I continued to live with Chen Jinyue in a state of tacit understanding.
Whenever Chen Fang came home, I became exceptionally cautious and stiff. I was terrified that a stray word or a lingering look would betray my shameful love.
Chen Jinyue seemed to feel the same. She didn't insist on breaking the silence, nor did she demand any promises that would strip me of my identity as her "sister." She seemed to have grown more mature because of this—I wasn't sure if it was just my imagination—but she was at least more mature than I had expected.
That year, she was in her final year of high school. Her grades were still hovering in the middle of the pack, but she was working much harder than before. I felt as though there were always bright stars in her eyes, an infinite expectation for the future.
I knew those stars were there because of me.
On the rare occasions I was free to pick her up from school, we would take the bus. The route spanned nine stops and twenty-one traffic lights. If we were lucky, we’d snag a seat; I would make my sister sit down while I stood guard beside her. If we were unlucky, we’d be packed into the cramped carriage like sardines in a tin, alongside a crowd of other students heading home late.
But even that wasn't so bad, because Chen Jinyue would naturally pull me into her arms. Like all the other sardines squeezed into that tin, we pressed tightly against one another.
In those moments, I was the happiest sardine of all.
Back then, we were still renting the old house on Songlin Road. It was located in the old district of Haicheng, where the atmosphere of daily life was thick and vibrant.
Narrow streets and intricate alleys blended with a cacophony of sounds. By the time we reached home, the neon signs would already be lit, casting multicolored glows over every passerby. I could smell the smoky aroma of "Wang’s BBQ Stall" drifting through the air from next door—the scent of cumin and chili bursting into the charcoal fire, a fragrance unique to skewers grilled over an open flame.
I would lead Chen Jinyue through this space, and as we passed the shops, I’d ask her if she was hungry.
She would always say yes, but only for the late-night snacks I made.
She always answered that way, and I never tired of asking. We would conclude this meaningless little nightly ritual with a simple, "Okay."
Although Chen Jinyue didn't ask for promises, she often held me while talking about the future.
For instance, while I was cooking in the kitchen, she would sneak up behind me and wrap her arms around my waist as I chopped vegetables. Even when the water in the pot began to boil, she wouldn't let go or say a word.
I would have no choice but to turn off the stove and pause the meal. Wiping my hands, I’d turn around to face her. With my back against the cracked tiles of the countertop, I’d rest my hands on her neck and ask, "What’s wrong?"
She would look at me and smile, asking if I was tired. I’d reach up to flick her pert nose and say, "I’m not tired. It’s just that this kitchen is too small; once you come in, I can’t even move."
She would gaze at me from so close that I could see my own reflection in her beautiful pupils. She’d say, "When we have our own house in the future, we’ll renovate a big kitchen, and I’ll cook for you, okay?"
She often reminded me of my new boss at work who loved to "paint rosy pictures." He was always telling me, "Xiao Lin, you have great potential. Work hard with me, and in three to five years, you’ll have everything you want." Standing before his desk, I would say "Okay," thank Manager Fang, and then return to my workstation to continue slaving away without taking a word of it to heart.
But when I heard Jinyue say such things, I would also say "Okay," and then tuck those visions into the softest corner of my heart—I think I wanted them to come true more than anyone else.
It wasn't that I needed a house with my name on the deed, nor was it that I was unwilling to cook this meal.
What I wanted was a night where she would cook for me, and a relationship that would still exist when that time came.
I would sink into her embrace as the boiling water in the pot slowly calmed, yet my thoughts continued to bubble over, making me hold her even tighter.
During the Spring Festival that year, I received a bit of money from my year-end bonus. I bought Chen Fang a neck and shoulder massager—it wasn't incredibly expensive, but it was the best I could afford. She worked on construction sites, and her body was heavily worn down; she often relied on medicated patches and painkillers for relief. I knew a massager wouldn't do much, but it might make her a little more comfortable.
"Mom, don't go back to work next year. I should be promoted to supervisor by then," I told her on New Year's Eve as I handed her the gift.
Chen Fang was overjoyed to receive the gift, but she still had reservations about quitting work. She said, "We'll see. Yueyue starts university next year; we'll see how things are then."
I didn't push it. I didn't have many expectations regarding what kind of university Chen Jinyue would get into; as long as she did her best, it was enough. I didn't want to pressure her or force her to be a scholarship student or a "success" in the worldly sense.
Thinking of this, I couldn't help but mock myself. A person like me would never be a good parent; I would surely lead a child astray.
Or perhaps, had I already led Chen Jinyue astray? I didn't know.
Chen Jinyue happened to come out of her room just then, so I took a red envelope from my pocket and gave it to her, wishing her a Happy New Year.
