"The girl in my heart always thought I hated her. Never spoken aloud, I once only wanted to throw everything aside and follow her home. — Pei Chuan"
In the summer of 1996, several days after a hailstorm had passed, Bei Yao's fever finally subsided.
Before Zhao Zhilan took her to kindergarten, she reminded her: "If you feel unwell or have a tummy ache, raise your hand and tell Teacher Zhao, understand? Mom will come pick you up after work."
Bei Yao nodded and kissed Zhao Zhilan on the cheek: "Bye, Mom."
Carrying her small cloth backpack, she entered the classroom where Teacher Zhao welcomed her warmly.
Kindergarten didn't require much formal teaching—just helping children learn to count and playing some games was sufficient.
Today, Bei Yao's hair wasn't tied up. Her hair was fine and soft, with faint yellowish tips.
Teacher Wu was teaching the children how to fold paper airplanes.
Bei Yao looked around and noticed something amiss.
It seemed like there was one less child in the classroom. She knew that child—his name was Pei Chuan. Because they lived nearby, her mother had told her to call the little boy "brother." A few days ago, when Bei Yao had a fever—the same day it hailed—that child had wet his pants.
Bei Yao asked Xiang Tongtong: "Where's Brother Pei Chuan?"
Xiang Tongtong covered her mouth with her chubby hand: "He peed himself, so dirty. We're not playing with him anymore."
Bei Yao tilted her small head and blinked.
For a four-year-old, "dropping out" was too distant and complex a concept. All she could notice was that there was one less child in kindergarten.
However, the other children didn't think it was anything worth paying attention to either.
But Bei Yao remembered those pitch-black, lifeless eyes she had seen that day, like those of a young wolf. Zhao Zhilan worked at a clothing factory and came to pick up her daughter right after work.
When they got home, Bei Yao said quietly: "Mom, Brother Pei Chuan is gone. From kindergarten."
Her words were jumbled, but Zhao Zhilan managed to understand. On the day it hailed, Pei Chuan had wet his pants. No one came to pick him up that evening, and the next day, the child silently refused to return to kindergarten.
Zhao Zhilan felt somewhat complicated emotions. She stroked her daughter's fine, soft hair: "He won't be coming to kindergarten anymore."
"Why?"
Zhao Zhilan said: "He wet himself in the classroom and felt sad. The children would laugh at him, so he's not going to kindergarten anymore."
Bei Yao's almond-shaped eyes were clear, her cheeks pink and chubby: "I peed too." She was referring to earlier in the year when she had accidentally wet the bed and Zhao Zhilan had spanked her bottom.
She couldn't understand—if you peed, did that mean you couldn't go to kindergarten anymore? But it wasn't on purpose!
Zhao Zhilan found it difficult to explain and finally sighed softly: "Silly girl, you'll understand when you grow up."
Sensitive and precocious children often carried particularly heavy shame.
He was a pitiful boy.
September arrived.
Having left kindergarten, Pei Chuan now attended the preschool attached to Chaoyang Elementary School.
The number of students in the class was odd.
A group of five-year-olds turned their gaze toward the boy in blue-gray pants standing at the lectern. Teacher Yu Qian patted Pei Chuan's thin shoulder and asked the children: "This is a new friend in our class. Is there any outstanding child willing to look after him?"
The children looked at each other, glancing at the boy's empty pant legs. Not a single hand went up.
Teacher Yu continued: "Kind and brave children will receive extra little red flowers."
Hearing this, the children gradually began raising their hands.
Pei Chuan stared out the window.In early September, with autumn just beginning and leaves still fresh and green, Pei Chuan had clearly left kindergarten behind, yet his new environment didn’t seem much better.
In the end, Teacher Yu Qian selected a boy named Chen Gang from among the children.
They sat together at the first desk.
At first, Chen Gang would enthusiastically talk to him, but Pei Chuan always remained silent.
When he was silent, he would space out—sometimes watching the swallows in the sky, sometimes staring at the words in his book. Within a day, Chen Gang couldn’t stand Pei Chuan’s aloofness and began to "ignore" him too.
