“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.”
