Childhood
In the old hutong of Beijing, everyone knew one thing —
If you see Xing Yue, you will see his little tail 5 meters behind.
Lin Daiyu.
Daiyu was 5 years old. Two pigtails, missing front tooth, pink shoes that lights up when she walks.
Xing Yue was 10. Already 150cm, cold face, school bag bigger than Daiyu herself.
If Xing Yue went east to buy baozi, Daiyu went east.
If he went west to play basketball, Daiyu went west.
If he tried to hide and go to internet cafe secretly, Daiyu would still find him and shout with her loudest voice —
"Xing Yue gege, wait for me! My legs are short!"
The whole hutong would laugh.
10-year-old Xing Yue would stop, turn around, his handsome little face frowning like a little adult.
"Lin Daiyu, why are you following me AGAIN? Are you a puppy? So annoying."
He said annoying, but his steps would automatically become slower. So Daiyu's short legs could catch up.
Daiyu didn't care if he said annoying. She would run and grab his sleeve with her chubby, sweaty little hands. Her strawberry milk smell would be all over his white school shirt.
"Gege, mom said if I follow you, I will grow tall like you!"
Xing Yue would shake his sleeve, "Don't talk nonsense. Go home."
At that time, Auntie Wang from next door would come out with vegetables and laugh loudly, "Yue Yue, you have to take good care of your future wife! Look how much Daiyu likes you!"
The moment he heard "future wife", Xing Yue's ears would turn completely red, like cooked shrimp. He would immediately shake off Daiyu's hand very hard and say in a cold voice, to keep distance, for everyone to hear —
"Don't talk nonsense, Auntie Wang. She is just the kid next door. Just next door. Nothing else."
Not little sister.
Not friend.
Just "the kid next door."
That was his way of drawing a line. A line he drew from age 10 to age 18. A line Daiyu could never cross.
But Daiyu was 5. She didn't understand what is line.
What she understood was —
If Xing Yue doesn't eat breakfast, she will be hungry too.
So every morning at 6:30 AM, she would wake up earlier than Xing Yue, take her favorite strawberry milk — the one her mother only buys one per day — and secretly put it in his school bag's
