On a late July afternoon in 2002, Lin Zeqiu picked up a basketball with one hand and called out to his parents: "I've washed the dishes in the kitchen and mopped the living room floor. Lin Zhixia is taking her afternoon nap—I'm heading out to play basketball with my classmates."
His mother, flipping through an account book, reminded him: "Go ahead, but come back early."
Lin Zeqiu dashed out of the house without looking back.
He was going to play basketball for four whole hours!
For these brief four hours, he could completely escape Lin Zhixia!
Near the Ancheng residential complex stood a basketball court where Lin Zeqiu and his classmates often played. Arriving ten minutes late, Lin Zeqiu found his friends had already adjusted the hoop height.
Under the brilliant sunshine and clear sky, boys in tank tops and shorts played across the spacious court. They swung their arms, stretched their legs, their black hair damp with sweat as the sweltering summer breeze rustled their clothes—among this group, Lin Zeqiu stood out the most. He ran the fastest, jumped the highest, reacted with sharp reflexes, and made precise dunks that drew cheers from his classmates.
Lin Zeqiu was thoroughly enjoying himself.
The temperature had climbed to thirty-four degrees Celsius. Soon, all the boys including Lin Zeqiu were drenched in sweat. Parched with thirst and thinking of heading home for water, Lin Zeqiu heard a classmate shout: "Hey! It's too hot—I forgot to bring water. Let's go buy some ice-cold colas and ice cream!"
Another classmate suddenly chimed in: "Qiu's family runs a convenience store." He threw a sweaty arm around Lin Zeqiu's shoulders: "Qiu, treat us this time—I'll get the next round!"
Lin Zeqiu shook off his arm: "Stop mooching. I don't have any money."
He picked up the basketball from the ground and tucked it under his elbow: "We've got cold drinks at my place. Anyone who wants some, follow me."
With that, he started down the path home, trailed by a large group of classmates forming an impressive procession. Their destination was the Lin family's small supermarket—where a freezer stocked with cold drinks, ice pops, and ice cream stood at the entrance.
One by one, the classmates stopped to dig out money for items from the freezer, while Lin Zeqiu remained motionless outside the store.
His silhouette fell across the stone steps.
The scorching sun beat down, the heat intensified, and summer light and shadow danced in the wind.
Dad reached out and patted Lin Zeqiu's shoulder: "Son, want some water?"
Lin Zeqiu took the water bottle from his father and gulped down a large mouthful of cool boiled water.
Dad added: "Qiuqiu, go pick out an ice cream."
But Lin Zeqiu replied: "I don't really like that stuff."
His athletic tank top was soaked through front and back.
Dad ruffled his hair: "Qiu, it's on me. Don't worry about it."
After hesitating for a long moment, Lin Zeqiu only selected a 50-cent milk-flavored ice pop. He quickly tore open the wrapper, clamped the treat between his teeth, hugged his basketball, and followed behind his classmates—who all carried ice cream cones worth over two yuan each.
Even so, Lin Zeqiu felt perfectly content.
The cool Milk Cake melted in his mouth, quenching his thirst and relieving the heat. As he walked, he dribbled the ball, his steps growing increasingly light.
Just as they approached the basketball court, Lin Zeqiu's classmates suddenly turned pale.Lin Zeqiu followed everyone's gaze forward and saw a group of fashionably dressed young men occupying the entire basketball court—these men were strong and muscular, sporting beards, revealing tattoos, and some were smoking. The still-glowing cigarette butts landed at the entrance of the basketball court, and the air was filled with the lingering smell of smoke.
Lin Zeqiu's classmate was instantly dumbfounded: "Damn, Qiu-ge, what do we do?"
"I'll ask them when they're finishing," Lin Zeqiu said as he sat down in the substitute area. "If they leave soon, we can keep playing."
No sooner had Lin Zeqiu sat down than a girl about seventeen or eighteen years old nearby struck up a conversation with him: "Little brother, how old are you?"
This girl was part of the same group as the young men playing basketball. Her casual question to Lin Zeqiu sparked laughter and teasing from the young men—Lin Zeqiu understood the implication behind that laughter. He responded to her fiercely: "None of your business? Do I even know you?"
The girl, embarrassed and angry, shoved him, causing his ice cream to fall to the ground and get covered in dust.
The midsummer sunlight filtered through the leaves, forming mottled circles of light that shone on the pure white ice cream, melting it into a syrupy liquid, like tears shed by the shade.
Lin Zeqiu muttered to himself, "So damn annoying."
The sound of basketballs stopped.
The young men gradually closed in: "Whose court is this?"
