It took Song Lee Lee quite a while to piece her chaotic story together.
Ever since Wei Qian stopped picking them up from school, the daily luxury of their shared ice pop had vanished. Little Bao was thoroughly disgruntled, but she lacked the courage to ask Wei Qian for pocket money. Expecting their overworked big brother to remember such trivialities was an even more hopeless fantasy.
So, the two cubs had hatched a plan: every day on their walk home, they would scour the narrow alleys for discarded aluminum cans, stashing their haul beneath Little Bao's bed until they had enough to sell for cash.
That afternoon, for reasons Little Bao couldn't fathom, Wei Zhi Yuan had suddenly halted halfway through their usual route, refusing to let her enter the alley. Instead, he forced her to detour back to the main thoroughfare. As usual, Little Bao threw a tantrum, but Wei Zhi Yuan didn't even bother arguing. Without a word, he forcefully dragged her along by her arm.
His expression at that moment had been so sinister and terrifying that Little Bao had uncharacteristically submitted without further protest.
Song Lee Lee was a typical, spineless child—a bully to the weak, but the second someone showed genuine anger, she shrank into a timid little quail. It was fortunate she was a girl; otherwise, she might have made a premier candidate for an imperial eunuch when she grew up.
Wei Zhi Yuan had led her aimlessly through the streets. First, they wove through the crowded intersection near the big store, taking convoluted twists and turns. Emerging on the other side, he looked around with extreme vigilance, steering her through the front doors and out the back exits of several corner shops, wandering aimlessly for over half an hour.
Only then did Wei Zhi Yuan head in the direction of home. By that time, the sun had already dipped below the horizon, and dusk was settling in.
To reach their flat, passing through one final, narrow alley was entirely unavoidable.
Little Bao noticed that Wei Zhi Yuan was no longer wearing his schoolbag on his back; instead, he carried it in his hands with the zipper pulled wide open. His hand remained buried inside, searching frantically for something as they walked.
Then came the sound of approaching footsteps. Wei Zhi Yuan’s posture stiffened like a coiled spring. Looking up, Little Bao saw a man approaching from the shadow of the alley walls.
How old the man was or what he looked like, she couldn't say between her tears—only that he was a large, unfamiliar adult, as tall as Fatty San’s father.
Suddenly, Wei Zhi Yuan shoved her hard, barking at her to run.
At the time, Little Bao had no idea what was happening, but Wei Zhi Yuan’s sheer panic sent a wave of terror through her. Though she didn't understand the danger, the hair on her arms stood straight up.
Instinctively obeying, she sprinted toward the alley mouth. The further she ran, the more terrified she became. Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw Wei Zhi Yuan haul his hand out of his schoolbag, gripping a rusted steel pipe with both hands. He pressed his small frame sideways against the alley wall, staring down the stranger with deadly, animalistic caution.
Noticing her hesitation, Wei Zhi Yuan screamed at her in a fury: "Run! Go find Big Brother!"
Little Bao didn't dare hesitate another second. She sprinted all the way home in a single breath, only to realize at the doorstep that she didn't have a key. There were only three sets of keys to the flat: Wei Qian carried one; another was kept inside as a spare; and the third, which used to belong to Fatty San's mother, had recently been handed to Wei Zhi Yuan.
Wei Qian had assumed that since the two children always left and returned together, one set was enough. Little Bao was a careless child, and giving her a key meant risking its loss. Yet at this critical juncture, both children had forgotten this crucial detail.
If Lei Zi hadn't rushed over after receiving Fatty San’s frantic call, the little girl would still be sitting on the cold doorstep, weeping in utter helplessness.
Having lived on the streets far longer, Wei Zhi Yuan was vastly more sensitive to human malice than Little Bao.
Having realized halfway home that they were being stalked, he had taken his sister on a wild detour. His strategic handling of the situation had been remarkably sound; unfortunately, he was still just a child.
In the end, he had failed to shake the predator off their trail and was cornered in the alley.
At that moment, Fatty San arrived, panting heavily. Unsettled after his phone call to Lei Zi, he had flagged down a passing cab to race back to the shantytown.
Stepping out of the vehicle, Fatty San rushed up to Wei Qian, catching his breath. "It's alright, Qian'er, don't panic! Brother Le heard about it, and the moment he knew it was your family, he dispatched his men to help search. You—"
His words were cut short.
Without a single expression on his face, Wei Qian raised his good hand and delivered a sharp, stinging slap across Song Lee Lee's face.
Lei Zi gasped, instantly leaping forward to throw himself between Wei Qian and the girl. "Qian'er! Hey, Qian'er! She's just a little brat, she doesn't know any better!! Why are you taking it out on her?!"
