Zhu Sister leaned gently against Feng's chest, the cool night breeze rustling through the nearby bamboo, brushing against her long hair like whispers from the past. For a long time, neither of them spoke. The silence was oddly comforting—like a shared secret wrapped in moonlight.
Then, almost reluctantly, she murmured, "Feng, how could I not like you? From the time you were a snot-nosed kid running around barefoot, I've always liked you. Remember those times your mom chased you around the village with a slipper in her hand? Who was it that stood in front of you like a little human shield?"
Feng blinked, momentarily stunned. "But… that's not the kind of 'like' I meant…"
His voice trailed off, shy and uncertain. He wasn't even sure himself what kind of feelings he had. Admiration? Infatuation? Some strange blend of childhood reliance and adult confusion? He was caught somewhere between then and now—between memory and possibility.
Zhu Sister laughed softly. It was a bittersweet laugh, like someone trying to lighten a heavy moment. She straightened and dusted off her skirt.
"Don't overthink it, kiddo," she said warmly. "To me, you've always been like a little brother. One who grew up too fast, sure, and somehow turned out taller than me—but a brother nonetheless. Our Feng is a handsome boy now! Once you get to university, you'll have a whole queue of girls fighting over you."
She ruffled his hair like she used to when they were younger, then turned toward the road. "Come on, it's getting late. You've got school tomorrow. Let's walk back. Want me to get you something from the shop? Ice cream? Spicy chips?"
Feng didn't move. His feet were planted to the ground as if something heavy had dropped inside him. His fists clenched at his sides.
"Zhu Sister…" he said, his voice suddenly serious, "What if I gave you ¥100,000 for Auntie Liang's heart surgery? Would you promise me one thing?"
She paused mid-step, turning her head slowly. "What thing?"
"Don't marry Yang Weicheng."
Zhu Sister blinked. Then she laughed again—but this time it sounded unsure. "Oh, Feng. You really don't want me to get married, huh? That attached to your old sister, are you?"
"I want you to be happy," Feng said firmly, stepping forward. "But I don't want you throwing your life away just because of money. You deserve to marry someone you love, someone who loves you back, not some guy you barely know just because he flashed a few red envelopes."
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she looked up at him, really looked—searching his eyes like she was trying to read the truth hidden beneath his awkward boldness.
"And where exactly would a high schooler like you get ¥100,000?" she teased, trying to soften the mood. "That's about four years of college expenses. You're dreaming again, little dreamer."
But Feng didn't smile. He stepped even closer, looked her dead in the eye, and said, "Just answer me, Zhu Sister. If I gave you the money—real money, enough for the surgery—would you cancel the engagement?"
She blinked, surprised at his intensity. "Well… I mean, sure? If my little Feng turns out to be a rich boy, I'd rather marry you than that Yang guy. He only offered ¥60,000 anyway. You're bidding higher. Isn't there a saying? Highest bidder wins?"
She laughed again, thinking he was just being cute. But Feng didn't laugh. He turned on his heel and dashed back into the house.
"Hey! Where are you going?" she called after him, still smiling.
A few minutes later, Feng reappeared in the courtyard, breathless and holding a plastic bag. He thrust it toward her with both hands, looking as serious as a soldier delivering a royal decree.
"Here," he said. "Don't scream."
Zhu Sister peeked into the bag. Inside were four lottery tickets, neatly preserved under a sheet of plastic.
"…Lottery tickets?" she raised an eyebrow. "Feng, you're not serious—"
"They're winners. All of them. I checked the numbers a dozen times. First prize."
Zhu Sister looked from the tickets to Feng, then back again, her expression flipping between disbelief and concern. "Feng… are you okay? Did you hit your head?"
"I'm not joking! Look, I even circled the numbers." Feng fumbled out his phone, showing her the screenshots he'd saved of the official results, side-by-side with his tickets.
The color drained from Zhu Sister's face.
"Wait… what—this… this one ticket alone is worth five million yuan…"
"Exactly," Feng said with a triumphant grin. "And in total, with all four—almost ten million yuan."
Zhu Sister stumbled back a step, clutching the tickets like they might burst into flame. "You—how—when?!"
Feng scratched his head. "Uh… long story. Involves time travel, an old man in a straw hat, and a weird dream where a pig spoke Latin. But the short version? I'm rich now."
Zhu Sister stared at him like he'd just told her he was a Martian.
Feng, suddenly self-conscious, added, "And no, I'm not doing this to bribe you. Okay, maybe a little. But mostly—I just want you to be free to choose. You don't have to marry anyone to save Auntie Liang. I can take care of that."
For a moment, the night went completely still. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Then Zhu Sister did something completely unexpected.
She laughed. Loudly.
"Oh, Feng," she said, wiping away tears of disbelief. "You idiot. You really won the lottery. And you're still the same little boy who used to chase frogs around the rice fields."
He beamed. "So… you'll cancel the engagement?"
She looked at him again, longer this time.
"I'll think about it," she said, tucking the tickets into her pocket with an almost mischievous glint in her eyes. "After all, you just handed me a bag full of reasons to consider other options."
And just like that, Zhu Sister turned and walked back into the house—still laughing.
Feng stayed in the courtyard, grinning up at the moon.
Ten million reasons, he thought. Not bad for a kid like me.