Of course, he remembered.

Yue Zhishi arrived by Song Yu's side without any warning, along with a sudden rainstorm.

He remembered it very clearly. He was the one who opened the door that night. The unexpected rain of the summer night rushed in, soaking his hair. His father was holding a child in his arms, wrapped tightly in a coat. After coming in, he squatted down and hugged Song Yu.

Song Yu reached out in confusion and lifted a corner of the coat. “Who is this?”

A pair of eyes, like glass beads, were revealed from under the opened coat.

“This is your younger brother.”

Six-year-old Song Yu gained a younger brother overnight. He was soft and beautiful, looking like a little angel from a fairytale picture book, with light brown, curly hair. He only spoke English in a milky, childish voice.

Unlike this little guy, Song Yu wasn't born with a lively personality. He didn't like noise, nor did he talk much. Elders and relatives always said his personality was bad and needed to be changed, but Lin Rong would always argue reasonably that he took after his maternal grandfather, allowing Song Yu to be himself since he was a child.

He was very smart, and his mind was much more mature than other children's, but no matter how mature, he would still be at a loss when faced with a strange child who would steal away his share of affection. At first, Song Yu didn't like him, but it wasn't to the point of hate.

Most of the time, he observed silently.

'So strange, his eyelashes are way too curly.'

'Why is this little thing having such a hard time talking? He seems a bit dumb.'

'Was I also this dumb when I was little?'

But Yue Zhishi was truly adorable. Any elder who saw him would offer a few words of praise. These compliments shook the impression in little Song Yu's heart, and he had to admit that Yue Zhishi was a little cuter than the Pomeranian he really wanted to buy.

On the third day at his house, Yue Zhishi suddenly burst into non-stop tears, crying for his own mommy and daddy. No amount of coaxing from anyone worked.

“Stop crying.” As soon as Song Yu got close, Yue Zhishi stretched out his arms for a hug. But Song Yu couldn't carry him, so he just wrapped himself around Song Yu, impossible to peel off like a sticky rice cake.

“Your crying is giving me a headache.” Song Yu was exasperated and said to Lin Rong, “Mom, let's send him back to find his mommy and daddy, let him go home.”

Lin Rong looked at him, wanting to say something but unable to get the words out. In the end, she coaxed Yue Zhishi and carried him upstairs, leaving only Song Yu and his father in the living room.

“Xiao Yu.” Song's father pulled him over and told him very seriously, “Your little brother doesn't have a mommy and daddy anymore.”

Song Yu frowned and didn't reply. He just thought about the meaning of that sentence in his heart. Soon, his father gave him a more definite answer.

“His mommy and daddy are both gone. He has no home to go back to.”

He understood what “gone” meant.

Song Yu's brows furrowed even deeper. He looked up at the second floor, then turned back to his father.

“Will he leave in the future, then?”

Song's father shook his head. “From now on, this will be his home.”

Adults always subconsciously judge children, thinking they don't understand anything. But in fact, children's empathy is even greater than adults'; they will hold an umbrella for a little stray dog on their way home.

Song Yu was the same, even if he wasn't a particularly empathetic child growing up.

After returning to his room, he hugged a cushion and curled up on the small sofa, his father's words circling in his mind.

Yue Zhishi was so cute, yet he no longer had a mommy and daddy.

This sentence was stuck in his heart, so he felt more and more pity for Yue Zhishi. No matter how pretty a stray dog was, it was still a stray dog. They had nowhere to go when it rained, only able to hide in tunnels, shivering, cold and hungry.

The door suddenly creaked open, interrupting the stray dog adventure in Song Yu's mind. He looked up and saw Yue Zhishi, a tiny figure shrunk by the door, revealing half of his small head as he peered in pitifully, letting out a silly, choked sob.

Song Yu glanced at him, taking on the air of a young master. “Why are you hiding?” Seeing that the little thing didn't move, he couldn't bear it and beckoned with his hand, signaling for him to come in. Only then did Yue Zhishi slowly walk towards him. A small child's footing is unsteady, and every step was a stagger, as if he would fall over the next second, making Song Yu's heart pound with fear.

After finally reaching him, Yue Zhishi just blinked his big eyes at him, his face red from crying, looking like a small peach about to burst its skin.

His eyes were all swollen. Song Yu thought of what his father had said again, so he made a little space for him, letting him also curl up with him on the small beanbag sofa.

It had been raining for several days in a row, as if the rain hadn't stopped since Yue Zhishi arrived.

He asked Yue Zhishi why he had come to his room, when a white light suddenly flashed outside the window. Before Yue Zhishi could answer, a huge clap of thunder cut him off. He was so frightened that he immediately hugged Song Yu, his whole body trembling.

Although Song Yu was also startled by the thunder, Yue Zhishi's level of fear was much higher than his. He wasn't just trembling, he was crying.

Song Yu feared his crying the most. He wanted to get up and call his mom to take him back to his room, but Yue Zhishi clung to him and wouldn't let go, desperately burrowing into his arms. Helpless, Song Yu could only try to coax him like a real older brother, but he didn't like to talk, so he could only cover his ears and pat his back gently.

The thunder wouldn't disappear so easily. It always returned just as Yue Zhishi's fear had slightly subsided. With one clap, all the previous coaxing was for naught.

He decided to find a way to distract the poor little thing.

After thinking it over, Song Yu took out a large box of madeleines, the chocolate-filled kind his father had brought back from abroad for him. He had been reluctant to open it.

'You're in luck.'

With the sweet cake and Song Yu covering his ears, Yue Zhishi was no longer so afraid. He looked very cute when he ate, holding the cake with his two small, chubby hands and taking bites. When thunder suddenly crashed, his whole body would tremble, and the small cake would fall, but he would stare blankly for a second before picking it up and continuing to eat through his tears.

