Two men who were most in need of money lost their jobs on the same day.
That evening, the construction site security team rushed over and forcibly separated them.
The ground was a mess, and those involved in the fight had all sustained some injuries. Wang Cheng was the most severely hurt, lying there with blood all over his face, clutching his head and groaning incessantly.
Xu Qingli still gripped the steel pipe in his hand, blood slowly dripping down, dotting the muddy ground like stars.
He was stunned. He couldn’t afford to go to the police station—if the officers really started questioning him, his fake identity would quickly be exposed. He glanced at Cao Xiaojun, who was squatting nearby, head lowered and face pale, lost in thought.
However, Wang Cheng didn’t choose to call the police.
It wasn’t out of kindness. They later learned that this guy had once stabbed someone while drunk and had been on the run under a false name ever since. He, too, couldn’t afford to be interrogated at the station. In the end, this worked in Xu Qingli’s favor—he just had to pay some compensation, and the matter was settled.
But three days later, the foreman found some excuse to fire both him and Cao Xiaojun.
Under the winter sun, the two men walked in silence, one after the other, their belongings slung over their shoulders.
Xu Qingli was thinking about where to go next when Cao Xiaojun’s rough voice came from ahead.
“Where to?”
“Don’t know,” Xu Qingli chuckled. “This really caught me off guard. What about you? Any plans?”
Cao Xiaojun didn’t respond.
He was always like this, hard to read. Xu Qingli stared at his back, wondering what was going through his mind at that moment. Was he blaming him? After all, his son was sick, and the family was in desperate need of money—
“Stay at my place for a couple of days.”
Cao Xiaojun said this without turning around or slowing his pace.
“Until you find new work.”
By evening, Cao Xiaojun’s wife, a woman named Wu Ximei, wearily opened the door.
Before she could even take off her shoes, Cao Tianbao came bouncing over. Smiling, she shifted the groceries in her hands to one side and used her palm to wipe the snack crumbs from the corner of his mouth. Only then did she look up and notice the two men standing before her, freezing in surprise.
Xu Qingli stood there awkwardly, rubbing his hands together, stammering for a long time without managing a coherent sentence. He glanced helplessly at Cao Xiaojun, waiting for him to introduce them, but for some reason, he noticed Cao Xiaojun also looked tense, as if uneasy.
“Ximei, this is a new friend from the construction site.”
Cao Xiaojun walked over and subtly grabbed Wu Ximei’s arm.
“Ahem—” He cleared his throat. “His name is Ni Xiangdong.”
Xu Qingli saw clearly how Wu Ximei’s expression instantly darkened. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but Cao Xiaojun kept smiling while tightening his grip on her wrist.
“Let’s eat first. We can talk more tonight.”
Wu Ximei frowned, glared at Cao Xiaojun, but eventually nodded and turned to the kitchen.
Xu Qingli assumed it was the left side of his face that had frightened her.
Dinner was simple but warm—Stir-fried Pickled Vegetables, Salted Fish, and a plate of cabbage with tofu. Xu Qingli sat stiffly, head bowed as he ate plain rice. Wu Ximei and Cao Xiaojun conversed in dialect, complaining constantly, while Xu Qingli just shoveled food into his mouth, occasionally offering an awkward, sheepish smile, pretending not to understand.
“Where are you from?” Wu Ximei suddenly asked.
“The south.”
“Which part of the south?”
Xu Qingli paused his chopsticks, thought it over, and decided not to lie.
“Down by Nanyang.”Wu Ximei's face flushed red, probably recalling how she had just been using dialect to avoid others. She shot a sidelong glance at Xiaojun, but Cao Xiaojun showed no reaction, busy picking up a bite of cabbage for their son and urging him not to be picky.
"What a coincidence," Wu Ximei said with a smile. "Us too."
"Right, it's fate. The moment I met Xiaojun, I felt a connection, like we'd known each other for ages."
Though meant as flattery, for some reason, the words made Wu Ximei shrink back, pressing her lips together. Even Cao Xiaojun fell silent, leaving the living room quiet except for Cao Tianbao’s gleeful giggles at the cartoon on TV.
"Do you have any other siblings?" she continued. "Brothers or sisters?"
"No. My mother passed early, and my father never remarried. It’s just me."
"What year were you born?"
Damn. He couldn’t remember the man’s birthdate. In a panic, he blurted out his own birth month.
