Chapter 2

When we were in middle school, a family moved in across from us. They had two sons. The older one, Sheng Zhou, was two years older than us. He spoke little but was very attentive. The younger one, Sheng Lang, was only a few days older than us. He was bright and cheerful and had a lovely smile.

After they moved in, Dad stopped taking my sister and me to school. She wanted to go on her own, and with two boys walking beside us, Dad felt a little more at ease. I knew, however, that he secretly followed us for half a month.

Sheng Zhou deliberately slowed his pace to let my sister keep up. Sheng Lang walked with earphones in. After I glanced at him a few times, he noticed me watching. His eyes curved in a smile as he took out one earbud. “Did you call me?”

I quickly lowered my head and shook it. Then something tickled my ear.

He had pushed an earbud into it. “We’re in the same grade. Let’s listen together.”

A recording from our English textbook played through the earbud.

I stared for a moment, my face falling despite myself… I did not like English. Why would anyone listen to lessons on the way to school?

That walk was miserable enough. To my surprise, Sheng Lang offered me an earbud every single day afterward. I told him I had to watch my sister. He said, “My brother can look after her. You don’t have to.”

Not looking after my sister was my most secret, selfish desire, though I did not know when it had begun. I had never voiced it or acted on it, but I had thought about it.

Sheng Lang’s casual words seemed to reach straight into my heart. I reached out and took the earbud.

Guilt churned inside me, pressing so hard I could barely breathe.

“You have to listen to more English and develop an ear for the language. You can’t just keep your head down and copy the textbook…”

Sheng Lang spoke beside my ear. His voice was breaking and did not sound very good, so whenever he talked, he deliberately slowed down and controlled his pitch, sounding like a neighborhood committee secretary chairing a meeting.

I could not help laughing. He immediately fell silent, pressed his lips together, and flushed.

That day, he came to my classroom and handed me an exercise book without saying a word.

Inside were important points he had copied out and study methods he had summarized. I remembered that Sheng Lang had ranked first in English on the school entrance exam, but his Chinese was poor, dragging his overall ranking down to tenth.

After school that evening, I walked up beside him and softly thanked him.

He gave me a peculiar look and answered only, “Mm.”

I did not realize anything was wrong yet. Over the following days, Sheng Lang silently handed me an earbud each morning. When I finally noticed he was no longer talking to me, I grew anxious.

Why had he stopped? Did he hate me? Had I done something to make him angry?

He was so kind to me. I did not want him to hate me.

But I was timid. I did not dare approach him first.

To thank Sheng Zhou and Sheng Lang for accompanying my sister and me to and from school, my parents invited their family to dinner. Sheng Lang and I sat facing each other, but he said nothing and would not look at me.

Dad was speaking with Uncle Sheng. Mom talked as she placed food in my sister’s bowl so she would not have to stand up.

I pushed the rice around in my bowl. It tasted like sawdust.

“Shen Qian, what do you want to eat?”

It was the familiar voice I had missed, made awkward by puberty. I looked at Sheng Lang. The tips of his ears were red. “You can’t reach the dishes over here. Is there anything you want?”

Dad and Mom asked what I wanted, too, but because I did not want to give them more to worry about, I usually shook my head.

This time, however, my eyes went from his face to the plate of shrimp in front of him. I wanted to talk to him, so I said, “I want some shrimp.”

Mom did not want to trouble anyone. She glanced at me and said, “She can reach it. She just needs to stand up.”

I lowered my head and nodded, about to say I could get it myself.

Sheng Lang stood at once. Leaning over, he picked up the plate of celery in front of me and replaced it with the shrimp. Porcelain clicked crisply against glass.

I felt myself shudder. For an instant, I went numb.

Aunt Zhou was scolding him for his poor manners, but I could no longer hear her.

That single clear clink reverberated in my ears, deafening.

I could not remember the last time someone had set a whole plate of my favorite food in front of me.

My sister and I had similar tastes and liked many of the same dishes. The only difference was that I disliked cilantro, though I could tolerate it, while she loved it. So the dishes I liked almost always carried a hint of that flavor I did not care for.

