For The Rest Of Our Life – Chapter 11

by Little Panda

You’ll Understand When You Grow Up

On the fifth day of military training, the school’s clubs and organizations all began their recruitment drives, mostly held in the evening. Lin Xian wanted to join the student council and the debate team, so for the next two days she had to stay on campus for dinner and attend evening training, in order to make it to the recruitment interviews afterward. Since it got so late, Xiao Wanqing—despite Lin Xian’s repeated refusals—insisted on driving to campus herself to pick her up after training and bring her home.

On the afternoon of the tenth day of military training, the long-forecast typhoon still hadn’t arrived. As usual, Lin Xian stood at attention under the blazing sun, spine straight.

A bee flew in from somewhere far away, buzzing in circles around their formation.

Lin Xian had been lost in thought, so she hadn’t noticed the quiet stir among her classmates nearby. Not until a black dot appeared in her field of vision, growing closer and clearer, did she snap back to attention—startled.

The moment she realized the tiny thing hovering inches away was a bee, she panicked and threw her hand up to call out a report. But before the word “Report!” could leave her lips, a sharp, earsplitting rip cut through the air first… The air went silent for one second, and then came the uncontrollable, wave after wave of laughter from her classmates.

The bee was frightened off by the deafening laughter. Lin Xian stood frozen, finished belting out “Report!”, and looked down at her clothes, split open at the armpit. For a moment, she blanked. Then her face flushed faintly with embarrassment, her mouth stretched wide, and she finally couldn’t help laughing along with everyone else.

The instructor kept a stern face and barked, “What’s so funny? Stand at attention!” But the curve at the corner of his mouth, which he couldn’t suppress, gave him away.

At his reprimand, everyone only laughed louder, more recklessly—drawing curious glances from the neighboring formations, students turning their heads to stare.

As the person at the center of it all, once her embarrassment had passed, Lin Xian clutched her armpit and laughed the hardest of anyone. In the end, the instructor gave her a token punishment—fifty frog jumps.

This incident made Lin Xian famous across the nearby formations. Everyone now knew that the joint formation of Finance classes 3 and 4 had a girl who was beautiful, great-natured, and funny. The boys’ eyes lit up; they began rubbing their fists and palms, itching to make a move.

After training let out, though, Lin Xian couldn’t laugh anymore.

The bus was packed, bodies pressed together, and Lin Xian could barely stand. Because of the tear in her clothes, she didn’t dare raise her arm to grab the overhead bar. She could only wedge herself in awkwardly, body contorted, clutching the back of someone else’s seat, swayed dizzy by the lurching bus.

When she got home, she hurried past the kitchen, gave a quick hello to the busy Xiao Wanqing, and went pitter-patter back to her bedroom to change clothes, leaving Xiao Wanqing completely bewildered.

A short while later, Lin Xian had changed and came running back to the kitchen, happy again. Leaning against the refrigerator, her eyes bright and sparkling as she watched Xiao Wanqing, she recounted her afternoon embarrassment: “Auntie Xiao, let me tell you, something so embarrassing happened to me this afternoon…”

Her tone was animated, her expressions vivid and amusing, and she gestured wildly as she spoke. Xiao Wanqing listened and couldn’t help but laugh. “You…”

Seeing Xiao Wanqing laugh, Lin Xian joined in the fun. But after two seconds of delight, she furrowed her brow, pouted, and started whining. “But on the way home, because I couldn’t raise my arm, I got jostled back and forth on the bus, and the driver kept slamming the brakes and flooring it—I was so carsick when I got off I thought I’d throw up.”

Xiao Wanqing’s laughter faded. Her fine brows drew together slightly, and she looked at Lin Xian with concern. “Are you feeling better now? Still nauseous?”

Lin Xian peeked up at Xiao Wanqing. Seeing the lingering smile fade from Xiao Wanqing’s face, replaced by a worried expression, she felt an inexplicable sweetness, and the corners of her lips curved upward. She blinked and answered, “I’m fine now. Coming home and seeing Auntie Xiao, smelling the food—I’m all better.”

