In the sandbox of the children’s park, two kids were playing.
“How do you build a sandcastle?”
Zhao Anqing was trying this game for the first time and felt lost. His bright, sparkling eyes turned to the short-haired girl, waiting eagerly for her answer. To him, she was the capable one—whenever he was confused, she knew what to do.
“First time?”
Chen Ziqing plopped down onto the sand and gestured for him to sit beside her.
“Mm. Never played before.”
He settled close to her.
“It’s simple,” she explained. “Pile the sand into a castle shape. Or anything you like—it’s just a kid’s game.”
Chen Ziqing spoke with the calm patience of a little adult, a tiny teacher guiding him.
“Oh… I still don’t get it.”
Zhao Anqing admitted honestly, only half-understanding.
“I’ll show you.”
Unhurried, her small hands began shaping the sand.
Soon, a neat little castle rose from the grains.
“Wow! Ziqing, you’re amazing! The most talented kid I’ve ever seen!”
Zhao Anqing watched, wide-eyed and breathless, afraid to miss a single move.
“This is a mini castle. Try making one like mine.”
Praise warmed Chen Ziqing’s chest. Though she kept her composure, a faint smile touched her lips.
“Okay!”
Zhao Anqing dove in—but his clumsy hands produced something painfully lopsided.
“I… am I really this clumsy?”
He stuck out his tongue sheepishly at his ugly creation.
“First try’s fine. It gets better with practice. Let’s sculpt friends! I’ll make Jin Xia. You make Yu Ting.”
She didn’t laugh. Her fingers danced again.
In moments, a lifelike round-faced girl emerged from the sand.
“Wowwowwow! Ziqing, you’re seriously incredible!”
His eyes practically sparkled with stars.
“Your turn.”
A subtle joy curled at the corner of her lips. She never liked childish games—but playing with this earnest, clumsy boy? Surprisingly nice.
“Mm! I’ll make a pretty Yu Ting!”
He leaned in, full of determination.
“Ugh… it’s so ugly…”
His lopsided Yu Ting made him bow his head in shame.
“No worries. Try drawing instead—it’s easier.”
Seeing his drooping spirits, she smoothed the sand and traced with one finger. She wanted to see his bright smile again. *His smile is prettier than any I’ve seen.*
“Drawing? Like elephants or giraffes? Yu Ting drew those!”
His mood lifted instantly, chirping with curiosity.
“Anything you like. Watch.”
“Yay! Is that a boy? He looks like me!”
He watched intently, cheering softly.
Soon, soft lines formed a little boy—simple, gentle, lovely.
“Ziqing… is this me?”
His cheeks flushed red with excitement.
“Yep. You. Not bad, right?”
She’d meant to draw an animal—but sketching *him* felt right.
“So pretty! Ziqing, you’re the best!”
Just as she hoped, he beamed that sweet, sincere smile.
“Eh, it’s okay. You try.”
Another girl might’ve soared with pride. Chen Ziqing stayed calm—but the slight lift of her eyebrows betrayed her quiet delight.
“Mm! I’ll draw all my friends!”
He pressed close, tracing earnestly.
But with no skill, only a wobbly stick figure appeared.
“So ugly…”
He compared it to hers. His confidence wavered.
“Teacher says: to get good, you learn and practice. My first drawing looked just like that. Keep going—don’t worry about now.”
Her clear, steady words sounded far too wise for six.
“Wow… I don’t get it all, but Ziqing’s words feel really true!”
He only half-understood—but felt she was extraordinary.
“Have you started elementary school?”
She leaned closer, voice soft.
“N-no…”
He lowered his head, fingers scribbling nervously in the sand.
“Don’t want to?”
“I *want* to… Mom won’t let me.”
His voice sank even lower.
“Why? School’s fun! You learn so much. Teacher says kids need school for a future.”
She was just a child too—she couldn’t grasp why a mother would say no.
“It’s… just no. Nothing.”
*Too poor*, he thought. *If I say it, will Ziqing stop playing with me?*
“Then… do *you* want to go?”
She met his eyes, serious.
“I don’t…”
He mumbled the lie, gaze downcast.
“Mom says kids who don’t want school are bad. She told me not to play with bad kids.”
Her mother’s stern face flashed in her mind.
“I… I… Then… does Ziqing still want to play with me?”
His eyes stung. He whispered, barely audible.