One of Lin Zeqiu's classmates was so nervous he started hiccupping, stammering, "Th-this basketball court is a public sports facility in An-Ancheng Community. We applied with the neighborhood office in advance for usage rights from one to five this afternoon. Th-this court is ours now..."
The leader of the young men retorted, "What grade are you kids in? Still wet behind the ears and trying to argue with your grandpas?"
This guy had dyed yellow hair, a left ear full of earrings, narrow eyes, thin lips, and a fierce expression that made him look like trouble.
Lin Zeqiu was only ten years old. Sitting on a stone bench, he looked up at the yellow-haired guy and asked disdainfully, "Whose grandpa? Your grandpa only knows how to fight kids for a court?"
The yellow-haired guy grabbed Lin Zeqiu by the collar. Lin Zeqiu countered with an elbow strike, and the yellow-haired guy kicked him in the knee. The two began fighting in full view of everyone.
"You're asking for it!" the yellow-haired guy cursed. "You little brat!"
Lin Zeqiu punched him in the face: "I'm your grandpa!"
The soles of their shoes scraped violently against the cement, producing a harsh, grating sound.
Lin Zeqiu's classmates hurriedly tried to break up the fight, and one even pulled out a Little Smart phone to call the police. The yellow-haired guy's side didn't want things to escalate either—especially since the girl kept pulling at the yellow-haired guy. With great effort, they managed to separate Lin Zeqiu and the yellow-haired guy, but the latter grabbed a handful of sand from the ground and threw it at Lin Zeqiu, who then yelled, "Run! Everyone go home! Run!"
The classmates scattered like birds and beasts.
Lin Zeqiu, clutching the basketball, sprinted away swiftly.
His knees, hips, abdomen, and elbows were all aching faintly.
He also tasted a salty, metallic flavor.
Wiping his mouth, his fingers came away stained with blood—his nose was bleeding.
Lin Zeqiu didn't dare go straight home.
Having watched many Hong Kong crime films, he was well-versed in the arts of "tracking and counter-tracking." He was convinced the yellow-haired guy was a gangster, possibly even connected to organized crime—the thought shocked him, and his mood grew heavier.Lin Zeqiu ran into another residential area and wandered around. It wasn't until sunset, as dusk began to settle, that he took a shortcut back to Ancheng Community, glancing around every three steps with more caution and suspicion than a professional mercenary.
Finally, a little past six in the evening, Lin Zeqiu returned home.
Lin Zhixia was the first to notice him.
He and his sister stared at each other face to face.
For the first time in his life, Lin Zeqiu hoped his sister could read his mind. As the saying goes, "Siblings share a deep bond, thicker than water," and Lin Zhixia, being exceptionally gifted and a natural genius, would surely understand his facial expressions.
Lin Zeqiu even raised a finger to his lips and quietly "shushed," signaling Lin Zhixia to stay quiet and cover for him.
However, the next second, Lin Zhixia shouted loudly: "Mom, Mom, Brother's face is covered in blood!"
Mom hurried out from the kitchen, while Lin Zeqiu strode toward his bedroom: "I'm perfectly fine!"
"Lin Zeqiu, stop right there! Where did that blood come from?!" Mom interrogated him.
Lin Zhixia repeated like a loudspeaker: "Where did Brother's blood come from?"
Lin Zeqiu told a huge lie: "I picked my nose and made it bleed!"
In that instant, everything fell silent.
Lin Zeqiu slammed the door shut with a "bang."
He first drew the curtains tight, changed his clothes, and put on a pair of long pants to cover the bruises on his legs. He found painkillers and Yunnan Baiyao in the medicine cabinet, took them according to the instructions, calmed down for a moment, and then went to the bathroom to take a hot shower.
He didn't eat dinner, but he wasn't hungry at all.
After coming out of the bathroom, he lay down on the bed, exhausted both physically and mentally.
Darkness enveloped him, and so did the pain.
Lin Zeqiu wasn't afraid of pain. What he feared most was being beaten so badly by the blond-haired guy that his parents would have to take him to the hospital for treatment. When he was born, he unfortunately had congenital heart disease. To cure him, his parents sold everything they had and borrowed money—reportedly from the entire village back home. Dad even once kowtowed to the village head.
He was born with heart disease, while Lin Zhixia, sharing the same parents, was born with extraordinary intelligence.
He began to fantasize that he, too, possessed some kind of superpower, like the mutants in "X-Men," yet to awaken. Today's fight with the blond-haired guy represented an opportunity to unlock the seal on his abilities... Thinking this way, the pain in his limbs became a badge of honor, and the passionate fight pointed toward a bright future.
