[Where Does the Heart Lie?] ----- Full Text (120,000 words)

Author: Ziling Hongshan
First published on 2018/3/21
Total word count: 123383

Part 3 of a tetralogy, the sibling story.
A long, complete novel. I hope the moderator can pin it for a while so more people can see it. Thank you.

*** *** ***

Epigraph

Ask and you will receive. Seek and you will find. Knock and the door will be opened to you.

—New Testament: Matthew

*** *** ***

Chapter 1: Whispers of Love and Hate

Section 1

I jumped out of the police car. The piercing sirens and chaotic noise immediately swept in from all directions, enveloping me
. Red and blue lights flashed across everyone's faces, like wearing bizarre
masks . The city's neon lights outlined the silhouettes of many figures. I strode towards
the drama unfolding before me, passing through the gazes of onlookers.

"Captain Yang." "Captain Yang!" Two policemen ran towards me, saluting. His pale face was tired and
helpless, but his colorful eyes shone with expectation.

I returned the salute, looked at the large circle of colleagues and police cars ahead, and asked, "
Where are Captain Gu and Captain Zhang?"

"They didn't come." "Director Chen said you were fine." Two colleagues answered eagerly.

I was used to this arrangement. I checked my bulletproof vest and the pistol
at , and continued to ask, "What's the situation now? There's been no progress?"

"The suspect is still in the bank lobby." Two colleagues followed closely behind me, walking towards
the entrance of a bank that was illuminated by beams of light, and gave a brief report: "Refusing any persuasion."

I had reached the edge of the circle, keeping my voice emotionless: "Is the hostage injured?"

"Twenty-four or twenty-five years old." "Not injured yet, but the suspect is very unstable."

"Have you found out the suspect's identity and motive?" I pushed through the gap in the circle that my colleagues had cleared for me and
looked at the bank lobby where the steel gate was half-open. The lights in the hall were off, leaving only a beam of pure white light
, hard and sharp as if it had taken on a physical form, brutally piercing the shattered French windows. The stark contrast of
light and shadow was momentarily disorienting, and the glittering shards of glass scattered across the floor flickered with light, severely obstructing
vision.

My colleague's voice was tinged with annoyance: "We've found him. The suspect's name is Li Changsheng, 29 years old, male,
a retired soldier. He's currently working as a security guard, with no prior criminal record. Besides a younger sister, he has no other relatives. His
motive for robbing was to pay for his sister's medical treatment. Here's his information."

My heart skipped a beat as I carefully observed the surroundings, and I took the file, which suddenly felt heavy:
"Paying for his sister's medical treatment?"

"Yes. His sister has leukemia. He recently had a bone marrow transplant done with her, and she's a match.
Now he doesn't have the money to pay for it."

I immediately understood the whole situation. The robber was a security guard; his meager income and savings had likely already
been exhausted on his sister's initial treatment. The bone marrow transplant and subsequent treatment costs were certainly beyond
his means.

There's an optimal timeframe for bone marrow transplants for leukemia patients; missing this window
significantly reduces the chances of a cure. Therefore, his desperate measures are understandable.

Just then, a colleague's voice came through my earpiece: "Captain Yang! The sniper from the General Police Special Forces is
in position . Should we issue the firing order?"

An hour had passed since the suspect took the hostage, and my colleagues on site had undoubtedly exhausted all possible
methods. Using a sniper to resolve the situation under these circumstances was perfectly reasonable, and of course, legal.

"Boss!" A young man suddenly appeared at the edge of the encirclement, breaking through the obstruction of several colleagues and
running towards me. He was about my age, somewhat slender for a young man, with a fair complexion
that exuded an air of scholarly refinement. But his actions and words at that moment were crude and vulgar: "
How's my sister? Are you guys even capable? She's been held hostage for so long, and there's been no progress at all!" He
waved his thin arm excitedly, his neatly manicured fingers pointing roughly at my nose.
The ticking of the delicate hands on my wrist seemed to be angrily urging me on: "If this drags on any longer, my sister is really in danger
... Can't you send someone capable? All our taxes are going to support a bunch of useless people..."

"Mr. Chu, you're only hindering our rescue operation!" Two colleagues roared, lunging at him and
grabbing his arms.

I wasn't angry. I understood his feelings. If the roles were reversed, I would definitely be more agitated than him. So I
simply smiled gently: "Sir, I just arrived. I need to make sure you know where your sister is before I go to rescue her, right
?"

The young man seemed to be very well-mannered; his earlier outburst was probably just the instinctive reaction of any older brother when his sister is in
danger . My calm and confident reply caused his face to change, eventually turning red,
but his tone remained heavy with anxiety: "I'm sorry, officer. I was too anxious. She's my only
sister, she absolutely cannot be hurt, absolutely cannot be hurt. Please, please ensure her safety. Please."

I patted his shoulder: "Don't worry." Then I moved closer to him and chuckled softly: "I used to be an older brother
too ."

This last sentence finally calmed the young man down, a stiff smile appearing on his lips. I
didn't continue to meet his pleading and expectant gaze, but instead turned my gaze back to the bank,
answering into the microphone: "Sniper, stand by. Do not fire without my order."

Then, I walked towards the bank entrance.

"Captain Yang! He has a gun!" My colleague behind me exclaimed. "The patrol officer over here was just shot.

If he hadn't been wearing a bulletproof vest, he would have been dead."

"Captain Yang, if you want to negotiate, you can use a loudspeaker here. There's no need to get close."

"Captain Yang, the suspect is extremely unstable. Your safety and the hostage's safety are not guaranteed."

I waved my hand, continuing forward slowly but without hesitation. The shards of glass beneath my feet made a soft creaking sound.
The sound, clear and distinct against the backdrop of clamor, was incredibly easy.

Telling a sniper to "fire" was simple, safe, and
quick . But some people never had another chance. The criminal might have deserved it, but his
struggling sister would lose her source of income, her care and support, and her bone marrow transplant. Her
fate was sealed: a quiet death soon after.

Since she was also a sister, I couldn't allow myself to remain inactive.

"Stop. Don't come in!"
A hoarse . A young man my age was hiding behind a passbook counter, one hand brandishing a pistol,
the other tightly cradling a pale-faced girl in his arm. Her beautiful face was streaked with tears
, and the gaze she looked at me with a look I once knew so well.

I brushed away the fragments of memory that rushed towards me, stopped, turned, drew my sidearm, and raised it above my head. A moment later,
I bent down and placed the gun on the ground. Finally, I turned back and continued walking towards the bank entrance.

Bang! The criminal's gun fired. The bullet shattered a paving stone two meters from my feet,
followed by his hysterical scream: "Stop! If you take another step, someone will be killed!"

The gunshot still reverberated in my ears when a commotion arose behind me. I turned my head slightly,
and out of , I saw the young man rushing towards me,
screaming just as hysterically as the criminal: "Don't hurt my sister! I'll be your hostage! Let my sister go!"

The only response was the young woman's weak moan: "Brother..."

Then, two colleagues caught up with the frail young man and dragged him back out of the encirclement.

I sighed, raised my hands, and continued walking into the bank. Then, I calmly
said to the criminal, "Li Changsheng, you were a shooting champion in the army. If you really wanted to hit me, you wouldn't have missed so much, right
? Thank you for showing mercy."

The man, caught off guard, immediately became very uncomfortable and raised his voice even more aggressively, "Since you
know that, you still dare to come closer?"

But I remained unmoved. Although I slowed my pace, I continued forward, laughing, "No, you
won't hit me. You're trying to save your sister, not kill her."

The man frantically took a step back, but there was nowhere left to retreat. He leaned against the wall, desperately shouting, "Shut up!
It's all because of you cops that I can't save my sister. I'll kill you."

At this moment, I could clearly see his appearance. This man, my age, was completely
different . Beneath his disheveled hair, his thin face was a mixture of seventy percent sorrow, one tenth fear, one tenth
despair, and one tenth anger. His bloodshot eyes rolled blankly, and his chapped, dark lips were pressed together
with determination.

Although leaning against the wall, his tall, strong body trembled uncontrollably, and his simple, shabby clothes
looked dirty and tattered.

Before me was just a desperate brother with nowhere to turn. The gun in his hand posed no threat to me;
it was merely a last vestige of unrealistic hope for himself. So I smiled calmly: "I'm
here not to harm your sister, but to save someone else's sister. You should already know that, right?
The girl in your arms is also a sister. I believe you can understand how her brother feels right now."

"Bullshit!" he yelled, but I clearly saw his grip loosen slightly. And the
kidnapped girl's breathing immediately became much easier.

"What?" I maintained my smile, looking into those increasingly confused eyes. "You were trying to save
your sister, and so were others. If you want your own sister to live, why
hurt someone else's sister?"

The other person suddenly became agitated again. "Why? Huh? Why can other people's sisters live well, but
my sister has to suffer like that? You think I haven't tried other methods? The Red Cross, newspapers,
TV stations ... I've run my legs off... Why can other people's sisters spend hundreds of thousands on a bag, a pair of shoes,
while my sister can't even get money to save her life... I can't even get a loan from the bank... Are poor people supposed to die? Huh? Are they supposed to die? I
don't care anymore. I'll steal, rob, kill, or set fires, I'll get money to treat my sister... Since
no one cares about my sister's life or death, why should I care about someone else's?"

