In the bright and tidy bedroom, a little girl with her hair tied up in two small buns was lying on the floor, sticking out her little bottom as she tried hard to reach for a Barbie doll necklace that had rolled under the cabinet.
As she stretched, she suddenly noticed a box hidden beneath the cabinet.
Curious, she pulled it out and opened it—inside, there was a shiny silver pendant carved with a small fish, colorful beads, a little brown pouch, a pink handkerchief...
She took out each item one by one, spreading them all over the floor.
The little girl picked up a round wooden plaque, stared at the pattern carved on it for a long time, then let out a giggle. In her babyish voice, she mumbled to herself, "It's Daddy."
"An'an, stop playing. You've made a mess of Mommy and Daddy's room again. Come out and wash your hands—time to eat."
After waiting for a while, there was no answer.
Yao Xue called out her full name, her voice full of energy: "Wu Youning!"
"Grandma, look—Daddy!" The little girl ran out of the room barefoot, her small hand holding the wooden plaque high in the air.
She had sparkling eyes, bright as stars, curved into little crescent moons, with dimples flickering on her cheeks. She looked as delicate as a doll.
"Nonsense, where's Daddy? Daddy took Mommy on a trip to Guizhou." Yao Xue looked up, caught a glimpse of what she was holding, took it, and couldn't help but laugh. "You think this pattern is Daddy? It's so ugly—how could it possibly be Daddy?"
"It is!" The little girl hugged the wooden plaque as if it were a treasure, refusing to put it down even during dinner.
Chai Mingde shook his head helplessly nearby. The sweet-and-sour Mandarin fish couldn't compete with Wu Li, and when it came to winning the hearts of his daughter and granddaughter, he couldn't outdo Wu Li either.
Oh well—from the moment the young couple held hands, he had already come to see him as his own son.
Even now, little An'an couldn't quite figure out whether her grandparents were her mother's parents or her father's parents.
"Why do they keep going to Guizhou every single year? And always taking that venomous scorpion along. That mountain is so eerie—Xiaomi went missing there before." Chai Mingde frowned, his tone full of concern.
"Don't worry. When has your son ever put your daughter in danger? Tell me, ever since he came, how smoothly things have gone at home. My chronic headaches are gone, every time you go night fishing you bring home a whole bucket of fish, and even Qiuqiu's stepfather got caught for his crimes, saving Xiaomi a lot of worry. He's like a lucky star, descended into our family."
After hearing this, Chai Mingde's eyes lit up. He leaned in and asked, "What about me, sweetheart? What star am I?"
Before Yao Xue could answer, little An'an, with greasy lips from eating, said seriously, "Grandpa is Patrick Star!"
"I'm SpongeBob, and we're best friends!" The little girl raised her hands high.
Chai Mingde's face immediately lit up with joy. He scooped An'an up in his arms. "For those words from my Little Sweetie, what flavor of candy do you want? Tell me, and Grandpa will secretly take you to buy it."
An'an cheered and threw her arms around his neck.
Laughter filled the dining room.
The bedroom door was left half-open.
A breeze blew in through the window, sweeping over the items scattered on the floor and softly flipping open one of the journals.
On the yellowed page was a line of elegant handwriting:
"In the summer of my nineteenth year, I fell into your world. In the summer I turned twenty, thank you for stepping back into the rest of my life."
People often say that happy times are fleeting.
Chai Xiaomi didn't think so.
She believed happy times are eternal.
They don't disappear as time passes—they quietly hide in the folds of memory, and one day in the future, they are suddenly blown open by the wind, coming back just as warm as ever.
Like when Wu Li bent down to tie her shoelaces, and the little patch of sun-kissed skin on the back of his neck.
Like when he was sweating from the heat but still handed her the last sip of iced cola.
Like one evening, as he leaned in and smiled, saying, "Mimi, look—even the evening breeze blows your way."
Later, even more moments stacked up.
In the library, he always saved the window seat for her, sunlight slanting onto the pages of her open book, and he sat beside her, occasionally glancing over.
On that gentle night by the track, he sat with her on the bleachers, sharing one earbud, the playlist full of her favorite songs.
During those days of working hard together, he covered her desk at the study room with sticky notes. One read: Sweetheart, hang in there just a little longer. After the exam, I'll take you back to Jingmingtai to see old friends and eat hotpot.
And later, on the day they got their marriage certificate.
He clutched the little red book, flipping through it over and over, as if afraid it might sprout wings and fly away.
The photographer told them not to stick so close together—he couldn't get their full faces in the shot. Other couples had to be told to move closer, but these two were practically glued to each other.
Just as the shutter clicked, she suddenly remembered years ago when he said, "Most men in this world are no good—they all have ulterior motives, including me."
She couldn't help but smile.
"Ulterior-minded, stinky Li Li, congratulations—your wish came true."
"Can I be a little greedier?"
"Hmm?... Mmm!"
Not one of these moments has drifted away.
Close her eyes, and they're right there.
They stay right where they are, like that summer from years ago—long, and burning bright.
