Elder sister, you really are so naïve—to think that not bringing Dad back, but instead doing this with me, would make Mom stay the same as she is now. Heh, we pulled out Mom’s tube, and after an hour or two, we found she was still breathing, and Dad was about to come home. What do you think we would do then? Do you really believe that when Dad comes home, he’ll see a Mom who’s just fine?

Elder sister, you escaped a disaster, but I’m still in the middle of it.

2

After that night, Shirley Wright really did come down with a fever, which lingered for more than a week before it finally subsided. Susan Wright took care of her, and by any standard, she did a very good job. As soon as the fever broke, there was a placement test in math and English, and of course, she did terribly. Shirley Wright was not like her younger sister, who was always in the top three of the grade; her grades hovered around the upper-middle. This semester had started to look up, but the illness set her right back to where she started.

That evening, when Adrian Wright came home, Shirley Wright was still at her tutoring class and hadn’t returned yet. Susan Wright was tending to the soup on the stove while holding a newly acquired copy of “Infectious Diseases” she’d just picked up. Half a shelf on the bookcase was filled with Susan Wright’s books, all bought for next to nothing from used bookstores, paid for with money she’d saved from working odd jobs fixing bikes. Among them were more than a dozen books on medicine and nursing, each of which Susan Wright had read several times over.

When she saw Adrian Wright come in, Susan Wright put down her book to help her father. But there wasn’t much left to do—the porridge was done and kept warm, the greens were washed and ready to go into the pot, and there were still some stuffed tofu skins with meat left from the day before, which just needed reheating.

“Dad, I want to apply to medical school in the future. I want to be a doctor and cure Mom.” As she said this, Susan Wright felt her heart start to race, faster and faster.

With a sizzle, the greens hit the pan. She stir-fried them, then served them onto the plate her father handed her.

“You know our family’s situation. We can’t afford to send two kids to college. You can go to nursing school, graduate early, and start working to help out.”

Adrian Wright glanced at his daughter. Susan Wright lowered her eyes, her face an odd shade of pale.

“If your sister doesn’t get into college, we’ll talk about it then.”

This sentence passed through the stormy waves in Susan Wright’s heart, gently touched her, and was then blown away.

So many years of hard work, and still it’s not enough.

Should she bet on her sister not getting into college?

Even if her sister failed, would Dad support her?

She herself bore original sin.

If she couldn’t go to college, there would be no way out for her in this life. No way out. All these years, she’d done so much, not for a dead end.

She didn’t want a dead end.

She wanted so badly, so badly, to live a good life.

She brought the greens to the table and glanced lightly at Beatrice Collins in the inner room.

After a while, Shirley Wright came home. She brought a politics test paper for Dad to sign—ninety-two points, fourth in the class.

3

How have you been lately? I have this feeling that you’ve become someone very close to me. This closeness is different from classmates, different from parents—you know what I mean, Daphne Morgan, do you feel the same way? I’ve been in a bad mood these past couple of days; some unpleasant things happened. Being misunderstood feels terrible, but I have no way to explain myself...

Before writing her reply, Susan Wright read this letter again. She’d received it a few days ago. The handwriting was bold, even a bit forceful—some strokes had even torn the thin letter paper. Bella Collins’s handwriting was always like this, almost like a boy’s. But then again, she’d never actually met her—maybe she really was a boy? The thought flashed through Susan Wright’s mind, and she laughed at herself. That was unlikely; after so many letters, she could feel that Bella Collins was a good girl. There couldn’t be that many people in the world, like herself, with so many secrets and so much need for disguise.

Since she was ten, if there was anyone in the world she could truly confide in, it was only this Bella Collins, whom she would never meet, never encounter.

Having a pen pal was a magical thing. Susan Wright first heard the term during the summer before starting middle school. A few weeks later, it seemed like the whole world was talking about this new way of making friends. She thought it had nothing to do with her—in fact, those years, she felt the whole world had nothing to do with her.

Until the first semester of seventh grade, when she received a letter from Bella Collins.