Fatty San lost his composure entirely. Rushing over in three large strides, he roared directly into Wei Qian’s ear, "Are you a damn wild donkey?! What the hell are you hitting her?! You don't strike a child's face—don't you know any better?! Wei Qian, are you insane?! You hit her with that heavy hand—what if you deafen her?! Huh?!"
Little Bao, struck for the very first time in her life, was utterly stunned. She didn't react at first. Only after several seconds did the scorching, throbbing pain blossom across her cheek. Reaching up to touch her reddened face in disbelief, tears welled in her eyes.
Pulled back by Fatty San, Wei Qian glared down at her, his voice dropping into a dangerous, icy register. "I dare you to cry. You still have the shame to cry?"
Little Bao genuinely didn't dare let out a sound. She tried with all her might to choke back her tears, but unable to contain them, her chest heaved in violent, spasmodic sobs, her small face turning from red to a bruised purple as she suffocated on her own breath.
Yanking his arm free from Fatty San’s grip, Wei Qian looked down conditionally at the miserable little girl. "Where did you leave him?"
Gasping for air, Little Bao managed to blurt out the name of the alley. "I... I just told Brother Lei Zi..."
Lei Zi chimed in hurriedly, "Yes, yes! I’ve already sent word out. The brothers are heading over there right now. Don't panic, Qian'er."
Wei Qian bent down, his dark eyes locking directly onto Song Lee Lee’s tear-filled gaze. "Abandoning your comrade and fleeing the battlefield—Song Lee Lee, is this how I raised you to behave?"
There were words in that sentence the girl didn't understand, yet the cold, crushing spirit of his accusation pierced her heart. It hurt far more than the physical blow to her face. Large, heavy tears finally spilled over her cheeks, splashing onto the dusty pavement.
Unable to watch any longer, Fatty San yanked Little Bao behind his back, snarling at Wei Qian, "Listen to yourself! You're just looking for someone to blame! You won't be happy until you drag your own sister into a death trap, will you?! You're out of your mind!"
Wei Qian ignored him entirely. Fishing the door key from his pocket, he handed it to Lei Zi, speaking with cold, detached politeness. "Thanks, brother. Go inside and have a glass of water. I can't entertain guests today; I have to go check on the pup."
Without offering Song Lee Lee a single backward glance, he turned on his heel and walked away.
Little Bao burst into a fit of wild, heartbroken wailing. Fatty San hastily scooped her up in his arms, clumsily patting her back like a giant, furry bear as he coaxed, "Sister, don't cry... Your brother missed his rabies shot this year, his madness is acting up. It's okay, Brother San will find a cold towel for your cheek. It won't hurt in a second. Don't be scared—Brother San is here, he won't dare touch you again."
Leaning against his broad shoulder, Little Bao cried until her vision blurred.
In all of Song Lee Lee's childhood memories, she remembered only one person’s embrace: her fat Brother San.
When summer arrived, the fat man carried an indelible scent of sweat; even when clean, he seemed to radiate a pungent, earthy odor, to say nothing of the grease and vegetable scraps that clung to his clothes. Yet that rough embrace was almost the only source of pure, comforting warmth she could rely on.
Her short-lived mother had died too early and too ignobly for the girl to retain any memory of her. And ever since she was old enough to remember, her big brother had rarely hugged her. The most intimate gesture he ever offered was a fleeting, perfunctory pat on the head.
Sometimes, Little Bao would kick her blankets off in the middle of the night, freezing until she woke, yet she would intentionally refrain from pulling them back up. She would pretend to be asleep, waiting for her brother to walk over. He would gently pull the quilt over her shoulders, tuck in the corners, and softly brush the stray hairs from her forehead.
It was a quiet, tender warmth he never displayed during the day—a rare glimpse of affection.
Her brother loved her; Little Bao knew this. Whatever she asked for, he provided. Yet she remained terrified of him. Whenever she asked for anything, she felt unjustified, because her brother always walked through the house with a cold, severe face, scowling in perpetual fatigue, never possessing the patience to speak a few gentle words or watch television beside her.
Little Bao constantly felt that while her brother loved her, that love was strictly limited. If she became too obnoxious, he might revoke that tiny morsel of affection and leave her with nothing.
She wept hysterically now not because of the slap, but because she was deathly afraid that her big brother no longer loved her.
Wei Qian intercepted Wei Zhi Yuan halfway down the main road.
The boy was walking alongside one of Brother Le’s foot-soldiers—a young thug named Little Ho. Wei Qian wasn't particularly intimate with Little Ho, though they occasionally crossed paths.