She took it with a beaming smile, her voice sweet and clear as she said, just like when she was little, "Thank you, Sis Yunsheng."
I accidentally brushed against her hand and asked why it was so cold. She said she hadn't put on a jacket in her room.
A thought suddenly sprouted in my mind: Next year. Just next year. We would go somewhere warmer for the Spring Festival.
I reached out and ruffled her hair.
This Spring Festival was no different from any other. As usual, the three of us were together, happy and warm. The hardships of life were covered by the atmosphere of reunion and the longing for the future, making them seem insignificant.
Not long after, I had to return to the office. Chen Fang would leave a few days after me; she said she wanted to celebrate Yueyue's birthday before she went.
Oh, yes. My sister, Chen Jinyue, was born on a very romantic day—February 14th.
Of course, at first, I only thought it was romantic because it was Valentine's Day. But now, its meaning had become more ambiguous—because of her and me.
That day was a workday for me. The workplace, having just finished the holiday break, hadn't quite shifted back into a fast pace. Some colleagues whose hometowns were far away had taken an extra half-week of leave. Taking advantage of this quiet period, I focused intently on finishing my work early so I could leave exactly on time.
As soon as the clock struck, I closed my laptop, grabbed my bag, and headed downstairs.
I went to a flower shop first. Standing before the racks, I deliberated for a long time, unsure of what to get.
A clerk came over to ask if I needed help. I suddenly found myself stammering, unable to explain. I could only ask, "What flowers are appropriate for a birthday?"
The young clerk followed up by asking if it was for a colleague, a friend, or a lover.
Now I truly didn't know how to answer. I didn't want to lie, but I couldn't speak the truth of our relationship.
In truth, why did I need the clerk's help? The most appropriate choice was roses—specifically the bunch of red roses right in front of me, with water droplets still clinging to the petals.
But I couldn't choose them.
"I'll take that bunch of gypsophila, thank you." I craftily avoided her question and gave my decision.
Cradling the baby's breath in my arms, I couldn't bring myself to squeeze onto the evening rush-hour bus or subway. Even though it might not be as crowded as usual, I didn't want to take the risk. I hailed a taxi instead. The destination was a KTV on Southwest Road.
When I pushed the door open, Chen Jinyue and her friends were having a great time. As soon as she saw me enter, she immediately rushed over to hug me, asking if the flowers were for her.
She was asking what she already knew.
I placed the flowers in her arms and wished her a happy eighteenth birthday.
I had always known Chen Jinyue had many friends, but among those present, I only recognized Ren Xiaoxiao. To avoid dampening their spirits, I sat down next to Ren Xiaoxiao, chatting with her occasionally while remaining a quiet observer the rest of the time.
The young kids sang Stefanie Sun and Jay Chou—they were singing about their own eighteen years. I leaned back on the sofa and hummed along softly.
In a few months, they would take the college entrance exams and enter a new stage of life, vibrant and full of hope. Watching Chen Jinyue messing around with her classmates, I thought of my New Year's wish: *I hope Mom stays healthy, and I hope my sister is happy and safe.*
Ren Xiaoxiao got up to unpack the cake and light the candles symbolizing eighteen years. Everyone gathered in a circle, offering blessings. I realized that eighteen symbolized so much; they weren't just saying "Happy Birthday," but also "Happy New Year," "Happy Valentine's Day," "Good luck on the exams," and "Let's stay in touch after graduation."
They said everything, folding countless words into that small private room, into a birthday that was ordinary to the world but meant everything to me.
Chen Jinyue stood before the cake. Amidst her friends' birthday song, she clasped her hands and closed her eyes to make a wish. I didn't know what she wished for; I only knew I couldn't bear to miss this moment. I watched my sister in the flickering candlelight, a smile hanging on the corners of her mouth, her eyelashes trembling slightly as she closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them and gently blew out the candles. Her friends cheered and clapped. Through the drifting smoke of the extinguished candles, she winked at me.
People began handing her gifts—square boxes wrapped in colorful paper. The gifts piled up at the corner of the table. A young boy's face was so red it couldn't be hidden even in the dim room. He handed a gift bag to my sister, his voice stumbling as he wished her a happy birthday.
The secret, unhidden crushes of youth unfolded before me. I watched my sister with great interest, seeing her being loved—whether it was platonic or romantic. I found it all lovely.
After all, it was hardly surprising that someone would like her.
Chen Jinyue took the bag and, just as she had with the others, gave the boy a hug and thanked him.
The KTV room grew lively again. I saw Chen Jinyue pick up the microphone and skip to the next song. Subtitles flashed on the screen:
*I Love You — Faye Wong.*
I didn't know how she had come to listen to such an old song; it seemed a generation apart from the songs her friends were singing, but I loved it dearly.