Children of that age couldn’t bear loneliness. The very next day, Chen Gang cried and clamored to change seats, and not even a little red flower could soothe him.
Pei Chuan kept his eyes lowered the whole time.
Teacher Yu Qian felt a bit awkward and comforted him, saying, "It’s okay. How about we find Pei Chuan a new friend?"
Pei Chuan’s deskmate then became a little girl named Xu Feifei.
Xu Feifei was also quiet, and most of the time, the two of them sat in silence.
Xu Feifei didn’t like Pei Chuan. She reluctantly moved over and soon discovered that he didn’t like others touching his things. The five-year-old boy wore an expressionless face, keeping to his own corner. He never crossed boundaries, but when Xu Feifei encroached past the halfway point of the desk, his expression would turn even colder and more unfriendly.
Still, there were advantages. For example, when Xu Feifei quietly used his eraser, the little boy just endured it and said nothing.
One day, Xu Feifei found a five-yuan bill inside Pei Chuan’s desk.
Five yuan! To Xu Feifei, who had only received fifty cents the previous New Year, five yuan could buy so many things.
The wooden desks in the preschool class were interconnected. Thinking of the bubble gum and snacks at the little shop, she immediately clutched the bill in her hand.
Pei Chuan turned to look at her.
Xu Feifei was extremely nervous. Pei Chuan stayed silent for a moment, then turned back to continue flipping through his book. Her heart raced wildly, and it took a long while for her to calm down.
She suddenly realized that although this deskmate was cold and withdrawn, he was very generous. He didn’t mind many things.
As time passed, even a child like Xu Feifei could keenly sense that as long as someone was there to accompany him, Pei Chuan could tolerate a lot.
Xu Feifei also discovered a secret: Pei Chuan brought a water bottle every day, but he never took a single sip from it. By the end of the school day in the afternoon, he would pour the water into the sink and then, as if nothing had happened, get into his father’s car to go home.
Pei Chuan’s family must be quite wealthy, Xu Feifei thought. That year, very few people in City C owned motorcycles—riding one on the street would draw many stares.
Xu Feifei had smelled the sweet fragrance of the water poured from that cup; it must have had juice or sugar added. However, when winter came, Pei Chuan stopped bringing the water.
The following summer, Jiang Wenjuan began preparing water for her son again.
Over the past several months, Xu Feifei had used countless erasers of Pei Chuan’s, taken his neatly sharpened pencils, and occasionally found candies or bills in his backpack.
Once, Xu Feifei took the water bottle hanging from his wheelchair, unscrewed the cap, and drank from it.
It really was mixed juice! She couldn’t help but lick the sweet-and-sour rim of the bottle.
But Pei Chuan, who had always been silent, suddenly tried to snatch the cup back.
Xu Feifei was stunned. Instinctively, she tightened her grip and refused to return it. Water splashed out of the cup, sprinkling all over her face.The whole class looked over, and bursts of "hahaha" laughter followed. Xu Feifei had a very plain appearance. Due to her poor family background, her clothes were shabby, and her dry, brittle hair was tied loosely. She had a cold, with a red nose and a bit of runny mucus. There were some dark stains around her mouth.
Now, with juice splattered on her face and her classmates laughing at her, Xu Feifei burst into loud sobs on the spot. Angrily, she threw Pei Chuan's cup back at him.
The cup hit the boy's knee, and juice spilled all over his leg, from his crotch down to his severed limb.
Pei Chuan's expression darkened, and he shoved Xu Feifei hard. Caught off guard by his strength, she lost her balance and fell to the ground.
The laughter in the classroom abruptly ceased.
Someone went to report to the teacher that Pei Chuan and Xu Feifei had gotten into a fight.
Another kindergarten teacher, Mr. Zheng, said, "Children should get along peacefully. If you apologize to each other, you can still be good friends. Pei Chuan, as a boy, you should apologize to Feifei first."
In the summer heat of May, his pants were sticky with juice. Pei Chuan remained silent, clenching his jaw and saying nothing. Mr. Zheng shot him a displeased look.
From that day on, Pei Chuan never had a desk mate again.
In elementary school, Pei Chuan still sat alone in a dimly lit corner.