I laughed loudly. "Stealing, robbing, killing, or setting fires will only turn you into
a criminal , it won't save your sister. Whether you kill someone else's sister or not, your sister will still die."

"No way! Shut the hell up!" the suspect screamed, pointing the gun at me. The dark
muzzle trembled violently, but that didn't stop me from continuing: "Li Changsheng... there's a saying that goes, if
life forces you to your wits' end, committing a crime isn't shameful. I don't think you're shameful. On the contrary, I admire you
for being so reckless for your sister. But, whether it's shameful or not, a crime is a crime. From
the moment you started committing the crime, you knew yourself that it wouldn't save your sister."

"Stop lecturing me." The suspect tried to appear unmoved, but I could clearly see beads of sweat rolling down his
forehead . He desperately tried to comfort himself: "As long as I get the money, I can get my sister's surgery.
How can that be useless? You cops, get out of here right now... I'll use the money to pay for her treatment, and I'll turn myself
in ... Don't force me."

I interrupted him mercilessly: "Sorry. Now that things have gotten so bad, which hospital would dare
take the money you stole? Which hospital would dare treat your sister?"

He already knew this was true, but he had been pretending not to. Now, exposed by
me , despair welled up in every bloodshot of his eyes, desperately trying to burst from them: "It's all
because of you bastards..."

I coldly replied: "You have one last chance to save your sister."

The suspect froze, glaring at me, but unable to hide the ferocity and panic mixed with anticipation.

I continued: "If I were you, I probably would have done the same, since there's really no other way. But I'm
smarter than you. Since I didn't succeed cleanly, and things have gotten so bad, I'll stop immediately. This
will definitely make the news. Information is so readily available now; it's all over the internet. Once it's on the news, your sister's..."
The treatment costs will be covered—you understand? But money alone isn't enough, right? Bone marrow is also needed. If I
die, where will my sister find bone marrow? So I must save my own life; I absolutely cannot be
killed by the police. The robbery attempt failed, the hostage situation didn't cause any real harm, and there were indeed extenuating circumstances. I
will try to gain the judge's sympathy and get a lighter sentence of a few years, so I can work hard to reform myself. Only in this way can I reunite with my sister
one day. Only in this way can my sister and I continue to live happily together in the future. I looked at the suspect
and smiled, "If you really intend to save your sister, you know what to do, right?"

The suspect trembled, his words no longer calm: "You...you can't guarantee you can save my
sister...even if I turn myself in now...you still won't care about my sister...you don't understand..."

I immediately interrupted him: "As her brother, I assure you I will do everything in
my power to cover your sister's medical expenses. Besides," I looked at him and said softly, "of course I understand. I
once had a sister too."

*** *** ***

"Binzi, come here, this is your sister. Come and meet her." I clearly remember that early
autumn , absentmindedly doing my homework while my grandmother was patiently persuading or pleading.
Suddenly, the dilapidated door creaked open, and my father, panting, put down a
tattered quilt and a large woven bag tied together with wire, brushing the mud off his trousers,
and said to me in a muffled voice.

But I didn't go to him immediately. My image of my father from my childhood was so vague that I
still can't recall it clearly. My relationship with him wasn't good, nor was it bad, just a kind of coldness.
To me, the word "father" simply meant a stranger I only saw once a year or every two or three years,
who would bring me some strange snacks or odd little toys each time we met, nothing more.

As for my mother, I can't remember what she looked like anymore.

Before I can remember, my parents were both workers on a state-owned farm. They were uneducated,
only knowing how to work in the fields. They were, in fact, farmers through and through, just like my ancestors.
It's just that at some point in the past, some farmers responded to a great call, surrendered their land,
and began cultivating for the country.

Of course, during that time, their status was the envy of countless ordinary farmers. After all, they were workers who received
wages and housing. Unfortunately, in the years before I was born, the whole country was
poor and impoverished, and my parents, as actual farmers, earned meager wages, barely enough to feed the family. As for housing,
there was only one room in a row of dormitories.

My generation was born in an era when the country was beginning to try to escape poverty. After an old man drew a circle in the far
south , the fate of countless people was completely changed.

State-run farms, as products of history, were already very backward, and like countless state-owned or collective units,
they finally reached the end of their mission. Compared to real state-owned enterprise workers, who at least received
some compensation when laid off, my parents became penniless overnight.

The farm was contracted to relatives of leaders in a nearby town, who became the first to get rich. My parents, on the other hand,
became landless farmers. Even today, farmers at least receive a minimum standard of land, but
they didn't even have a plot of land for their own homes. This was because their official status was laid-off workers.

They were abandoned in the gap between history and the future, between workers and farmers,
between cities and villages, unable to find a place to belong. In the end, my parents could only take me, my elderly grandmother, and me
to rent an old tile-roofed house in a village near the farm, a house left vacant by the owner who had moved to the city, and then go out
to do odd jobs.

Thus, in my earliest memories, my parents became like migratory birds in the sky. Every spring, they would start from
Hainan Island , chasing the wild geese northward, sowing seeds for those who had become wealthy. Every autumn, they
would start from the Greater Khingan Mountains, chasing the wild geese southward, harvesting for those who had become wealthy.

They silently accepted their fate, earning a meager income amidst the stars and frost.
If they were lucky, they would return home for the New Year every year, but I remember there was a whole three years when I didn't see my father.

"Binzi," my father called again, as I lay on the woven bag, futilely searching, "This is
your sister."

Actually, from the moment my father entered the door, I heard a song I had never heard before. The voice
was faint yet clear, possessing an indescribable penetrating power that I still can't forget:

"Good brother, save me quickly, the fox caught me, ran over the hill..."

But I didn't pay attention to my father's words, nor did I heed the voice. When I didn't
find what I wanted in the tattered woven bag that time , I immediately cried out in disappointment, "Dad, you didn't buy me
candy!"

My father, helpless, turned around and bowed his head, saying, "Xin'er, come and see your brother."

Finally, a small figure emerged from behind his legs. Her small face was clean and tender, her fine, yellow
hair tied into a crooked pigtail, adorned with a wildflower. She was so small, like a chipmunk or
a newly hatched bird, with only a pair of large, round eyes, their black and white pupils bright and clear, flowing with the only vibrant color in the dim, dilapidated main room at
dusk .

This little thing tightly gripped my father's trouser leg with one hand, curled up in a ball, and clutched
a . As a child, I didn't realize that this was her only toy in her life, but instead, thinking that
my father had bought it for her instead of me, I burst into tears.

My father said softly to the little one, "Xin'er, this is your brother, Yang Yibin." Then, glancing at me who was
rolling around and throwing a tantrum, he snapped angrily, "Binzi! Get up! You're the older brother now, and you're still acting
like this! What kind of behavior is this!"

I wouldn't give up: "I don't care, I don't want to be the older brother. Take her away, I don't want a little sister. Buy me food
. Buy me toys. Waaah—"

The little one seemed to shrink back in fear when she heard my words, but then bravely
stepped out , took a few steps towards me, and handed me the little teddy bear, accompanied by a clear and childish voice:
"Brother, my name is Yang Yixin, I'm five years old, and I'm your little sister. Please don't abandon me, okay? Don't cry, you
can have my toys."

I grabbed the little teddy bear and threw it into the corner of the room, yelling even louder, "I'm not a girl, I don't want to play with dolls. I
want to play with guns. Dad, you said you'd buy me a policeman's peaked cap this year. Waaah!"

The little girl looked at the little teddy bear in the corner, her small face full of sadness, and her big eyes filled
with tears. But she didn't cry, she just sniffed, and then took out two lollipops from her pocket: "Brother,
if you don't want to play with toys, you can have my lollipops."

With two lollipops, it was better than nothing. I wailed as I snatched the candy from the little girl's hand and
quickly stuffed one into my mouth. Then, while enjoying the sweetness, I would occasionally fake cry.

"Binzi, you and Xin'er each have one, how come you took both?" My father frowned, very
angry , and seemed to be planning to take the other one. But the little girl just smiled. She happily tugged at her father's sleeve:
"Daddy, I bought toys and snacks for my brother."

Yes, that made sense. I breathed a sigh of relief, but still glared
at the little thing with the hatred of a cat whose territory had been invaded. Back then, I only thought about one thing: if I had a little sister, half of my snacks, toys,
and my father's meager affection would be taken away.

When I first saw her, I immediately saw her as an enemy.

To my delight, my grandmother, who had always doted on me, was on my side. The little thing had just
picked up Grandma staggered out from the inner room, yelling shrilly, "Guozi! How
could you bring this bad luck back? Huh? Aren't you unlucky enough? Bringing back a jinx? Get rid of her!
Whoever gave birth to her should raise her!"

The little girl froze in the corner, turning around and cowering as she looked at her grandmother. Fear filled her little
face as she forced a smile at her grandmother, "Grandma..."

"Get out, get out! I'm not your grandma!" Grandma grabbed a broom and angrily pounded on the doorframe. "
Go back to your whore mother! Go back to your bastard father!"

Her large, bright eyes welled up with tears again, her clear, childish voice filled with stubbornness: "Grandma,
Mom has gone far away and won't come back. Don't scold her."

