Chapter 103: Parallel Worlds (2)
Fu Xun’s illness hadn’t healed yet, and Han Min, who lived in the same courtyard, also fell sick.
When other friends came to visit Fu Xun, they all peered through the window, but Han Min didn’t go.
Now that he was sick, everyone knew he must have secretly gone to see Fu Xun.
Yet Han Min refused to admit it. He lay in bed clutching the blanket, his face flushed with fever, and muttered in protest: “I didn’t go, I didn’t go.”
Perhaps the fever had made him a little silly.
—
The two of them recovered at home for over half a month before returning to kindergarten.
That morning, Grandpa Yang stood at the iron gate to greet the children.
Fu Lin and Han Shi rode their bikes, delivering their younger brothers to Grandpa Yang, even handing over a bag of medicine hanging on the handlebars, asking him to make sure they took it after lunch.
Han Min, sleepy-eyed and yawning, held Grandpa Yang’s hand while waving to his older brother: “Bye, brother.”
Fu Xun stood on the other side, glanced at him, and also waved to his older brother.
Fu Lin waited for him to say “goodbye,” but when he didn’t, Fu Lin shifted his gaze to Han Min, who was yawning widely.
It seemed the other kid’s younger brother was cuter.
The two older brothers rode off, quickly turning the corner.
Han Shi smiled. “Your brother’s been sick. He seems… different.”
Fu Lin replied, “A little, perhaps. He used to act so grown-up.”
“But my brother’s still cuter. Yesterday I got home late, and he waited for me at the door—a little penguin.”
Han Shi was completely enchanted. Fu Lin loosened one hand from the handlebars, hid it in his wide sleeve, and waved at him, mimicking Han Min: “Bye, brother, bye, brother.”
Han Shi chuckled.
—
Grandpa Yang loved children. The outer walls of the house were painted yellow and blue.
He held one child by the hand and led them back to the classroom.
Han Min quickly noticed a new friend in class.
A boy about their age sat at an empty desk, hands on the table, looking very serious. As soon as Grandpa Yang entered, he focused on him intently.
Grandpa Yang patted his shoulder: “Go sit at your desk.”
But soon Han Min sensed something was off.
Most children had arrived, leaving two empty seats side by side. Yet both Grandpa Fu and Grandpa Han had specifically instructed that Fu Xun and Han Min must not sit together—it could lead to trouble.
Just as he hesitated, Wei Gui shouted from below: “Teacher Yang, Fu Xun and Han Min are best friends!”
Grandpa Yang’s brow twitched in confusion. Wei Gui added, “When Fu Xun was sick, Han Min went to see him alone, and he got sick too. Doesn’t that count as best friends?”
Han Min still stuck his neck out, protesting: “I didn’t.”
And that’s how rumors are born.
Upon hearing this, Grandpa Yang realized—they truly were the best of friends. He immediately seated them together.
Han Min reluctantly tugged at his smock and walked over, poking Fu Xun’s hand: “Why aren’t you saying anything?”
Fu Xun didn’t answer. Han Min rubbed his face, wondering if the illness had made him a little slow.
But his attention quickly shifted to the new classmate, sitting right in front of him, so he could talk to him.
“What’s your name? When did you come? Why aren’t you talking?”
Han Min began to suspect the boy couldn’t speak—until he finally opened his mouth: “Class is about to start.”
Such a serious classmate.
Han Min turned back, staring blankly.
While daydreaming, someone suddenly tugged at his hair.
He turned to Fu Xun and asked, dragging the word: “What are you doing?”
Fu Xun’s eyes lit up. Ever since recovering, he felt he had forgotten something. This little tug reminded him of everything—at least enough to know how to interact with Han Min.
Han Min dragged a drawing pad over and placed it between them, flopping face-down on the table in frustration. Fu Xun, however, was happy and focused on braiding his hair until Officer Liu came in.
—
After learning two or three new characters that morning, Han Min finally learned the new classmate’s name during break.
He was Wen Yan, previously attending school downtown, who had just transferred to this remote place. Wei Gui said he didn’t like playing—after class, he either flipped through drawing pads at his desk or stood counting red stars on the bulletin board.
Han Min tried to talk to him, but he said: “You’re Han Min, right? I heard you had the most red stars before. I’ll have more than you in the future.”
Han Min blinked, scratching his head: “Alright, then.”
Then Wei Gui called him over to play “Statue,” and after glancing at Wen Yan, he ran to join his old friends.
Fu Xun also began to get used to this life, as if this was how it had always been before he got sick.
After lunch, the two were called by Grandpa Yang to take their medicine.
Fu Xun shoved the pills in his mouth: “I’m not afraid of bitter at all.”
Han Min held the pills in his palm and gulped them down: “Me neither.”
Then the competition began.
“I can eat ten more.”
“I can eat a hundred!”
There were no numbers beyond a hundred, as Officer Liu hadn’t taught them yet.
Han Min stomped: “Teacher Yang, give me a hundred pills!”
Grandpa Yang looked confused.
—
In the evening, the older brothers came to pick them up and found both had changed clothes.
