The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the bustling city. The air was thick with the scent of street food and the hum of chatter as people hurried home after a long day. In a quiet neighborhood, nestled between high-rise apartments and small parks, stood a modest two-story house. This was the home of **Huǐ Yuān**, a 17-year-old high school student, and his younger sister, **Xià Yǔ**.
Huǐ Yuān sat at the dining table, his fingers drumming nervously against the wood. His grandparents were in the kitchen, preparing a feast to celebrate his recent achievement: he had scored **first place** in his entire grade. It was a milestone he had worked tirelessly for, and the pride in his grandparents' eyes made it all worth it.
"*Xiǎo Yǔ*," he called out, glancing at the living room where his 14-year-old sister was sprawled on the couch, scrolling through her phone. "You're not even going to congratulate me?"
She rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smile. "Congratulations, *dà gē*," she said, using the affectionate term for "big brother." "But don't let it go to your head. You're still a dork."
Huǐ Yuān laughed, leaning back in his chair. "Says the girl who failed her math test last week."
"Hey! That was one time!" she protested, throwing a pillow at him.
Their banter was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. Huǐ Yuān's grandfather, a stern but kind man in his late sixties, emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. "I'll get it," he said, his voice calm but carrying an air of authority.
The door opened to reveal **Zhào Fēng**, Huǐ Yuān's 19-year-old cousin. He was tall and lean, with sharp features and a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. In his hands, he carried a bottle of expensive-looking wine.
"*Yéye*," he said, bowing slightly and using the affectionate term for "grandpa." "I heard about Huǐ Yuān's achievement. I thought I'd come by to celebrate."
Huǐ Yuān's grandfather nodded, stepping aside to let him in. "That's thoughtful of you, *Xiǎo Fēng*," he replied, using a nickname that softened the sharpness of his name. "Come in."
Huǐ Yuān stood up as his cousin entered, offering a polite smile. "*Biǎo Gē*," he said, using the term for "older male cousin." "Thanks for coming."
"Of course, *Xiǎo Yuān*," Zhào Fēng replied, using a diminutive form of Huǐ Yuān's name to show familiarity. "I couldn't miss celebrating such a big moment. You've really outdone yourself this time."
There was something about the way he said it that made Huǐ Yuān uneasy, but he brushed it off. His cousin had always been competitive, and it wasn't unusual for him to be a little bitter.
The evening progressed with laughter and conversation. Huǐ Yuān's grandmother, whom he called *Nǎinai*, brought out dish after dish, each more delicious than the last. The wine was opened, and glasses were poured for the adults. Huǐ Yuān, being underage, stuck to soda, though his cousin tried to coax him into having a sip.
"Come on, just one drink won't hurt," Zhào Fēng said, holding out a glass.
Huǐ Yuān shook his head, laughing. "Nice try, *Biǎo Gē*. But I'm good."
Zhào Fēng shrugged, taking a long sip from his own glass. "Suit yourself, *Xiǎo Dì*," he replied, using the term for "younger brother."
As the night wore on, Huǐ Yuān began to feel a strange heaviness in his chest. At first, he thought it was just the excitement of the day catching up to him, but the feeling grew worse. His vision blurred, and he clutched the edge of the table for support.
"*Xiǎo Yǔ*," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
She turned to him, her expression shifting from amusement to concern. "*Dà Gē*? Are you okay?"
He tried to respond, but the words caught in his throat. His legs gave out, and he collapsed to the floor.
Chaos erupted. Xià Yǔ screamed, his grandparents rushed to his side, and Zhào Fēng stood frozen, his face pale.
"Call an ambulance!" his grandfather barked, cradling Huǐ Yuān's head in his hands.
Huǐ Yuān's vision darkened, the voices around him fading into a distant echo. He felt cold, so cold, as if the warmth of life was being drained from his body. His last coherent thought was of his sister's tear-streaked face, her voice pleading for him to stay awake.
Then, there was nothing.