This plate did not. The shrimp were richly colored, bright, and fragrant—exactly how I liked them.

My eyes inexplicably grew hot. I bowed my head even lower, letting my bangs hide my eyes so no one could see my expression. I stayed that way until dinner ended and we went outside to wait for the car.

I slowly edged over to Sheng Lang and thanked him.

He looked surprised. He raised his eyebrows and cleared his throat. “It was nothing. My mom makes even better shrimp. Come over next time, and I’ll ask her to cook some for you.”

I nodded and accepted the invitation.

After a moment, he suddenly lowered his gaze to me. “Why do you keep hiding yourself?”

I froze beneath his clear, bright stare.

He made a few wild gestures. “At dinner just now, it looked like you were about to hide under the table.”

His gestures were funny. I protested softly, though without much conviction.

“I wasn’t.”

I did hide many things in my heart.

Those thoughts showed in my eyes, so I lowered my head to conceal them, afraid anyone might notice.

But he was watching me so intently that I could not bow my head. All I could do was shift my gaze slightly away.

“Fine, you weren’t.” Sheng Lang shrugged. “If you ever need help with anything, tell me.”

I clenched my hands. His words lent me a flicker of courage. I stared at him. “Then could you always keep talking to me?”

Sheng Lang’s eyes widened slightly. He rubbed the back of his neck, uncomfortable, a faint flush showing on his face. His answer was muffled. “Mm. All right.”

I liked being with Sheng Lang. When I was with him, even silence felt easy.

We were not in the same class and usually only passed each other in the hall, but on the road to and from school, he always walked beside me, handed me an earbud, and patiently reminded me, “You have to dare to speak.”

My sister overheard him once and said, “Qianqian has started speaking up. Her English teacher says she has improved a lot, and her pronunciation is excellent.”

My face heated. I tugged at my sister’s sleeve. She teased me, “Are you embarrassed?”

Sheng Lang smiled at me, too. Sheng Zhou stood at the front and looked back at the three of us.

Being noticed like this left me at a loss.

I was not used to speaking in front of others. I worried my voice would vanish into the air without anyone responding, leaving me unnoticed somewhere, so nervous I held my breath.

When I first began learning English, I was afraid to speak. I went from being unremarkable to practically invisible, and naturally my English never improved. It remained my weakest subject all through middle school.

But today, my English teacher had asked whether I would enter the school’s English speech competition. She offered to coach me personally after class.

She gave me time to consider it. When Sheng Lang came through the door, I grabbed his backpack and said, “The teacher wants me to enter the speech competition.”

He turned and let out an “Ah?” Then he quickly smiled. “That makes us rivals. I’m not going to go easy on you.”

His smile was infectious, making anyone who saw it feel lighter. The last of my fear scattered.

Suppressing a small surge of joy, I told my parents about it at dinner.

I saw their faces light up at once. Then they instinctively glanced at my sister and, once they were reassured, began praising me. “Qianqian, that’s amazing.”

I had always been ordinary, with nothing that would make them proudly tell others about their younger daughter, Shen Qian. Perhaps now there was at least one thing that might make them mention me.

I told them the teacher would coach me after school. Mom’s first question was, “Then you can’t come home with your sister?”

My breath caught. It felt like being pricked by a tiny pine needle—bearable, but painful.

“If I sign up, I’ll come home later.” I tightened my grip on my chopsticks and looked at them. “Should I enter?”

Dad and Mom looked at each other but did not answer immediately. Their earlier happiness slowly receded from their faces like an ebbing tide, leaving only faint creases from their smiles.

My sister’s expression darkened. She glanced at them, then said gently to me, “Go. Why wouldn’t you? My little sister is so talented. You should show everyone what you can do.”

She turned to our parents. “Qianqian has coaching, but I’ll still have Sheng Zhou and Sheng Lang walking with me. Even if something really happened to me, she’s just a young girl…”

Mom cut her off. “Don’t say such unlucky things. What could happen to you?”

My sister interrupted her in turn. “Exactly. Nothing will happen to me.”

She patted my shoulder. “Tell your teacher tomorrow that you’re entering.”