Entered the third week of summer vacation. That morning, Susan Wright came back from grocery shopping, carrying a watermelon, which she cut in half and brought to her sister in the inner room.

“You know what? The deaf old lady is gone.”

“How could that be?” Shirley Wright was startled.

“Her son only found out when he came back yesterday. She’d been dead for several days. They say she might have starved to death. I haven’t visited her lately—if I had, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“What does that have to do with you? If you hadn’t been visiting all this time, maybe it would have happened even sooner… You’ve been taking care of me and Mom. If it weren’t for my illness, I’d be responsible too, in a way.”

Susan Wright shook her head. “I should have gone to check on her.”

“Did her daughter come back too?”

“I don’t know, probably. You have to come back for a funeral, and there’s the matter of dividing up the house.”

Shirley Wright glanced at her younger sister, a little surprised at the maturity in her words.

“The neighbors all say, raising children like that is pointless,” said Susan Wright.

Shirley Wright made a sound of agreement. The people being criticized were, by the old street’s seniority, still to be called uncle and aunt. She wasn’t used to such blunt condemnation.

“I want to check my temperature again.”

It was 38.1°C, even higher than before.

“Jie, how are you feeling?”

“Headache, a bit nauseous, no appetite.”

Shirley Wright scooped out two spoonfuls of watermelon, put down the spoon, and stared blankly at Susan Wright.

“Mei, what’s wrong with me? I’m a little scared.”

She gripped Susan Wright’s hand tightly.

“I’m a little scared.”

Susan Wright was stunned, held in place by her sister’s grip. She slowly bent down and gently hugged Shirley Wright. She felt her own movements were terribly stiff, as if rusted, her joints creaking with every move.

“I haven’t cried, so why are you crying?” said Shirley Wright.

Susan Wright quickly wiped her eyes and said, “It’s nothing, Jie, you’ll get better. It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have told you upsetting things. If you’re in a better mood, you’ll recover faster. Eat more watermelon—even if you have no appetite, you have to eat, it’s medicine.”

“Should we go to the hospital again?”

They’d seen a doctor last week, had blood tests, and got cold medicine and aspirin.

“Or, let’s wait for Dad to come back and ask him.”

By Thursday, the fever was still at 38°C, so they finally went to the hospital. They came back with even stronger medicine, but it had no effect. By the following Wednesday, the fever had risen to 38.3°C, the headache worsened, and Shirley Wright was admitted to the hospital.

In the first week of August, a brain X-ray showed an unidentified mass in Shirley Wright’s brain.

“It might be a brain tumor,” the doctor told Adrian Wright.

Adrian Wright stared at the black-and-white X-ray.

“She’s supposed to start college next year,” said Adrian Wright, slowly raising his head.

“Will this illness… be cured before the school year starts?”

The doctor hesitated. “This illness… we need a consultation. Judging by the X-ray, it’s quite serious.”

“Will she survive?” Adrian Wright asked softly.

“Let’s schedule a specialist consultation. We’ll do everything we can.”

“She’s a good kid. Please, I’m counting on you.”

5

I haven’t received your letter lately. What have you been busy with? Or did you go traveling somewhere for summer vacation?

There’s so much I want to say, but I don’t know where to start. I’ve done the right thing, and I’ve done the wrong thing. What’s right, what’s wrong—I can’t tell anymore.

To you, all this probably sounds inexplicable, but even with our relationship, I can’t explain it clearly. Just take it as my rambling nonsense and bear with me. Thank you.

Everyone has to pay the price for what they do. I have a very close friend. Many years ago, because of something that happened, we each paid a price. Mine was much more painful. I tasted the bitterness of betrayal deeply when I was still a child. As for her, over the years, she’s paid a price too, I suppose—at least she’s uneasy, not as happy as she seems. Actually, I never really thought she paid any price; compared to me, she benefited. Only recently did I realize she might not be as comfortable or happy as I thought. If I’d understood sooner, would I still have been so determined to make her pay? Maybe I would. By now, it’s not just about revenge. Like I told you last time, I had no choice. Maybe one day, I’ll pay the price for what I’ve done today.

I did some bad things to her, and there’s no turning back. If she finds out, I don’t know what her expression or feelings would be. Sometimes I really want to know, sometimes I don’t.

