Night fell, and the city lights came to life, illuminating the dark sky. Carrying the strawberry cake, Zhuang Zi'ang made his way to the apartment plex where his mother, Xu Hui, rented a small pce. Gazing up at the tless lit windows, he felt not a trace of warmth in his heart.

  Because none of those lights was lit for him.

  Just as he reached the stairwell, he ran into his mother hurrying downstairs, dragging a suitcase. In her early forties, Xu Hui looked especially tired from w as a train attendant, with the stant travel required by her job to make ends meet.

  "Zi'ang, I have something urgent. Get yourself some dinner, o bae," she said in a rush.

  The "home" Xu Hui referred to was the pce where his father, Zhuang Wenzhao, lived. Legally, Zhuang Zi’ang was under his father’s custody.

  "Mom, are you in such a hurry? 't you spare a few mio share this cake with me?" Zhuang Zi'ang asked, eyes filled with hope.

  "I don't have time. ime," Xu Hui replied, cheg her watch.

  "Not even a few minutes?" Zhuang Zi'ang tried again.

  "No. You're eighteen now—an adult. You o be more sensible," Xu Hui said, then turned and walked away without looking back.

  Watg her go, Zhuang Zi'ang's eyes brimmed with loneliness and resignation. Telling her about his predit wouldn't ge anything; it would only make her worry and grieve sooner. Once everything was settled, she would still have to return to her hectic work schedule.

  Xu Hui had a divorced male colleague at work who had been pursuing her for some time. Without Zhuang Zi'ang in the picture, she might have even fewer worries, giving her a better ce to find happiness again—perhaps someone who could care for her ier years.

  I'm eighteen—a grown-up. Is that sensible enough?

  After a brief internal struggle, Zhuang Zi'ang decided to head to his father's home. He couldn't bear this burden alone. People often say a father's love is like a mountain—something you lean o truly matters.

  He set off once more, strawberry cake in hand, traveling across half the city. A chilly evening wind made him shiver.

  Stepping out of the elevator, Zhuang Zi'ang noticed the front door was slightly ajar, a warm yellow glow spilling out from the living room.

  "Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you..."

  A cheerful birthday tune echoed inside. Only then did Zhuang Zi'ang remember that today was his younger brother Zhuang Yuhang's birthday. In their rural hometown, birthdays were often observed acc to the lunar dar. At school, however, both teachers and students usually tracked the sregorian) dar and weekdays instead.

  Zhuang Zi'ang and Zhuang Yuhang were years apart; their bond was weak, more like the retionship between a son born to a e and a son born to the principal wife in aimes, where the tter held higher status and received preferential treatment. In previous years, if Zhuang Zi'ang happeo be around on Yuhang's birthday, he would join the meal; if not, it was no big deal. Here in this house, he'd always felt like an outsider.

  From within, Yuhang's voice rose: "Dad, Mom, I hope our family of three be happy and that you'll celebrate my birthday with me every year."

  Sure enough, in their eyes, this family sisted of just three people.

  Qin Shun (Zhuang Zi'ang's stepmother) asked, "Honey, should we call Zi'ang to see if he's ing?"

  Zhuang Wenzhao replied casually, "No need. He's probably with his mom. If he wants to e back, he knows how."

  The three of them cheerfully shared the birthday cake, their ughter like kabbing at Zhuang Zi'ang's heart. In that moment, he felt utterly superfluous.

  Seeing his father so immersed in the joy of a happy family moment, could he really be so callous as to front him with a terminal diagnosis now? If he disappeared from the world, the family of three would finally be plete—no more thorn prig them from time to time.

  Zhuang Zi'ang's heart sank into a gray fog. He was about to leave when the door swung open and Qin Shun, his stepmother, caught sight of him standing there, awkward and uain.

  "Zi'ang, you're back! Why not e in?"

  Zhuang Zi'ang froze, like a thief caught red-handed peeking at someone else's happiness. Head lowered, he walked inside, quietly greeting his father.

  Zhuang Wenzhao aowledged him with an indifferent grunt. Each time Zhuang Zi'ang crossed this threshold, he felt uneasy and apprehensive, like walking on thin ice.

  On the dining table was a rge, exquisitely decorated cake piled high with fruit and chocote. pared to that, the small strawberry cake in his hands seemed ??????? shabby—hardly worth presenting.

  Zhuang Wenzhao said in a low voice, "Today is Yuhang's birthday. Wash up and join us for some cake."

  Zhuang Zi'ang sehe air grow stifling. His presence had disrupted what had been a harmonious family celebration.

  He mumbled, "You go ahead. I just need something from my room," then hurried down the hall to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him so he could finally breathe again.

  To justify his excuse, he rummaged in a drawer until he found an old bamboo flute—a prize he had won in a childhood musipetition. He hadn't touched it in years; he was undoubtedly rusty by now.

  A short while ter, Yuhang knocked on the door. "Mom and Dad asked me t you some cake," he said.

  Taking a deep breath, Zhuang Zi'ang opehe door and forced a smile. "Thanks, Yuhang. Happy birthday."

  Yuhang barged into the room, eyes flig to the strawberry cake. A look of disgust crossed his face. Spoiled from a young age and not sharing the same mother, he felt little affe for Zhuang Zi'ang. In his mind, Zhuang Zi'ang was just a bookworm with good grades.

  "You really didn't o e back. You don't like it here, and I don't like it when you e," Yuhang said bluntly, a Zhuang Zi'ang for disrupting their happy family of three.

  "I'll leave, then," Zhuang Zi'ang said, clutg the cake and bamboo flute as he fled from the bedroom.

  Seeing this, Qin Shun put on a show of . "Zi'ang, where are you going at this hour?"

  Zhuang Zi'ang halted, turo stare at his father, and said, "Dad, my studies are pretty intense right now. It's easier to stay at my mom's pce. After three months, will you e pick me up, bring me home?"

  Zhuang Wenzhao looked momentarily startled, finding his son's tone oddly serious. Three months from now—wouldn't that cide with graduation?

  "It's fine if you don't e," Zhuang Zi'ang added softly, disappoi flickering in his eyes. He then bolted out the door.

  The elevator doors slid shut, and tears welled up in Zhuang Zi'ang's eyes. He envied Yuhang so much. He had parents, but it felt like he didn't. Even this overwhelming misfortune was his alone, with no oo share it with.

  Once he exited the apartment plex, perhaps the emotional upheaval exacerbated the illness lurking in his body. Warm blood began trig from his nose, dotting the gray pavement at his feet.

  The bright red drops mirrored the crimson tassel at the end of his bamboo flute.

  In three months, I probably won't be in this world anymore.

  Whether anyone es t me "home" doesn't really matter.

  Wherever this body ends up, whether it's buro ashes and buried somewhere or scattered to the wind—it makes no difference.

  Life is so bitter—there's likely life, anyway.

  Clutg the bamboo flute, Zhuang Zi'ang wandered aimlessly along the dark streets, tissues uo stem the flow of his nosebleed. He suddenly remembered that earlier in the day, he'd had a nosebleed when he was with Su Yudiel. Back then, she'd simply cupped the back of his head, her warm fiips somehow stopping the bleeding with ease.

  Thinking of her bright, smiling face brought a faint spark of warmth to his cold and lonely heart.