"Enough!" Father roared, his dark, tired face contorted with pain. "Mother, Guihua
is gone! What will become of her?"

"What does it matter to us what happens to her? She has a father!" Grandma trembled with anger. "Even if you're honest, you
can't be this honest. How can you raise such a wild child?"

Dad tore at his hair in anguish, his voice sounding like something was breaking in his chest. "Mother, don't say anymore
. Guihua left with someone else while she was pregnant. She's my own daughter. You know I can't disown her.
Now that Guihua is gone, can her stepfather raise her? I may not be capable, but she's my own daughter. I can't watch her starve and
freeze, unwanted by anyone. Bringing her back, giving her food, raising her—that's my duty as a father, and it's what
I did to deserve this."

Grandma also started crying. "Heavens above. What sins has our Yang family committed? Guozi, if you had
brought back a son, I wouldn't have said a word. But you brought back a worthless child, and after raising her for ten or twenty years, she'll be
given to someone else. Why did you do this? Why did you do this…"

As a young child, I was happily eating my lollipop, curiously watching my weeping grandmother and my grieving father,
unaware that my life was about to be completely changed.

That autumn when I was seven, I lost my mother, who already had no memory of her, but suddenly
a little thing called my sister entered my life.

Section Two

Back at the branch office, I was overwhelmed by the welcome and praise from my colleagues as soon as I entered: "Captain Yang! You were absolutely awesome just
now !"

"Da Bin's nickname 'Desperate Saburo' is truly well-deserved." "

I used to think that Yang Yibin becoming a deputy captain before he was even thirty was unacceptable, but now I'm
convinced."

"Brother Yang, you're going to get another merit this time, right?"

As a police officer, successfully solving such a heinous case always brings a sense of joy and pride.
I smiled broadly, high-fiving, greeting, and joking with my colleagues as I quickly walked back to my office. But
before I could even take off my bulletproof vest, the phone rang.

"Director Li, what's wrong? Is something unexpected?" I answered the phone, immediately asking respectfully.

The deputy director's voice was complex, a mixture of worry, anger, and helplessness, but mostly reprimand:
"Xiao Yang, you're being reckless again. How could you handle that situation like that? You completely disregarded your own safety
! What if the suspect had actually shot you? He's a veteran; hitting you would have been easy!
We've worked hard to train you, how could you act so recklessly? Why risk your life like that?
Can't you learn from Xiao Gu and Xiao Zhang in a time like this?"

Although it was a reprimand, I understood that Director Li was doing it for my own good. I,
a
simple criminal investigator born in the countryside, already all alone, with no connections, no backing, no money for bribes, and no intention of currying favor, had become the deputy captain of the district public security bureau's criminal investigation team at such a young age—it was completely beyond my
expectations. Director Li, who was calling, played a major role in this; it wouldn't be
an . Now he was reprimanding me, of course, because he didn't want anything
to happen to the young man he was intentionally promoting, someone who could continue to be used as his own power base.

I was fairly familiar with Director Li, so I wasn't reserved and replied with a grin, "Director Li, didn't you say that
the criminal investigation team always needs a deputy captain who's fearless, hardworking, and willing to take the blame to do these things? That's how I got a chance.
Since Captain Gu and the others backed out, of course I can't."

Director Li chuckled, momentarily speechless. Because when I first became deputy captain, I couldn't believe it myself.
When I went to ask Director Li, he frankly told me, "Yes, all the captains and deputy captains in your criminal investigation team have
connections, you don't. But precisely because they have connections, they often pass the buck… like
catching drug dealers, rescuing trafficked women and children, nobody wants to take those cases… If we really had to assign them directly,
Director Gu told us not to let Xiao Gu handle those dangerous cases… so we also…"
"Headache. Anyway, Xiao Yang, the criminal investigation team always needs a deputy captain who's willing to handle these cases. The bureau leaders
value your hard work and ability to endure hardship. Also, to put it bluntly, it's because you have no connections that they're assigning you
these cases without fear of offending anyone. Even if something goes wrong while you're handling a case, they're not worried about how to explain it... If necessary,
they can even make you take the blame."

Although it was a stark reality, I was grateful for Director Li's honest explanation and for this opportunity.
Otherwise, with my qualifications, it would be perfectly normal for me to remain a regular police officer at the grassroots level for my entire life.
Deputy captain of the district public security bureau's criminal investigation team? That was something I wouldn't even dare to dream of.

My only advantage is my willingness to work hard and endure hardship, so I never shy away from these cases. The robbery just now not
only put me in danger, but also, if handled improperly, could have resulted in serious consequences such as hostages or injuries to innocent bystanders
, for which I would be held responsible. All the other captains and deputy captains would avoid it like the plague. Only I
rushed to the scene without hesitation, and, in any case, the ending was quite perfect.

"There's a limit to how desperate you can be," Director Li said, still very displeased. "You can't
gamble with your life. I asked you for a sniper earlier, why didn't you use him?"

I could only patiently explain, "Director Li, I know. I only
acted that way after confirming there was no danger."

Director Li raised his voice: "Are you sure there was no danger?"

I quickly smiled apologetically: "Hehe, yes. Li Changsheng did all this to get
treatment for his sister. I observed him for a while and noticed he hadn't lost his mind, just panicked. He actually understood that
if he really shot me, his sister would definitely be doomed. He probably didn't care about anything else, but he
absolutely..." "I won't abandon his sister. I know his mindset, and I know I'm definitely not in danger."

After a long pause, Director Li sighed, "How should I put it?"

I just chuckled awkwardly and changed the subject, "He's not some desperate criminal, he's just forced by circumstances,
he has no choice... Um, Director Li, I promise him I'll find a way to cover his sister's medical expenses..."

Director Li earnestly lectured me, "Xiao Yang, have you thought about the consequences of doing this? He really has no
other choice, but if everyone does this, then every time someone's family member gets sick, they'll rob a bank and force us police to treat them
... This kind of approach has endless consequences and is not worth promoting."

I felt somewhat uncomfortable.
Of course, it's not worth promoting someone like Li Changsheng who commits crimes and harms innocent people because they're desperate, but since society has forced individuals to this point, and since society hasn't
given them the opportunity to choose other solutions, society should pay the price.

If I were Li Changsheng, I probably would have done the same, or even taken more extreme actions.

But I knew I absolutely couldn't argue with Director Li about these things now. Seeing that I didn't speak, Director Li laughed:
"Alright, alright, Xiao Yang, I was being long-winded. In such a critical situation, expecting you to think of these things
was too much to ask. I was nitpicking, haha. You handled it excellently; wait for the commendation from the General Administration."

"Thank you, Director Li," I quickly replied with a smile, but my mind was still preoccupied with that guy's sister. Director Li didn't wait for
me to ask again, and proactively said, "I know you're a man of your word; you always keep your promises. If we had
n't intervened, you probably would have had to pay out of your own pocket and try to find ways to treat his sister, right? Alright, alright, Director Huang is holding a
press conference and just specifically mentioned this; it's already on the news. I heard there are already two donations from the public, and
the hospital where his sister is staying has also agreed to treat her first, with the cost to be discussed later."

I breathed a long sigh of relief.

Director Li had obviously heard me and laughed: "Now you can rest assured, right? You've worked hard too; go and get some rest."

I agreed and hung up the phone.

A moment later, I left the office, preparing to leave work. Just as I reached the elevator, a young policewoman
rushed over. Seeing me, she called out from afar, "Captain Yang, Captain Yang, wait!"

I stopped. The young woman reached me, panting, and said, "Captain Yang, our Captain Gu asked me
to come and ask you for a favor..."

I was filled with doubt: "Didn't your Captain Gu just take Li Changsheng away for interrogation?"

The young woman looked at me, smiling somewhat sheepishly, "That guy won't say anything, just keeps asking
how his sister is, and then he keeps asking to see you... Our Captain Gu couldn't get through to you on the phone,
so he asked me to come find him."

"I was just on the phone with Director Li." I turned and walked away. "Let's go, to the interrogation room."

I quickly arrived at the interrogation room door and saw my colleague, Deputy Captain Gu, pacing
impatiently outside, smoking a cigarette. Seeing me, he immediately strode over, pulling out a cigarette and calling out, "Hey,
Brother Yang, you've finally come!"

This guy wasn't actually unpleasant. He was even three years younger than me, not yet twenty-six. He was slightly chubby, with a round,
rosy face and small, always smiling eyes.
He had a soft, unassuming demeanor, lacking the sharp, commanding presence expected of a criminal investigation captain; in fact, he was somewhat effeminate. But he had a good temper. Although his uncle was
the deputy director of the provincial public security bureau, and his family were all leaders in the municipal public security system, he never
abused his position or acted arrogantly. He got along well with all of us colleagues and spoke respectfully.
He wasn't without flaws—he was afraid of death and liked to show off—but these were all within the bounds of human nature.

I didn't dislike him. While I wouldn't say I fawned over him, I was certainly happy to be his friend. In our
branch's criminal investigation team, he and I were the only two deputy captains under thirty, about the same age, and we often had drinks together
. This time, he insisted on interrogating Li Changsheng, and I didn't feel unhappy about taking credit for it. Such a big
case couldn't be all the credit; I needed to know how to behave. If he shared the credit, it
would certainly benefit me.

