Chapter 29: Fairy Pepper

The sinister world continued to pour with rain. Shut windows separated home from the storm outside.

In the quiet bedroom, an orange desk lamp glowed. On the narrow windowsill sat a pot of cactus, a small glass bowl of water, and floating inside it, a white, fragrant flower.

Yin Xian scratched his head.

He had received a package—chili peppers?

Laughing, he opened the paper wrapper and carefully counted them: seven in total—one crooked, two small and flat, three thin and long, and one round and plump.

As usual, Yin Xian focused on the words she had crossed out: Be careful when you eat them, I think they’re really spicy!

Because of that sentence, he wanted to add even more chili to try.

But…

Yin Xian picked out the round, plump chili pepper, examined it from all angles, and the more he looked, the more he liked it.

He lifted the cactus pot from the windowsill, looked at the cactus, then the pepper, and made a decision.

The lush green cactus was yanked out and thrown into the trash.

The chili pepper took its place and found a new home.

With deft hands, Yin Xian removed the seeds from the pepper and evenly scattered them into the soil.

“All right, now grow up here, nice and obedient,” he said, thoughtfully watering it.

The untouched label on the little clay pot still read “Cactus.” Yin Xian picked up a pen and changed it to “Fairy Pepper.”

The Fairy Pepper settled in and quietly began to grow.

That rainy season, when Yin Xian was seventeen, suddenly didn’t feel so hard anymore.

He picked up his books again, attended morning and evening classes, and didn’t miss a single tutoring session.

After school, he pushed through the bustling crowd, had a bowl of noodles at the noodle shop, then returned to his dorm room to water his plant.

The little knife in his pen holder no longer had any use beyond sharpening pencils.

Yin Xian patiently waited for the Fairy Pepper to grow into a pot full of spicy chilies.

Every day, he wrote letters to the “Little Fairy.”

Sometimes they wrote a lot, sometimes only a little.

They had never met, yet she cared about him more than his own family, spending time with him more than anyone else.

Before the rainy season ended, knowing she had a sweet tooth, Yin Xian slipped a milk-flavored Popsicle into the envelope.

Before the rainy season came to the mountains, Wang Jiexiang received a milk-flavored Popsicle from her pen pal, “Island.”

It was still cold from the freezer when it arrived in her hands.

A milk-flavored Popsicle!

The best kind of milk flavor!

Wang Jiexiang had always wanted to try one.

The little shop in town sold them, but they were far too expensive—her family could never afford one.

She politely asked in her letter: 【Can I really eat it?】

He replied: 【Yes.】

Wang Jiexiang was overjoyed.

She unwrapped the Popsicle and poured it into a bowl.

The milky white Popsicle looked like a block of milk tofu, exuding cool mist and rich milky fragrance.

She swallowed hard, but still couldn’t bring herself to eat it alone. She called for her mom to share it with her.

Her mom was outside, busy collecting the dried tea leaves, and replied, “It’s about to rain, I’ll be right in.”

So Wang Jiexiang held two spoons, leaned over the dining table, full of anticipation, and stared dreamily at the Popsicle.

“What’s this?”

A hand descended from above and took her bowl away.

Wang Jiexiang looked up and saw her grandmother’s face.

The old woman had sagging eye bags and a slightly protruding mouth. When displeased, her face tightened and her slanted eyes stared sharply.

Wang Jiexiang didn’t understand why she was so afraid of her grandmother.

Her body instinctively shrank back, and her voice trembled.

“It’s… something to eat…”

Dark clouds loomed outside; a heavy storm was brewing.

Lightning split the sky. In that flash of brilliance, everything turned bright, then dark again.

The bowl slammed onto the table. Her grandmother coldly demanded, “Where did you get this?”

Thunder boomed overhead.

“F-from…” Wang Jiexiang was so flustered she could hardly speak. “Someone gave it to me.”

“Someone? Who’s so generous?”

She grabbed her collar and slapped her across the face. “Did you steal my money to buy it?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Mom!”

Wang Jiexiang’s nose stung. She whimpered toward the yard, calling for help.

“Mom, help me…”

“Thief, little wretch…”

“Bastard, liar…”

Her grandmother spat on the floor, slapped her again and again, cursing with each strike.

“You don’t know? You don’t have a mom.”

In the dark house, the rain poured down.

No lights. The whole world had no lights. The mountain said nothing.

Wang Jiexiang started crying, louder and louder.

Her face was swollen, her tied-up hair had come loose, and the hairband was nowhere to be found.

A boy’s crying echoed from the room.

He cried with her.

No mom.

You don’t have a mom.

Wang Jiexiang was filled with hatred.

Her hair in disarray, her face streaked with tears, drool, and snot.

She glared at her grandmother with dark, sunken eyes and screamed at her with a sharp, shrill voice like a cat with its tail stepped on.

“But little brother always gets Popsicles!”