Everyone had grown accustomed to his silence and lack of presence. No one in the class spoke to him until the end of the semester, when Pei Chuan scored first place with a perfect grade.
Everyone was astonished.
The only one in the class who failed was Chen Hu. Someone remarked, "Chen Hu, you're neighbors, aren't you? How could you lose to someone with no legs? You're so dumb."
Chen Hu flushed red and muttered, "Pei Chuan wet his pants in kindergarten!"
"Really?"
Li Da chimed in, "It's true! We all saw it." He even described the scene.
A wave of raucous laughter followed, and Pei Chuan's glory as the top scorer vanished.
He silently packed his things and went home.
During summer vacation, Pei Chuan caught sight of the little girl who lived across from him.
While looking outside, he inadvertently glanced down and saw her.
The children in the neighborhood were playing an exciting game called "Chasing Electricity." The group was divided into two teams: the "positive electricity" team had to chase the "negative electricity" team, and anyone caught and tapped was eliminated.
The boys ran swiftly, but Bei Yao was too young to keep up. She couldn't catch anyone and was easily caught when chased. So, as the children dashed off to play, she stood by the small flowerbed watching.
When her eyes met Pei Chuan's, they were as clear and beautiful as water grapes.
She held a small, chipped cake in her hands, with a dab of cream at the corner of her rosy lips. Yet, she didn't look messy at all. Her skin was milky white, and she had a somewhat endearing, innocent cuteness.
Little Bei Yao suddenly flashed him a smile.
A moment later, his doorbell rang.
The voice outside seemed to carry the sweet scent of cream: "Brother Pei Chuan, open the door."
Pei Chuan didn't move.
She said, "I'll share half my cake with you. Let's play together."
Pei Chuan felt a pang of irony.
Was this a case of two unwanted children forced to play together?
He didn't move and had no intention of opening the door for her. Though she... was very cute, he understood. People in this world were like Xu Feifei—no one would willingly spend time with a cripple without a reason.
Little Bei Yao didn't feel snubbed. She was naturally less emotionally perceptive than other children.
She said sweetly, "Today is Yao Yao's birthday. I'm sharing half the happiness with you.""Idiot," he thought to himself.
He even harbored the malicious thought that all girls were as selfish and annoying as Xu Feifei. In this hottest August, let her stand outside as a lesson—don't provoke him, he wouldn't give her anything.
In the end, Pei Chuan still didn't open the door for little Bei Yao. At dusk, she skipped home cheerfully, holding no grudges.
When Jiang Wenjuan returned in the evening, she exclaimed in surprise, "Xiao Chuan, why is there a piece of fruit candy at our door?"
Pei Chuan froze, remaining silent for a long time.
Later, he gradually realized that Bei Yao wasn't a disliked child—everyone adored her.
From that year onward, Bei Yao would bring a cake every year on her birthday.
Pei Chuan knew it wasn't anything special—she did this for all the children in the neighborhood, like Chen Hu, Fang Minjun, and Li Da, never missing anyone. It was just a routine ritual.
Yet, somehow, it felt different—only he could understand why.
Fang Minjun, for instance, would never bring him a cake.
In the winter when he was eight, City C was blanketed by heavy snow.
It was almost New Year's, and Jiang Wenjuan, worried her son might become withdrawn, pushed him outside to play with the other children.
Pei Chuan initially resisted, knowing they would likely reject him.
Unexpectedly, Chen Hu rolled his eyes and grinned, agreeing, "Alright, you can play with us."
Pei Chuan watched them, his pupils dark and unreadable.
Jiang Wenjuan, however, was delighted. "Thank you, kids. Xiao Chuan, have fun with your friends, and call me if you need anything."
She left for a teahouse nearby.
A group of children played in the snow outside. Pei Chuan's body stiffened; even though he sensed something amiss, a faint longing stirred within him.
It was the New Year—he loved the festivities too and didn't want to sit alone in his wheelchair, watching TV in solitude.
Chen Hu, with chubby cheeks flushed red from the cold, peeked around to ensure Aunt Jiang was gone, then smirked slyly. "Pei Chuan, if you want to play with us, you have to do whatever I say."
