speech, she got so excited that she forgot the name of the competition. With dark cameras trained on her and a microphone right in front of her, Huan'er panicked and glanced down at her certificate. Through tear-blurred vision, she mistook the handwritten character "star" for "flower." And so, the rightful "Star of Four Waters" Chen Huan'er became the dubious "Flower of Four Waters."

Of course, she never imagined this would lead her to make her first friend since transferring schools.

Qi Qi made her miss her days studying in Four Waters. Back then, the top student's notes could be shared with the whole class. The advanced students didn’t just teach the struggling ones what they knew—they shared everything they had. When talking about a classmate, people remembered things like their beautiful handwriting or how neat they were, not just their monthly exam rank. Chen Huan'er often wondered: Was it only like this here, or were her old friends in Four Waters the same way now?

The once-unreachable Tianzhong High had found its way into her heart, and she understood that people change.

They become less playful, more burdened with worries, and start using grades as a yardstick to measure others.

The unfortunate part was that her friend was severely unbalanced in her subjects—her help was well-intentioned but ineffective. Qi Qi could rank first in the grade for Chinese, her essays serving as model examples. Yet, two months into the semester, the midterm results came out: Qi Qi was below average, and Chen Huan'er was second to last in the class.

Unprecedented. She had even dropped over ten places from the last monthly exam.

That day, the two rode their bikes home together. Qi Qi comforted her, "You just have a weak foundation. You’ll catch up eventually."

Huan'er, wilted like frostbitten eggplant, pedaled slowly and muttered, "Hopefully."

Qi Qi continued cheering her on, "We’re in the Fast Class. Compared to the whole grade, our rankings aren’t that bad."

Huan'er sighed and said nothing.

"There’s still more than half a year left. Don’t lose heart."

It wasn’t just discouragement—she was furious with herself. Chen Huan'er was weighed down by her thoughts and let out a heavy "Ugh."

Qi Qi didn’t press further. She lived in another neighborhood, so when they parted ways, she patted her friend’s shoulder. "Hang in there."

The emotional outburst came the moment she stepped through the door and saw her father. Chen Ba, a soldier, was often away on duty. His rare annual leave had even been split to include a few days after her midterms. The sight of him made Huan'er’s nose sting, and she burst into tears. "I failed my exams. Why did you even come back?"

Chen Ba took her backpack and joked, "If that’s the standard, would your dad ever get to come home?"

She cried even harder, standing in the doorway and sniffling. "Ask the heavens. How should I know?"

Chen Ma came out of the kitchen with dishes. "Stop crying. It’s not that big a deal. Come eat."

"If I tell you my rank, you probably won’t let me eat." Huan'er stayed rooted in place, tears streaming down her face.

"Should’ve said so earlier. Could’ve told your mom to cook less." Chen Ba ruffled her hair. "A true heroine rises from the ashes."

"Stop teasing her." Chen Ma nudged her daughter toward the bathroom. "Go wash your hands."

Seeing the table full of food and her parents’ smiling faces, Huan'er’s guilt doubled. She shut the bathroom door, turned on the faucet, and wailed.How fortunate to have such parents—they knew she couldn't bring herself to speak of it, so they never once asked about her ranking or scores, nor had they ever scolded her for her grades since childhood.

Of course, she'd never performed this poorly in an exam before.

In Four Waters, she was the well-spoken-of good student, the clever class monitor everyone admired. How had she become the one dragging down the class average here, despite studying and memorizing desperately every day? She hadn't finished the math paper, was utterly lost during the English listening section, couldn't solve any of the major physics problems, and even half of her best subject, chemistry, was guesswork. Chen Huan'er had never felt so hopeless—she didn't know what else she could do.

With swollen, red eyes, she sat at the dinner table, silently shoving tasteless food into her mouth. She didn't dare look up; if she met her parents' concerned gazes, she'd burst into tears again.

The Chen parents exchanged a glance. Chen Ba shook his head slightly and nudged Chen Ma's arm, signaling her to speak.

"Well," Chen Ma cleared her throat, "kids in the city start learning English in first grade. You only began in sixth grade in Four Waters—you started late, so it's normal to lag behind a bit. Besides, you're in the Fast Class now. Everyone's a top student. Don't be so hard on yourself."

The more understanding her mother was, the guiltier Huan'er felt. Her head nearly buried in her bowl, tears threatened to fall again.

Seeing the situation turning dire, Chen Ba quickly chimed in, "Your mom's absolutely right. As the saying goes, better to be the head of a chicken than the tail of a phoenix, right?"

Huan'er corrected him through teary eyes, "Better to be the tail of a phoenix than the head of a chicken."