But this guy still got me into trouble. I lit the cigarette he offered, mocking,
"Didn't you just say you could handle it and told me to rest?"

He was good-natured, chuckling, "Seeing you showing off like that, I wanted to do the same. Now
I've gotten screwed instead. Oh well, I guess I'll have to ask Brother Yang for a hand. "

I put on airs, "Watch me. Open the door."

The interrogation room door was pushed open by a detective. I walked in and sat down opposite Li Changsheng. The glaring light...
The light fell directly on his face, making it appear as if it were a layer of pale skin. As soon as he saw me, he struggled to stand up,
the handcuffs and shackles binding him to the chair clanging loudly.

I knew what he wanted to ask, of course, and calmly said, "Li Changsheng, the hospital where your sister is staying has
agreed to treat her first; we'll discuss the costs later. If you want to start the bone marrow transplant surgery sooner, then quickly explain
your situation so we can make the necessary arrangements, right? —Okay, where did the gun come from?"

The pale-faced man trembled, bright tears streaming down his thin cheeks.

Once you break through his defenses, the interrogation becomes much easier. Just half an hour later, Captain Gu and I stood up
one after the other . Captain Gu said sternly, "Li Changsheng, that's enough for the initial interrogation."

Unlike the other prisoners, Li Changsheng didn't eagerly get up; his pleading gaze swept back and
forth . I sighed and smiled, "Alright, you should rest too. It's too late today. I'll see if
I can ."

"Thank you, sir." He then stood up and was escorted out of the interrogation room by two detectives.

Captain Gu was overjoyed, patted the stack of statements, and laughed, "Brother Yang, you're really something. Come on, it's my treat,
let's go for a drink. You tell me, where to?"

Since he had helped him, a drink was a must. I laughed without ceremony, "You'll have to
bleed a little this time, Jinrongji."

"Alright." We walked out of the branch office building together, and as we walked, Captain Gu asked, "Captain Yang, you
really got Li Changsheng's psychology right. You got him to confess in just a few words."

Now it was private time, so there was no harm in bragging a little. I said pretentiously, "Actually, it's very simple. Just put yourself in his
shoes and imagine yourself as an older brother, how you would protect your younger sister."

Captain Gu shook his head, "I'm an only child, I can't think of anything. Hey, Brother Yang, I remember you're also an only child?
How did you manage to grasp that kind of psychology?"

"How could I?" I was momentarily stunned. A flood of memories rushed over me, and I realized that
I hadn't understood how to protect my sister from the beginning either.

*** *** ***

"You jinx! You bad luck!" My small body trembled under my grandmother's angry scolding, like
a leaf that could be blown away at any moment. But when she raised her head, her large, bright
eyes on her childlike face held a brave and stubborn glint in them: "Grandma, I didn't mean to."

"Still arguing! Still arguing!" Grandma's white hair flew
wildly . Suddenly, she grabbed the little head,
her hair a mess that hadn't been tied up since her father left. The little body was lifted like a rag doll and then roughly slammed onto
the floor beside the table, amidst several broken pieces of bowl rims.

Then, the broom began to fall heavily on her. Her small, thin hands, protecting her head, were like autumn
reeds, quickly swelling with blue and red welts.

Tears welled in her large, clear eyes, but the little one didn't cry. Instead, she tried to explain:
"Grandma. Grandma. Don't hit me. I didn't mean to. I won't break it again. Don't hit me, it hurts..."

Grandma must have been very old then. The withered arms swung the broom less and less frequently, and
the shouts gradually lost their force. At that young age, all I felt was
hatred for this little thing called "Little Sister," hatred for her taking my snacks and toys. So, I felt I shouldn't let her get away with it. I shouted
angrily , "Grandma, she broke my bowl on purpose! She didn't want to wash the dishes for me!"

"Oh dear—she's no good after all—" Grandma indeed increased the force of her broom swings,
and her shouts became angry again: "So young and already thinking bad things—"

I've lost count of how many times this little thing has been beaten. Does she get
beaten ? I watched triumphantly as her small body curled up in a ball, shaking violently, trembling, but still
stubbornly trying to look at me.

Her large, bright eyes, filled with disappointment and sadness, followed my gaze, as if demanding
why had wronged her. Instinctively, I found it difficult to meet her gaze, her eyes so clear and bright. When Grandma stopped again
, I finally refrained from adding fuel to the fire and urging her to continue.

"Still playing dead? Go wash the dishes! If you dare break another one, I'll break your legs!" Grandma,
bent over and panting, leaned on the broom and scolded, "You don't even collect your brother's clothes! Are you just here to eat?"

The little one slowly got up from the ground, limped over, picked up our bowls and chopsticks, and walked away silently
. Watching her thin back, I didn't feel happy as before when I saw her being beaten.

I guess I was tired of it.

I really was tired of it. Although I lacked parental discipline as a child and was spoiled, selfish, and unreasonable by Grandma's indulgence
, children always have some innocence and kindness.

My hatred for the little one gradually faded with time, and I gradually got used to having someone else living
with . After seeing the little one being beaten and scolded so many times, I seemed to have forgotten how to be hostile towards her anymore. My feelings for her
gradually shifted from hostility to indifference. I neither disliked nor liked her; whenever Grandma scolded or beat her, I didn't instigate it, but it
was none of my business.

But the little one didn't see it that way. She quickly sensed my change in attitude. In her little mind,
perhaps not scolding or beating her was the best thing she could do for her. Years later, I realized that before that, she had probably never experienced
warmth between people. Everyone around her, everyone she knew and understood, gave her nothing but
disdain , indifference, contempt, and violence.

I wasn't much better, but that was only because I was still young then, and hadn't yet learned to
treat a child as shamelessly and cruelly as an adult.

So, one afternoon, I don't remember how long after that, after school, I was surprised
to see that small but agile figure at the village entrance for the first time.

"Brother!" The little one ran towards me happily, her tattered skirt swaying with light steps. The golden
sunset shone on her face, and her large eyes reflected the beautiful sunset.

I ignored her. But the little one didn't seem to mind and ran right up to me, cheerfully calling out, "Brother's
home from school!" I continued walking, and the little one followed closely behind like a little tail: "Brother, going to school..."
"What's it like?"

I answered absentmindedly, "If you don't do any work and just run off to play, Grandma will beat you."

But the little one smiled and replied, "I've finished my work." She curled up her slender fingers one by one:
"The clothes are collected and folded. The floor is swept. The vegetables for dinner are washed too..." She suddenly circled around to the front of me,
her big, round eyes sparkling, looking at me expectantly: "Brother, tell me what going to school is like, okay
?"

At that time, my young heart was filled with a sense of superiority because I could go to school, but she couldn't. So
for the first time, I didn't refuse her request, tilting my nose up and smiling proudly: "Going to school is like a lot of
children sitting in a house, listening to the teacher teach us to write, do math, draw..."

From the next day on, every morning, the little one would follow me all the way to the village entrance before reluctantly
parting from me. And every afternoon when I came home from school, she would wait for me at the village entrance, and as soon as she saw me, she would run
up to me and listen attentively to my stories about school. I quickly adapted to this change, perhaps because
I was actually quite lonely at a young age. I no longer had a mother, and my father was practically nonexistent. My grandmother, with her failing eyesight
and hearing, couldn't understand what I was saying about school. So, I didn't realize
how happy I was when I talked to my little one about those things every day.

When you get used to something, losing it suddenly is hard to accept. I can't remember how long this routine of being picked up by my little one at the village entrance after
school and walking home together continued until one day
I was punished by the teacher for being naughty and had to stay at school to copy books. When I was finally allowed to go home,
it was already dusk.

I didn't realize I was quickening my pace, but when I got back to the village entrance, I didn't see that
familiar , thin, and graceful figure. Had she not come? Or had she waited too long and gone back? I felt
disappointed and irritable, unhappy, and listlessly walked towards my home. As I passed an abandoned, old mud-brick house near the village entrance, its owner
having moved to town, I heard children shouting behind it.

"Hit her. Hit her."

"That wild girl."

"You have no father, no mother, nobody wants you."

"Her grandma doesn't care about her, hitting her is fine."

Back then, not every rural child had the opportunity to go to school, and
even fewer rural children had access to preschool education institutions like kindergartens. I recognized the voices of several children from the village, most of whom
were my age. We used to be close playmates, but after I started school, they disappeared,
and I didn't have many opportunities to play with them anymore.

Judging from their voices, they seemed to be playing some fun game. If it were any other day, I would definitely join
them immediately. But today, I had no interest at all, and I kept thinking about why the little one hadn't come to pick me up. So I
lazily started to walk away, but just as I took a step, I heard that tender and clear voice: "I'm not a wild child.
I have an older brother. My brother is a primary school student, and he's the best."

Why was the little one here? I stopped in surprise and involuntarily turned the corner of the house. I immediately
saw the group of children in the overgrown wasteland behind the dilapidated house. They formed a circle, and in the center,
curled up in the grass, was that familiar, thin body. The children would kick her, hit her, or throw
dirt at her every now and then.