Pei Chuan frowned.
"See, we're having a snowball fight. First, we split into teams—palms up or down, same side means same team. Then we battle."
Being a boy at heart, Pei Chuan silently agreed despite his reservations.
The boys exchanged glances, and Chen Hu pulled Fang Minjun aside, whispering something in her ear.
The teams were quickly decided.
All the children showed their palms up—only Pei Chuan had his palm down.
The next moment, a barrage of snowballs pelted him.
The children cheered as icy snow exploded against his body. Pei Chuan froze, tears welling in his eyes. He gritted his teeth, for a moment wishing he could bury them all in the snow.
A little girl in a red cotton-padded jacket dashed out from the building.
"Chen Hu—" she drawled, her voice sweet and soft, "what are you doing?"
"Snowball fight," Chen Hu said. "Bei Yao, wanna join?"
Bei Yao was angry. "Snow got into his clothes. Stop hitting him."
Chen Hu retorted, "Fine, don't join if you don't want to. Why help him? Do you want to be on his side?"
The cold snow met the boy's scorching body heat, instantly melting into water.
Sitting in his wheelchair, he neither dodged nor flinched, snowflakes clinging to his eyelashes. Bei Yao remembered her mother saying that Uncle Pei was a great hero, and Pei Chuan was a little hero too.
The little hero had sacrificed his body for the happiness of the people, and no matter what, they should always respect him.When the next snowball came flying, her small figure, bundled up in thick layers, stepped in front of Pei Chuan.
That year, the world was pure white, and it had nothing to do with romance—it was simply instinct.
She said, "Stop throwing them. He'll get cold."
She herself was most afraid of the cold, and by putting herself in his shoes, she believed Pei Chuan must be freezing.
Chen Hu said angrily, "Hmph, Bei Yao, you traitor! Don’t think we won’t hit you too." With that, he threw a threatening snowball that landed on Bei Yao’s padded pants.
Bei Yao, puffing her cheeks in anger, threw one back. "If you hit me, I’ll hit you back!"
That set off a chain reaction, and suddenly, multiple snowballs were aimed at Bei Yao and Pei Chuan.
Though Bei Yao fought back, she was no match for them. When it started to hurt, she burst into tears.
Fang Minjun said, "Stop it, everyone. Bei Yao’s crying."
The boys panicked. A crying girl was terrifying. Besides, they didn’t dislike Bei Yao. While Minmin was pretty, little Bei Yao was cute and obedient, and they hadn’t meant to make her cry.
Afraid of getting scolded, the children scattered in an instant.
From a distance, Chen Hu grumbled, "Shame on you, crybaby! Don’t you dare go tattling!"
The children dispersed, heading off to play elsewhere.
She wiped her face with her small hands and brushed the snow off her clothes. After a while, Bei Yao turned her head and saw Pei Chuan watching her.
His clothes were soaked in many places, yet his expression was unusually calm, as if he hadn’t been the one bullied.
Their eyes met briefly, and she sniffled, wiping her tears dry.
After a moment, she leaned over and gently brushed the snow off his shoulders.
The "crybaby," her long lashes dusted with snowflakes and carrying the faint scent of milk, said, "Brother Pei Chuan, I’ll go get your mom. You should go home now."
Pei Chuan remained silent, grabbed her wrist, and pushed it away, refusing to let her touch him.
You’re all in this together.
The little girl blinked, neither angry nor upset, waved at him, and went to find Jiang Wenjuan.
When she returned, Jiang Wenjuan was holding the little girl’s hand as they came back for her son.
Amid the swirling snow, she looked like a snow doll, with two small pink flower buds tied in her hair. Bei Yao had stopped crying.
Jiang Wenjuan said, "Xiao Chuan, where’s your chocolate? Share some with Yao Yao."
Pei Chuan silently handed her a piece, but the little girl shook her head. Her voice was soft and slightly lisping as she said, "No, no, thank you, Aunt Jiang. Thank you, Brother Pei Chuan."
Then she dashed home in a flash.
Pei Chuan withdrew his hand, clutching the chocolate she had refused.
For some reason, he felt a pang of displeasure.
