The sky was a clear, radiant blue. Along the winding country path, field breezes rustled through rice leaves, carrying a faint, sweet scent of straw.

In the distance stood rows of houses at the mountain’s base—some were lavish villas with manicured gardens behind iron gates, but most were modern concrete-block homes packed tightly together, their rooftops nearly touching, facades freshly painted.

Grandma’s home remained in a traditional Qing-dynasty-style house, common in the area. Only one-and-a-half stories tall, its side rooms were crumbling and leaky, now used as storage for firewood or poultry. The main hall still bore a wooden plaque above its entrance, alongside a newer sign from the Cultural Relics Bureau: *Protected Immovable Cultural Relic*.

As one of the village’s few well-preserved old homes, Grandpa had repaired it years ago—whitewashed walls, newer black roof tiles—though the kitchen wall was already darkened again by woodsmoke.

Uncle Da and his son’s family had moved to provincial apartments; Uncle Xiao chased work out west. They only returned for holidays, occupying the west wing. Grandma, Grandpa, Mom, and Auntie lived in the east.

Lin Shu pushed open the low chicken-proof gate. Before he could call out to Grandma, arms swept around his head from the side, pulling him into a tight embrace.

"Little Shu! Auntie’s missed you!"

Darkness swallowed his vision. Soft warmth pressed against his cheek. He froze. As a kid, he’d squirm free—even accidentally groping her chest—earning playful slaps and giggles: *"You little pervert!"* Back then, he felt no guilt. *She* started it. Adults just laughed.

But he wasn’t a child anymore. Yet Auntie still treated him like one.

"Auntie! Can’t you see he’s suffocating? Let go!" His sister Lin Yi pulled his waist backward just as his breath hitched. Auntie refused to release him.

His back now pressed against Yi’s chest. Between the tugs, he felt softness flattening against him from both sides—*sandwiched*.

"Yi-Yi’s so stingy!" Auntie pouted. "Can’t I borrow your brother for a minute? After all I do for you?"

"Separate issues! You’ve got your own brothers!"

"Not the same."

Mom was the second child, only a year or two younger than her brothers. But Auntie—eight years Mom’s junior—had sparked village rumors: *adopted? secretly given away during policy crackdowns?* As a kid, Lin Shu only listened wide-eyed, too shy to ask. Yet Auntie was clearly Grandma’s favorite—the baby of the family, raised when life finally eased.

Now older, he’d dismissed the gossip. Auntie and Yi shared more than just facial features. *Those chests were dead giveaways.* Grandma had birthed late by village standards—Auntie was definitely hers.

Hearing the commotion, Grandma emerged from the kitchen, wiping wet hands on her apron. "Shu’er’s here?"

Auntie finally let go, grinning mischievously.

"Grandma! I brought your favorite mabing." Lin Shu pulled sesame cakes from his backpack. Sweet fragrance flooded the air, clinging to his clothes.

"You shouldn’t spoil an old lady," Grandma chided warmly, though her eyes crinkled with delight. His politeness felt distant—a student treating family like guests. The divorce hung unspoken between them.

"Auntie made me buy them." Lin Shu shifted blame smoothly. *Payback for the groping.*

"They’re *my* favorite!" Auntie headed for the kettle. "I’ll brew tea—this year’s spring harvest is divine."

"Smells amazing!" Yi sniffed eagerly near the kitchen doorway.

"Lunch is your favorites. Rare to have Shu visit."

"Where’s Grandpa?" Lin Shu asked, already knowing. *Mountainside. Garden. Never on time.*

"Where else? His precious vegetable patches. Might as well live up there," Grandma grumbled. "Shu, fetch the teapot from the top cabinet. You’re tall enough."

Auntie lounged in pink pajamas and fuzzy slippers, bedhead curls spilling over her shoulders. Her collar had slipped off one shoulder, revealing a delicate collarbone, smooth skin, and a black bra strap. She yawned, clearly just awake.

"Auntie, I’m not a kid anymore," Lin Shu insisted—uselessly, but he had to try.

Auntie dabbed dry eyes dramatically. "Waaah—calling me an old lady now? You only like young girls like Yi-Yi!"

"...You’re still young." No flattery—he meant it. Mom had been twenty when he was born; Auntie was twelve then. Now he was sixteen. She wasn’t thirty yet.

After the divorce, Auntie quit her city fashion design job. Now she drew manga at home, dark circles under her eyes but glowing with youthful energy.

"You counted my age!" She pouted. "I’m ancient. Some classmates have daughters in elementary school. I’m a *laonüren*—so you’ll always be my baby."

"I carried you on my back! Changed your diapers! Held you while you peed—right in my face!"

"Let’s not dig up ancient history," Lin Shu muttered, face burning. He didn’t remember, but Auntie kept photos of his diaper disasters. *Evil.*

"And it was your *back*, not your face."

"Shameless elder," Yi whispered.

"*Lin Yi!*" Auntie pinched her cheeks. "After all I did? I raised you both while your mom worked!"

Lin Shu lunged to rescue his sister—but Auntie snatched his head again, burying his face in her chest.

"Gotcha."

Yi tried to pull him free. The cycle repeated.

Only Grandma’s shout saved them:

"*Dinner’s ready!*"

Grandpa’s distant call echoed from the hillside.

Mom’s laughter rang from the kitchen doorway.