“But that wouldn’t happen for a long time,” I said honestly, looking at their young faces. “Who knows? By the time I get married, you might already be in college.”
“Then that’s…” Trang Du started counting. “Seven… eight, nine years from now!”
To the kids, nine years really was a long, long time.
The little ones seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, as if they’d just received a solid promise.
“That’s right,” I said with a smile. “So let’s not worry about things so far off. Let’s make our wishes.”
“I know this one!” Lâm Diệu Diệu raised her hand and answered quickly. “When the Ferris wheel reaches the top, if you make a wish, it’ll come true!”
“How clever.” I gently tapped her nose. “Then let’s make our wishes.”
When the Ferris wheel reached its highest point, the whole city spread out beneath us.
Bright, sparkling lights crept along the overpasses and crisscrossing roads, then paused among the high-rises, like the city’s veins.
I closed my eyes.
My wish wasn’t grand. It was simple—and a little crafty.
I wished: If possible, let every wish these five children made come true.
(04)
The children grew up so fast, like stalks of rice shooting up before my eyes.
Từ Như Đồ and Trang Du were in fifth grade and had started shooting up. Only Hà Diệc Dương was still tiny, sadly drinking milk every day and asking me, “Auntie, am I going to stay this short forever?”
I tried not to laugh. “No, little lamb. You’ll get taller when you start middle school.”
I wasn’t wrong. Hà Diệc Dương was just a late bloomer. By the time they graduated from elementary school, the three boys were nearly the same height.
This year, my gift to the children for International Children’s Day was five cell phones.
—But I waited until they graduated from elementary school to give them this gift.
“This is your last International Children’s Day as kids,” I said on the day off, handing them their phones. “So I thought I’d get you something a little more expensive.”
The children were thrilled. Only Lâm Diệu Diệu seemed disappointed. “Can’t I stay a kid forever?”
“Meo Meo,” I said. Last year, at her insistence, I’d started calling Lâm Diệu Diệu after a little animal. “Everyone has to grow up.”
I thought for a moment, then added, “But in my heart, you’ll always be kids. You’re nowhere near grown up yet.”
“Then why don’t you stay young, too?” Trang Du said with a laugh. “You’re still like a fairy.”
“You’ll always be eighteen,” Từ Như Đồ chimed in. “Just like when we first met.”
I’d been hearing sweet things from the kids for years, but honestly, they still made me happy.
After getting their phones, the five children spent the whole afternoon figuring them out at home, then came to add me on WeChat one by one.
Tống Thước created a WeChat group. Somehow, someone changed its name to “Animal Family,” and everyone seemed to approve.
After taking animal-drawing lessons from their art teacher for a few years, Trang Du could draw us as chibi characters. Our profile pictures made a complete set: the children were little animals, and I was a cute girl with a ponytail.
They eagerly changed their profile pictures, then started playing a dice game in the group chat.
“I’m definitely going to win this time!” Hà Diệc Dương announced in the group. “I’m the winner!”
Then he rolled a one.
Hà Diệc Dương: “……”
The other children burst out laughing as they started rolling, too.
Tống Thước rolled a two, Trang Du a three, and Từ Như Đồ a five.
Lâm Diệu Diệu, lucky enough to roll a six, cheered, “Haha!! I won!”
I asked curiously, “Is this a game?”
“No, Auntie,” Lâm Miêu Miêu said, striking a cute pose. “It’s the final showdown! Whoever wins gets to sit next to you and watch a movie tonight!”
Me: “……”
An animated movie was premiering tonight. I’d bought six tickets and planned to take the five children to the theater.
But the kids had already worked out the seating arrangements among themselves…
“I’ll sit on your left tonight,” Lâm Diệu Diệu said excitedly. “Từ Như Đồ will sit on your right.”
Then Từ Như Đồ sent a “Bunny understands” sticker in the group chat.
I couldn’t help laughing. “Aren’t you all sitting on the sofa? Why are you messaging on WeChat?”
Từ Như Đồ said earnestly, “I’m not as cute as that sticker.”
“You’re already very cute,” I said, patting his head. “You’re all the cutest kids.”
I meant every word.
Although I was only just an adult when I adopted the children, they were all very sensible, and my older brother had connections and arrangements in place, so I didn’t run into many difficulties.
Still, every so often, I couldn’t help thinking: It’s good to have money.
There’s no denying that children are expensive.
Especially since I always liked buying things for the kids. Whenever I saw something cute online, I wanted to see them try it on, and I loved taking them out for nice meals.
Though I’m something of a homebody, I was always willing to take the kids out to have fun.
