Looking at the neighborhood just up ahead, Shen Lang's spirits rose. But before he could savor his relief, a loud bang sounded, and he felt his bike lurch. The wheels wobbled beneath him as he leaned over to find the front tire flat—no doubt punctured by some stray debris along the way.
With no choice but to push his little bike, laden with various items he'd gathered, Shen Lang trudged toward a familiar repair shop. He hadn't yet reached the entrance when a sturdy, round-faced boy came barreling toward him, grinning broadly. Seeing Shen Lang's bike, he rushed over, grabbing it enthusiastically—so much so that Shen Lang stumbled off to the side. The boy chuckled, "Another trip to the old market, huh? What happened to your bike? How long have you been pushing it? Look, you're drenched in sweat!"
Shen Lang, breathless and weary, collapsed onto a nearby stool at the repair shop, panting heavily for a good while before he could even nod in response. "Don't ask," he sighed, "I was practically home when it decided to quit on me. At least today's haul wasn't too much; otherwise, I'd have had to call a cab. By the way, where's Uncle Fan?"
As Fan Jun unloaded the items from the bike, Shen Lang rummaged through his bag. He was out of water—he'd finished it all earlier in the day. Steeling himself, he walked over to a nearby store to buy two popsicles and a couple of bottles of water. Though he could have asked Fan Jun to help, he chose not to; he didn't want to trouble his friend for such a small task. Everyone, no matter how young, has their pride.
Returning with the popsicles, Shen Lang didn't touch his—Fan Jun quickly devoured both while Shen Lang sipped a bit of water to recuperate. Once he felt recharged, he tossed an unopened bottle to Fan Jun, stashed the other in his backpack, and picked up the few belongings left on the ground. "I won't wait for Uncle Fan. Bring my bike over tonight when you come over to do homework, okay? And those books too. I'm heading back."
"Got it," Fan Jun replied, "I'll shout for you from downstairs when I get there."
With a wave, Shen Lang squinted up at the sun and set off for home. Behind him, Fan Jun watched him leave with a smile, content with the silent camaraderie that had grown between them. For two years, they'd been seatmates. When Fan Jun first joined the class, the other students had looked down on him for being the son of a bicycle repairman. Almost all his classmates shunned him, leaving him isolated and self-conscious. He remembered feeling completely alone, with no one willing to sit by his side, let alone befriend him.
Out of necessity, the teacher eventually seated him next to Shen Lang. Fan Jun had initially been intimidated—Shen Lang was something of an enigma. He didn't speak much, had a somewhat cold demeanor, and his rough build and stature made him look intimidating. Some girls in the class were even afraid of him, some of them tearing up just seeing his imposing figure. But over time, Fan Jun discovered his seatmate was far more approachable than he seemed.
Proud but never arrogant, Shen Lang had an aura of independence. At first, Fan Jun feared Shen Lang might belittle him for his background, so he kept his distance, seldom speaking to him and wary of potential conflict. Yet this caution didn't last long; Shen Lang's subtle, unspoken acts of kindness soon had him walking taller, feeling a newfound sense of self-respect.
However, Fan Jun was eventually taken aback when he learned that Shen Lang was the younger brother of Shen Zheng and Shen Nan. The two siblings were famed at their school—model students known by all, held in high regard by classmates and teachers alike.
Both Shen Zheng and Shen Nan served as class monitors, shining stars with outstanding grades and exemplary behavior. But Shen Lang? He was a far cry from their polished image. Fan Jun remembered the first time Shen Lang invited him over. When he walked into the sprawling, elegant home, he was nearly blinded by its grandeur—so spacious that even counting the rooms felt like a task. There had to be at least seven or eight rooms.
And yet, despite his family's wealth, Shen Lang never flaunted it, not even a little. Fan Jun remembered that night vividly. He had stayed late enough to meet Shen's father and siblings, who'd looked at him as if he were some rare artifact. Back then, he'd thought they were silently judging him.
Later, Shen Lang's father and sister cleared up the misunderstanding. Apparently, Shen Lang had never brought a friend home before, let alone introduced someone as his friend. They were so surprised to see Fan Jun that their eyes practically popped out.
As time passed, Fan Jun eventually invited Shen Lang to his own home. He had felt an instinctive inferiority complex as he watched Shen Lang enter his modest living room, the gap between their worlds too painfully obvious to ignore. But Shen Lang, with his usual calmness, took it all in stride. Fan Jun couldn't help but question the food he'd been raised on—watching Shen Lang enjoy it with such gusto made him wonder if it tasted far better than he'd ever noticed.
Once home, Shen Lang carefully sorted through his haul, organized it, and, after a quick shower, let himself drift into a nap. By the time his alarm went off, signaling the afternoon had slipped away, he woke groggy but resolute. With some cash in hand, he headed to the market to pick up a few groceries—not much, but enough to be manageable. He stocked the eggs in the fridge, then gave his dad a call, only to learn his father was out for the evening. Unfazed, Shen Lang prepared himself a simple meal.
He had barely begun cooking when he heard someone calling his name from below. Heading to the window, he spotted Fan Jun and shouted a quick greeting, tossing down his garage keys. "Put the bike in the garage and bring up my books while you're at it," he instructed. Fan Jun complied, and by the time he made it upstairs, he was drenched in sweat.
"Eaten yet?" Shen Lang asked, his tone as even and unfeeling as ever.
Fan Jun shook his head, accustomed to Shen Lang's brusque ways. "Take a break. Go wash up in the bathroom. Dinner will be ready soon."
Used to Shen Lang's mannerisms, Fan Jun didn't bat an eye at the cold tone. He freshened up while Shen Lang finished cooking, and the two ate in companionable silence. Afterward, they watched a cartoon together before cracking open their summer assignments. Fan Jun worked slowly but steadily, and under Shen Lang's guidance, he managed to avoid any mistakes. Comparing their answers, Fan Jun packed up his books, neatly placing them in his worn, faded school bag—a relic by now, hardly seen around anymore.
Despite the shabby state of his backpack, it gave Fan Jun a small sense of comfort, a reassurance that, at least in this, he held a slight edge over Shen Lang, who had never bothered with a school bag at all. To Shen Lang, the concept of a backpack was foreign.
"Heading home, or staying?" Shen Lang asked.
"Up to you. I can stay if you want company, or I'll head out if you're busy."
"You should go. I've got some things to sort through tonight," Shen Lang replied, as curt as always.
Most people would have bristled at his bluntness, but Fan Jun was used to it by now. Smiling, he nodded, ready to head out.
Just as he reached the door, Shen Lang asked suddenly, "Replaced or patched?"
Fan Jun paused, then grinned. "The cost was five yuan."
Shen Lang nodded, eyes impassive, as he handed Fan Jun a ten-yuan note. "Here. That's for the last tire patch too. Give my thanks to your dad."