CHAPTER 352: CHAPTER 345: SUMMER - QIN HE’S STORY

The two of them were always together, arms linked, strolling leisurely along the old streets. When they occasionally met familiar faces, they would exchange pleasantries, asking questions like "How many months has it been?" "Over five months." "Where did you move to?" "Tonglin Road, not too far," and after a brief chat, they would nod and pass by, each going about their own business.

Sometimes they talked more, especially during the evening or when night fell, when the sun was not so strong, and the need for an umbrella was gone. A cool breeze would sweep through the streets, beckoning them out for a walk to enjoy the cooler air. Without much else to do, they’d gather and chat leisurely, but such occasions were mostly on the weekends; they were rarely seen on weekdays.

It had always been this way even after they moved into their new house. Usually, they only had time to visit during the weekends. Earlier still, when they both lived on South Fly Road, they often wandered around this neighborhood and occasionally ran. Back then, they were noticeably younger—one pretty and pure, the other tall and handsome—or deemed handsome, at least, because his face was quite attractive, similar to his father’s, with the only drawback being his lack of fashion sense, which made his appearance less stylish. After they got together, he looked handsome for a while, but soon reverted to his plain, unsophisticated self, probably out of convenience, deciding not to bother with his appearance anymore.

Qin Guanglin of the Qin family, back then, many thought him to be earnest and honest, praise born out of nothing else to compliment—he attended Luo City University to study art, not the most employable field, and though he could paint, that usually just attracted girls. Unfortunately, he’d mostly stay indoors, and on the rare occasions he went out, he’d be seen in his perennially checked shirts that looked hopelessly outdated. Thus, people could only praise his earnestness, except for Pan from the convenience store who often wanted to teach him some flirting techniques, which he never wanted to learn.

Finding a girlfriend seemed tough for him—that’s what everyone thought, and indeed, things seemed to confirm those thoughts. Even two years after graduating, he continued to hide away at home, occasionally making an appearance, with no girlfriend or job in sight. Even the pudgy little boy next door, still in elementary school, had brought home several female classmates, while Qin Guanglin hadn’t even come close to a girl.

However, everything changed after that girl came around a couple of times—that young girl looked like any ordinary college student, but there was something about her that was incredibly comforting to look at, which people later said was her elegance.

After the girl arrived, there were drastic changes in the Qin lad. The two were constantly seen stuck together, often spotted hand-in-hand in the evenings, going grocery shopping, cheerfully chatting and politely greeting acquaintances. After dinner, they would sometimes go for a run, with the girl occasionally biking alongside as he ran.

Over the next two or three years, Qin Guanglin bulked up and no longer looked so plain, and he even found a job. Each day, he’d carry his bag, pick up breakfast on the way to work, and return with it after work. Later, everyone heard they had gotten married—the neighborhood attended the wedding, almost failing to recognize the bride and groom, who looked like they had stepped right out of a movie, nothing like the poor artist Qin used to be. At the wedding, there was plenty to eat and drink, and though you couldn’t take any away, the celebration was still much better compared to other weddings, very stylish. Everyone joyfully wished them an early blessing of children since they had married so late. At almost thirty, it was high time they considered having kids—Eldest Sister Qin was particularly anxious about it, often asking for pregnancy tips while chatting with neighbors at the street corner in the evenings. Later, Sister Wang managed to find a local remedy for bearing sons that she swore by as she’d used it with her little chubby son. That finally brought a smile to her face, and she stopped asking around.

Even today, Qin Guanglin and his wife can be seen wandering this old street. Perhaps Sister Wang’s remedy was not only good for conceiving boys but also for conceiving in general. Every weekend, the girl would proudly display her pregnant belly, arm-in-arm with Qin Guanglin, either strolling down this old street or heading to the market to buy groceries. According to Eldest Sister Qin, the young man cooked dinner each night for their family of three—himself and his wife and mother-in-law. While some thought it odd for the man of the house to handle cooking, Eldest Sister Qin was proud, boasting about her daughter-in-law like she was her own flesh and blood, deserving of being cherished and spoiled.

Perhaps it was because she had known hardships when she was younger, knowing full well that life isn’t easy for women, so she couldn’t be kinder to her daughter-in-law. The neighbors understood, observing the coupled strolling arm-in-arm with wide grins, presumably sharing in their happiness.

Little Pan, the Wang family’s once chubby son, gradually slimmed down and was said to be learning painting from Qin Guanglin. Many shook their heads at this—Qin Guanglin got lucky, snagging a wife who could bring him prosperity, otherwise who would buy those "worthless" paintings that cost hundreds or even thousands? Stability, they argued, came from a regular job. Reportedly, Qin landed a job drawing comics; he now had a car and had bought a house—all thanks to his wife bringing him good fortune. If it weren’t for drawing comics, how could he possibly earn that much?

Little Pan wanted to achieve the same, but everyone knew it was unlikely. Occasionally, when neighbors sat cooling off at the street corner and chatting, they would try to advise Sister Wang, a rural woman who had married into Luo City and could barely read, incapable of guiding her son, but she was stubborn. Insisting that since Qin Guanglin attended Luo City University and prospered, and her son had someone to teach him painting, he should pursue it.