The little one was being beaten again. I was used to her being beaten; when Grandma hit her in front of me, I
wouldn't add fuel to the fire, but I'd ignore it and not take it seriously. But this time, I felt incredibly irritated,
anxious, and unable to bear it. I involuntarily shouted, "Why are you hitting her?"

The children turned around, their eyes filled with envy, jealousy, and hostility. Their replies
were equally unfriendly: "Oh, it's Binzi."

"Why aren't you in school? What are you doing here?"

"Hmph, what's so great about school? I knew school wasn't fun. Binzi went to school, but he still comes
to play with us."

Part of their hostility was self-inflicted. When I started school, I immediately
began to show off my superiority over the children who couldn't go. This was normal; what did a child just starting elementary school know about
social etiquette? A sense of superiority will naturally manifest itself immediately, leading to mockery and contempt for others, which in turn will
inevitably attract hostility and retaliation.

"I remember now," a child said with a sarcastic laugh, "This wild girl is Binzi's wife. Dongzi
, didn't your dad buy you a little girl as a wife too?"

"I don't want that ugly girl as a wife." "

Binzi's wife is quite pretty. Binzi, are you feeling sorry for your wife? Haha."

Such mockery was hard for me to handle. Children that age are always vain, competitive, and concerned with their image.

So I snapped, "What do you mean 'pretty'? She's not my wife."

"Since she's not your wife, what business is it of yours if we beat her?" The children all turned around and continued—
no, they beat the little thing even more vigorously. Through the gaps in the crowd, I saw a pair of large, bright eyes
pleading . But perhaps because of what I had just said, she didn't dare call out to me. Instead, she covered her head, curled up into a small
ball, and instead of crying, she softly sang, "Good brother, save me, the fox caught me, ran over the hill
..."

This song, which usually didn't seem particularly special, sounded exceptionally jarring at that moment. I could no longer
stand idly by and rushed into the crowd, shouting, "Hey, don't hit her!"

"What are you doing? She's not your wife." The leader, a child a little older than me,
glared at . I felt a pang of fear and involuntarily shrank back. But my gaze inadvertently fell on the little thing on the ground.
She was trembling, like a rat cornered by a group of cats, soaking wet, staring at me pleadingly,
yet still too afraid to call out to me.

The so-called innocent heart is probably the instinctive knowledge of right and wrong, of
what and shouldn't be done, without questioning why. At that moment, I only had a strong feeling that I had to do something, but
I didn't know why. I swallowed hard, and although I was panicking, I still forced myself to shout, "She's my
sister . You're not allowed to hit her."

Something seemed to suddenly light up her large, clear eyes, curving them into joyful crescents.
She sat up abruptly, tilting her delicate face, now bruised and dirty, her small nose twitching
, her pretty little mouth trembling with excitement, as she proudly exclaimed, "Brother! This is my brother, he's a primary school student!
He's the best!"

I roughly knew why the little girl had been beaten. She must have been noticed by these wild boys while waiting for me at the village entrance
, and when they asked her what she was doing, she displayed her pride in me without reservation. But those children
were also pitiful children who didn't have the opportunity to go to school; they probably couldn't stand a little girl proudly talking about her
brother going to school.

Sure enough, the little girl's words immediately offended the older boy, who kicked her roughly, then grabbed my collar
menacingly : "Going to school is so great, being a primary school student is so great? Watch me beat your brother
up too."

Watching the little girl fall into the grass again after being kicked, I suddenly felt extremely angry. At that
moment, I refused to admit that my anger stemmed from seeing my sister being beaten; instead, I believed it was because he ignored my
warnings and made me lose face. I yelled back fiercely, grabbing his collar: "I told you not to hit
her!"

We immediately started fighting.

Two seven- or eight-year-olds fighting is, of course, the most common thing in the world. We screamed and tore at each other amidst the screams of other
children , scratching each other's faces with our nails, pulling each other's hair, biting, and rolling
around on the ground. I don't remember who won this fight; I don't think I gained any advantage, but I didn't lose anything either.
Finally, we got tired of fighting, so we started spitting at each other, insulting each other's elders, and arrogantly telling each other to wait,
declaring that we would definitely beat each other to death tomorrow. As darkness fell, one of the children in the crowd, having heard his family's
angry and anxious shouts, finally left the scene. The older child, wiping his filthy face,
angrily yelled at me as he walked away, "Tomorrow I'll drive a tank and bomb your house flat, and kill your twenty-fourth
generation great-grandfather!"

I retorted, not to be outdone, "Tomorrow I'll fly a plane and smash your tank to pieces, and
kill your twenty-fifth generation great-grandfather and great-grandmother!"

In reality, they were already dead. But that's how children's arguments are; it starts with the parents and escalates,
neither willing to back down. We retreated, grumbling, and went home. But this time was different. As I left
the battlefield, the little one, like a small animal emerging from the night to forage, chased after me, making soft, whirring
sounds , calling softly, "Brother. Brother."

Her fine, soft yellow fur was a tangled mess, studded with dirt. Every thread of her clothes
was covered in mud, and her delicate little face looked like a kitten's. But her big, bright eyes
sparkled clearly with joy in the night, and her soft voice carried an indescribable happiness.

I was fighting with someone, and she was happy about it. I suddenly remembered why I'd fought today:
it was for this little thing. This made me inexplicably angry—no, less angry than unwilling
to admit it, or unable to understand or accept my actions. I yelled fiercely at her:
"What are you doing? I'm not your brother."

She paused, then caught up with me, tugging at my sleeve, her big eyes crinkling with laughter:
"Brother, you said I'm your sister."

I remembered saying that, and was speechless for a moment. Just as I was about to retort, she
continued with a beaming smile: "I knew it, brother would protect me. Brother is the strongest."

"Hehe. Hehe." I forgot to argue; for a child who had just finished a fight, such words
always satisfied her vanity and competitiveness. The way she looked at me with such adoration and gratitude made
me, as a child, feel a little giddy. So, for the first time ever, I allowed her to pull me by the sleeve to go home.

Grandma's hunched figure was peering out from the doorway. When she saw the two of us, she immediately ran over, trembling
. Upon seeing us, she cried out, both angry and distressed, "Binzi, child, why are you fighting again... Ouch, are
you hurt anywhere? Let Grandma see... Ouch, ouch... Your hands are all scraped... You unlucky thing!
Look at you! Your clothes are all torn... I'll break your legs..."

The little one watched in fear as Grandma picked up the broom, and instinctively hid behind me. Perhaps
because had just been in a fight and was temporarily weary of violence, I lazily
shouted to my grandmother, who was raising a broom to grab the little one from behind me, "It was me and Awang who fought, and Xin'er helped me fight."

My grandmother held the broom awkwardly for a moment, then slowly lowered it, still
muttering, "You still know how to protect your brother… I guess I didn't raise you for nothing… What are you standing there for! Go get some water
for your brother to wash his face!"

Knowing she wouldn't get beaten up, the little one quickly crawled out from behind me, gave me a grateful look,
and ran to the back of the house. For the first time, I felt a strange comfort in being watched. A moment later, she
came out, singing intermittently, "The fox caught me," and laboriously carried out a half-full basin of water. She walked up to me, looked at me, and
said , "Brother, wash your face."

I hastily wiped my face and then started washing my hands, which were filthy from the fight. My knuckles
stung ; upon closer inspection, I noticed two scrapes. This minor injury was nothing to a country boy like me
. I quickly washed it and then lifted my hands. But the little one looked at the wound and asked with concern, "
Brother , does it hurt?"

I wrinkled my nose, putting on my imagined manly air: "Hmph, I'm not afraid of pain."

But the little one reached out and grabbed my hand: "Brother, I'll blow on it for you." She then pouted her
delicate, pale lips and gently blew on my wound.

In my memory, this was the first time someone had ever been so gentle with me. My grandmother's doting love and
my mother's love, long since faded, seemed different this time. I gazed at the little one's earnest face and suddenly
felt that this wasn't so bad.

After a moment, the little one raised her big, bright black eyes and looked at me questioningly. I suddenly felt a little
embarrassed , but the warm, moist breath from her little mouth gently brushed against my hand, and it seemed so
comfortable that I couldn't bear to tell her to stop. In a panic, I changed the subject: "What you were singing just now was..."
"What song?"

The little one smiled happily. "Mom taught me to sing it. Do you want to hear it, brother? It's a song that brother and sister
sing together."

"Oh," I casually agreed, and the little one started singing on her own: "Sister sings first: Good
brother , save me quickly, the fox caught me and ran over the hill. Good brother, save me quickly. The jackal caught me and
ran back to its den. Then, brother sings: Sister, sister, don't be afraid, brother is coming right away. Defeat the fox and
the jackal, and take sister home. ... Brother, you sing."

I was embarrassed to sing such a childish nursery rhyme and shook my head vigorously. The little one didn't force me, but happily
kept singing, almost all night long. Later, when I was older and remembered what happened that day, I understood
why she was so happy.

Because that day, I acknowledged her as my sister for the first time, and I protected her.

Every brother in this world is probably like this, on a certain day, at a certain moment, in a certain
scene , for a certain reason, a corner of his heart suddenly awakens, and he begins to protect his sister
.

Section 3.

