Thirteen Wonders (ShíSānYāo) : Chapter 16 - One, Two, Three Tiao
Chapter 16: One, Two, Three Tiao
In Zhou Yao’s eyes, Chen Xuze had experienced life.
Three times—he had only seen her cry three times. The tears, like two light, translucent beads, fell silently, leaving the heaviest scars in his memory over the years.
——
Before the age of nine, Zhou Yao’s legs were perfectly fine. In the early years after her birth, the Zhou couple loved her dearly, even transferring the affection meant for their deceased son onto her.
But as time passed, a daughter could never replace a son. Sometimes, when the children in the alley got into fights, Zhou Yao would return with scratches on her hands. Her mother would argue with the other parents, their quarrels escalating until neighbors gathered to mediate.
One day, the boy’s mother spat, “What’s so great about her? She’s just a girl! If you’re so proud, why don’t you give birth to a son? A dead-end family!”
It was an overstatement, but to some of the older generation, it was a ‘truth.’ A household without a son to carry on the family name was destined to decline. On this matter, Mother Zhou not only failed to gain her mother-in-law’s support but was instead constantly blamed by her. “You’re such a disgrace,” her mother-in-law would say. “My precious grandson—how could you not keep an eye on him? The street was so wide, yet he still got hit by a car. Even the doctors couldn’t save him…”
She would wipe away tears while lamenting to the old woman next door, “Oh, the suffering! My poor grandson… Grandma misses you so much…”
Perhaps it was in this slow, grinding erosion that Zhou Yao’s mother’s love for her disappeared. In those early years, she had heard countless times— ‘She’s just a girl, what’s so special about that?’
She had argued back before: “And raising a boy makes you special?”
“Of course, it does! Our Deng family has someone to carry on the name! When you die, there’ll be no one left to even hold your ashes!”
The neighborhood relationships weren’t great back then. Later, after a few of the most quarrelsome women moved away, things became friendlier. No one openly said, ‘What a pity, she’s just a girl,’ anymore. But the mother who once rocked Zhou Yao in her arms, cooing ‘Mommy’s little Yaoyao,’ had long disappeared, ground down by her mother-in-law and the wagging tongues of gossipy women.
Back then, Zhou Yao would still get into fights. As a child, she was lively and bold. But as she matured, she grew more silent—until now. Even then, Chen Xuze couldn’t stand seeing a bunch of idiot boys bullying a girl. If it was one against a group, then so be it—they’d throw stones back and make those boys run home crying.
And often, they’d trip and fall as they ran, making Chen Xuze and Zhou Yao laugh hysterically.
Zhou Yao loved following behind Chen Xuze. In her young eyes, though he was older than her, he seemed so much taller. His mother never got scolded by his grandmother either. Everyone in the alley knew that the Chen family was different from theirs. Chen’s parents were highly educated professionals. Whenever Father Chen walked through the alley in his neatly pressed clothes, the neighbors would greet him with admiration.
Chen Xuze’s mother was the same—elegant and refined, completely unlike the common folk in their neighborhood.
The couple were ‘highly intellectuals’ with stable, prestigious jobs. Their family’s standard of living wasn’t even on the same level as the others. Later, they ventured into business and, instead of suffering setbacks, kept climbing higher. The Chens bought property in the city center and owned cars—more than one.
The time Chen Xuze spent playing with Zhou Yao was the happiest she could remember. No one dared to bully her when he was around. They would squat in the grass hunting crickets, dig for snails in the fields to feed the ducks, climb the small hill behind the alley, hiding from the adults while climbing trees and looking out into the distance.
If only that day had never happened.
After beating every boy in the alley into submission, Chen Xuze became the king of the kids. They played hide-and-seek, with the others scattering through the alley while he and Zhou Yao ran in circles before deciding to hide in his house through the back door.
The third floor was usually empty unless his parents were home. Knowing that they hadn’t returned yet, the two hurried inside, not even taking off their shoes, and squeezed into the cabinet under the TV in the living room.
That was the day. From their hiding place, Chen Xuze and Zhou Yao witnessed how his parents came home from work. They had promised to have dinner with the elders, so they had come from the city, bringing along a married couple as guests.