It was both funny and pitiful.

“You're so small, how can you eat so much?” Song Yu looked at the empty box. Only one last cake remained. He picked it up and took a bite himself, sweet chocolate filling oozing out.

Yue Zhishi reached out his hand to him again, softly saying he wanted more. Song Yu had no choice but to hand him the half in his hand. “There's no more.”

This last half was also eaten by him in the same manner, leaving his mouth smudged with chocolate. Song Yu found him dirty and took out a tissue to wipe his mouth.

He felt like he was really becoming a big brother.

This sudden new identity as an older brother gave Song Yu a very complex feeling—a bit of a burden, yet also a bit of pleasure and pride. It was more convincing than a hundred people telling him, "You've grown up."

When it was time to sleep, Yue Zhishi stubbornly refused to leave, crying and fussing that he wanted to sleep with Song Yu. Lin Rong had no choice but to carry him into her son's room. As soon as he burrowed into Song Yu's quilt, Yue Zhishi stopped crying and fussing. He was obedient and quiet, sleeping snuggled up against Song Yu's arm like a little doll, even holding back sobs to obediently say "good night" to him.

He seemed to have already imprinted on this boy who was three years older than him, like a baby bird, because he would cover his ears for him during a thunderstorm and give him cake.

After Lin Rong left, Song Yu turned over to look at the sleeping Yue Zhishi, thinking to himself that maybe having a little brother wasn't so bad. Even if he was a bit clingy and always stuck to him, it wasn't annoying. He could take him to the park by the river to fly kites and see the reeds, take him to Math Olympiad classes, but this little thing definitely wouldn't understand a single word.

Song Yu's mind was already filled with scenarios of being stuck to by Yue Zhishi.

Children are always full of curiosity, but Song Yu was not. He had been exceptionally rational since he was young. But when he realized he was going to be an older brother, he felt a naive sense of novelty for the first time.

But it was also that night that Song Yu first understood that being an older brother wasn't so simple.

In the middle of the night, he was awakened by the sound of Yue Zhishi's breathing. His small hand was tightly clutching his arm, and every breath seemed like a struggle. Song Yu was terrified. His first reaction was to run out of bed and bang on his parents' door.

The sound of the ambulance was more chilling than the thunder. Song Yu was lost in it all night, as if his ears were ringing. He refused to listen to reason and insisted on following, so he ran behind the adults, watching his father carry Yue Zhishi, so small, eyes closed, his lips no longer a pretty pink.

Everything in the emergency room was frantic, like a chaotic, fast-edited clip in his memory, a sea of gray, with the sound of his heartbeat and Yue Zhishi's pained breathing as the background audio.

It wasn't until the doctor came out and told them he was fine that his crying mother shot up, his father stubbed out his cigarette, and Song Yu's heart finally settled.

“Our preliminary diagnosis is food-allergic asthma. We checked for allergens, and this child has a very severe wheat allergy. In theory, he can't eat any food containing wheat. A mild clinical reaction might be diarrhea and hives, but a more severe one, like this time, will induce asthma. How can you parents not pay attention to this?”

Lin Rong wiped away her tears and said nothing. In the days Yue Zhishi had been with them, he hadn't eaten anything made of flour, mostly just vegetables, fruits, and rice paste. The child's parents had passed away suddenly; they had no way of knowing.

“We'll be careful next time,” Song's father said in a hoarse voice.

“Allergies can be major or minor, and the child is only three years old. This is no joke.” The doctor continued to ask, “Did he eat something he shouldn't have today?”

“He shouldn't have…” Lin Rong was also puzzled. No matter how hard she tried to remember, she couldn't think of any wheat products.

A string in Song Yu's mind snapped. He suddenly understood that he was simply the most terrible criminal in the world, who had almost killed the little brother who relied on him so much. He thought he was just coaxing him with his favorite cake, but what he had fed him was poison.

“He… he ate cake. I gave it to him.” In all his years, Song Yu had never felt so anxious, but he still truthfully confessed his "crime," even though he truly hadn't meant it.

The doctor sighed. “This situation is also common. He's just a child. Isn't there also the case of a kid feeding a little goldfish, only to feed it too much and find all the fish dead the next day? It's not intentional.”

This example did not lighten little Song Yu's sense of burden; on the contrary, it intensified it.

“Judging by the symptoms of this attack, he probably ate quite a lot.” The doctor then comforted him, “You probably just like your little brother too much, that's why you fed him so many cakes. Remember this for next time, and never do it again.”

A child's self-blame and burden made Song Yu understand for the first time that love, too, could cause harm.

He thought he was taking in a pitiful stray dog, holding an umbrella for it in a downpour, but in fact, he had extended a hand that scattered fish food without restraint. Full of joy, what he might have ended up with was a lifeless little fish floating on the surface.

Although his parents didn't blame him and comforted him just like the doctor, telling him it was nothing, from that day on, Song Yu consciously kept a distance from this little brother, never getting too close. He couldn't explain why. Perhaps it was the fear and self-reproach from that night that he could never get over, or perhaps it was that he had understood what restraint was.

He understood it much earlier than many adults.

Growing up, Song Yu often felt that he was born with a detached distance from the world, clutching a few threads in his hand that connected him to the necessary people in his life. Everything was set in black, white, and gray.

Only Yue Zhishi was an unexpected visitor, beyond fate's design—a sudden downpour. Some said it was an unfulfilled brotherly bond from a past life, bumping into each other again in this one. And so, he held an extra, special thread in his hand, a single, thin red string that seemed like it would scatter with a puff of breath. In the end, it was something that didn't belong to him, so he didn't just hold it; he tried to maintain it.

He just chose the stupidest, but safest, way.