“He was picked up by his parents.”

Then why didn’t anyone tell me? Zoe Young didn’t ask. Before school ended, she had been happily waiting for the moment she could give the tape to Andrew Lane, imagining whether he would jump up with joy, or act awkward like before. Maybe she was looking forward to it too much, so she felt a bit disappointed. But maybe something urgent came up. Thinking this, Zoe Young smiled at Charles Johnson: “Thank you for telling me. See you.”

“My parents also told me to stay away from you.” Zoe Young stopped and turned around: “What did you say? I don’t even know you.” She didn’t know why Charles Johnson said that, but whatever the reason, the words already made her a bit upset. “Anyway, my parents told me to stay away from you.” Charles Johnson was a year younger than Zoe Young and the others, and at this age, a year’s difference was obvious, so Charles Johnson always seemed a bit slow, almost especially clumsy. So he was also especially honest. “Why are you here? Didn’t I tell you to wait for me by the third pillar? Stop running around, okay?

You really scared me!” Charles Johnson’s mom ran over, her face full of anxiety. Zoe Young almost bolted, as if Charles Johnson’s mom was chasing her with a demon-revealing mirror—her mind went blank, and she ran a long way on instinct before stopping. Why did I run? I’m not a monster!

Zoe Young stood blankly at the intersection, only able to hear the pounding of her heart in her chest. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, was it?

Actually… she had always known she was a monster. She’d known since she was little.

On the red-and-white game cartridge in her hand was a sticker, with the little hero from MapleStory wearing only shorts, smiling at her innocently.

------------

18. Your Grimm, My Fairy Tale

For the fastest updates on Hello, Old Times, read the latest chapters!

My parents won’t let me play with you anymore. My parents told me to stay away from you. Before Zoe Young met Benny, before her family moved, back when her childhood memories were still blurry, these two sentences weren’t unfamiliar. Children are a reflection of adults; they imitate adults, using the act of avoiding a plague to highlight their own purity, and afterwards, they pat their chests and sigh, acting as if they’ve survived a disaster, full of lingering fear and relief.

These two sentences, along with the smiles of the neighbors who stood by watching as her mother desperately tried to put out the fire and save the wood during the relocation, were etched into Zoe Young’s mind. At the time, all she felt was fear, instinctively, but because she was too young, it didn’t really hurt. But as she grew up and became more aware, every time she revisited those memories, the damage—like a slow-acting poison—became more and more apparent.

Growing up. Understanding that back then, God used ignorance to shield you from heartbreak. If the pain before was because someone cut her with a knife, then the pain now was because she understood why those people hurt her. For reasons that had nothing to do with her, but that she could never escape for the rest of her life.

Zoe Young squatted alone by the roadside, unable to cry. She tried really hard for a long time, but even her tears abandoned her. She didn’t feel angry, or wronged, she just squatted there, her mind blank, thinking of nothing. In the past, Benny’s neighbor was an uncle who had lost his right index finger and thumb in a work accident. He was a kind man, and sometimes the kids would go to his backyard to pick up little planks and wood shavings to play with. Zoe Young once asked him if it hurt when his hand was cut. The uncle said, the machine swept by in an instant, and before he could react, his fingers were gone. The stump was white, and there wasn’t even any blood.

“He’s lying,” Daisy whispered, “He’s just pretending to be tough, saying it didn’t hurt.” The uncle heard, just smiled, and told her, “It was just so sudden, even my nerves didn’t react. When they finally did, that’s when it hurt. There was so much blood, it hurt so much I almost passed out.” Zoe Young snapped out of her blankness, instinctively looked up at the sunset, and realized the sun had already disappeared without her noticing. The sky was soaked in blue-black ink, with only a faint pink at the edges. Time to go home, it’s already dark.

She stood up expressionlessly, picked up her little lunch bag, put the cartridge inside, and calmly walked home. At dinner, she continued fighting with Joel Young over the meat in the stir-fried green peppers, then copied her new vocabulary ten times—Ms. Yu had just praised her and three other classmates today for their neat handwriting. After watching cartoons with Joel Young, she went back to the little room she shared with her mom. Joel Young followed, once again asking for the red-and-white game cartridge, and Zoe Young once again pulled out a copy of Grimm’s Fairy Tales from the shelf to confront him.