The disco ball in the corner slowed its rotation. Amidst the slow, decadent prelude, she walked to the front of the screen.
The lights flickered on and off, occasionally hitting my eyelids. In that alluring, ambiguous light, I gazed at my sister without blinking.
Chen Jinyue brought the microphone to her lips and began to sing.
...
*How simple, love*
*Like a dream just finished*
*Clear, blurred*
*How simple*
*Like the first time I asked if you loved me*
*You said*
*Love, love*
...
The friends beside me were still noisy, chatting about something I had long since stopped caring about.
In a gaze that lasted over a minute, I poured out the entirety of my tenderness and love. I smiled softly and mouthed the words to her: "Happy Birthday."
There were three other words, which she had hidden in the song title. And I, not daring to speak them, had already quietly tucked them into that bunch of gypsophila.
After the party dispersed, Chen Jinyue held the flowers while I helped her carry the other gifts. We sat in a taxi once more, not speaking a word the entire way.
When we got out, she pulled me toward the alley where the taxi couldn't enter. Near a trash can, I caught a glimpse of some discarded roses, still seemingly wet with dew. Then I looked at my sister; she was carefully cradling my bouquet in her arms.
I caught up to her and opened the door to our home.
The house was silent. Chen Fang had left a few days ago after celebrating the birthday early.
Neither of us turned on the light. I set the gifts on the shoe cabinet and looked at Chen Jinyue in the entryway.
Under her gaze, my rationality was eaten away bit by bit. She set the flowers on the pile of gifts and reached out to embrace me, her breathing heavy and irrepressible.
Usually, we only hugged; we didn't kiss.
But tonight, she looked at me with sparks of desire in her eyes—stars that I thought would never set, even in the darkest night.
She looked at me with those eyes, clearly waiting for me.
I was always the first to lose control. It had always been this way; once more wouldn't hurt.
In the darkness, I tilted her chin up and kissed her lips.
"Xiao Jin..." I was beyond help.
Her response was more fervent than I had imagined. I soon tasted the lingering sweetness of the cream cake on her tongue.
She clung to me, and I took the opportunity to lift her up, carrying her toward my room. I still didn't turn on the light. We kissed with total abandon. I sat on the edge of the bed, and she straddled my lap.
I felt as though we were kissing the very air out of the room. In her gaze, I tried to decipher this desire.
I began to touch her, with a passion that had remained untouched for the past decade and more. I didn't stop until her voice turned damp.
I was intoxicated, I was rotting, I felt as if I were being consumed by fire.
The last thread of my sanity was about to snap.
Chen Jinyue couldn't help but start to moan softly. She called out to me: "Sister..."
"Sister..."
I didn't know what to do. I caressed her, not daring to take another step, yet continuing to kiss her.
I softly whispered her name.
"Xiao Jin..."
"Happy Birthday..."
"...Ah,"
"...Mm......"
She suddenly tensed, then collapsed against me, gasping for air. It took me a few seconds to realize what had happened.
—I hadn't realized it could be so easy, even like this.
She recovered for two minutes, then began to kiss me again, murmuring softly, "I love you... Lin Yunsheng..."
I looked at the night sky out of the corner of my eye. The sky full of stars served as an embellishment, and the moon once again laid bare my heart.
Chen Jinyue's eighteenth year.
Amidst my wildly growing love, another secret was added to those between us.
We were two pairs of eyes guarding the same secret.
We were two crosses nailed together.
We were a self-contradictory paradox.
Arrogant lovers ignoring the Sword of Damocles.
I thought again of the lyrics she had sung.
...
*Scatter, fall*
*Those things that appear suddenly, then hide from sight*
*Scatter, fall*
*Those things you cannot grasp*
*Are the only things that are real*
...
***
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 松林路 | Songlin Road | The street where the characters' old rented house is located. |
| 海城 | Haicheng | Sea City; the setting of the story. |
| 王记烧烤摊 | Wang’s BBQ Stall | A local street food stall. |
| 画饼 | Paint rosy pictures / Sell a dream | A Chinese idiom (lit. "drawing a pancake") meaning to make empty promises or describe a grand future that may not happen. |
| 满天星 | Gypsophila / Baby's Breath | A flower often used as a filler, symbolizing hidden or pure love. |
| 西南路 | Southwest Road | A street name in the city. |
| 帕洛克希亚 | Paradox | Likely a transliteration of "Paradox" used in a literary/poetic sense. |
| 达摩克利斯之剑 | Sword of Damocles | A Greek mythological metaphor for an ever-present peril. |