In the nearly vacant living room on the third floor, the two couples went from casual conversation to intimate embraces, eventually pairing off and entering separate rooms.
His father and the other man’s wife entered the room on the left. His mother and the other man entered the room on the right. Outside, the tree branches swayed, dappling the floor with shifting shadows.
In the suffocating space of the cabinet, through a crack in the door, Zhou Yao could hear Chen Xuze’s heartbeat pounding violently, as if it would burst out of his chest.
His face was deathly pale, as if he could shatter into pieces and be blown away by the wind at any moment. Zhou Yao was scared too. They didn’t fully understand, but they knew—this wasn’t the world they knew. They weren’t supposed to see this.
Their breathing trembled. Despite the fear that nearly made her cry, she reached out with a shaking hand, wanting to give Chen Xuze a comforting hug.
Before she could touch him, he suddenly pushed the door open and bolted. Zhou Yao chased after him. The passion inside the rooms did not notice the turmoil outside.
Chen Xuze ran straight to the small hill behind the alley. He ran and ran, his face growing paler. He didn’t cry—his breathing simply grew harsher, mingling with the wind.
“Chen Xuze—”
“Xuze—”
“Brother Shisan—”
Zhou Yao ran after him, finally catching up. Gasping for breath, she reached out to grab his arm. “Chen Xuze, you—”
He suddenly turned and shoved her away.
No one expected Zhou Yao to tumble down the hill. From that day on, a combination of physical injury and psychological trauma meant that she could no longer run or jump properly. Sometimes, while walking, it felt as if her feet were splitting apart, the pain slicing through her. At times, she couldn’t even put weight on her toes or heel.
That day in the hospital, outside the patient room, Chen Xuze had never looked so defeated. He sat with his head lowered, silent, his bloodshot eyes filled with guilt, waiting to be scolded and punished.
He overheard the adults talking—Zhou Yao’s leg injury was severe, and the aftereffects would be long-lasting.
If admitting fault and accepting punishment could fix things, he was willing to do anything.
Then, he was called into the hospital room—Zhou Yao was asking for him. Her foot was immobilized, but aside from that, she seemed unharmed. The adults and doctors were standing nearby, discussing with furrowed brows.
No one came to scold him. He stood at the foot of the bed while Zhou Yao, who had already cried herself out earlier, now sat calmly and beckoned him over.
Chen Xuze thought that if she wanted to slap him, he would take it—no matter how many times.
When he lowered his gaze and walked to her bedside, Zhou Yao leaned toward him with difficulty. Her voice was still hoarse from crying, and she rested both hands on his shoulders, managing only a half-hug because of her posture.
She leaned in close to his ear and whispered, “Brother Shisan, we'll keep today's events a secret.”
There was no ‘we’—only her and him.
Later, Chen Xuze realized that by ‘today's events,’ she wasn’t just referring to his so-called highly educated parents betraying their morals in pursuit of excitement. She was also talking about him pushing her down the hillside.
From that year on, his little Zhou Yao became a ‘cripple.’ Before she learned how to walk almost like a normal person, every time she passed through the alley, the children would point and whisper. They would laugh and sing mocking rhymes: ‘Little cripple, always falls,
Falls and falls, can't get up,
A golden coin lies ahead,
Can't pick it up, cries instead,
Oh, the cripple, what a joke!’
Chen Xuze knew how painful and difficult it was for her to practice walking in her room. At first, she wouldn’t even let him see her because her movements were awkward and ugly.
That year, Chen Xuze fought every child who sang that rhyme. He knocked out their teeth, blackened their eyes, or beat them until they bled from the nose. Even when his parents and grandparents held his head down, demanding he apologize, he never once bowed.
Later, after his grandparents passed away, or whenever he felt unbearable pain, confusion, or loss, Chen Xuze would always think of that hug in the hospital room.
A hug scented with oranges—one that lingered in his memory ever since.
When she looked at him with those bright, glistening eyes and called him ‘Brother Shisan,’ he thought he saw tears in her eyes.
But he couldn’t tell if it was just an illusion.
To this day, Chen Xuze still doesn't know if that was the first time Zhou Yao cried—or if it was the first time he shed silent tears himself.
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