"Captain Yang, someone's looking for you." My office door opened with a colleague's voice. Entering
the room was the refined-looking older brother from last night. Behind him followed a tall, beautiful
young woman. I looked closely and recognized her as the hostage taken hostage by the other brother last night.

This young woman was completely different from the disheveled, terrified, and pained woman from the previous night. She had clearly dressed up
carefully , wearing light makeup, her long, glossy black hair cascading over her shoulders, and a well-fitting red dress that
accentuated her youthful, vibrant figure, showcasing the youthful beauty of a city girl.

I only glanced at them before knowing why they were there. The brother held a banner, the four characters "
People's . The sister carried a bouquet of flowers, and both siblings' gazes
were fixed intently on me.

This wasn't the first time I'd experienced something like this, but today still felt somewhat strange. This is the Public Security Bureau,
and I'm a police officer, so the people who presented me with banners and expressed their gratitude before wouldn't be
dressed up like this young woman in front of me.

I looked curiously at her eyes, which were lightly made up with eyeshadow, trying to find the answer. But her
beautiful eyes, beneath her long, delicate eyelashes that looked like they had just been groomed, held a burning, other meaning besides gratitude. This
gaze made my heart skip a beat, and I guiltily looked away, glancing at the grateful young man.
The refined young man was walking towards me, sincerely and slightly excitedly thanking me: "Officer Yang!
Thank you so much for last night."

"Mr. Chu, Ms. Chu, hello. Please sit down. Please sit down." I've actually started to get used to receiving people
like this ; after all, my profession dictates that I often have to save people from danger.

The older brother didn't sit down, but instead, across my desk, he presented the banner with both hands: "Officer Yang, I know
your regulations, this is the only way I can express my gratitude." A look of lingering fear crossed his face: "Thank
you so much. If it weren't for your bravery and decisiveness last night, I don't know what would have happened to my sister." He then turned
to the pretty young woman: "Xiao Yi, weren't you the one who insisted on thanking Officer Yang? What are you waiting for?"

The young woman, who had been watching me, gracefully walked up to me, presented the bouquet, her movements elegant and poised, her voice
carrying a strange warmth: "Officer Yang, thank you. I was terrified last night, I thought I was going to die.
Thank you for saving me." She and the older brother then bowed solemnly.

I took the bouquet, placed it next to the banner, and smiled calmly: "Gentlemen, don't mention it. I'm
a police officer, it's my duty. Besides, even if it weren't me, my colleagues would have done the same. —Please
sit down."

The brother and sister sat down. The older brother took the hot water I poured for him in a disposable paper cup and turned to hand it to
his sister . The pretty girl subtly shook her head, not taking the glass, but looking at me expectantly.

I was even more puzzled, but still poured her half a glass of water. The girl then smiled and took it
, sipping it slowly while continuing to look at me with intense eyes.

It was my brother's words that broke the awkward silence: "Officer Yang, duty is duty, but what you showed
was courage beyond duty. Before you arrived at the scene yesterday, none of your colleagues risked
their own ; they sent a sniper, right? — It's not that I don't trust
the abilities of professionals, but if a sniper fires, there's always a risk to my sister."

He was right. In most cases, snipers hit their targets accurately, but just recently,
a colleague in another city had a mishap during a hostage rescue; the sniper's bullet passed through both the criminal and
the hostage simultaneously.

So I smiled and said, "I'm glad my handling of the situation yielded the desired result. Miss Chu, are you alright
? Has your mental state been affected? Why didn't you stay in the hospital for a few more days of observation?"

The brother looked at his sister, a doting smile appearing on his face: "Look at how lively she is,
I know she's perfectly fine."

The girl pouted her beautiful red lips in dissatisfaction and said coquettishly, "Brother, how dare you say that to me? You're all about
studying, but when I got kidnapped by bad guys, you couldn't do anything about it and had to ask someone else to rescue me. Humph. Brother is the most
useless ." As she spoke, she turned to me, her beautiful eyes sparkling: "Officer Yang is the real man."

The brother was a little embarrassed by these two remarks and frowned, saying, "Xiao Yi."

I quickly laughed and said, "Haha, how could that be? Your brother was very brave last night. If it weren't for us
police officers, your brother would definitely have saved you. But, after all, we are more professional, so your brother didn't have
a chance to use his skills ."

The brother gave me a grateful look, while the girl looked at me and nodded vigorously: "Since Officer Yang
said you were brave, then it's true."

The brother was bitter and glared at his sister, unable to speak. My sister, however, acted as if she didn't notice, deliberately avoiding his gaze
and focusing only on me. I quickly changed the subject: "You two have such a good relationship. Actually, I'm just a roughneck, unlike
you two, who look like intellectuals. You both work in science and education, right?"

The older brother replied earnestly, "No, we've only had a little education. Officer Yang, you're joking. You
must have graduated from a proper police academy, right? If you call someone like that a roughneck, then we're
practically ." He then looked at his sister, "I'm an editor at a publishing house. This guy, he's a primary school
teacher." He frowned and sighed, "He doesn't look like an intellectual at all. I'm afraid he'll be
a bad influence on the students ."

The younger sister immediately retorted playfully, "Brother, I hate you. You promised not to speak ill of me to Officer Yang
."

The older brother glared at her, "I didn't distort the facts. You tell me, didn't you? When we were kids, you always skipped school
and came to my school to play. —Ouch!"

As expected, his sister had stepped on his foot. My sister said angrily, "I just want to go to the same
school as you!"

I laughed out loud, "Well, I'm on Miss Chu's side. It's perfectly normal for a sister to want to go to school and
play ."

*** *** ***

"Brother, brother." A clap of thunder rolled across the sky, followed by my sister's panicked cry:
"I'm scared."

"What a coward." I mocked her, "What's so scary about thunder?"

"Brother." My sister still ran to my side, covering her ears and burrowing into my arms, "Brother."

I hugged her tightly, and the trembling of her small, soft body quickly subsided in my arms.
This feeling made me happy, but at that time, I probably didn't feel happy because I was protecting my sister,
but because I played the role of the strong one, satisfying my little vanity.

Of course, holding her was also a very comfortable feeling. The contact of her warm and delicate skin was instinctively
comfortable, although her small bones were a bit uncomfortable, I felt that holding her like this occasionally wasn't bad.

After I acknowledged her as my sister and allowed her to call me that in front of others, our relationship improved
rapidly . What real grudges could there be between children of a few years old? Especially between
siblings living under the same roof. We didn't have the love of our parents, and Grandma never gave my sister a kind look. Even when she was trembling with fear
, she didn't dare to ask Grandma for protection. So she became especially attached to me, her only brother who showed her even a
little bit kindness.

When she was scared like this, she was used to snuggling into my arms.

"Brother," my sister in my arms calmed down and looked up at me, "You said you'd
pick mulberry leaves for me after school today."

I turned my head away shyly, avoiding her gaze, "I went fishing with Haiyang and the others."

"Then pick them for me tomorrow?" Her big, bright eyes were full of expectation.

Like most boys my age, I was impatient and moody. Finding it troublesome, I
lazily replied, "Don't bother raising those silkworms; they definitely won't survive anyway."

"They will! Sister Juanjuan and Sister Hui are raising them!" Her little hands gripped my clothes tightly. "Brother,
teach me where to pick them tomorrow, I'll go pick them myself, okay?"

At the time, I was only thinking about playing with the few small fish I'd caught, and absentmindedly replied, "Then
wait for me at the pumping station tomorrow, I'll take you to pick them after school. Okay, no more thunder."

"Okay—" Her happy voice trailed off. As I angrily scooped a small fish I'd killed from
the basin, my sister was intently looking at her little basket, happily shouting, "
Brother , brother, come look! This silkworm has molted! They'll grow big!"

"Xin'er, I've picked mulberry leaves for you." The next evening, when I got home, it was already dark.

But I couldn't find my sister at home. When I asked Grandma, she just gave me a curt reply: "That
brat , out running around again! I'll break her legs!"

I knew my sister wouldn't run off on her own, so I replied, "She must have gone to wait for me after school. I
came back from the lotus pond and didn't bump into her." Then I ran out the door.

"Binzi, it's getting dark, why bother with that brat... Come on, eat first. While she's not here,
I'll get you some lard to fry two eggs..." Grandma called after me, but I was used to
having my sister with me when I came home every day. Not seeing her made me a little uneasy. I said, "I'll eat later," and
ran towards the village entrance.

"I saw her heading towards the pumping station when the sun was setting." I didn't see my sister at the village entrance either.
After hearing the two little girls playing, I remembered that I had asked her to wait for me there yesterday and take her to
pick mulberry leaves.

Children this age are probably all like me, they don't know what a promise is, and they forget what they said as soon as they turn
their backs .

No matter how bad I was back then, I still possessed the conscience and innocence a child should have. Breaking a promise
is a shameful act, and I ran towards the pumping station with remorse.