Lin Zeqiu took a deep breath, but suddenly the bedroom door was pulled open a crack, and Lin Zhixia called out softly: "Brother."
He didn't respond.
Lin Zhixia called again: "Brother, Brother?"
He remained silent.
Lin Zhixia was startled. She ran to his bedside and reached out to check his breathing. He grabbed her finger: "What are you doing, Lin Zhixia?"
Lin Zhixia's intelligence far exceeded his expectations: "This afternoon, did you get into a fight with someone?"
Lin Zeqiu wrapped himself tightly in the blanket and turned to face the other side: "So what if I did?"
Lin Zhixia tugged at the corner of his blanket: "I'm going to tell Mom and Dad so they can take you to the hospital!"
"You dare!" Lin Zeqiu threatened fiercely.
Lin Zhixia's tone was equally strong: "Lin Zeqiu, don't threaten me. I hate being threatened."
Lin Zeqiu quickly adjusted his strategy. He softened his voice and said, "Let me lie down for a while. It's nothing serious."Lin Zhixia was half-convinced: "Really?"
A moment later, she added, "Dinner is almost ready. Mom wants you to eat."
Lin Zeqiu immediately got out of bed.
Lin Zhixia caught a whiff of Yunnan Baiyao spray. She reached into his blanket and felt a damp patch of sweat. Alarmed, she dashed to her parents: "Dad, Mom, Brother got into a fight this afternoon and his nose bled. He's been lying in bed for an hour. Please take him to the hospital."
Before Lin Zeqiu could speak, Dad had already rolled up his pants to check his knees. He hurriedly said, "I'm not in pain at all. Boys fight—it's normal."
"Are you feeling unwell anywhere?" Dad asked him.
"I'm perfectly fine," Lin Zeqiu insisted repeatedly. "No need for the hospital."
Mom's tone grew urgent: "Who did you fight with? How many times have I told you to control your temper, but you never listen!"
Lin Zeqiu mumbled an apology: "I had a disagreement with someone while playing basketball. It won't happen again."
Both parents assumed Lin Zeqiu had clashed with a classmate on the basketball court—he had just finished fourth grade and was about to enter fifth, so his classmates were just elementary school kids. Scuffles among boys were indeed common.
Moreover, Lin Zeqiu seemed fine and even ate two bowls of rice at dinner, so Mom and Dad relaxed slightly, only reminding him that if any issues arose, they would take him to the hospital immediately, even if it meant going late at night.
That night before bed, Lin Zeqiu drank a glass of milk to calm his nerves.
Lying in his small bed, he quietly tried to fall asleep, but a sharp, piercing pain shot through his knees, making his whole body tremble. He clenched his teeth, broke out in a cold sweat, and nearly fainted.
He suspected he was either suffering aftereffects from being beaten by the blond-haired boy or had suddenly developed some severe, incurable disease. It took him less than ten minutes to transition from shock and anxiety to acceptance.
Once the pain subsided, Lin Zeqiu turned on his bedside lamp and began writing his will under its glow.
He solemnly wrote: "Dad, Mom, Lin Zhixia."
He suddenly remembered that Lin Zhixia hated it when he used her full name.
Since he was about to die anyway and didn't need to worry about future interactions—Lin Zeqiu thought to himself—he started another sheet: "Dear Dad, Mom, and Xia Xia, I must tell you: ten years ago, I had a congenital heart condition. Ten years later, my knee..."
He couldn't remember how to write the character for "cancer," so he used pinyin instead: "My knee has ai-bian (cancer)."
He borrowed a line he'd learned from a TV drama yesterday: "This is my fate. I don't blame heaven or earth, and you shouldn't blame yourselves either."
Then, he summarized: "My piggy bank and car models go to Lin Zhixia. You can divide the rest (and give some to Ke Zhuangzhi). I've never seen the ocean—I'd like to see the sea. Play some seaside music at my funeral. Lin Zhixia cries easily—please comfort her more."
By the final line, Lin Zeqiu's pen trembled slightly: "Lin Zeqiu, final words."
He found red ink and stamped a red handprint on the paper.
After completing everything, Lin Zeqiu stuck the will to his headboard. Lying flat on his back with his hands crossed over his chest, he felt as noble, mysterious, and death-defying as an Egyptian pharaoh.
Soon, he lost consciousness.Survival hangs by a thread, death arrives in an instant.
The next morning, Lin Zeqiu was woken by his mother patting him.
As he sat up halfway, his mother held up the suicide note and asked, "Did you write this?"