Seeing her steadfast demeanor, people stopped mentioning it after a few attempts. Occasionally, you’d see her disciplining Little Pan with a switch, the boy wailing, but ostensibly improving in his studies—Sister Wang would even boast, presenting his report card and claiming that good grades were borne from discipline, oblivious to learning otherwise.

If Qin’s kid were present, he would applaud and shout, "Well done!"... Perhaps it was because Eldest Sister Qin hit him too hard back then, cultivating this odd quirk in him where he relishes seeing other kids being punished. At first, Wang Family’s chubby kid would seek his help, but soon realized that whenever his mom saw Qin’s kid, she hit even harder, prompting him to cry and beg Qin’s kid to leave quickly.

No one knew what Qin’s kid would be like with his own children. Inevitably, when people had time on their hands, they would gossip. Some said he would be like Sister Wang, others believed he couldn’t bear to hit his own kids—you could tell just by looking. When a small stone lay before his wife, he would jog ahead to kick it away, fearful it might trip up his pregnant wife. Such behavior hardly reflected someone who would be harsh with children.

In the blink of an eye, that poor, earthy painter had completely transformed. When people remembered, they’d feel nostalgic, wondering who could have foreseen this day. Fate was such a fascinating thing. Of course, it was just a momentary sentiment, something to chat about under the summer night sky, when there was nothing else to do. Staying at home and running fans would waste electricity, so why not chat with neighbors at the street corner?

After winding down the gossip, noting it was about bedtime, everyone headed home. Once in bed, the idle chatter would vanish from the other ear, replaced by plans for tomorrow—maybe go check out the distant supermarket for discounted eggs and toilet paper or see if meat prices had dropped at the market—they were always that idle, scratching for things to keep them busy.

By then, it was 7 p.m. on an August evening, and darkness had fully settled in. Several houses on the street were still lit, while others were pitch black. The Qin family, perhaps having enjoyed a big meal, were only now turning off the lights. The three went out for a walk together, and after their stroll, the two young ones from the Qin family would drive back to their place, seemingly around Tonglin Road.

Pan’s convenience store layout was different from others: while most stores had their cash registers at the entrance, with aisles sorted into categories and customers paying at the checkout counter after making their selections. Pan had remodeled his shop, knocking down the wall between the store and his back bedroom, making the space much larger, like a big supermarket. The cash register was not at the entrance but set up with two separate points; the entrance was just an entrance, after selecting goods, customers would head towards the exit at the other side of the building on the street corner to pay—there, with his bald head, Pan would sit at the door with a worn-out large palm fan, wearing big shorts, chatting with neighbors while waiting for customers to come out and pay. If ever there was a moment with no one around, he’d curl up with his door-cat on the lounge chair, at times dozing off. Thankfully, the community was tight-knit, seeing each other regularly, so no one took advantage of him: customers always woke him to ask how much they owed before paying.

Some suggested he should let his son, Little Pan, take over, but he stubbornly insisted he wasn’t old yet, still fit to handle cash transactions, before leaning back on his lounge chair, dozing off. If not for the familiarity and trust of the local area, his store probably would have closed long ago due to uncollected payments.

When the Qin family walked past Pan’s convenience store, Qin’s kid whispered something to the two accompanying him, seemingly asking a question. His pregnant wife nodded, the two of them arm in arm, never apart since stepping out, now still linked as Eldest Sister Qin walked ahead toward the store’s exit to wait, while the couple entered from the front. In just a moment, they reached the exit where Qin’s kid, holding a row of small yogurt bottles, placed them on the counter to inquire about the price.

Now in the age of information, there was no need to hand over a wad of cash. He took out his phone, scanned the QR code, and, with a beep, made the payment. "A boy or a girl?" Pan asked casually as he waited for the payment, while neighbors speculated based on their own experiences, "That belly’s shape, it’s a girl, I can tell for sure!" Just as one auntie declared it, another waved her hands in disagreement: "Pointed upward, round below, and head downwards, it’s clearly a boy." Amidst a cacophony of voices, the pregnant woman merely smiled gently, touching her stomach, leaning on someone next to her, waiting for him to pay. After Qin’s kid made the payment and stored his phone, he grinned at the neighbors, "It’s just begun to show, there’s no shape to speak of yet, we’ll know when it’s born."

"Exactly, the belly hasn’t even really started to swell yet, what are you all guessing ’round and pointed’ for?" An old lady chimed in, eliciting nods from others, "Can’t tell now; gotta go to the hospital to know, your experience doesn’t apply!" Eldest Sister Qin exchanged a confident look with neighbor Sister Wang, proudly announcing, "Definitely a boy!"

"A boy, a boy! Hey, if you say so!" "Hahaha, you so want a grandson, don’t you?" The neighbors added messily, providing a face-saving agreement, though it would have been better without the laughter.

Eldest Sister Qin stayed to enjoy the cool evening with the neighbors while letting the young couple continue their walk to aid digestion. Qin’s kid unwrapped the yogurt, added a straw, and handed it to his pregnant wife. Under the dim street lights, arms linked, they strolled leisurely down the old street, heads occasionally leaning in together to whisper and laugh quietly. Pan stroked his bald head with the palm fan, watching their silhouetted figures under the night sky, reflecting on what a fine couple they made.

The conversation quickly shifted elsewhere; the young couple’s passing was merely an interlude. The neighbors, gathered together, intermittently burst into laughter, filling the street corner with a lively atmosphere.