“Can’t you pick another book? Isn’t this childish?” Joel Young grabbed Grimm’s Fairy Tales in exasperation. “I’m a handsome, promising, up-and-coming young man, and I have to read Grimm’s Fairy Tales?”

Joel Young’s string of self-praise went right over Zoe Young’s head. She stubbornly said, “This one’s great.” “What’s so great? ‘And they lived happily ever after’… Who are they kidding? Grimm’s Fairy Tales proves that marriage is the grave of love, and love is the end of fairy tales…” Zoe Young was completely confused, staring blankly at Joel Young… who was then dragged out of the living room by their uncle, pulling his ear. Seriously, is it really that boring? Like, a poor girl with a beautiful voice stands by the roadside selling flowers and singing, attracting the attention of a passing prince. The prince marries her despite everyone’s objections, and they live happily ever after…

Zoe Young hugged herself tightly, closed her eyes, and tried her hardest to imagine she was that poor girl. She spun, she danced, she lifted her imaginary skirt and gave a poor child a rose for free, telling him to take it home to his sick mother—what a kind girl—Zoe Young smiled demurely, basking in everyone’s praise and admiration, then glanced up by chance and saw a white horse stop in front of her…

Then suddenly, the light felt harsh. For the first time, her fantasy was interrupted by such a strange reason. Zoe Young panicked, started over, spun again, imagining her skirt swirling—if it wouldn’t swirl, she grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her waist, then kept spinning. Good, this time her ankles felt the skirt’s swish, and she got back into the role of the flower-selling girl. She sang, she danced, pinched a pencil between her thumb and index finger, then yelped—damn, pricked by a rose thorn. Just as she was about to lower her head and suck the blood, she suddenly saw a white horse stop beside her. Zoe Young looked up… the light seemed even harsher.

Zoe Young’s face turned pale. She knew what was wrong. Charles Johnson’s mom’s demon-revealing mirror seemed to have taken away her magic. Zoe Young’s slow-reacting nerve finally woke up, the sharp pain and gushing blood told her that, yes, she really was hurt. She put Grimm’s Fairy Tales back on the shelf.

Thursday afternoon, Class 1 and Class 7 had PE together. There was no Andrew Lane on the playground.

Zoe Young played “Two-Sided City” with four or five other kids, running especially hard today—in fact, the body and mind are more closely connected than people think, and all the pent-up emotions in your heart can be released through sweat. Young Zoe Young didn’t understand many things or techniques, but she had an instinct for self-protection.

Near the end of class, Zoe Young finally heard that familiar voice: “Zoe Young!”

In that moment, Zoe Young was very happy. She knew she had always been looking forward to it, even though she pretended nothing was different. She didn’t know why she had to pretend everything was fine, even to herself.

Happy is happy, unhappy is unhappy, if you want to laugh, laugh, if you want to cry, cry. Zoe Young didn’t know that what she had lost was the most precious privilege of being a child. “Zoe, I…” Andrew Lane braced his hands on his knees, panting, “Our teacher made me run errands, didn’t even let me go to PE, I finally, finally…” “Oh.” She nodded.

Andrew Lane finally caught his breath, and then noticed that something was off about Zoe Young. What was it?

She seemed… calmer than usual. Was that really so strange?

Andrew Lane didn’t care, he had something urgent to discuss: “My parents told me that lately there have been older students robbing people around here, it’s not safe, so they’re picking me up every day. I begged them for ages, but yesterday my mom got mad and dragged me away. It’s not safe for you to walk home alone, so I told my parents, since our houses are close, you should ride with us from now on, okay?”

So that’s what it was. Zoe Young felt a moment of joy and relief, but the next second, her overly clever little brain told her something was wrong.

Just like yesterday, when Charles Johnson said, my parents “also” told me to stay away from you. Zoe Young tilted her head and asked, “So what did your parents say?”

“My parents?” “You said I should ride in your car, what did your parents say?” Andrew Lane moved his lips, then fell silent.