Sometimes, forgetting is the most despicable and shameless thing. It crushes everything from the past into powder, yet cunningly carves invisible memories deep into flesh and bone.

When Xie Ci lay beside Ye Li, breathing in this scent that belonged uniquely to another person, feeling another person's body warmth, a more distant and silent touch, like tangled root systems, quietly wrapped around his consciousness.

It was a familiarity that needed no recollection and could not be recollected, as if his body had already, in some space-time abandoned by conscious will, become familiar countless times with another warm body, accustomed to sharing this small warmth in darkness, and that heavy weight called "being together."

......

Memories with her always seemed so beautiful, even though this beauty was mixed with much bitterness and sorrow, making it hard to swallow.

She pointed at the pencil case in the display case behind the glass window, saying she wanted that one. He complained beside her about having no money: "Let's go, I don't want something just because others have it."

But you didn't do that. You held her finger pointing toward the display case, drew a heart together with her on the glass that had already formed frost from the cold, and promised her: "I'll make it happen. Someday you'll have everything others have."

She threw a tantrum like a child on the street. He walked away in a huff without looking back, thinking to himself that she really was a spoiled rich kid after all.

No, but you didn't do that. You held her, straightened her collar that had gotten all crooked from your argument, looked at her with your most gentle gaze as she finished her tantrum, and finally gently kissed her forehead under the dim streetlight.

She bounced around beside him, sharing happy things that happened at school today. He just silently calculated beside her how many more days the money in his hand would last for meals.

But you didn't do that. You stared into her bright, sparkling eyes, seriously responding to every word she said, tucked her already reddened hands into your pocket, and took her to eat at that roadside stall she'd been talking about for days.

She stood in front of the traffic light, hands stuffed tightly in her pockets, nose tip reddened from the winter night's cold, worn shoe tips kicking at small pebbles on the road one by one.

But you took off your own scarf, wrapped it around her neck, then used your fingers that had rubbed up some warmth to gently rub her cute little nose.

That day, she stood by the sea and threw a small pebble into the water, splashing only tiny ripples. The corners of her mouth turned down as she gazed into the distance, full of worries.

You picked up a bigger stone by the seaside and threw it into the sea just like her, creating bigger splashes than hers, then said to her smugly: "I'm better than you." When she refused to accept defeat and went to find more stones, your eyes silently followed her small figure, unwilling to look away for even a moment, quietly enjoying the happiest moments.

Those times were really so happy, happy that you felt the sky was always blue, flowers always fragrant, and even the little stream by your small broken house always gurgled endlessly.

But winter always comes.

That seemed to be the first conflict between you two, when you were fourteen.

"Take it out."

She turned her head away, biting her lip without speaking. Thirteen-year-old her didn't meet your gaze directly, but her whole body was filled with stubbornness.

Time passed minute by minute. The cold wind still howled outside the window, and you still hadn't secured dinner.

"Take it out."

But she acted as if she hadn't heard, just turning her head away again, pressing her lips together, her hair by her forehead covering her eyes.

"I said, take it out!"

You rarely lost your temper, but you shouted at her, the wooden stick gripped tightly in your hand trembling, wanting to hit her but unable to bear it.

Hearing your roar, she first froze, her little face turning pale, clearly frightened. But she remained stubborn, neither speaking nor making any movement.

"Wen Ruohan, I'm telling you to take it out!"

After a crisp sound, a red mark appeared abruptly on that fair arm. Her gaze trembled, tears faintly welling up, but she still made no movement, only letting out a soft snort.

You suddenly felt very tired, very weary, very sad in your heart. The anger dissipated all at once, but what followed was sorrow like a tide.

One strike hurt both of you deeply.

You suddenly didn't want to say anything more. You slumped into one of the room's only two chairs. The room was extremely quiet, with only cold wind whistling through the window cracks.

"Little Han." You sighed helplessly. "Why did you steal someone else's money..."

"Today is your birthday."

She finally spoke her first words in all this time, completely unrelated to the question.

But this stunned you.

You suddenly felt your heart grow sour, something in your eyes threatening to spill out unwillingly. But if that thing slid down your cheek in this howling winter wind, it would only create frostbite on your face.

You felt so powerless. You wanted to stand up, wanted to go forward and touch her little face, but whether from hunger or something else, your legs were so weak that you tumbled to the ground with a thud, falling into her arms.

"Brother..."

You held her tightly. You suddenly realized you couldn't say any words of reproach, couldn't say any other words at all. Your throat hurt, and there was a hard lump there. Tears flowed unwillingly from the corners of your eyes. The cold wind blowing across your tear-wet face created a piercing pain.

Today was your birthday, but this was something you'd made up. You had no idea when you were born, let alone celebrated any birthday. But you celebrated her birthday every year. Under her persistent questioning, you had no choice but to randomly pick a date as your birthday, never expecting her to remember it until now.

Your lips moved as you hurriedly swallowed back the sob that had reached your throat. You couldn't cry. You turned your head away, gently stroking her hair. Because you couldn't always eat your fill, her body was so thin and frail.

Sadness, helplessness, regret flooded your heart. If she lived with someone else, would she not have to suffer like this?

"Little Han," you quickly wiped away the tears from the corners of your eyes, looking at her tightly pressed lips. She hadn't cried when she was hit just now, but her eyes were already red. "Listen to me. Although we're poor, we don't steal or rob. Every penny in our hands is earned through our own efforts. People living in this world must be worthy of their own hearts. Is that okay, Little Han?"

"Why...

"They're just a bunch of scum who like bullying people. Just because they have some dirty money, they casually humiliate people at school. My stealing their money...

"What's wrong with that... it's just one day's pocket money to them anyway..."

You stroked her head, speaking earnestly: "Little Han, even if they are morally corrupt people, that still can't be a reason for you to steal others' money. Be good, come with me to return the money to them, okay?"

"No..."

"Little Han."

"I won't..."

"Little Han!"

"I said no!"

She suddenly looked up, her crimson eyes carrying some fierceness.

"Their parents are also a bunch of scum. They often brag about their parents being big officials who can easily collect huge bribes. Their money was dirty to begin with. What's wrong with me taking some to make our lives better!"

"Little Han, no matter what kind of money it is, stealing from others is wrong!"

"What's right or wrong? What gives you the right to control me!"

"Because I'm your brother!"

"You're not really my brother!"

After these words were spoken, both of them froze.

The intense sadness and depression accumulated and clogged in his chest like muddy water. The memories in his dream melted and disappeared like snow every spring, leaving only two streams of clear tears sliding down Xie Ci's cheeks.

He jolted awake. Beside him came the sound of peaceful sleep—not that red-eyed girl.

"Wen... Ruo... Han..."

Xie Ci blankly touched the tear tracks on his face, murmuring to himself.

Translator’s Corner

Damn.

-Ruminas

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