When Pei Chuan was in fourth grade, he learned he could be fitted with a prosthetic leg.
In those days, prosthetic technology was far from perfect. Yet, for a nearly ten-year-old boy who was mature for his age, Pei Chuan understood what this meant.
It meant he could stand up, no longer confined to a wheelchair. He could walk to and from school on his own, and his pant leg would no longer hang empty.
During the break when he got his prosthetic leg, Pei Chuan felt a rare sense of nervousness.
It had been so long that he could barely remember what it felt like to walk.
But the moment he stood up, he stumbled forward abruptly.
Jiang Wenjuan caught him. "Take it easy, take it easy. We’ll go slowly."
It hurt. It really, really hurt.
The point where the prosthetic leg met his severed limb felt like his bones and flesh were being crushed with every step.
He couldn’t find his balance, struggling even to stand steadily.
Jiang Wenjuan had no choice but to let him practice holding onto the railing on his own.
Over and over, from dawn till dusk, he practiced like a toddler learning to walk—painfully, yet filled with hope.Jiang Wenjuan watched from afar, covering her mouth with tears in her eyes.
Finally, Pei Chuan grew accustomed to the pain and gradually learned to find his center of gravity.
When fourth grade began, he straightened his back like a warrior donning armor, quietly clenching his fists as he entered the classroom.
In that moment, his classmates' gazes were filled with astonishment and disbelief.
Pei Chuan overheard their hushed whispers: "Didn't he lose his lower leg? How can he walk now?"
"It's incredible. What did he do?"
However, Pei Chuan had no friends in class. Though curious, none of his classmates approached him.
Every day after school, Pei Chuan would wait until everyone had left before slowly making his way home.
After all, he was still adjusting, and his gait remained somewhat unnatural. If he walked too quickly, it would appear particularly awkward.
This continued until Ding Wenxiang intercepted him one day. Pei Chuan had heard of the sixth-grader Ding Wenxiang.
This troublemaker was thirteen years old and in sixth grade.
It was said that Ding Wenxiang had lost a finger to a fodder chopper in his rural childhood.
Now, Ding Wenxiang wanted to see what something reattached as a prosthesis looked like.
"Hold him down! You little bastard, how dare you push me!"
Several boys swarmed forward. Under the October rain, Pei Chuan's face was pressed into the muddy water.
Lower-grade students watched fearfully from a distance along the path, not daring to approach.
Pei Chuan smelled the foul odor of mud as rainwater soaked his hair and cheeks.
He struggled desperately: "Let me go! Let me go!"
But he was still just a child—how could he break free from several older boys?
The sky was gloomy and gray.
Ding Wenxiang removed his shoes and rolled up Pei Chuan's pant leg.
The prosthetic leg was brutally exposed to everyone—its stiff, artificial color starkly contrasting with the soft texture of human skin.
How cold the October rain felt.
Half of Pei Chuan's face submerged in muddy water, he trembled uncontrollably.
His pupils were dark, devoid of any light.
Lifting his gaze slightly, he saw Bei Yao approaching from afar.
She had grown a bit too, her little panda backpack swaying behind her as she walked hand-in-hand with Xiang Tongtong.
Neither girl expected to witness such a scene, freezing in their tracks. Xiang Tongtong whispered, "That fake leg is so scary."
Lying in the mud, his dark eyes fixed on Bei Yao, Pei Chuan slowly sank into despair.
He closed his eyes and ceased struggling.
From that distance, he couldn't clearly see the expression in Bei Yao's eyes at that moment.
Yet the tender, peculiar seed that had once taken root in his heart—still too naive to sprout—was now strangled by boundless shame in the bitter cold.
After what felt like an eternity, someone shouted: "The guard is coming!"
The forty-year-old guard waved his retractable baton, grabbing several boys: "You bullies aren't going anywhere today. You'll compensate, apologize, and face school punishment."
The guard helped Pei Chuan up and pulled down his pants.
Seizing the opportunity, the boys scattered and fled. The guard angrily gave chase while Pei Chuan coldly watched their retreating figures, as if observing a farce.
He scanned his surroundings—no one remained.
She had left at some point, unnoticed.