"Exactly, we won't settle for being a chicken's head." Chen Ba said gravely, placing a serving of vegetables into her bowl. "The Flower of Four Waters can't wither so easily."

Chen Huan'er burst out laughing—only for tears to spill out too. Crying and laughing, she said, "I'm more like a withered flower now."

"You're still a bud," Chen Ma declared. "Eat up. While your dad's here, finish up and come with me to visit Aunt Lin's place. Her kid's your age—you can pick up some tips while we're there."

Huan'er nodded. She'd long heard of this Aunt Lin—her mother's senior from medical school, now her direct supervisor. It was through her recommendation that her mother had been transferred to City Third Hospital. As a family member, she naturally had a duty to assist the head of the household in maintaining social connections.

"Empty-handed?" Chen Ba asked. "Back in the day, you'd bring two pounds of eggs to thank someone."

"No need," Chen Ma dismissed firmly. "Besides, where would I find two pounds of eggs at this hour, now that you've suddenly remembered your manners?"

Chen Ba glanced around. This was still a new home—they hadn't even bought sofa covers yet—so there really were no gifts suitable for expressing sincere gratitude. Nodding, he took another bite and added, "Tomorrow, you two go to work and school as usual. I'll tidy up the house."

"Not my room," Huan'er interjected quickly at this point. "Please."

The first thing in life that could truly be called a skill wasn't writing, riding a bike, or gardening—it was folding blankets into perfect cubes. As a child, she'd obeyed her parents unquestioningly; if adults demanded it, she did it. Every morning, she'd present a neatly folded, sharply creased bedding set. Only as she grew older did Chen Huan'er realize—this wasn't common sense at all. It was purely a soldier, fresh from training recruits, itching to train his own daughter instead.

Once she'd gained some independence, she started slacking. Now, her room was so messy even she couldn't make sense of it.Upon hearing this, Chen Ba immediately understood and pointed at his daughter, saying to his wife, "How about we pack this one up and send her off as a gift."

"This one?" Chen Ma scoffed. "If they'd take her, I'd sign the papers right here tonight."

One of the perks of living in the Family Compound was the convenience of visiting neighbors—just three buildings down, the innermost unit was their destination. Huan'er trailed behind her parents as they knocked twice, and the door soon opened. A familiar voice greeted them, "Hello, Uncle and Auntie."

The two locked eyes, both momentarily stunned, before Jing Qichi broke into a grin first. "What a coincidence, Chen Huan'er."

"Oh, Chen Lei, you're on leave?" A middle-aged woman peered out from behind him. "We were just talking about you two. Come on in."

"Hello, Aunt Lin," Huan'er greeted politely.

"Huan'er has grown into such a young lady now," Jing's Mother remarked, pulling Chen Ma onto the sofa. "Ah, my memory still has her as a newborn. Time really flies..."

"It sure does. In the blink of an eye," Chen Ma agreed. "Is Lao Jing not back yet?"

"Just finished a meeting. Their line of work is unpredictable like that," Jing's Mother said warmly. "Chen Lei, have some tea. It's not easy to catch you these days."

"Same for us," Chen Ba chuckled. "When duty calls, we'd ride a rocket back if we could."

After some small talk, the conversation circled back to the younger generation. Jing's Mother nudged her son, who was engrossed in the TV. "Huan'er, are you two in the same class?"

"Yeah, she sits diagonally in front of me," Jing Qichi replied absentmindedly, eyes still glued to the screen. But to Chen Huan'er, his tone implied he wasn't much of a student either, and she rolled her eyes internally.

Chen Ba glanced at his daughter. "Same class? That's quite a coincidence."

"Well, the school assigns by district. All the older kids from the compound go there," Jing's Mother said matter-of-factly. "I just got back from training and forgot to remind Qi Chi. Huan'er's new here—your Qi Chi Gege can show her around later."

Qi Chi Gege. Chen Huan'er shot a glance at the lazy boy sprawled on the sofa, who happened to look back at her with a smug expression.

What nonsense. Huan'er scoffed and turned her head away.

Just then, Jing's Mother clapped her hands enthusiastically. "Huan'er, do you ride a bike? You two can commute together from now on, especially after evening self-study. Safety in numbers. And there's also—what's his name—Lao Song from orthopedics' son. Li Na, you must know him, your direct senior."

"I do. I ran into Senior Song just the other day after work, but he was on night shift and we didn't get to talk much," Chen Ma said, surprised. "His kid is the same age as them?"

"Exactly. Lao Song is the poster child for late marriage and late parenthood," Jing's Mother laughed. "Their Song Cong is top of his grade, academically outstanding."

Chen Ba, usually playful at home, now spoke earnestly. "Huan'er, see? Learn more from these two brothers."