It was already completely dark; my sister must have been waiting there for a long time. I ran desperately through the night, reaching the pumping station, which was about two miles from the village. From afar, I could see a flock of geese gathered between
two crooked old willow trees on the embankment of the irrigation canal behind the pumping station. They spread their wings, stretched their long necks, and quacked loudly around that small figure I already knew. 　　The small figure was surrounded on the embankment; one step back and she would roll into the canal. She was trembling violently, but she didn't cry. She waved her little hands, desperately trying to shoo away the geese's beaks reaching towards her, her little mouth trembling as she cried out, "Go away, go away, when my brother comes, he'll beat you up." 　　This silly girl, how did she get involved with a flock of geese? Although I heard her voice, I hesitated and stopped . 　　I wasn't afraid of other animals—cattle, sheep, chickens, dogs—none of them could stand a chance against a wild country kid like me . In my memory, only geese were my sole childhood nightmare. These creatures were ferocious, short-tempered, and relentlessly persistent; more importantly, they came in flocks. 　　Looking at that group of geese, my bottom, swollen from their bites and unable to sit for three days, suddenly ached. 　　In that instant, my cowardice led me to secretly abandon my sister and run away. After all, no one would know I 'd found her; I could just say I hadn't seen her, and there would be no responsibility. Unconsciously, I took two steps back, but…

At this moment, as if to bolster her courage, my sister stammered out the only children's song she knew: "Good
brother, save me..."

My steps faltered, and after a moment, I finally picked up a stick from the roadside and charged forward,
yelling .

After a fierce battle, I, bruised and battered, grabbed my sister's hand and fled.

Thankfully, the goose didn't chase us like a dog. We ran for a full mile before finally stopping,
panting . I wiped the white down from my sweaty face, grimacing, and
vented my anger on my sister, whose thin legs were trembling unsteadily. I roared, "You stupid girl,
what ?"

Her large eyes, reflecting the faint light of the village ahead in the night, were filled with confusion: "Brother, you told me
to wait for you there..."

Of course, I knew. But I was furious after being bitten several times by the geese: "Go back if I don't come
! The geese are here and you're still not running away!" I poked her forehead hard with my finger: "Are you stupid?"

My sister shrank back, her voice low and aggrieved: "What if I leave and my brother can't find me?"

I wasn't really angry with her; I was just angry with myself. If I had kept my word and
gone there on time to take my sister to pick mulberry leaves, she definitely wouldn't have been bitten by the geese. But back then, I
couldn't think of any of those complicated things. I only knew I was angry, and I turned and stormed off towards the village, yelling, "
Go back ! Don't come outside to wait for me anymore!"

My sister followed closely behind, whispering, "I want to play with you. I'm not afraid of geese."

"I go to school, and you don't. How can we play together?" I replied irritably. "You can't go to
school ."

My sister immediately retorted, "Then I'll go to school too!"

I replied lazily, "You can only go to school at seven. You're not even six yet. Schools don't want
little ones like you."

"Then when I'm seven, I'll go to school with you, brother." Her little hands gripped my clothes tightly, but I was only focused on
rubbing the swollen bumps on my arm from where the geese had pinched me, indifferent and noncommittal.

"Why are you going to school!" When I got home, my grandmother, who was tenderly examining the bruises on my body,
was even more furious upon hearing my sister's request: "You made your brother get pecked like this, and you still want to go to school!"

My sister's voice was weak but stubborn: "Sister Juanjuan, Sister Hui, they're all in school. I want to go too."

"You jinx, still talking back." My grandmother was wiping my face with a hot towel, not bothering to hit her:
"Where will we get the money for your schooling? Where will we get the money to buy you pens and notebooks? If you want to go to school, earn the money yourself!"

"Okay..." My sister's voice was so resolute, but I didn't notice it at the time.

The next day, my sister found a used food jar from somewhere and washed it clean.

I didn't pay attention to what she was doing until a few days later, when she put a few coins into the jar. I
asked curiously, "Xin'er, how do you have money?"

My grandmother never gave her a penny. That's why I was surprised. But my younger sister, clutching the shiny
jar, her bright eyes filled with longing, said, "Today I helped Aunt Huang catch bugs in the field. Aunt Huang offered me
candy, but I didn't want it. She asked me what I wanted, and I said I wanted to go to school, to buy pens and notebooks. Aunt Huang gave me two
cents .

" "Oh," I didn't pay much attention, because Grandma occasionally gave me one or two cents of pocket money, so I didn't have to
catch bugs in the field under the scorching sun of late spring and early summer. Looking at the few five-cent and ten-cent coins, I wasn't too
interested and lazily walked away.

But as the days went by, the money in the jar gradually increased. There were one or two cents,
five cents, ten cents, and even two cents. Every time my little sister put money in, she would happily
tell me, "Brother, brother, today I helped Grandpa Jian pick up rapeseed, and he gave me a dime to buy candy."

"Brother, today I helped Grandma Hu sell watermelons in town. Grandma Hu gave me two dimes."

"Brother, today I helped Uncle Hei Zi peel lotus seeds..."

"Today I helped Grandma Li shovel snow..."

Now that I think about it, what kind of chores could a five or six-year-old girl really do? It was good enough if she didn't cause trouble. I
'm grateful my kind neighbors for allowing my sister to earn those coins and small bills with her tender little hands, allowing her to
maintain her self-respect instead of being condescendingly given charity.

"There's a total of three yuan and twenty-six cents." After I helped my sister calculate how much money she had, I suddenly realized
it was a huge sum. Even though Grandma doted on me, I had never had so much money.

"Thank you, brother." My little sister carefully put her money back into the jar, her innocent face
showing worry. "I asked Sister Juanjuan, and they said it costs ten yuan to go to school." She held up her little hand,
clumsily counting with her fingers: "One, two, three, one, two, three... seven yuan..."

For some reason, perhaps jealousy, envy, surprise, and mischief, I suddenly said,
"Xin'er, you have so much money, you can buy lots of snacks."

My sister shook her head vigorously: "I won't buy any, I want to save it to go to school with my brother."

I didn't say anything. But the next day after school, I held up the small bag in my hand to my sister, who was greeting me at the village entrance as always
: "Xin'er, look."

"What's this?" My sister looked at the rough little bag in my hand curiously and asked.

"Sour plum powder. Never had it before, have you?" I opened the bag, picked out the small plastic spoon, which was not much bigger than an ear pick
, scooped out a spoonful of gray powder, and a sweet and sour aroma immediately filled the air.

My sister looked at me longingly, swallowing her saliva. Today I had ulterior motives, so I was extra generous:
"Here, have a bite."

When I poured the plum powder into my little sister's mouth, which was agape like a fledgling bird, I clearly saw
her big, bright eyes brimming with surprise. This was definitely the first time she'd ever tasted such a delicious snack. I
looked at her triumphantly, and after a long while, she stammered, "It's...it's so delicious..."

"Delicious, isn't it?" I chuckled, scooping up another spoonful. "Here you go."

"Brother, you eat," my sister didn't forget to be modest.

So, we huddled together, heads close, and started eating. However, this packet of plum powder really wasn't enough...
After a few bites, I poured the last bit of powder from the bag into my mouth, then generously
handed my sister: "Here, you can lick the spoon."

Watching her lick the little spoon with lingering enjoyment, turning the red plastic edge white, I grinned and
unleashed my inner devil: "Sweetie, isn't it delicious? Want some more?"

"Chu!" My sister looked at me expectantly: "Yes."

"It's easy to get some." Seeing that my sister had taken the bait, I continued to tempt her with a wicked smile: "We can
buy them at the school gate, five cents a pack."

The big, bright flame suddenly dimmed: "I don't have any money."

I feigned surprise: "Nonsense, don't you have more than three dollars? You can buy dozens of packs, a whole bunch,
and fish skin peanuts, and bubble gum..."

My sister looked up at me strangely: "That money is for going to school with my brother. I can't
buy snacks."

I didn't think it was important whether she went to school or not, and mysteriously lowered my voice: "Then you
can buy a little less, okay?"

"No way." My sister drooled, but still firmly shook her head. "I don't have enough money for school."

I was a little angry. "You won't save enough anyway. Why don't you just buy some snacks?"

"I'll save enough." My sister wouldn't budge. I was a little frustrated and helplessly walked towards the house.
"Whatever."

My sister bit her little spoon and followed me home. I felt
very uncomfortable, and the discomfort grew. Actually, I didn't want my sister to buy me snacks; I just couldn't stand the sight
of that money.

Children are always like that. They only see what others have and what they don't have, but they don't think about
why . At that time, all I could think about was that my sister had a lot of money and I didn't. I never thought about
how much hardship and suffering she had endured to save that money. I was filled with jealousy, thinking all day long that it would be better if she didn't have
so much money. But no matter how I tempted her, my sister remained unmoved.

"I want to save that money and go to school with my brother." Every time she said that, her young face
always showed a determination that was completely out of character for her age.

That tin can gradually became a thorn in my heart, growing ever larger.

"Brother, I went to the mountain to pick bamboo shoots today."

"Brother, I helped Uncle Lao Shun herd ducks."

"Brother, houses were being demolished in town today, so I collected scrap metal to sell."

"Brother..."

With each such cheerful recounting, her increasingly scarred little hands would drop
shiny coins or crumpled bills into the tin can. The tin can gradually filled up, becoming heavy. It always seemed large and difficult for
my little sister to hold, and it fueled the growing fire in my heart.

Another summer arrived. My sister had saved money for a year, but it still wasn't enough. After all, she was only a six or seven-year-old
girl, and in our remote and desolate little village, there weren't many things she could help with.