Susan Wright leaned against the wall, holding a lunchbox. Next to her was the ward for beds 24–31; Shirley Wright’s bed 24 was right by the door.

Susan Wright didn’t rush in with the food; she was listening to her father and sister talking.

It was already the third week of August, and summer vacation was almost over. Shirley Wright’s temperature hovered around 38°C. She’d had two more brain X-rays; the latest showed the mass had grown. Susan Wright knew the doctor had spoken to Adrian Wright yesterday about whether to consider brain surgery. The surgery wouldn’t be fully covered by insurance, and the risks were high. Adrian Wright couldn’t make up his mind. Now he spent less time driving his cab, making time to be with his daughter.

What made Susan Wright listen closely was the talk about going to college.

“Dad, I’ve basically wasted this whole summer. I did a few physics problems this morning, but I’ve fallen way behind. It’s my last year of high school, and I don’t know how long this illness will drag on.”

“You’re sick—getting better is the most important thing.”

“I’m really worried. I just caught up, and now I’m falling behind again. What will I do for the college entrance exam next year? Dad, I’ve actually been thinking, if I can’t get into college this year because of my illness, then next year, next year I’ll take the exam with my sister. If she does better, let her go to college instead.”

Adrian Wright said nothing.

Shirley Wright thought of her sister, of the determination she’d shown in her letters as a pen pal—so strong it was admirable, even a little intimidating. This endless illness, with no end in sight, had drained her spirit.

“Or, if I don’t do well this year, I won’t repeat the year. I’ll just find a job.”

“Dad, why aren’t you saying anything?”

Shirley Wright looked at her father. His silence was unusual. What she’d just said was unpleasant, not what he wanted to hear. From what she knew of him, shouldn’t he have scolded her outright? Like before, when she’d just gotten caught in the rain, running a 40°C fever, already delirious, and he was still scolding her. When was the last time he’d been silent like this?

“Just focus on getting better. We’ll talk about school later,” said Adrian Wright.

Shirley Wright froze. Vaguely, she sensed something was wrong. Then, a wave of dread swept over her. She seemed to understand.

“Dad, will you let my sister go to college?” As she said this, her lips trembled.

“My sister, she can go to college, right? I—I won’t be able to, will I?”

Adrian Wright was startled, as if waking up, and scolded her in a low voice, “Don’t talk nonsense! Who says you can’t go?”

Shirley Wright stared at her father, then suddenly broke down in heart-wrenching sobs.

“I’m going to die, I’m going to die, right, Dad? I’m going to die, I won’t get better. I don’t want to die, Dad, I don’t want to die. I still want to live, Dad, I don’t want to die.”

Susan Wright clutched the lunchbox tightly, pressing it to her chest, feeling like she couldn’t breathe.

Shirley Wright only cried like that in front of everyone once. Later, Adrian Wright told her about the brain surgery. Shirley Wright refused. She said, save the money for Mom and her sister.

On the Friday of the first week of the new school term, after school, William Williams went to the hospital to visit Shirley Wright. The class had long known that Shirley Wright was sick, but didn’t know the details. She hadn’t come for registration day or the start of school. It was senior year, so it was clear she must be seriously ill. Classmates and teachers wanted to visit, but Adrian Wright refused them all. But William Williams was different—Adrian Wright had gone to the school especially to let him know that Shirley Wright wanted to see him. Shirley Wright had also told her father not to tell her sister about this. Naturally, Adrian Wright thought of the beating Shirley Wright had taken last year, and sighed inwardly—at a time like this, the sisters still had unresolved issues.

When William Williams saw Shirley Wright, he was shocked. The girl half-reclining on the bed was so thin she was almost unrecognizable, yet her face was still a bit puffy, making her head look especially large. Her hair was much thinner, and her skin was so pale it was almost translucent. Adrian Wright was there, but when he saw William Williams arrive, he greeted him and then left the ward.

William Williams had a very bad feeling, but tried hard to appear calm, asking how she was while putting a bag of oranges on the floor.

“I’m not doing well,” said Shirley Wright.

Before William Williams could comfort her, she added, “I’m probably going to die soon.”

William Williams had never experienced anything like this before. Flustered, he kept saying, “How could that be? It’ll be fine,” but didn’t dare ask what exactly was wrong with Shirley Wright, afraid that if he did, he’d hear the answer—and then wouldn’t know what to say.