"November 1988."
"1988," Cao Xiaojun exhaled, picking up another bite of pickled vegetables before turning to Wu Ximei with a grin. "I was born in '87. This Dongzi is even younger than me."
Wu Ximei ignored him, picking up a piece of tofu. "Maybe I’m overstepping, but the scars on your face—"
Cao Xiaojun lightly kicked her under the table. She pretended not to notice, shifting away and pressing on.
"What happened to your left cheek? It looks pretty serious."
Cao Xiaojun tried to interject, but Xu Qingli set down his bowl and waved a hand dismissively.
"Hey, you’ve treated me like family, so I won’t hide it. There’s a story behind this face—"
His smile was open and sincere, and both Wu Ximei and Cao Xiaojun paused their chopsticks.
"When I was little, I was helping my dad tend the fire, but I dozed off and fell right in. Got burned pretty bad. Our village didn’t have proper doctors or medicine, and we didn’t know how to treat it properly. That’s why it scarred. Otherwise, you think I’d still be single at this age? Hahaha."
He laughed to himself, but the couple across from him exchanged a glance.
What? Did they not believe him?
Feeling uneasy, Xu Qingli turned away, focusing on the commercial playing on TV. He didn’t speak another word for the rest of the meal.
That night, he overheard the two of them arguing in hushed voices in the bathroom.
"You think things aren’t messy enough?" Wu Ximei’s voice was sharp. "And you still brought him home?"
"Just for a few days. He’s got nowhere else to go," Cao Xiaojun defended. "Don’t forget, Tianbao’s money came from him."
"These two things are different. Repaying a favor doesn’t mean— You might as well just tell him—"
They suddenly fell silent.
A faint creak—the bathroom door cracked open, as if someone was peeking out.
Xu Qingli lay in the dark, not daring to breathe, squeezing his eyes shut to feign sleep.
A moment later, he heard another creak and knew the door had closed again.
The muffled argument resumed, but this time the voices were even lower, softer, a barely audible hum. No matter how hard he strained his ears, he couldn’t make out the words.
Xu Qingli didn’t understand why Wu Ximei was so resistant to him.
After turning it over in his mind, he figured it must be because his scars were too frightening.
Besides, Cao Xiaojun’s home wasn’t big, and money was tight. Even though Tianbao hadn’t had an episode lately, they still needed to save up. He couldn’t overstay his welcome—it would only cause trouble.So the next day after lunch, he bid farewell to Cao Xiaojun and headed straight to Sun Chuanhai's place.
He had already discussed it with Old Sun—he would help plant and harvest vegetables for free, asking only for meals and a place to stay until he found new work.
Because of what happened with Sun Xiaofei, Old Sun felt indebted to him and insisted on giving him half of the earnings from selling vegetables. Every meal was served with dishes and wine. When they couldn’t afford meat from outside, they slaughtered chickens raised at home.
However, it was the dead of winter, and jobs were hard to come by. He ended up staying for over half a month. Seeing the days slip by like this, Xu Qingli grew increasingly restless.
One evening, he received a call from Cao Xiaojun.
Xiaojun said he had found a job helping people move, with decent pay. One of the workers had recently hurt his back, so they were short-handed. He asked if Xu wanted to join.
"Think about it—I think it’s a good fit."
Xu Qingli paused for a few seconds, glancing at Old Sun, who was busy at the stove slaughtering the last chicken in the house. The cotton padding in his tattered coat peeked out from under the armpits.
Xu couldn’t bear it any longer and agreed immediately.
Just like that, the two became coworkers again.
Moving was also hard labor, but compared to construction work, it was much easier.
The job didn’t require any special skills—just brute strength. Wages were paid daily, and as the days passed, he found himself with a bit more money to spare. The two of them would often go for a drink and chat idly.
He also visited Cao Xiaojun’s home from time to time. Wu Ximei didn’t say much—though distant, she remained polite.
Surprisingly, Cao Tianbao took a liking to him.
The boy’s life had been saved by piles of money, but his health remained fragile. That was why Xiaojun worked multiple jobs, and so did Wu Ximei. When the couple was too busy, Xu Qingli would help pick up and drop off Tianbao, occasionally even cooking meals or tutoring him.