The letter was sent to the school, addressed not to Susan Wright, but to “Class 3, Number 23, Grade 7.” That was Susan Wright’s student number. There was no sender or return address on the envelope, just an eight-cent Year of the Horse zodiac stamp, showing the sender was also in Shanghai. Susan Wright couldn’t think of anyone who would send such a letter, but she opened it anyway. She still remembered the first sentence of that letter very clearly:

This is a message in a bottle. Whoever receives it must be fated to meet me. Would you like to be friends who may never meet, but can share what’s in our hearts?

And so, Susan Wright had a pen pal. Over the years, Bella Collins had also brought up the idea—since they got along so well, why not meet in person? Susan Wright refused without hesitation. No meeting, no knowing each other, no contact—each living their own separate lives. Only this way could she feel safe enough to talk on paper. Of course, this communication was always measured. Susan Wright could never tell Bella Collins that as a child she had almost killed her mother, or even explain the subtle relationship with her father and sister. She could talk about school, complain about loneliness, and touch on communication barriers with her family—that was her limit. Susan Wright thought she would probably never have a real friend in her life; exchanging letters with Bella Collins once every week or two was already a rare luxury. If she didn’t have this friend to talk to, she probably wouldn’t have made it this far. But then again, what difference did making it this far really make?

In the end, she still had to go down that road.

Things haven’t been good lately. But hearing that you’re not doing well either, I actually feel a bit comforted. Sorry to say that—it’s just that finding someone to huddle together for warmth isn’t easy. In the world I can reach, there’s only you; not even Dad or my sister will do. In the recent exams—Chinese, math, English—I got first place in the class for all of them, so I guess I’m doing steadily. But it doesn’t seem to matter much; it doesn’t change how Dad sees me, and my place in the family is just like this. There’s nothing I can do. But I still hope there’s a way. I want to go to college. I have to go to college. If I can’t get into college with grades like mine, don’t you think that’s a joke...

When Susan Wright finished writing the letter, self-study period had just ended. On her way home from school, she dropped the letter into the mailbox. She stuck half her hand into the slot, and in that dark little space, she waved goodbye to the letter one last time. As she did, she felt as if Bella Collins’s hand was also in the mailbox, their fingertips brushing. Or maybe, it wasn’t Bella Collins, but an unknown version of herself.

When she got home, Shirley Wright was studying in the outer room. Lately, she’d noticed her sister was spending much more time reading than before. Was the pressure of the college entrance exam starting to get to her? Their school wasn’t even considered a key school in the district, and the percentage of students who got into top universities each year was just over twenty percent. With Shirley Wright’s original level, it would be tough. Hearing the noise, Shirley Wright looked up, saw it was her, greeted her, and went back to her book. The sisters weren’t as close as they used to be. Even though Susan Wright had taken good care of Shirley Wright recently, it was still hard for Shirley Wright to forget the shadow of that night when Dad came home unexpectedly. There was a knot of resentment in her chest, both angry and sad. Of course, all this was from Shirley Wright’s perspective; as for Susan Wright, nothing had really changed.

Susan Wright took out her homework and sat down on the other side of the square table. She opened her workbook, scribbled out some math problems, circled the answer, and without looking up, asked, “Sis, do you hate me?”

“No,” Shirley Wright answered quickly.

“But you mind,” Susan Wright said, looking up and seeing only the two whorls on the top of Shirley Wright’s head.

Shirley Wright lifted her head a bit, showing her smile to her younger sister.

“Sis, do you feel confident about getting into college?”

“I will get in.”

“What if you don’t?”

Shirley Wright sat up straight, her face turning serious. She said, word by word, “I have to get in.”

“Mm.” Susan Wright nodded.

Suddenly, Shirley Wright smiled, a little differently from her earlier stiffness.

“Let’s both get into college, and go to the same one, okay?”

“Okay, sis.”

Susan Wright let out a gentle sigh and said, “Sis, you know, I really owe you.”

“Why say that? Actually, you didn’t do anything wrong. We’re sisters, and we should be good sisters, right?” As she finished, Shirley Wright made a fist with her right hand, reached it into the middle of the table, turned it over, and hooked out her pinky.

Looking at that pinky, Susan Wright relaxed her brow, looked at her sister, and said, “I always feel I need to apologize to you. I think I should make amends. Let me do it first, okay?”

“Mm!” Shirley Wright nodded vigorously.