The next morning, I cheered each child on in turn and saw them into the exam room. Then, unable to resist a little superstition, I put on a qipao for good luck.
The school gates were packed. Looking at all the parents like me, their faces taut with worry and tension, I suddenly felt as though none of it was real.
From the tiny children they once were to the tall teenagers they were now, I had truly raised these children to adulthood.
On the day the exams ended, Từ Như Đồ was the first to leave the exam room.
Backpack on, the boy walked out through the school gates, quickening his pace with every step until he was practically running.
Outside the gates, Từ Như Đồ politely declined a reporter’s request for an interview, then stopped in front of me and called softly, “Ma’am.”
“You worked so hard!” I wiped the sweat from the boy’s forehead with a tissue. “Looks like you did really well, little bunny.”
The boy gave a faint smile and lowered his head in silence, saying nothing more.
I spotted the red string on the boy’s wrist. “What’s this?”
The red string was simple and looked new—I was sure I’d never seen Từ Như Đồ wear it before.
Without changing expression, the boy covered his wrist. “It’s a lucky string. We all prayed for one together.”
I looked at it a little longer. The red string seemed strangely familiar, but I couldn’t remember where I’d seen it. I figured some other test-taker must have worn a lucky string like that before, so I smiled and said, “This string will surely protect you all.”
This time, Từ Như Đồ was silent for even longer before softly saying, “Mm.”
When the others came out, I saw that they, too, were wearing identical red strings on their wrists.
“Come on, we’re having a feast tonight!” I said with a big smile. “Congratulations to our family’s geniuses on graduating in one piece!”
“Yes!” Lâm Diệu Diệu replied enthusiastically, then seemingly casually asked, “Ma’am, tomorrow’s your birthday, right?”
“That’s right. It’ll be my birthday after midnight,” I said. “Why?”
“Ma’am, since it’s your birthday, we should definitely treat you to this meal!” Trang Du eagerly took my bag. “What do you want to eat for your birthday?”
I laughed and nearly cried. “My birthday is tomorrow.”
“Either way, we’ll stay with you from dinner until midnight,” Hà Diệc Dương said abruptly. “Tomorrow, we’ll take you somewhere else for fun.”
Since when did I need them to “take” me out?
I found it a little funny, but my heart felt warm. “All right. I’ll leave it to you guys.”
That night, the whole city was buzzing.
Students who had just finished their exams wandered through every corner of the city. The streets were lively, and memories of their fleeting youth seemed to come rushing back.
After dinner, we went karaoke singing and didn’t get home together until nearly midnight.
They led me to the table, told me to close my eyes, and turned off the lights in the house.
Suddenly, candlelight flickered to life in front of me.
“Ma’am…”
“Ma’am, you can open your eyes now.”
A huge birthday cake sat in the middle of the table. The children beside it smiled at me, their eyes clear and bright.
Từ Như Đồ reached out. “Ma’am, let me put your birthday hat on.”
The teenager’s hand, wrapped in a red string, placed a yellow birthday hat on my head.
Tick, tick, tick.
The moment the clock struck midnight, the scene before me suddenly overlapped with one from my memories.
—“Tiểu Thu, let me put your birthday hat on.”
I remembered.
This red string, this scene…
In the few times I’d seen my eldest brother, he always wore this red string and smiled at me wearily.
Knock, knock!
A strange sound suddenly rang inside my head. The book—the Encyclopedia—in front of me grew increasingly transparent, its pages burning away one by one.
My head throbbed as if it were being struck with a hammer. Before I could even react, I fainted.
(09)
It felt as though I’d just been through a very long dream.
In the dream, I returned to my carefree childhood, to days without a worry in the world.
Although our parents died young, my eldest brother and second brother loved me dearly. They took meticulous care of me, called me Tiểu Thu, pushed me on the swing, cooked for me, and clumsily tried to make me laugh.
When did it start?
I tried to remember, but I still couldn’t recall those little details.
I hadn’t always been face-blind. Maybe when I was three or four, my ability to recognize faces gradually faded, until one day I could no longer tell my eldest brother from my second brother.
But I clearly remembered that day. Someone held me and cried, their tears hot against my skin.
The tears that fell were so hot they stung my skin.
Perhaps from that day on, my eldest brother suddenly stopped smiling.
He began spending all his time away from home. Occasionally, he’d come back to see me, his face gaunt, a red string on his wrist hidden beneath his sleeve. I caught sight of it only once.
Before my second brother’s college entrance exams, I came down with a high fever. Through the haze, I heard people arguing beside me.
“…I’ve already traded my life. Why is it still…”
“You can’t go!”
“…You want me to watch Tiểu Thu…”
“…I understand.”
At last, I heard my second brother’s voice.
He seemed exhausted, but resolute. He stroked my face, brushed the strands of hair from it and tucked them behind my ear, then said softly, “Tiểu Thu, is this your fate?”
His fingers slowly drew away and curled into a fist. His voice seemed to tremble. “But I don’t want to accept this fate.”
After that, my fever went away.
But I never saw my second brother again.
…
My soul seemed to float upward, watching the moment years ago when my eldest brother first put on that red string.
“You told me this was the girl’s fate,” my eldest brother said, his voice full of anguish. “I know you have great power, and I know my life may not be enough to change this fate…but I still want to change her fate.”
“From face-blindness to losing all sensation, then dying at twenty-six because of that loss of sensation—would you be willing to take your younger sister’s place and bear that painful fate?” the person opposite him asked.
My eldest brother didn’t hesitate for a second. “Yes.”
“That’s not enough,” the other person said. “Your sister bears a fate ordained by heaven, one that can scarcely be changed. Trading away sixty years of your life can only delay her loss of sensation. It still isn’t enough.”
“Then what do I have to do?”
“Earn merit,” the voice paused. “Do good deeds. There may still be a glimmer of hope.”
“What hope?”
“In this world, some people are abandoned by Heaven, like your younger sister, while others are favored by Heaven. If she can come into contact with those people, even show them kindness, her fate might change.”
“How do I find them?”
“If you earn enough merit, you’ll see their fates before you die.”
“All right.”
…
I also saw my second brother. He was wearing a red string just like my eldest brother.
“Brother, I’m leaving tomorrow. Take good care of Tiểu Thu.”
“You could do what I do, you know—visit her once in a while.”
“No. Didn’t you say that after we changed her fate, it’d be best not to see her again, so she wouldn’t get tangled up in more karma?” My second brother smiled. “Besides, I’m about to go earn merit with that master. I won’t have time to come back.”
“Lương Hạ,” my eldest brother sighed. “I’m the one who’s their brother.”
“You’ve already sacrificed so much,” he said. “The first person to change her fate was destined to die. I’m only the second, and if I earn enough merit, I might live longer.”
“Besides…” My second brother turned to look at me, his gaze gentle. “I’m Tiểu Thu’s brother, too.”
“For me, it’s only one lifetime,” my eldest brother said, stroking the red string around his wrist. “But for Tiểu Thu, this is her fate, life after life. It’s so unfair.”
“Didn’t that master say fate would do everything it could to stop Tiểu Thu from changing hers?” My second brother frowned. “I wonder what it’ll do.”
“There’s no use worrying about it,” my eldest brother said gently. “Whatever it does, I believe Tiểu Thu won’t give in.”
“She won’t be able to see me tomorrow. I wonder if she’ll cry,” my second brother said suddenly. “Remember to pick her up. I’m afraid she’ll get lost.”
“All right.”
…