Chapter 4 - The Ends of Her Hair
For as long as Chen Jinyue could remember, Lin Yunsheng had been a permanent fixture in her world. She called her "Sister," and in her memories, the time spent with Lin Yunsheng far outweighed the time spent with her own mother. Her mother was a woman of constant toil, her feet barely touching the ground as she worked herself to the bone to provide for them. Jinyue often wondered how those without sisters managed to navigate the complexities of growing up. If Lin Yunsheng were removed from the tapestry of her life, so many details would simply vanish into a void of white space. She couldn't even begin to imagine what such a hollow existence would look like.
But how had Lin Yunsheng grown up? To Jinyue, it was a mystery. Sometimes, she harbored the suspicion that Lin Yunsheng had bypassed childhood entirely, emerging into the world already possessing the soul of a weary, composed adult.
As she grew older, curiosity prompted her to ask her mother why they bore different surnames. Why was her sister a Lin while she was a Chen? Her mother’s explanation was simple: her sister took their father’s name, while Jinyue took her mother’s. "But she’s your sister," her mother would emphasize, "and that makes all the difference." Later, the nuance of their shared bloodline became clearer: they shared a mother, but the man Lin Yunsheng called "Father" belonged to her alone.
The young Chen Jinyue did not like her sister. Too many people adored Lin Yunsheng; Jinyue felt her own affection would be redundant, a drop of water in an already overflowing bucket. Even their mother seemed to favor the elder girl, constantly praising her for being sensible and easy to raise. Naturally, Jinyue bristled at the comparison. Her rebellious streak swelled, growing larger than the fluffy steamed buns Lin Yunsheng prepared for her every morning. She constantly sought ways to provoke her sister, desperate to shatter that unflappable, ethereal composure and drag her down into the mundane, messy reality Jinyue inhabited.
When her mood was bright, she called her "Sheng-sheng Jie." When her temper flared, she used her full name, "Lin Yunsheng," discarding the six-year age gap as if it were nothing. Yet, Lin Yunsheng never retaliated with anger. If their mother overheard such disrespect, a scolding was inevitable, which only served to nourish the seeds of resentment in Jinyue’s heart.
In primary school, Jinyue was a creature of play. Taking advantage of her mother’s ignorance, she would linger long after the final bell, disappearing into the labyrinthine alleys of the city with her classmates. They would huddle in courtyards drowned out by the cries of street vendors, sharing skewers of fried pork bought with meager, crumpled pocket change.
She would look up at the crisscrossing web of ancient electrical wires overhead. Thick smoke from kitchen stoves drifted from open windows, staining the sky a scorched, jaundiced yellow. *It’s dinner time,* she thought, a mischievous, triumphant smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"What are you smiling at, Chen Jinyue?" Ren Xiaoxiao asked, shaking her shoulder. Sauce from the fried skewers was smeared across Xiaoxiao’s face. Jinyue pulled a tissue from her bag with a look of profound disdain. "Wipe yourself. You look hideous."
Xiaoxiao, accustomed to Jinyue’s prickly nature, took the tissue and scrubbed her face. Suddenly, her eyes widened. "Hey, look! Your sister is here." She gestured frantically toward the end of the alley, her face still buried in the tissue to avoid drawing too much attention, yet desperate for Jinyue to see.
Jinyue looked. There stood Lin Yunsheng, still clad in her high school uniform. Her backpack was gone; she must have returned home from her self-study session, found the house empty, and rushed out to search. Her high school was close to Jinyue’s school—a mere five-minute walk—but the journey from their home was a different matter. Even by bicycle, the round trip took forty minutes. It was no wonder Lin Yunsheng was breathless, her hand instinctively wiping beads of sweat from her forehead.
Jinyue and Xiaoxiao remained seated on the ground, watching her approach. Xiaoxiao was too intimidated to move; Jinyue simply refused to. Even when Lin Yunsheng stood directly before her, Jinyue remained as steady as a mountain.
"Let’s go home, Xiao Jin," Lin Yunsheng said softly.
It was always like this. Lin Yunsheng didn't get angry. She didn't ask why Jinyue was playing instead of heading home, or why she was sitting in the dirt ruining her clean uniform, or why she was eating unhygienic street food. She seemed to turn a blind eye to the provocation. As long as she found Jinyue, the world was right again. She would simply call her name in that gentle, melodic voice.
Jinyue hated it. She felt ignored, as if her actions carried no weight. If Lin Yunsheng had scolded her like their mother did, perhaps the irritation wouldn't be so sharp. Her carefully calculated schemes always felt like punching a cloud of cotton.
"I'm not going back," Jinyue began, ready to argue. But the traitorous Ren Xiaoxiao stood up first.
"Hello, Sheng-sheng Jie! I... I should go home too. Goodbye, Sister!" Xiaoxiao grabbed her bag and fled. Jinyue rolled her eyes. *So much for playing until seven,* she thought. *One look at my sister and you can't even speak straight.*
"I'll see you home," Lin Yunsheng offered.
"Don't bother! She lives right upstairs!" Jinyue snapped, finally standing up and stomping toward the street.
"Right, right! I'm just upstairs! Thanks, Sheng-sheng Jie! Bye!" Xiaoxiao vanished.
Lin Yunsheng followed Jinyue, her pace quick to ensure the younger girl didn't slip away again. Jinyue stood by the rusted bicycle, fuming. "Lin Yunsheng! Why are you so slow? I'm starving!"
"Let's eat out tonight then. I haven't had time to buy groceries," Lin Yunsheng said, kicking up the kickstand. She looked at Jinyue, and when the girl remained silent, she added, "McDonald's?"
"No."
"I want KFC today."
Jinyue’s favorite was the Spicy McChicken, but today, she was determined to be difficult. Even if it was handed to her on a silver platter, she wouldn't take it.
"Alright..." Lin Yunsheng couldn't help but let out a soft, airy laugh at the sight of Jinyue’s puffed-out cheeks.
"What are you laughing at, Lin Yunsheng! Stop it!"
Lin Yunsheng began to pedal, the bicycle picking up speed. The evening breeze swept across her face and rushed past Jinyue, carrying away some of the younger girl's lingering heat. Jinyue reached out and rested her right hand on her sister’s waist. The sky was darkening; she decided her tantrum had reached its limit for the day. She was tired.
"Ride slower, Lin Yunsheng!"
"Okay~" Another laugh.
Sitting on the back rack, Jinyue watched the world blur by as they navigated the narrow streets. The wind caught the ends of Lin Yunsheng’s hair, occasionally brushing against Jinyue’s face with a ticklish sensation. She reached out her left hand, gently gathering the stray strands into a loose bunch to keep them from whipping about. Her right hand remained anchored to her sister’s waist, her fingers clutching the hem of the school uniform.
The night market vendors were setting up their stalls, and the streets grew cramped and noisy. Jinyue held that pose for the entire ride, her left hand raised, terrified of accidentally pulling a single hair.
*Lin Yunsheng... even her hair is beautiful,* she thought, her expression darkening again. Everyone loved her sister. Her mother, Ren Xiaoxiao, the whole world. And Lin Yunsheng seemed to love everyone back. She even wanted to walk Ren Xiaoxiao home. It made Jinyue feel a dull, heavy ache in her chest. She couldn't understand Lin Yunsheng’s gentleness or the constant smile on her face.
*But what if... what if something really happened to me? Would she finally get angry then?* Her grip on the uniform tightened, wrinkling the fabric into a messy ball.
She didn't know then. It would take a future night of torrential rain lashing against the windows of their old house, and the sight of tears trembling in Lin Yunsheng’s eyes, for her to finally understand the answer.