Little Ho walked ahead, frequently glancing back to check if the child was keeping pace. Wei Zhi Yuan had met the man once before, recognizing him, yet he adamantly refused to let Little Ho hold his hand or touch him. He walked behind in resolute silence, clutching his rusted steel pipe.
The little creature kept his head ducked low, concentrating entirely on his footsteps. From Little Ho’s perspective, only the tiny whorls of hair atop the boy's skull were visible.
When Little Ho had first located Wei Zhi Yuan, the predatory monster who targeted children was nowhere to be seen. Instead, an old woman in her sixties holding a long bamboo broom was standing guard beside the boy, asking him questions.
The predator had fled. Wei Zhi Yuan’s coat was missing two buttons, half of his face was swollen violently, and a jagged laceration tore across his temple—clearly, someone had slammed his head against the brick wall. The tip of his steel pipe was stained with fresh blood, and deep, sharp scratches marred the alley floor, testifying to a desperate, savage struggle.
This fierce little warrior had refused to relinquish his weapon from start to end, fighting tooth and nail until he was fortunate enough to attract the attention of the passing old woman.
When Little Ho had first approached, Wei Zhi Yuan was crouched in the shadow of a corner, resting. Sensing a presence, his shoulders had instantly hitched tight, his entire frame tensing like a cornered animal. Though he made no aggressive move, Little Ho suffered the distinct illusion that if he took one step closer, the steel pipe in those small hands would swing straight for his skull.
Little Ho had halted, calling out the boy's name tentatively. Wei Zhi Yuan struggled to open his swollen, bloodshot eye, surveying him for a moment before recognizing him, allowing his body to relax slightly.
The old woman had eyed the young thug suspiciously, asking anxiously, "Child, do you know this man?"
Wei Zhi Yuan had nodded.
Relieved, the old woman had departed with her broom, muttering a heavy curse as she walked away: "What kind of monsters live in this world? They ought to be shot dead! The world has gone completely mad."
Checking the boy, Little Ho verified that his clothes were intact, breathing a sigh of relief.
Now walking ahead, Little Ho noticed the boy staggering slightly behind him, yet his demeanor remained fiercely unyielding. He refused any offer of assistance and kept his gaze pinned to the ground. Little Ho couldn't help but feel that this child possessed the cold, lethal temperament of a seasoned outlaw—unaware of pain, ignorant of fear, born with a primal instinct to kill or be killed.
Little Ho stopped attempting small talk; the cub’s bloodied face and murderous aura gave him the creeps.
Until Wei Qian came charging down the street and gathered Wei Zhi Yuan into a tight, fierce embrace.
The little boy froze for several seconds. Before he could process the arms wrapping around him, his body relaxed in hindsight. The heavy steel pipe slipped from his fingers, clattering against the ground with a metallic clank.
Little Ho watched as a pair of pale, dust-covered, blood-stained hands gripped Wei Qian’s jacket with terrifying intensity. Then, Wei Zhi Yuan began to shiver violently—as if his nervous system operated half a beat slower than normal, and only now did he comprehend what had transpired; only now did he realize how utterly terrified he had been.
He let out a low, purring murmur, sounding like a wounded kitten: "Brother..."
Little Ho watched as the boy buried his head deeply into the nook of Wei Qian’s neck. He expected the child to burst into tears, but Wei Zhi Yuan didn't cry. He simply trembled against his big brother’s chest, calling out again a moment later as if needing to confirm his reality: "Brother."
Wei Qian whispered, "Does it hurt?"
Wei Zhi Yuan had never known his big brother possessed such gentle depths. Overwhelmed and flattered, he instinctively nodded, then quickly caught himself, shaking his head vigorously.
As he shook his head, two streams of dark blood leaked from his nose. Wei Zhi Yuan hastily raised his sleeve, wiping it away with a frantic, messy drag, hiding his bloodied hand behind his back for fear that his brother would find him filthy.
But this time, his foul-tempered, sharp-tongued big brother didn't push him away or scold him. He even permitted the boy to wrap his arms greedily around his neck, resting his bruised head on his shoulder as Wei Qian carried him all the way back through the dark alleys.
Wei Qian was still just a teenager. Though tall, his shoulders had not yet broadened to full adulthood, his bones sharp and his muscles hard and lean.
Yet the more that rock-hard shoulder pressed painfully against his cheek, the safer Wei Zhi Yuan felt.
Without realizing it, the little boy drifted into a deep, exhausted sleep against that hard, faintly medicinal-smelling chest.