Fu Lin asked: “What happened? Did you wet the bed during nap?”
Fu Xun quickly denied: “No!”
Han Shi looked at Han Min: “Then it’s you.”
Han Min also said: “No!”
Standing aside, Fu Rang cautiously explained: “They fought again. During nap, brother braided Han Min’s hair. When Han Min woke up and saw it, they fought—from the bed all the way to the sandpit. Then Teacher Yang made them change clothes.”
Han Shi realized Han Min’s hair had curled slightly. He rubbed Fu Xun’s head: “How could you do that, you little rascal?”
Fu Xun said: “I couldn’t sleep. He was sleeping next to me, and I didn’t wake him.”
Han Min quickly said: “Braids are for girls! You did it on purpose…”
Seeing them about to argue again, the two older brothers each picked up one boy and put them on the bike.
“Time to go home, time to go home.”
On the back of the bike, they still glared at each other, showing their anger with their eyes.
Fu Xun lifted his foot to kick, and Han Min did the same.
A voice from ahead: “Sit properly, don’t move around.”
Soon, popular illustrated record magazines reached here, showing male singers with full heads of braids.
Han Min peeked at one through the shop window, glancing at Fu Xun, hoping he hadn’t seen it. If Fu Xun knew boys could wear braids too, he’d have more reason to compete.
—
After this, fighting became routine, yet they still sat together. Whenever Grandpa Yang tried to move them apart, the other children protested: “They’re best friends! How can they sit separately?”
A few days later, Wei Gui’s mother had a baby brother, and Wei Gui took their group to the hospital to see him.
Spots were limited; only Wei Gui’s good friends could go.
The newborn wore a wristband, and all were placed together under care. Through the glass, several children pressed against it to look.
Han Min whispered: “Wei Gui, which one’s your brother? They all look the same.”
Wei Gui pointed: “Third from the left.”
They all looked and stayed silent for a while. Finally: “Wei Gui, your brother’s so dark.”
Perhaps this is what childhood honesty is like—but later, Wei Huan did get the nickname “Black Piglet.”
After seeing the baby, they planned to visit Wei Gui’s mother. Turning around, they saw several parents standing behind them.
They hadn’t sneaked out—Han Min left a note on the classroom desk, easily seen by Grandpa Yang.
But the parents didn’t think so. They each took their child away and pulled them out to lecture them.
Everyone got scolded, and Wei Gui, as the organizer, got two spanks on the bottom, embarrassed in front of friends, and couldn’t hold back tears.
Fu Xun and Fu Rang were also spanked by Grandpa Fu. Fu Xun didn’t complain, so Fu Rang stayed quiet.
When it was Han Min’s turn, Grandpa Han had already picked him up.
Grandpa Fu said: “Old Han, you can’t always spoil the child…”
Han Min hugged Grandpa’s neck, blinking seriously: “I just saw the baby brother. I used to be that small too. Grandpa took care of me to grow this big. Grandpa worked so hard. I won’t run around anymore or trouble you, Grandpa. Don’t be mad.”
The friends looked up at Han Min, clever and sincere.
The little good grandson was soft and sensible; Grandpa Han’s heart melted—how could he scold him?
“Finally out for a bit, Min Min, what do you want to eat?”
“I just saw milk tea sold on the other street. I’ve never had milk tea.”
“Buy it, buy it! Grandpa will buy.”
The milk tea shop had just opened here, and things were cheap. Han Min leaned on the counter, studied the menu carefully, and ordered an original flavor.
“Sis, can you divide it into four cups? My good friends want some too.”
He turned, grabbed Wei Gui and Fu Rang’s hands. As for Fu Xun, with no third hand, giving him a portion was a big decision.
Fu Xun didn’t get a hand held, hugging himself instead: “I’m not drinking.”
—
Milk tea didn’t improve Han Min and Fu Xun’s relationship. They still fought every three days and caused a scene every five.
Nine years passed through elementary and middle school.
For some reason, though they often weren’t in the same class, Han Min and Fu Xun never parted and were always deskmates.
Both disliked each other. In elementary, they drew pencil lines to separate desks; in middle school, they stacked books high between them. Han Min worked on problems while Fu Xun slept.
Wen Yan also shared their class, sitting behind Han Min, competing for first place for nine years, sometimes winning.
Fu Xun didn’t like studying and loved video games, once unbeatable in the district.
Only in his last year of middle school did he start studying seriously. Living nearby, Grandpa Fu asked Han Min to tutor him. Han Min was reluctant but, out of respect for elders and pocket money, taught him for half a year.
—
That summer after exams, Han Min went home with Grandpa Han, returning only near the start of school.
After seeing friends and playing all day outside, he felt something was off.
Returning home, he hesitated: “Grandpa, where’s Fu Xun? I didn’t see him.”
“He’s been going to the gym with his brother the past two months.”
Han Min nodded: “Oh, I see.”
“Do you miss him? He’ll be back tonight.”
As they spoke, the courtyard gate creaked. A tall boy, sweaty, holding a basketball, stood at the entrance.
Han Min sized him up: “Who are you?”
My little chubby boy? Where’s my little chubby boy I left here?