Wang Jiexiang bit her lip hard, her teeth and body shaking.

Her eyes glistened with tears that refused to fall.

“Little brother always gets Popsicles, every time.”

She asked, “Grandma, why can’t I have one?”

Her grandmother picked up the bowl and took it to coax the crying little brother.

She said lightly, “Because you’re a girl.”

That was the truth.

Wang Jiexiang bit her finger, her shoulders trembling, laughing uncontrollably.

That—was the truth.

The heartbreak was real, the swollen face was real, the fact that she’d never had a Popsicle was real.

Yin Xian—what kind of cheap fantasy world was this?

Everything he imagined was laughably fake.

Wang Jiexiang’s sixteen, her youth…

No high school, no mother, never rode the bike her dad bought, never once ate a Popsicle bought by her grandma.

No magic, no one called her pretty, no one gave her candy or Popsicles, no pen pal named Yin Xian.

Her youth passed just like that.

She had nothing, achieved nothing.

That was her youth.

“Jiexiang… Jiexiang…”

Her mother’s voice called from the left, beckoning her over with a smile, showing her the sky-blue sweater she’d just knit.

Her little brother’s crying came from the right. The pen and paper to write Yin Xian were also on the right.

Wang Jiexiang stood between the two voices.

She knew clearly—if she ran to take her mother’s hand, she could stay, never leave.

She could go back to the beginning—start high school in a new sweater, snuggle in her mother’s arms, hear her breathing and nagging, be teased for not growing up, be gently tucked in at night.

But she stood up and walked to the right.

“Jiexiang…”

The calls tugged at her, and with each backward glance, it felt like tearing a piece of flesh from her heart.

She still remembered the conversation by the creek.

She said she wanted to stay with her mom forever, swore never to marry or love anyone else too much.

“You can’t control who you love,” her mother had said.

Wang Jiexiang wiped her tears, sat down at her desk, and picked up her pen.

She wrote for a long, long time, scribbling and crossing things out, until only one sentence remained:

【Yin Xian, if life could start over, that would be great. It’s been too hard. Let’s not meet again.】

After sending the letter, she walked to her brother’s bed.

He had stopped crying and was happily eating the Popsicle. Grandma squatted beside him, serving and wiping his mouth.

The boy was at that mischievous age. When he saw her, he made a hideous face at her.

Their mom was pretty, and Wang Jiexiang had inherited more from their dad, while the little brother looked more like their mom.

He had long lashes, delicate brows, and full lips—just like Mom.

But this resemblance only deepened Wang Jiexiang’s disgust.

It felt like a waste of beauty.

“Wretch,” the brother mimicked Grandma, calling her that.

The angrier she got, the more triumphant he became.

The little devil used that lovely face to make ugly expressions and say mean things.

“Give me back my Popsicle.”

Wang Jiexiang reached for the bowl.

“Go away, go away,” he squirmed and slapped her hand. “It’s mine.”

“My boyfriend gave it to me.”

She said calmly, one word at a time: “It’s mine.”

Grandma got angry, hands on her hips, defending the boy.

“As the older sister, can’t you let your brother have it? What’s wrong with giving it to him, no matter who bought it?”

Wang Jiexiang didn’t bother arguing. She grabbed the bowl with brute force and smashed it to the ground.

The bowl shattered.

The white Popsicle fell onto the dirty floor.

In front of her, the stunned grandma and wailing brother disappeared from the space.

Wang Jiexiang collapsed, hugging her knees.

Outside, the rain poured down.

As if someone were screaming hoarsely on her behalf.

“Yin Xian,” Wang Jiexiang gazed out at the rain, murmuring, “If life could start over…”

In the letter, before all the scribbles and cross-outs—

She had written:

【Yin Xian, if life could start over, I, Wang Jiexiang, still want to meet you.

I’d live next door to you, teach you to ride a bike, take you out to play, and we’d raise rabbits together. When we’re older, we’d attend the same school. I’d make sure you fall for me first, so I could repay all the love I had for you.

You’d push me to study hard, help me with math. I’d help you with writing, remind you not to lose your dreams. After high school, we’d go to college together. I’d become a smart, educated girl.

Then you’d love me, really love me, and we’d grow up and get married. We’d have a child—a girl—but you’d still love me more than the child. So I’d drink lots and lots of carrot juice and live a very happy life with you.】

A white envelope appeared on the desk.

Wang Jiexiang let out a deep sigh and walked over to open it.

Inside was no longer a reply from seventeen-year-old Yin Xian—only a solitary key.

“I hate you so much.”

Something inside her cracked. Tears, once stopped, rushed out again.

Wang Jiexiang wiped them with her fingers, roughly combed her hair, then tipped the key into her palm and held it tightly.

The raindrops ceased. Sunlight pierced the clouds. All the light of the world was drawn into the key.

The old house faded frame by frame. Wang Jiexiang closed her eyes as warmth enveloped her body.