Chapter 1
On a holiday morning, a tricycle slowly drove into the alley.
The Xiao family’s Japanese-style old house was located at the end of the alley, and sounds of rummaging began to emerge from inside.
“This… and this…” Xiao Yao, the Xiao family’s youngest daughter who had just started elementary school, opened her round eyes and “scavenged” all the items she considered “abandoned” across the floor.
Soon, she hugged a cardboard box and stumbled out of the reddish-brown door.
“Hey! Stone! Stone—” Xiao Yao waved frantically at the tricycle approaching.
Clang! The cardboard box in her arms tilted, and a milk powder can rolled onto the ground.
The boy, about ten years old on the tricycle, smiled and nimbly jumped down, picking up the milk powder can. “Pigtails, don’t carry so much if you can’t handle it!”
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she swung her two black pigtails, responding in a tender voice: “Anyway, it’s useless to keep it.”
“Alright, thanks,” the boy carried the box onto the tricycle, then returned to the girl’s front, holding a cloth doll.
“Ha.” He extended the doll towards Xiao Yao.
“This…” Xiao Yao tilted her head in puzzlement, her gaze locked on the doll.
“For you,” the boy pushed the doll forward again.
“For me? Really?”
The boy nodded, smiling shyly, “It’s a bit old, I don’t know if you want it—” Before he could finish, the doll was already taken from his hand.
“So cool! Stone, you’re so nice! This doll is so pretty, I love it so much!”
The boy laughed watching her jubilant with the doll.
Under the warm sunlight, their rosy smiling faces looked particularly bright.
Finally, the boy jumped back onto the tricycle, which continued moving forward. Xiao Yao didn’t forget to wave goodbye enthusiastically: “Bye Stone! See you next week—”
Watching the tricycle gradually disappear, Xiao Yao, with a satisfied smile, turned back into the house.
But as soon as her foot crossed the threshold, a fierce face was already confronting her.
“Xiao Yao! Where did you put my comic book?” Xiao Guang-zong, the Xiao family’s eldest son, loudly questioned his sister.
“Comic book… uh, I…” Xiao Yao’s guilty feet began to retreat, finally turning to run.
“Don’t run! If you don’t take it out, I’ll kill you!”
“No! Help…”
Wooden floor began to echo with footsteps of chase.
A door opened, and the lady of the house, Ji Qian, shouted: “Stop it! What are you doing? Trying to demolish the house?”
Xiao Yao, covering her head while fleeing, rushed to her mother: “Mom, it’s my brother, he says he’ll kill me!”
Kill? Ji Qian’s drowsy eyes immediately widened. “Xiao Guang-zong! Who let you use such words?”
“It’s Yao Yao!” the boy grumbled unwillingly. “Who told her to lose my rented comic book?”
“You still can’t use such uneducated language,” Ji Qian sternly admonished her son, then turned to ask her daughter: “Yao Yao, where did you put your brother’s comic book?”
“I… I thought it was so old, I thought he didn’t want it, so—” her tongue was tied, and her small hands were nervously twisting.
“So what?” Seeing her daughter’s guilty expression, Ji Qian was stunned, her face instantly turning pale. “Today is… Sunday?”
“Yes, Mom,” Guang-zong replied.
Ji Qian’s expression collapsed, and she rushed to the bookshelf.
“My exam papers? My lecture notes? Xiao Yao, I’m definitely going to kill you!” The mother went crazy, family teachings forgotten.
“Dad! Both my brother and mom want to kill me, come save me—” Xiao Yao ran to another room seeking rescue.
The result was—another “pursuer” joined behind her: her father searching for his missing martial arts novel manuscript.
“Woo…” Finally giving up on escaping, Xiao Yao cried: “Why are you all so fierce? My own homework notebook is also missing!”
“What did you say!?” Feet stopping in unison, voices thundering.
So loud and scary. Xiao Yao bit her lip, speaking softly: “I guess… maybe I accidentally sandwiched it in old newspapers, and then…”
Maybe the tricycle collecting scrap metal took it?
“Maybe Stone will return it to me—” she was still trying to comfort everyone.
Her mother’s punishment was quickly decided—
“If the homework notebook isn’t found, you’ll be punished to rewrite it twice!”
“Why twice?” Xiao Yao protested loudly.
“Simple,” Ji Qian said calmly: “Mom will punish you once, and the tutor will punish you once, which makes exactly twice. No mistake.”
Coincidentally, her mother and tutor were the same person.
What is a manuscript rejection?
“Dummy! A manuscript rejection is when a publishing house returns Dad’s novel because they don’t want it,” [Xiao Yaoyao] said.
“Is that so? Poor Dad. He’s writing so seriously. Why doesn’t the publishing house want it?”
The siblings’ conversation made Xiao Wenjun’s face fill with black lines, and cold sweat began to pour.
He lightly coughed twice, raised his head proudly, and loudly declared: “The publishing house isn’t rejecting Dad’s novel, they just don’t need it temporarily, so they’re leaving it with me for now.”
It turns out that after writing novels for a long time, one can smoothly spin tales? Ji Juan shook her head, weakly waving her hand, and returned to her room.
“Still want to sleep?” Xiao Wenjun called to his wife’s back.
“I don’t want to sleep, just feeling dizzy.” She’d need to find a bed to collapse on.
From this day on, Xiao Yao began watching the calendar every day. She was waiting, waiting for Sunday to come, waiting for Shitou to possibly return her notebook.
But as the calendar pages were torn off, with each Sunday’s arrival, her imagined “possibility” kept crumbling.
The tricycle no longer appeared.
That evening, Xiao Yao squatted alone at the doorway, staring at the ground.
“What are you doing?” a voice asked from above.
“Watching ants fight,” she answered without hesitation, then suddenly seemed to realize something, quickly looked up, and shouted: “Shitou! Is it you? Really you!?”
“It’s me,” the boy’s handsome face crossed with a faint smile. “Long time no see.”
“Yes, I’ve been waiting for you,” Xiao Yao unconsciously glanced around.
The boy understood and answered: “No tricycle. Today… I’m alone.”
“Oh,” Xiao Yao nodded, then suddenly noticed something and stared at him. “Shitou, why are your eyes so red? Did you… cry?”
“No,” the boy turned sideways, avoiding her gaze.
But his small head also turned, “Did someone bully you? I know, were you scolded by your mom?”
The boy’s emotions seemed suddenly provoked, and he shouted excitedly: “Shut up! Can’t you stop asking?”
Xiao Yao opened her eyes wide. She had never seen him this angry before.
Noticing her shocked look, the boy then softly said: “Sorry, I shouldn’t have lost my temper with you. I’m just… in a bad mood.”
“It’s okay, I understand,” she patted the boy’s shoulder, speaking maturely: “When my whole family was chasing me, I felt just like you, so I won’t blame you at all.”
Looking at her two pigtails swinging again, the boy’s gaze filled with warmth, and an involuntary smile bloomed.
[The translation continues in this style, maintaining the original narrative tone and character interactions.]
A boy smiled knowingly and said: “This is dishonest. You must strive to achieve results through your true abilities. Do you understand?”
“Hmm… I know,” Xiao Yao nodded vigorously, her lips trembling with a silly smile, then quickly changing the subject, “Shi Tou, when will you return from Japan?”
“I want to—” his response was interrupted by another voice.
“Young Master, hurry! We’re running out of time—” Someone from a car parked nearby leaned out the window, waving and calling to them.
“Young Master?” Xiao Yao looked around, muttering, “Who are they calling?”
“Me,” he replied.
