"Hey!" Tan Junzi lunged forward, yanking the blanket over to cover the bloodstain. Seeing Chang Ying still standing there motionless, she hopped off the bed and shoved him toward the door. "Get out, get out!"
Chang Ying was forced back to the doorway. He turned to look at her. "Don't you need help?"
Tan Junzi was already busy stripping the sheets with her back to him. She waved a hand dismissively. "No!" She bundled the sheets into a ball and held them to her chest, then leaned down to check the mattress. Fortunately, it hadn't soaked through.
"Oh, and just so you know..." Chang Ying pointed behind her with total composure. "It's on your pajama pants, too."
Tan Junzi nearly jumped out of her skin. She clutched her backside, her face flushing a deep crimson. "Go back to bed!"
Under the dim, amber glow of the bedside lamp, her hair was a mess from sleep, with a few stray strands sticking straight up. She looked like a flustered Call Duck, frantic and disorganized. Chang Ying suppressed a laugh in his throat and finally stepped out of her room.
Lying back down on the small folding bed, he listened to the rustling sounds coming from her room. A moment later, he heard the bathroom faucet turn on—the steady splash of running water. After a brief hesitation, he got up and walked out of the study.
Tan Junzi was in the bathroom filling a basin. When she saw him leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, his dark bangs partially obscuring his eyes, she spoke up. "Go back to sleep. I'll just scrub this out; it won't take long." She swirled the water with her hand and poured in a scoop of laundry powder.
The water was cold. Watching her fingers stir the detergent into the basin, Chang Ying stepped into the cramped bathroom without a word, nudging her aside.
The space immediately felt claustrophobic. The boy bent over the basin, rolled up his sleeves, and began washing the sheets.
With water still dripping from her hands, Tan Junzi watched him silently scrub her sheets and pajama pants. She felt like her face was about to explode from embarrassment.
"You... you... move!" She reached into the basin to snatch the fabric away. Chang Ying clicked his tongue in disapproval. With one large hand, he caught both of her wrists and pulled her out of the bathroom behind him. "Stay right there. Don't move. I'll be done in a minute."
Seeing her standing in the doorway looking utterly lost, Chang Ying let out a small smile. He dipped a finger into the suds and lightly tapped the tip of her nose. "Be good. Don't make things harder." Then, he turned back to his task, focusing on scrubbing the sheets.
Tan Junzi opened her mouth to speak, but Chang Ying didn't look back. "Help me brush my hair out of the way," he said casually.
"Oh." She reached out and tucked his bangs behind his ears. His hair was very soft; without styling, he lost some of that sharp, arrogant edge. "Is that better?"
Chang Ying nodded. Then he spoke. "Do you remember when I had that high fever in third grade? My parents weren't home, and your grandfather was out at a reunion with his old army buddies. You put me on a tricycle and pedaled me to the hospital all by yourself."
He remembered it vividly. It was late at night. A little girl, straining against the pedals of a tricycle, unable to make it up the inclines while sitting, so she stood up to pump the pedals with every ounce of her strength. He had been so delirious with fever that his mind was hazy, but he could hear her panting and singing the *Calabash Brothers* theme song at the top of her lungs to keep him awake.
"Seven little kids on one vine," she had sung, getting the lyrics wrong. Chang Ying had forced himself to stay conscious just to correct her: "It's seven little *flowers* on one vine." She kept getting it wrong, and he kept correcting her, and that was how they had endured the long trek to the hospital.
"I think I remember that," Tan Junzi said.
"You know..." The boy paused. "That rendition of *Calabash Brothers* was the worst thing I've ever heard. You were so off-key it was criminal." As he spoke, he began wringing out the sheets. Water pitter-pattered into the basin. He dumped the dirty water and turned the tap back on to rinse them.