Under the rainy sky, half of Pei Chuan's face stained with mud, he stood expressionless.After he had been gone for a long time, Xiang Tongtong cautiously peeked out. Seeing the dejected Bei Yao, she said, "Yaoyao, I know you're upset, but what's done is done. We can't beat Ding Wenxiang, so we can only ask the security guard for help."
A long while later, Bei Yao finally replied, "Mm, let's not mention this matter again."
As she grew older, she understood that people had their pride. After all, Pei Chuan was someone she knew, and he certainly wouldn't want her to see him like that.
Now she couldn’t even bring herself to call him Brother Pei Chuan.
Bei Yao felt a pang of sadness in her heart. However, she was not yet ten years old this year, inexperienced in the ways of the world. Looking back later, these feelings would only become a fragment of unpleasant memories.
After that day, Pei Chuan refused to wear his prosthetic leg.
Jiang Wenjuan couldn’t accept it: “Our family spent more than half of our savings to get you that prosthetic leg, and now you say you won’t wear it. Do you plan to sit in a wheelchair for the rest of your life?”
But the boy, like a lone wolf cornered in desperation, clenched his fingers until they turned white, refusing to compromise.
In the end, the prosthetic leg was locked away in a box.
Two things happened when Pei Chuan was in sixth grade. The first was that Ding Wenxiang, a student in eighth grade, had both his hands chopped off by gangsters.
The news spread like wildfire in class, and Pei Chuan curled his lips coldly.
Two years had passed since that incident. No one would have imagined it had anything to do with a sixth-grade boy.
Not long after, perhaps as retribution for his wrongdoing, Pei Haobin and Jiang Wenjuan divorced.
The couple, once the envy of others, ended their marriage in silence.
It seemed peaceful on the surface, yet it carried the weight of countless unspoken storms.
Jiang Wenjuan quietly left their lives.
Pei Chuan was the last to know. He pushed his wheelchair, determined to find his mother. For the first time, Pei Haobin became hysterical: “Where do you think you’re going to find her? She has a new home and a new man now! Do you think you can bring her back? Do you think she wants to see me or you?”
Even though it was April and spring had arrived, Pei Chuan felt an endless chill.
Pei Haobin calmed down after a while, wiping his face as he said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s fine.” Pei Chuan lowered his eyelids and, after a long silence, returned to his room.
During the Qingming Festival, Pei Haobin didn’t come to pick up Pei Chuan, and Jiang Wenjuan had already left his life.
A heavy rain suddenly poured down. All the other children either had umbrellas brought to them early or were picked up and taken home.
Pei Chuan stared at the rain curtain, reminded of the hailstorm from his childhood. Back then, all the other children had been picked up by their parents. Unwilling to leave, he stubbornly waited for his mother. In the end, the teacher had no choice but to wait with him at the kindergarten all night.
It seemed that from the beginning to the end, nothing had really changed. People just grew older.
Integrity, kindness, and generosity had brought him no luck or change. As he propelled his wheelchair forward, he felt a hatred so intense it could tear the world apart.
Back in fifth grade, a small figure came running through the rain.
When Pei Chuan lifted his head and looked at her coldly.
Bei Yao raised her umbrella and held it over his head.
Under the vast sky, she had only one umbrella.
Amid the roaring thunder, Bei Yao couldn’t quite make out his expression at the time.
She worriedly watched the terrible weather, her small shoulder partially drenched.
If he hadn’t been the older boy from her neighbor’s house, if his parents hadn’t divorced at that time, Bei Yao wouldn’t have run over. After all, no one liked offering warmth only to be met with coldness, and she wasn’t particularly close to him.
From childhood to now, Pei Chuan had never shown her a friendly face. He didn’t like her, and to avoid awkwardness, Bei Yao generally kept her distance.
Yet, over all these years, her earliest impression of Pei Chuan came from her mother’s words. He was a little hero who had sacrificed his legs for the happiness of countless families.
A hero shouldn’t be abandoned by the world; he should be respected. But it seemed everyone had forgotten his loss.
She shielded the young boy under her umbrella and said, “Let’s go home, Pei Chuan.”
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