Xie Zhirou’s memories of her parents were filled with busyness — always working, always making money.

Whenever they could spare a moment, they’d drop her off at the neighbor’s house… for the entire day.

Chen Mengyin loved the new little playmate who came to stay.

Xie Zhirou was soft and sweet, spoke gently, and had the most adorable dimples when she smiled.

But most importantly, Xie Zhirou never complained about her messy room — and even shared her little cookies without hesitation.

Still, Xie Zhirou was very busy — busy practicing piano, busy learning to paint.

“She’s so pitiful, she’s never even caught the first butterfly of spring…” — said Chen Mengyin.

So, the piano windowsill of Xie Zhirou began to bloom with little gifts:

A soft pink cherry blossom, a dewy blade of grass, a tiny butterfly in a glass jar.

Chen Mengyin brought spring to Xie Zhirou’s window.

After class, a messy, dirt-smudged Chen Mengyin would burst out of some corner and hand her a piece of milk candy.

Sweet and sticky, the sweetness would linger in Xie Zhirou’s heart all the way home.

Sticky little fingers held onto pale clean ones, ten fingers entwined—

“When we grow up, we have to be this good too.”

And then… they grew up.

Chen Mengyin would pull Xie Zhirou into empty classrooms to kiss her.

Xie Zhirou would sleep over at Chen Mengyin’s house and, in that small bedroom, hold her and kiss the corners of her eyes filled with emotion.

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