Xiao Wanqing’s brow relaxed. She looked at Lin Xian, her eyes soft and fluid, and scolded gently, “Little Glutton…” She turned off the gas, plated the dish, and said warmly, “Alright, go wash your hands. Time to eat.”

Lin Xian hurried forward to help Xiao Wanqing set the pot on the sink and fill it with water. Then, carrying the dish in one hand, she tugged Xiao Wanqing’s arm with the other. “I already washed my hands. The pot can wait—let’s go eat first. By the time you finish washing it, the food will be cold.”

Xiao Wanqing always worried about Lin Xian being hungry—she’d plate the food and let Lin Xian eat first while she cleaned up the kitchen before sitting down herself. Lin Xian had long been unhappy about this, and she insisted on breaking the habit. Food should be eaten while it’s hot.

Xiao Wanqing was dragged away by Lin Xian’s firm grip. She glanced back at the still-messy stovetop, then at the stubborn girl beside her, and sighed softly. Her eyes curved—a little helpless, but mostly, warmed.

After dinner, after her shower, Lin Xian came out towel-drying her hair and asked Xiao Wanqing, who was on the sofa channel-surfing: “Auntie Xiao, do we have a needle and thread at home? I need to mend my clothes.”

The girl’s hair was soaked, still dripping water, wetting most of her shoulder.

Xiao Wanqing turned to look at Lin Xian, warm amusement flickering in her eyes. She curved her lips in helpless indulgence and called Lin Xian over. “Come here. Sit down.”

Lin Xian didn’t question it. She went over and sat down beside Xiao Wanqing, then looked at her in confusion. “What is it?”

Xiao Wanqing’s expression was serene. She tucked her smooth legs beneath her on the sofa, then turned and knelt in front of Lin Xian. She took the towel from the slightly stunned Lin Xian’s hands, placed it gently over her hair, and began patting it dry. “You never dry your hair properly, and you don’t like using the dryer. You fall asleep with it soaking wet. It doesn’t seem to matter now when you’re young, but when you’re older and the headaches start, it’ll be too late.”

The gentle words slipped softly into Lin Xian’s ears, into her mind, into her heart. She lifted her head slightly, gazing up at Xiao Wanqing’s focused face. A few seconds later, she snapped her gaze down and mumbled, “I’ll be more careful from now on.”

Xiao Wanqing’s eyes softened with a smile. “Mm. I’ll keep an eye on you, too.”

Lin Xian bit her lip. Her heart felt like a war-torn battlefield, though she couldn’t fathom why.

Two minutes later, Xiao Wanqing let go with a satisfied air, shifted from kneeling to sitting, and handed the towel back. “There. Go get your clothes. I’ll get the needle and thread and mend them for you.”

Lin Xian took the towel and said politely, “It’s fine, I can do it myself.”

But Xiao Wanqing just curved her lips and teased, “Can you? If you turn your fingers into a pincushion, I’m not paying your medical bills.”

Lin Xian pursed her lips and grumbled, “I’m not that clumsy.”

Xiao Wanqing’s eyes sparkled with amusement. She soothed, “Mm, Xianxian is clever and deft—of course you’re not that clumsy. Then give me a chance to show off my own clever hands, alright?” Her tone was gentle, like coaxing a child—impossible to refuse.

Lin Xian couldn’t say no.

She went back to her room, retrieved the torn military training top, and handed it to Xiao Wanqing. Then, following Xiao Wanqing’s instructions, she went to the bathroom to blow-dry her hair. But standing in the bathroom, the rumble of the hair dryer in her ears, her thoughts stayed fixed on Xiao Wanqing in the living room.

She couldn’t stand still.

Lin Xian suddenly yanked the hair dryer’s plug from the outlet. Gripping the dryer in her right hand, she dashed out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, stooped to grab the small chair she always saw Xiao Wanqing sit on while cooking, and ran pitter-patter back to the living room.

Xiao Wanqing was threading a needle. She looked up at the sound, watching Lin Xian in confusion. Lin Xian found an outlet, set down the small chair, plugged in the hair dryer, and smiled at Xiao Wanqing with open honesty. “You said you’d show me your clever hands, didn’t you? I have to watch, so I can see just how clever they are.”