All summer, my sister was outside looking for things to do, her tender face tanned dark by the sun. But I
never had the thought of helping her; besides playing wildly, my mind was always on other things.

"Bang bang bang! Behold my cosmic ray!"

"Transform! I'm flying! You missed!"

"Ugh, I'm so angry!"

"Watch my missile launch! This is a missile, you can't dodge it!"

"Ah—I'm dead..."

Every time I saw my friends having
so much , I would watch enviously.
Not many children in the village had such high-end toys, because even the smallest, simplest one cost ten yuan. Even though my grandma doted on me, and
I threw tantrums several times, she still wouldn't give me ten yuan to buy a toy.

As a young child, I began to experience the ruthlessness of the gap between rich and poor, dreaming of owning my own
robot.

"Binzi, you can't play with it today."

"Go buy one yourself. You always ask for mine to play with."

"That's right, you always play with mine, you can't afford to buy your own, you poor thing."

Children's words are innocent, but they can be hurtful. That afternoon, when I begged the other children to let me play
for a while, I finally met with their annoyance and ruthless rejection. The mocking and contemptuous faces made me
tremble. I ran home in humiliation, my face flushed red, almost crying. When I saw
that , I couldn't resist the temptation.

Back then, it wasn't that I didn't know right from wrong. I knew what was right and what was wrong. But my willpower
was weak, I had absolutely no self-control. I knew many things were wrong, but I just couldn't help doing them.

Now, I stare at that jar, trembling. I know I shouldn't take it, but I just
can't control myself. The tightly packed coins and bills, those shiny cents and coins, are like
fawning smiling faces, beckoning me: Come on, take them to buy something.

Last time I helped my sister count money, there were already more than nine yuan. A month or so has passed, it should be ten yuan by now, right?
The money in the jar begins to transform before my eyes, sometimes into robots, sometimes into cars, airplanes
, or tanks. When I involuntarily want to touch them, they turn into twisted and ugly
faces, filled with contempt and disdain.

My sister wasn't there, and neither was Grandma. My sister never even considered hiding the jar, because Grandma
practically didn't care about her well-being. Only I knew about the jar and the money. In that little heart,
she probably never even considered being wary of me.

I don't know how much time passed, but suddenly I jumped up, grabbed the jar, hid it under my clothes, and
dashed out the door.

Soon after, I spent an unimaginable fortune. Besides the cheapest, simple-
transforming robot, I even had enough left over to buy an ice pop. Ice pop in my mouth, robot in hand, I
triumphantly found the other kids and started firing lasers and cannons at each other. But I kept getting distracted and
kept losing.

I don't know why I was so frustrated. The most expensive toy of my life wasn't as amazing as I'd imagined.
It was fun. The sun was just beginning to set when I impatiently grabbed the robot and shouted to the other children, "I
'm going home!"

No one paid any attention to my departure; they immediately resumed their enthusiastic battle. I listlessly
walked towards the village entrance, my heart pounding with tension and fear.

I had stolen money. I was a thief.

Suddenly, I was too afraid to go home. I hesitated until I reached the village entrance, wanting to see what was happening at home. But all I saw
was my little sister's small figure. She was crouching by the roadside, head down, curled up in a tiny ball, her thin shoulders trembling
violently .

It's said that lying and deception are human instincts. At that moment, my instinct was to pretend I
knew nothing. Feeling guilty, I forced myself to walk forward and called out from afar, "Xin'er, what's wrong?" Her

tender little face suddenly lifted, tears streaming down her cheeks, glistening in the setting sun. Her voice, devoid of
its former clarity was hoarse like a file, scraping at my heart with each sharp, throbbing pain. My little sister was crying
her heart out , her swollen eyes filled with despair. She looked at me, sobbing uncontrollably, "Brother, my
money...it's gone. It's all gone."

I was at a loss, almost unable to believe my eyes. Was this really my sister? She hadn't cried when Grandma
beat and scolded her . She hadn't cried when she went hungry. She
hadn't cried when bullied by other children. She hadn't cried when chased by vicious dogs and geese.

I had almost thought she had never cried at all.

But here she was, crying in front of me, crying so hard that it was unbearable for me, a young child. The robot in my hand felt like it was on fire,
burning my palm; I almost dropped it. I frantically raised my arm to wipe her tears,
stammering, "It's gone, it's gone...don't cry..."

But my sister was just a child, ultimately just a child. At that moment, her mind was probably
blank . She wasn't as stubborn as usual; instead, for the first time, she threw a tantrum in front of me: "No,
no ! Waaah... I want to go to school with my brother. I want to! I want to!"

I knew I had done something wrong, and I knew I had to do something. I hid the robot and shouted, "If you
want to go to school, I'll talk to Grandma."

My sister stopped crying, her swollen eyes widening as she looked at me, sobbing, "P-Can I
? Grandma... will she agree?"

At that moment, I had only one thought: I had done something wrong, and I was afraid to admit it, so I had to make amends.
Without hesitation, I grabbed her little hand and ran home: "I must make Grandma agree."

"I told you I don't have money for your schooling..." Grandma still harshly rejected my sister's tearful pleas,
but this time, I stood firmly by my sister's side. The guilt in my heart was so intense; I couldn't allow myself
to fail. So, I impatiently interrupted Grandma, "Grandma, please let Xin'er go to school! I want to
go to school with her."

"Binzi, don't be silly. Your dad works odd jobs outside, he doesn't earn much money.
He still needs to build you a house and help you get married..." Grandma anxiously tried to persuade me, "This girl will eventually
marry someone else..."

Of course, I wasn't swayed by these things I couldn't understand, and I started wailing, "Waaah—I don't want
to get married, I just want Xin'er with me—waaah—"

My sister also cried breathlessly, "I won't marry someone else, I want to marry my brother!"

Grandma ignored my sister, but was helpless with me. She walked shakily towards me, slapping her thigh in frustration, "Binzi!
Be reasonable..."

This was probably the only time in my life I acted like a spoiled child in front of Grandma, but afterwards, I didn't feel ashamed or
embarrassed. Sometimes being a spoiled child is a good thing. At least that time was.

I started rolling on the ground, banging my head against the wall, and screaming at the top of my lungs, "I don't care, I want it, I
want it , I want it! If you won't let Xin'er go to school, I won't go to school either! I'll become a thief! I'll beg for food! Waaaaah—

" "Oh my little darling..." Grandma was so anxious that her white hair stood on end. "Get up, get up.
I'll go to town tomorrow to call your father... Is that alright, little darling..."

Not long after, my father, for the first time ever, rushed home during the busy farming season in early autumn. After listening to our
conversation, he said softly, "Mother, if the child wants to go to school, let her go."

"Guozi," Grandma wiped away her tears, "You're working outside all by yourself, raising two children to go to school,
it's too much for you ..."

I couldn't understand my father's hardship then, but now, looking back, my father was only in his thirties,
but I clearly remember that his temples were already quietly turning gray.

My father, head bowed, slowly said, "Sending a child to primary or junior high school doesn't cost much these days... At least
the kids can learn to read and count... I'm just uneducated. Others can work in factories, but I can't
... Last time I was cheated out of two hundred yuan in wages..." He stroked my sister's and my head, sighing, "I'm
useless. As a father, I have no choice but to do my best."

My grandmother just wept, but didn't say anything more.

Then, not long after, on a crisp early autumn morning, my nine-year-old sister and I walked out of the house together.

The golden morning sun shone on us, and for the first time, I realized that the little
one was different.

Her hair, much darker and shinier than when we first met, was neatly braided, and the morning sun
outlined her delicate and beautiful face. Her large, bright eyes were filled with happiness and anticipation, and her delicate little nose and
pale red lips clearly foreshadowed her future beauty. A new schoolbag was slung over her small back. This
was originally bought for me, so I could give her my old schoolbag, but I felt guilty and refused. For
the first time in two years, she finally wore something other than my old clothes—a new dress her father had bought for her before he left. I was somewhat
surprised; I hadn't expected that little thing, always dirty and with scars on her face, to have become so
beautiful.

And this beautiful little thing was tugging at my sleeve, calling affectionately, "Brother, brother."

But I wasn't so happy, because I still remembered the tin can I had secretly thrown away somewhere
. Although my sister was able to go to school because of my help, the things I had done still lingered.
We walked for a while, our feet glistening with dew, when I finally couldn't help but stop. My face flushed, and I didn't dare look at my sister, who looked especially
beautiful . I stammered, "Um, Xin'er, I have something to tell you..."

"What is it?" My sister's big eyes blinked at me. I felt I couldn't bear it any longer .
Looking at the fields shrouded in a thin mist in the distance, I whispered, "I'm sorry, um, the money you saved, I used it to buy
toys."

My sister didn't speak. I felt ashamed, guilty, but also inexplicably afraid. I was suddenly afraid that my sister would
look down on me as her brother, afraid she would despise me, afraid she would ignore me. My neck stiffened; I wanted to look at my sister,
but I didn't dare. When I finally called her name again, something soft
suddenly .

Then came that tender, clear voice, bright as the morning sun, without any shadows: "Thank you,
brother . Please tell Grandma and Dad that I can go to school. I love you the most, brother."

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[Where Does the Heart Lie?] ----- Full Text (120,000 words)

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