Still unable to distinguish reality from dreams, his mind remained foggy. His mother grabbed his left hand, staring at the red ink stain on his thumb, insisting on taking him to the hospital—Lin Zeqiu's father fully supported this.
Father whispered, "Let's get his brain checked."
Mother made more detailed arrangements: "We need to check his brain, and his knees too. Take out our savings passbook. You go to the bank first. After I make breakfast for Xia Xia, we'll take Qiu Qiu out."
"Alright," Father paced in the bedroom, "Don't panic. We've gotten through tougher times before."
When Lin Zeqiu was young, he had his fortune told in the countryside. An old man from the east end of the village said he could "turn calamities into blessings." He thought it was just an auspicious phrase, but his parents brought it up again, as if seeking some kind of reassurance—the family supermarket temporarily closed as they took Lin Zeqiu to the hospital. Following the doctor's guidance, they spent over a thousand yuan on a comprehensive examination for him.
It was an exceedingly long process.
Around noon, Mother took the bus home to make lunch for Lin Zhixia.
Lin Zeqiu and his father remained at the hospital, eating boxed lunches provided by the hospital. Father picked the meat out of his own green pepper with shredded pork dish and put it into Lin Zeqiu's meal box, saying, "Qiu Qiu is growing. Eat more meat."
Lin Zeqiu set down his chopsticks.
Father continued, "The food here at the hospital isn't bad. They've got both meat and vegetables..."
Father's bowl contained only vegetables, while all the meat dishes were on Lin Zeqiu's side.
People came and went in the hospital corridor, their footsteps fading into the distance. The fragrant shredded pork lay atop the white rice, its steaming heat rising into Lin Zeqiu's eyes. He rubbed his eyes and responded, "I won't get into fights anymore."
Father said to himself, "Your sister and your mother are both worried about you. Your mom just called me—Xia Xia barely ate any lunch and didn't take her nap, waiting for your hospital test results."
Lin Zeqiu remained silent.
His knees began to ache again.
Fortunately, the examination results showed that Lin Zeqiu was essentially fine, with only mild soft tissue contusions. The doctor believed his leg symptoms were due to growing pains—no redness, swelling, or fever, mostly occurring at night. The doctor prescribed some medication and sent him home for self-observation.
From age ten to twelve, the yellow-haired boys on the basketball court disappeared without a trace, but the term "growing pains" became an inescapable shadow for Lin Zeqiu.
Lin Zeqiu shot up in height rapidly. He became the tallest boy in his class, often towering over sixth-grade seniors. He was even selected by school administrators as the captain of the "Experimental Primary School Boys' Etiquette Team," responsible for escorting the drummers during the weekly flag-raising ceremony.Lin Zeqiu owed his current prestige entirely to his height, physique, and appearance. However, one or two nights every week, he would jolt awake in the middle of the night, accompanied by excruciating cramps in his leg muscles. Sometimes he even wished that Lin Zhixia wouldn’t suffer the same fate in the future, because she could never forget such pain, whereas he tended to forget the pain once the wound healed—this was the only area where he felt he could outmatch her mentally, as his pain tolerance was far greater than hers.
After hearing her talk about biological nerves every day, Lin Zeqiu had managed to grasp a bit of the basics.
Lin Zeqiu drifted in and out of sleep until five in the morning, when hurried footsteps sounded outside his door. Dad pushed open his bedroom door, panting heavily, and said, "Your mom went out to restock at four in the morning on a tricycle. It tipped over on the road and crushed her leg. I’m going to the hospital to take care of her. I’ll leave my phone with you. Qiuqiu, you stay home and look after Xia Xia. Have frozen tangyuan for breakfast and frozen dumplings for lunch. You’re 1.7 meters tall now, so you can reach the stove. I’ve taught you how to make egg fried rice a few times…"
Lin Zeqiu abruptly sat up in bed.
Dad left him the phone, keys, and cash before rushing out the door.
Lin Zeqiu splashed his face with cold water.
It was the winter break of 2004. Lin Zeqiu was nearly twelve years old, while Lin Zhixia was only eight.
The sky was still dark, and the howling north wind rattled the windows, but Lin Zhixia’s room remained warm. She was sound asleep under a quilt printed with strawberry patterns, her snow-white cheeks tinged with pink, as if she were having a sweet dream.
Lin Zeqiu stood by her bedside for a few minutes before turning to the kitchen to cook a bowl of red bean tangyuan. While worrying about Mom’s injury, he felt grateful for his rapid growth in height, which allowed him to manage tasks around the stove. When he went out to buy groceries, as long as he covered his face slightly with a scarf, he wouldn’t be mistaken for an elementary school student, saving him a lot of trouble.