Xiao Wanqing paused, then gave a soft, light laugh, her eyes curving. She turned back and continued what she was doing, letting Lin Xian be.

Lin Xian switched on the hair dryer, tilting her head to dry her long hair. But her attention remained entirely on Xiao Wanqing.

Xiao Wanqing’s features were relaxed, her expression focused and serious. Her slender, luminous forearm moved gently through the air with each pass of the needle and thread—every arc of motion beautifully, impossibly precise.

Lin Xian didn’t notice that she hadn’t moved the dryer in a long time. The hair in one spot was being baked hot by the concentrated heat.

Under the warm, amber light, Xiao Wanqing’s face grew ever more gentle and lovely. Every smile and frown, every gesture and movement, froze in Lin Xian’s eyes like a series of captivating paintings.

After a long while, the dryer finally shifted position. Lin Xian lowered her head slightly, her thoughts drifting far. She marveled inwardly—Xiao Wanqing was not the most beautiful person she had ever seen, but she was, without a doubt, the most charming. She always had a way of making it impossible to look away.

Occasionally, Lin Xian would overhear her mother and grandfather chatting. When her grandfather expressed concern about his old friend’s daughter Xiao Wanqing, her mother would sigh, worried: “Xiao Wan is wonderful in every way, but her standards are just too high. She’s let it drag on until now…”

At the time, Lin Xian would only purse her lips, thinking her mother was old-fashioned, meddlesome, worrying over nothing. Maybe Xiao Wanqing simply didn’t want to get married at all. But now, reflecting on it, Lin Xian couldn’t help but wonder: what kind of man could ever be worthy of Xiao Wanqing?

Her mind slowly surfaced a memory from that year—Xiao Wanqing in a corner behind a funeral hall, slumped on the ground, crying miserably after an argument with someone. Lin Xian had been passing by and vaguely heard someone say, “I wronged you.” Then came Xiao Wanqing’s faint, exhausted reply: “Go away. I don’t want to see you.” A long time later, she heard suppressed sobs. She peeked in and saw Xiao Wanqing hugging her knees, face buried, crying so hard her whole body trembled—like a leaf drifting helplessly in the wind.

Lin Xian suddenly turned off the hair dryer. The abrupt cessation of the rumble left the air strangely, uncomfortably quiet.

Lin Xian’s dark, bright eyes fixed on Xiao Wanqing. She spoke earnestly: “Auntie Xiao, when you look for someone in the future, could you let me meet them first? I’ll help vet them for you.”

She was afraid someone might receive a treasure without realizing its worth, without knowing how to cherish it.

Xiao Wanqing had just finished stitching the tear and was tying off the thread. She paused at the words, then smiled faintly. “And if you’re the one vetting—what kind of person would you let pass?”

Lin Xian had only spoken on impulse and hadn’t expected Xiao Wanqing to ask. She fell silent for a moment, thinking, then answered: “Someone who loves you very, very much. Who loves you more than anything else in this world. Who loves you the most. Who would never, ever wrong you.”

Xiao Wanqing finished the knot, cut the thread, set down the clothes, and walked over to Lin Xian. She smiled faintly, unconvinced. “Then there might not be anyone who passes.”

Lin Xian’s pretty brows furrowed. “Then he doesn’t love you enough, and he doesn’t deserve you.” She paused, her frown deepening. “Shouldn’t that be what love is? To brave death for it, to give everything—wholehearted, single-minded.”

Xiao Wanqing stroked Lin Xian’s soft hair with one hand and took the hair dryer from her with the other. She looked down at Lin Xian’s youthful, earnest face for a long time. In her ink-dark, clear eyes was something Lin Xian couldn’t read—obscure, unfathomable. At last, she sighed softly, ruffled Lin Xian’s hair, and said in a low, gentle voice that seemed to drift from some distant past: “You’ll understand when you grow up.”

With that, she switched on the hair dryer. The restless rumble covered everything. She lowered her gaze, long lashes casting a shadow across her face. Lin Xian’s fine, soft dark hair slipped through her fingers, strand by strand, falling away in the wind…

Was it this way, or was it not?

Xiao Wanqing didn’t tell her.

The author has something to say:

Lin Xian: No one is worthy, so I’ll do it myself!