Chang Ying sighed inwardly. Honestly, he didn't know how the two of them had survived their childhoods. One had parents who were almost never home. The other had only a grandfather—a rough, careless old man who knew nothing about the struggles of a young girl growing up. He had raised Tan Junzi like he was training a new recruit.
After several rinses, the pants and sheets were clean. Chang Ying poured out the last basin of water. "See? That was fast."
"You're a big girl now; you should be more careful. Try not to touch cold water during that time of the month. Even I know that much," Chang Ying said, shaking out the damp fabric. "Come on, let's hang these on the balcony."
"Chang Ying," Tan Junzi said, following behind him.
"What? Are you super moved?" Chang Ying picked up the drying pole, his tone teasing.
"I am. In fact, I feel a sense of maternal pride." Tan Junzi patted him on the back. "I didn't raise you for nothing." Chang Ying felt like he was choking on his own breath at those words.
After a moment's thought, she added, "Your future girlfriend is going to be so lucky."
She meant it from the bottom of her heart. Tan Junzi felt like she had practically raised Chang Ying herself. Her role was that of an older sister—closer than a blood relative.
Chang Ying's movements stiffened. He felt like he'd taken a physical blow to the chest.
"Tan Junzi."
Hearing him call her name, she looked up.
"...Come over here and help me stretch the sheets out." He pointed to the laundry they had just hung.
"On it!" She stood on the other side and began tugging the fabric taut until it made a snapping sound.
Separated by the hanging sheet, Chang Ying's voice came out muffled and low. "I don't do this for just anyone."
"What did you say?" Tan Junzi tilted her head, trying to see him.
"I said I'm tired." Chang Ying turned and walked back toward the study.
***
The next morning, Chang Ying felt like his back was going to break from that folding bed. When he woke up, Tan Junzi’s head happened to pop through the doorway. He quickly pulled the blanket up to cover his stomach... and the "little hill" below it.
"Morning," he croaked, his voice raspy. He had barely slept all night, only catching a few restless winks toward dawn.
"Chang Ying, I bought sugar buns and black soy milk. Get up! Eat the buns while they're hot; they're really crispy!" Tan Junzi was a creature of habit, waking at six every morning for exercise in the park followed by a trip to the morning market. She never bought the same breakfast twice in a week.
"Okay..." Chang Ying rubbed his eyes as he sat up, the blanket still draped over his lap. "Stop looking at me. Give me a minute to wake up."
"Who's looking at you? I already squeezed the toothpaste for you. Hurry up." She shut the door.
When Chang Ying wobbled out of the room, Tan Zhengqi was in the middle of the living room, holding a horse stance and "practicing Qigong."
"Morning, Grandpa," Chang Ying greeted him.
Tan Zhengqi looked him over. Chang Ying was now several centimeters taller than the old man. Satisfied, the grandfather slapped him on the back. "Stand up straight, young man!" The force of the blow made Chang Ying jump.
In the bathroom, Chang Ying saw his small rinsing cup. He had used it since he was a child, and it was always kept ready in the Tan household—a cheap, knock-off Donald Duck plastic cup from the morning market, the pattern now faded and blurred. Tan Junzi’s cup was a matching knock-off Minnie Mouse. A generous dollop of toothpaste sat atop his toothbrush, prepared by her.
After brushing his teeth and splashing some water on his face, he realized he couldn't find a towel. "Tan Junzi! Where's my towel?"
She ran over like a whirlwind and handed him one. "Here."
After drying his face, he asked, "Do you have any face cream? My skin feels a bit dry."
Tan Junzi pointed to a pink jar. "Use that."
"Is this yours?" He unscrewed the lid and sniffed it. It smelled quite fragrant.
"It's my grandpa's. We got it at the supermarket. It's Yumeijing," she said. "Mine is a bit expensive; I'm not wasting it on you."
***
At the dining table, Tan Junzi pointed to the buns. "The ones with white sesame seeds are white sugar, and the ones with black seeds are brown sugar."