After all, he had once been a Chinese teacher. In his free time, he still enjoyed reading and had a wealth of fascinating stories to share, always finding new ways to amuse Tianbao.
It was his patience with Tianbao that gradually eased Wu Ximei’s wariness.
Once, when she returned home, only the desk lamp was on in the room.
Xu Qingli was hunched over, leaning sideways, squeezed next to Tianbao at the desk, whispering about something. Tianbao nibbled on his pencil, giggling.
She tiptoed closer and saw that he was teaching Tianbao how to write an essay. His thick fingers traced the small green squares on the draft paper as he spoke softly. On a scrap of paper beside them were lines of writing—perhaps poems he had composed himself.
The handwriting was delicate and refined, nothing like the Ni Xiangdong she had imagined.
He noticed her and turned around, standing up awkwardly.
"Sister-in-law, you're back."
She still wasn’t quite used to the address, forcing a slight smile.
"Nice handwriting."
"Ha, this is nothing. I used to be a Chinese teacher—my blackboard writing was even better—"
The words slipped out, and both of them froze.
"You used to be a teacher?"
"Mhm."
"You really—"
She stopped herself. She wasn’t particularly curious about his past.
Now she had come to terms with it—whether his name was real or fake, whether he actually knew the real Ni Xiangdong or not, as long as he didn’t stir up trouble, as long as he didn’t disrupt the peaceful life of their family of three, then the rest didn’t matter. Whatever he called himself, digging deeper would do no good for anyone.
She reached out and patted Tianbao, giving him a few instructions before turning to leave.From then on, Wu Ximei's attitude toward Xu Qingli gradually improved. She often invited him over for meals, always bought him a matching outfit whenever she got clothes for Cao Xiaojun, and would pack him a portion whenever the family cooked meat or prepared extra dishes.
As spring arrived the following year, his life began to brighten bit by bit.
He and Cao Xiaojun decided to strike out on their own. Pooling their money, they bought a tricycle, hung up a sign, and set up a loudspeaker, driving in circles around the streets to pick up small jobs nearby. Because their prices were low, their work was straightforward, and they handled tasks cleanly and efficiently, their business slowly began to thrive.
To make work more convenient, he rented a small room near Cao Xiaojun’s home, and the interactions between the two households grew more frequent. During holidays, the four outsiders would gather together, eating, drinking, chatting, and laughing, as intimate as family.
The first time he ever ate a birthday cake was also at Cao Xiaojun’s home.
In the middle of dinner that day, the lights suddenly went out. Just as Xu Qingli was wondering what had happened, Cao Tianbao walked in holding a small cake.
"Uncle, happy birthday!"
The entire Cao Xiaojun family clapped their hands and sang an off-key birthday song, their sincerity palpable.
The flickering orange candlelight cast golden reflections on their three smiling faces, shining straight into his eyes.
Xu Qingli stared at that tiny flame in a daze.
In the chaotic darkness of his thirty-some years of life, this family was like the candle before him—slender, faint, only able to illuminate a small corner, only able to offer fleeting warmth. But for him, it was enough. More than enough.
For the first time, someone had cheered for his birth.
For the first time, someone had planned for his happiness.
His life had always been accompanied by tears and blood. Only today did he learn for the first time that life could also hold things worth celebrating.
He laughed until tears streamed down his face.
"Uncle, make a wish!" Tianbao urged him. "Why are you crying?"
Embarrassed, he covered his face like a child, the twisted scars hidden behind his rough hands.
"Who’s crying? I just got smoke in my eyes."
"Make a wish, hurry up and make a wish!" Tianbao stomped his feet playfully. "I’m waiting to eat the cake!"
"You little rascal," Wu Ximei scolded with a laugh. "Always so bold with your Uncle Ni."
"Go on," Cao Xiaojun chimed in, his face also flushed, nudging him with an elbow. "Stop being sentimental. Just do it—it’s not like it costs anything. Make as many wishes as you want."
Xu Qingli sheepishly wiped his nose, then rubbed his hands on his pants before clasping them together in earnest prayer to the heavens.
He repeated the same wish over and over, afraid the gods might mishear. Finally, he slowly opened his eyes.
"Done?"
"Mhm."
"Blow out the candles."
He stared at the golden flame, reluctant in his heart, but still exhaled a breath.
The candlelight flickered twice—then went out.
Four smiling faces were once again swallowed by the darkness.
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