Jing Qichi's smugness lasted less than a second before his mother deflated it. "Song Cong, sure. But our family's kid? Forget it."

Chen Ba laughed. "Sister Lin, you should try encouragement-based parenting."

The sound of the door opening interrupted them as a middle-aged man in a firefighter's uniform entered. Jing's Mother teased without getting up, "Oh, look who's back from his meeting."

"Hello, Uncle Jing," Huan'er stood straight and greeted politely.

"Li Na, is this your girl?" Jing's Father gestured to her height. "Last time I saw her, she was only this tall, about four or five years old? Wouldn't recognize her on the street now."Chen Ba nodded, "Exactly. The last time you saw her was probably during their class reunion when I brought Huan'er to the city to pick up her mom. She wasn’t even in school yet. Time flies."

"I don’t remember that at all," Jing's Mother said, looking thoughtful.

"You? You were so drunk you could barely walk straight—what could you possibly remember?" Jing's Father chuckled, glancing at his wife.

"Oh, now I remember!" Jing's Mother exclaimed as if struck by enlightenment. "But what was the occasion back then? Everyone seemed so happy, and they all drank too much."

"I don’t recall the reason either," Chen Ma shook her head. "But I remember Senior Brother Song arrived halfway through, saying he’d just finished setting someone’s bone. He wasn’t at Third Hospital yet back then."

"Yeah, those were good times," Jing's Mother smiled warmly. "And now, our kids are all together again."

Jing Qichi, eyes glued to the TV, suddenly interjected, "Mom could actually get drunk?"

"Right, Chen Lei just mentioned it," Jing's Mother pointed at her son and told her husband, "We need to encourage our son with positive reinforcement."

"Give me a break," Jing's Father shook his head and waved his hand, not bothering to hide his disdain. "Any more encouragement and he might set the house on fire. Then we’d have to organize a rescue mission."

Huan'er listened to the adults' banter, secretly delighted. Jing's parents were experts at undercutting each other.

Her little expressions didn’t escape Jing Qichi’s peripheral vision. The boy put down the remote, scooted over, and nudged her. "Happy, huh? Forgot about the time you got hit by bird poop?"

Huan'er, sitting on a chair beside the sofa, was instantly fuming but couldn’t retaliate with the adults around. She puffed up her cheeks and snapped, "Who asked you to remember?"

Unexpectedly, Jing Qichi plopped down right next to her, squeezing onto the same chair. "I didn’t bring it up at school to save your face. That’s your big brother looking out for you."

The chair was now crammed with two people, leaving Huan'er barely clinging to the edge. Like a cuckoo taking over a nest, she thought. She pressed her upper body against Jing Qichi, trying to push him off, but he seemed to anticipate it and held his ground firmly. A silent battle ensued.

"Skinny but strong, huh?" Jing Qichi whispered provocatively in her ear.

Huan'er was already at a disadvantage, half her body hanging off the chair with no leverage. Plus, her opponent was a teenage boy who spent all his time on the basketball court, brimming with stamina. Desperate times called for desperate measures—she gripped the chair with one hand and sneakily reached over to tickle his side. Jing Qichi yelped, "Hey!" and shifted halfway off the seat.

He quickly grabbed her hand. "That’s cheating."

"Like I care," Huan'er retorted, seeing her tactic work. Her free hand darted out to tickle him again.

Jing Qichi countered move for move, dodging while retaliating in kind. Soon, the two were laughing and wrestling in a tangled mess.

The commotion caught Jing's Mother’s attention. She grabbed a throw pillow and hurled it at her son. "Sit still and behave!"

Jing Qichi caught it deftly and whined, "It wasn’t me!"

Seizing the opportunity, Huan'er tickled him again. Jing Qichi clicked his tongue and pinned her wrist, muttering, "Knock it off."

The game on TV continued. He took the chance to grip Huan'er’s shoulders and turn her toward the screen, placing the pillow on her lap and patting it soothingly. "I surrender. No more messing around, okay?"

"That’s more like it," Huan'er said, swaying her head contentedly.

Jing Qichi looked at her and couldn’t help but chuckle to himself.

If one were to say—At dinner, he was still worrying about finding an excuse to watch TV, but as luck would have it, the Chen family's visit was like a dream come true—he got to watch the entire match he'd been longing for, even the halftime commercials, making it the perfect evening. As for Chen Huan'er, who would soon be commuting to and from school with him—from this angle, he could clearly see her profile, which in a way was also a dream come true. Because Jing Qichi's entire knowledge of this transfer student was limited to her being Qi Qi's friend and that they would go home together. From that, it naturally followed that he would be on the same route as Qi Qi.

That Qi Qi—the one he'd go out of his way to strike up a conversation with.

Little sister Huan'er was truly a shining lucky star.