Like going to see a movie together tonight.
When we got to the theater, I was about to pick up the tickets when Tống Thước tugged me back. “You sit here.”
I looked around. The other four children had already divided up the tasks: Lâm Diệu Diệu went to buy 3D glasses, Từ Như Đồ went to pick up the tickets, and Hà Diệc Dương and Trang Du went to buy popcorn and drinks.
They’d arranged everything so thoughtfully that I, the adult, sat awkwardly on a plush massage chair. Tống Thước even considerately asked if I wanted to get a six-minute massage.
Me: “……No, thanks, Tống Thước.”
At the movie, Lâm Diệu Diệu sat on my left and Từ Như Đồ on my right.
Unlike the other children, they were quiet and didn’t make a fuss or kick the seats in front of them. They sat still, letting out only the occasional little cry.
It was their first time seeing a 3D movie, and the children were completely absorbed. Even after leaving the theater, they were still buzzing, chattering about watching the other animated movies in the series when they got home.
“But what about our homework…” Từ Như Đồ said automatically, then paused and realized, “We don’t have homework anymore.”
“Awesome!” Trang Du threw up a hand and cheered. “Happy summer vacation!”
And so, the long summer vacation after sixth grade began.
For safety reasons, I didn’t take them traveling. After all, with a face that was hard to make out like mine, I wasn’t confident about taking five children wandering around unfamiliar tourist spots.
But there was no problem taking them out for fun around the city.
That summer, I bought annual passes for an amusement park, an arcade, and a movie theater, as well as memberships at children’s clothing stores.
Most of the time, though, the kids still stayed home and played games: cards, mahjong, board games…
It’s a little embarrassing to admit, but I couldn’t even play board games as well as they could. I really was a bit hopeless.
When it came to games that tested reflexes, Tống Thước was definitely number one. She’d started shooting up in sixth grade, and her motor reflexes and reaction speed were among the best of the kids. She’d also competed in lots of events at the elementary school sports meets, and done well… Sometimes I wondered if she was the legendary all-around talent, good at both brains and brawn.
I still remember how shocked I was when she broke the basketball-throwing record at the arcade.
As for picture-guessing games that relied on imagination and perception, no one was better than Trang Du. That summer, I signed him up for an art class. He seemed to have been born with a unique sense of beauty; even as a little kid, he knew how to advise me on what to wear.
Although the kid always sweetly told me, “You look beautiful in anything,” he’d also give serious opinions like, “But I think this white outfit suits you better. You look like a fairy in it”…
As for Lâm Diệu Diệu, she was the undisputed queen of luck, with unbelievable good fortune. Even when the kids played cards together, she’d always draw amazing hands, like a straight flush and four of a kind.
Ever since I discovered her talent, I’d ask her to help me whenever I entered a giveaway on Weibo.
Từ Như Đồ and Hà Diệc Dương were both great at playing Honor of Kings. One played marksman, the other jungle. Whenever the three of us played, the kids would pick my hero for me, then quietly carry the team.
Sometimes an opponent would angrily accuse me of being a smurf account dragging a girl down and ruining the game, or a girl on our team would ask if they wanted to pair up. The two of them would always look up at me in confusion and ask, “Auntie, what do they mean?”
Sometimes Hà Diệc Dương would frown and correct them. “She’s not my little sister. She’s my aunt.”
The other person would get even more worked up: “You ** think you’re Yang Guo or something? What the *** are you pretending for?”
Me: “…”
Hà Diệc Dương: “Auntie, what are they saying?”
Từ Như Đồ: “They’re cursing us out.”
Hà Diệc Dương: “You said we’re not allowed to curse at people.”
Từ Như Đồ: “We should just report them.”
And so the two boys blocked the other player and quietly kept playing.
I was utterly embarrassed to be protected by them, thinking, Adults don’t want to play this badly, either.
But the next time, I was still embarrassed to be protected by the two kids. It couldn’t be helped; elementary schoolers these days were just too good.
(05)
After summer vacation, I got the kids into the best middle school in the city.
I still picked them up at the school gate every day, and we still kept up our weekly movie nights together. Nothing changed—except that they had more schoolwork and were busier than before.
Just when I thought life would go on happily like this, a new description suddenly appeared in the “Encyclopedia.”
Plot summary: The hero and heroine gradually fall for each other, and their feelings deepen during an outing in the suburbs. The villainess (Hạ Thanh Thu) kicks the heroine out of the house; the second male lead begs for help; the villain, who has left home with the heroine, confesses to the hero.
Me: “…”