Hot flashes

Zhou Heng didn't listen any further. He lifted his foot from the corner of the stairs and continued walking up.

He walked back to his room and pushed the door open.

He went in without closing the door, sat down on the edge of the bed, his toes dangling in mid-air, unable to touch the ground.

He sat there with his head down, looking at his two dangling legs. His slippers had a cartoon bear printed on them, and the bear's ear on his left foot was worn away.

The light from the doorway was blocked by something.

He looked up and saw the boy standing in the doorway, one hand on the doorframe and the other hanging at his side, tilting his head to look at him with a smile on his lips.

"Little brother," he said softly, as if afraid of disturbing something, "what's your name?"

Zhou Heng looked at him, sitting motionless on the edge of the bed. "My name is Zhou Heng."

The boy walked in.

He stopped in front of Zhou Heng and looked down at him.

He was more than a head taller than Zhou Heng.

He bent down and leaned closer, as if to see Zhou Heng's face clearly, then he smiled, revealing a row of neat white teeth: "My name is Song Yu."

From then on, Song Yu always took him out to play.

When Song Yu came, he would knock on his door, push it open a crack, peek his head in, wave at him and say, "Come out, I found something fun," or "There's a cat in the garden, do you want to come?" and then stand at the door waiting for him.

Zhou Heng would put down his book or toy and follow him out.

Once, Zhou Heng accidentally broke a crystal ornament on the coffee table in the living room.

It was a very small thing, but Zhou Heng knew it belonged to Song Yaru. It was something Song Yaru had asked someone to bring back from abroad, and it was placed in the most conspicuous spot in the living room. Every day, a maid would wipe it with a special cloth.

The moment the crystal broke, Zhou Heng stood in front of the coffee table, his palm still feeling the warm touch of the crystal's surface. He looked at the shard that had fallen onto the carpet, its edge reflecting a thin, shimmering light under the lamplight, like a white teardrop.

He was terrified.

He remembered the last time he broke something, Song Yaru stood in front of him, staring at the shards in silence for a long time, before finally saying, "Don't touch these things again."

He hadn't forgotten that tone of voice, and along with the straight, uncurved lines on that face, it was etched into his memory, like a red-hot iron stamp pressed onto his skin, leaving an indelible outline.

He heard footsteps coming from the living room. Song Yaru was walking towards him from the direction of the kitchen, her high heels clicking on the floor tiles, getting closer and closer.

Zhou Heng stood there motionless, staring at the fragments, his throat feeling as if it were blocked by a wad of wet cotton, unable to go up or down.

Song Yu appeared beside him at some point.

The moment Song Yaru reached the living room door, Song Yu stepped forward, blocking Zhou Heng's path. He spread his shoulders, completely obscuring Zhou Heng from behind: "Auntie, I accidentally knocked that ornament over."

Song Yaru paused for a moment.

Zhou Heng stood behind Song Yu, and every word he heard was like a bead being placed in a box, neatly arranged in his ears.

His back was pressed against the edge of the sofa, his fingers gripping the fabric on the sofa armrest, the fabric forming several fine wrinkles in his hands.

Song Yaru walked over, her gaze falling on the broken piece of furniture on the ground, then lifting it to Song Yu's face. In that instant, her expression changed from flat to a soft, helpless indulgence, and the corners of her mouth curved slightly.

"It's alright," Song Yaru's voice came through, carrying a gentleness Zhou Heng had never heard before, "Are you hurt yourself?"

Song Yu shook his head: "No."

He stood there watching Song Yaru walk over and squat down, reaching out to brush the stray hairs from his forehead to the side, her fingers gently gliding through the ends of his hair.

Song Yaru's eyes crinkled, and her voice softened even more than before: "Great job, you're willing to admit your mistakes."

Zhou Heng stood behind Song Yu, his fingers slowly loosening their grip on the sofa armrest.

The wet cotton in his throat seemed to melt away, but he didn't feel any relief. After the wet cotton disappeared, all that remained was an empty, hollow cavity.

This happened many times afterward.

If Zhou Heng accidentally does something wrong, Song Yu will cover for him and say that he did it himself. Song Yaru will forgive him with a smile, pat his hair, and praise him for being sensible.