So-called "growing pains"—no matter how painful, they were worth it.
Lin Zeqiu also took the money Dad had given him and braved the cold wind to buy meat buns, vegetable buns, and doufunao. When he brought the breakfast back, Lin Zhixia was already awake—she stood barefoot in the living room and asked him, "Where are Mom and Dad?"
Lin Zeqiu told her the truth: "Mom’s in the hospital. Dad’s taking care of her."
Lin Zhixia’s eyes reddened like a little rabbit’s: "Brother, I want to go to the hospital to see Mom."
"What could you do there?" Lin Zeqiu challenged her. "You’re so short and delicate, you can’t do any work. You’d just cling to Mom and be a nuisance at the hospital."
Lin Zhixia instantly bristled: "You’re the nuisance!"
Lin Zeqiu couldn’t be bothered to argue with her and simply called out, "Come eat breakfast. Put your slippers on."
Lin Zhixia stood still.
Lin Zeqiu slapped the dining table: "Lin Zhixia, I got up at six and have been busy with your breakfast until seven. If you don’t come over now, I’ll give all the food to the neighbors, and you can go hungry."
Lin Zhixia ran back to her bedroom and put on a pair of pink fluffy slippers. She dashed to the dining table like a whirlwind. Her brother brought her a small dish of vinegar, and she dipped her buns in it, eating with her head down. Her brother reached out and patted her head.
She didn’t say anything, so he patted her again: "I’m at home…" His voice softened: "Don’t be afraid."
Lin Zhixia froze at his words.Lin Zeqiu resumed his usual demeanor: "Alright, don't forget to call Mom and Dad after dinner, Mommy's cling-on."
He placed Dad's phone on the table.
Lin Zhixia put down her rice bowl and immediately called her mother. After waiting a few seconds, when the call connected, she rapidly said: "Mom, Mom, Mom, how are you doing?"
Mom replied: "It's nothing, just a minor injury. I need to rest in the hospital for a few days. Your dad has been working hard these days, traveling between two places. Xia Xia, you and Qiuqiu need to be good at home and listen to your dad, understand?"
"I understand," Lin Zhixia promised, "Mom, rest well and recover."
Mom added another reminder: "You and Qiuqiu shouldn't come to the hospital to visit me. In about a week, when Mom comes home, you and Qiuqiu behave well at home. Only then can Mom feel at ease in the hospital."
The Lin family's supermarket was in a state of semi-closure. Dad had been shuttling between the hospital and home for several days in a row, and one night he even stayed overnight at the hospital—because Mom had an early morning checkup the next day, and Dad was worried she wouldn't be able to manage alone.
That night, there were no adults at Lin Zhixia's home.
The provincial meteorological bureau had issued a blizzard warning.
Around eight o'clock in the evening, the city was blanketed in heavy snow, and howling winds roared outside. Faint shadows flickered beyond the curtains. Lin Zhixia tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep. She confessed to Lin Zeqiu, "I miss Dad and Mom."
Lin Zeqiu asked her, "Are you sleepy?"
Lin Zhixia shook her head.
Lin Zeqiu walked to the living room. He turned on the television and switched to CCTV6's movie channel—something that would normally be absolutely impossible. Mom and Dad strictly forbade the children from watching TV after eight o'clock in the evening.
The movie's background sound effects drew Lin Zhixia in. Clutching a pillow, she settled on the sofa, snuggling close to Lin Zeqiu.
It was the first time in their lives that the siblings had watched a movie together with such perfect harmony.
CCTV6 was playing the American classic action film Léon: The Professional , its plot full of twists and turns, utterly captivating. Every time a gunshot rang out, Lin Zhixia would hug her pillow tightly, and Lin Zeqiu would gently pat her head. For a while, the living room was filled with the warmth of sibling affection.
Outside, the blizzard showed no signs of stopping. The rustling snow tapped against the windowpanes, and the bitter cold of deep winter seeped into every corner of the city. In the movie, the female lead asked another question: "Is life always this hard, or is it just when you're a kid?"
The male lead replied, "Always like this."
Always like this, Lin Zeqiu thought to himself.
But Lin Zhixia said, "Compared to the movie's plot, we're actually living quite well."
She looked up at him and added, "Mom will recover, and our lives will gradually get better."
Lin Zeqiu found himself nodding inexplicably.
Lin Zhixia raised her right hand and, mimicking his usual gesture, patted his head as well. And so, that harsh winter's snowy night wasn't as cold as they had imagined. When the movie ended, they returned to their respective beds and fell asleep with anticipation for tomorrow in their hearts.
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