Let bygones be bygones

The words "problem child" were the most prominent label the neighbors used to attach to Liam . While his parents were fighting outside the Civil Affairs Bureau, their hair disheveled, he would squat in the corner, clutching half a hard, dry bun, his eyes as empty as a frozen lake. No one wanted to play with him. On his way home from school, mischievous boys would throw stones at him and call him an "unwanted bastard." He wouldn't dodge or talk back; he would just clutch the bun tighter until his knuckles turned white.

The winters in Harbin are so cold they can freeze your breath into frost, and that year was especially cold. When I came home from school, I saw him huddled in the stairwell of our apartment building, wearing only a faded long-sleeved shirt, his teeth chattering from the cold, and his lips cracked and bleeding. When he saw me, he instinctively shrank into the shadows, like a frightened little animal.

"Aren't you cold?" I handed him the hand warmer I'd just bought for me from my pocket; its pink casing still held my warmth. He hesitated for a moment, then carefully took it. The instant his fingertips touched the hand warmer, he flinched—his hands were freezing, like ice.

That day I brought him home. Jane's mom was stewing ribs in the kitchen. She didn't even frown at the smell of the stale ribs on him; instead, she found his dad's old cotton-padded jacket and dressed him in it, then ladled out a full bowl of hot soup: "Drink up, warm yourself up." His dad, while playing math games with him, discovered his talent—he solved that Olympiad math problem that even high school students struggled with, after staring at the scratch paper for ten minutes, using a completely new method.

From that day on, Liam 's life seemed to take off. When he won the National Mathematical Olympiad at the age of ten, he stood on the podium, holding the trophy and waving vigorously at me in the audience, his eyes shining brighter than a spotlight. When he was admitted to Tsinghua University without taking the entrance exam at the age of fourteen, he came to my house with a backpack to share the good news, picked me up and spun me around three times, and said loudly, " Clara , I'll protect you from now on." When he was sixteen, his published paper shocked the physics community, and invitations from major universities piled up, but he used his first prize money to buy me a white dress that I had been eyeing for a long time.

The parents who had tossed him around like a football back then suddenly reappeared, crying and shouting that they wanted to take him back. Standing in front of the Civil Affairs Bureau, facing the impeccably made-up but greedy-eyed couple, he said only one sentence: "When I was eight years old, I spent a freezing night in the stairwell, and neither of you came to see me. Now that I've made something of myself, don't you think it's too late to try and take me away?"

He turned and went back to my house. He knelt down in front of my father with a thud and kowtowed three times, his forehead turning red. "Dad, Mom, I know better than anyone who is good to me and who truly loves me. From now on, you are my real parents, and Clara is my real sister—no, the one I'm going to marry. I will definitely be filial to you and take good care of her. I will never leave her in this lifetime."

Back then, he truly ingrained the phrase "never leave" into his very being. When I was recommended for admission to Tsinghua University, he argued with the admissions office, saying, " Clara's grades are poor, but she is the most important person in my life. If you don't admit her, I will give up my recommendation." Later, when I stayed on to teach at the university, he pleaded with me to get me a relaxed family member position in the administration office. He would take a detour to pick me up every day on my way to and from work, and he always had a soft pad on the back of his bicycle so I wouldn't feel uncomfortable. I was always worried that I wasn't good enough for him, and I would secretly cry at night. He would hold me in his arms and say over and over again, " Clara , without you, I wouldn't be who I am today. No matter how high I fly, the string is always in your hands."

He has always been stubborn in his work. When doing scientific research, he can spend three days and three nights in the lab, and he will not give up on a theory he has identified with, even if the whole world questions it. When he was pursuing me, he waited for me downstairs every day, rain or shine, until I nodded and agreed. But I never thought that this stubbornness would eventually be used to change his mind and cheat on me.

"Cheating?" Lila dropped the rag in her hand onto the table with a "thud," her eyes wide as saucers. " Clara , you two grew up together! He broke ties with his own parents for you, saying he would take care of you for the rest of his life. How could he cheat on you? Who is that other woman? Is she one of those rich second-generation girls who drives luxury cars and is exceptionally beautiful? Or one of those scheming women in TV dramas who pretend to be weak?"