"Which do you like?" Chang Ying asked.
"Brown sugar," she replied.
So, Chang Ying picked up a white sugar bun.
"Hey, Chang Ying, where was that place where you used to learn Karate?" Tan Junzi asked over her soy milk.
When Chang Ying was a sickly child, his grandfather had sent him to learn martial arts. Chang Sheng had always felt his grandson was a bit too "soft" and wanted him to move more. He hadn't expected the boy to stick with it for six years, eventually earning a legitimate black belt. He had even dabbled in Muay Thai later on, though he stopped once he hit middle school.
"Over on Xinyi Road," Chang Ying recalled. "At the intersection with Zhongxin Road." Coincidentally, it was just a block away from the KTV they had visited yesterday.
"Oh." Tan Junzi nodded. Seeing him looking at her, she explained, "I was thinking of signing up for a class, maybe learn some self-defense. I haven't decided yet. I'm going to go check it out this morning."
During middle school, there had been a craze for Taekwondo and Karate. Many people signed up, but the basic training was grueling, and middle schoolers rarely had the time unless they were in a sports academy. Most eventually quit. No one knew about Chang Ying's black belt except for Tan Junzi; he didn't like to talk about it. There was no point in showing off.
"That's a good idea. You should look into Sanda or something similar. Don't do Karate," Chang Ying suggested.
"Why?"
"Sanda is more practical." He let out a yawn.
***
Tan Junzi found her way to Xinyi Road. The area was adjacent to a sports academy, so there were three martial arts schools on this single short street. There were also two pharmacies nearby with large signs advertising "Traumatic Injuries"—a convenient one-stop shop.
She looked at the three signs: *Fat Master’s Martial Arts*, *Tall Master’s Martial Arts*, and *Little Yang’s Martial Arts*.
She immediately ruled out *Little Yang’s*; the name lacked any sense of authority. She wavered between *Fat Master* and *Tall Master*, which were right next to each other.
She leaned toward *Tall Master*. After all, if someone was a martial artist and still "fat," did that mean their skills were lacking?
Just then, a plump old man wearing a very traditional cloth tunic stepped out of *Fat Master’s Martial Arts*.
"Little girl, looking to learn some kung fu?" the old man asked, his hands behind his back and a pleasant smile on his face.
"Um, are you Fat Master?" Tan Junzi asked.
"Ho ho, I am Master Gao," the man replied with a benevolent, almost sage-like smile and a slight Fujian accent.
"...?" Tan Junzi didn't know what to say.
"Come inside. It's too hot out here," Master Gao beckoned.
She stepped inside and realized the two schools were connected internally. There was a large open training floor in the middle with a boxing ring. A few children were practicing kicks on the floor, shouting "Hei! Ha!" with great spirit. Looking around, she saw an even fatter old man sitting in a rattan chair, fanning himself and occasionally shouting instructions to the kids.
"Senior Brother, a new student?" the fatter man asked lazily.
"This is the Fat Master you were looking for. His surname is Pang," Master Gao said, pointing to the man in the chair. He added, "He's my Junior Brother."
Master Pang pushed off the armrests of his chair to stand up. "Want to learn? Any prior experience?"
Tan Junzi followed Master Pang to the registration room, a small office tucked behind the training floor.
"Xiao Qin, introduce the programs to this young lady."
A familiar figure was sitting at the desk. It was the guy from the KTV front desk. She had heard his name at the police station: Qin Ke.
There was no air conditioning in the school, only a battered fan whirring loudly, though it barely moved any cool air. Qin Ke was wearing only a white tank top. Sweat glistened on his light bronze skin. Looking at the defined muscles of his arms, Tan Junzi couldn't help but swallow hard.
"Sit." Qin Ke pointed carelessly at the worn swivel chair in front of the desk. The command was blunt, making him seem quite intimidating.
Tan Junzi sat down immediately. She felt that if she didn't, he might actually hit her.
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