Chapter 7 Holding Hands
From that day on, Gu Feng really started holding my hand.
That feeling of being protected made me study even harder.
I knew this was the only thing I could do for this family.
Aunt and Uncle worked from dawn to dusk. Gu Feng protected me with his still-weak fists. The only thing I could give back was bright red numbers on my report cards.
I took almost every first place in the class.
Chinese, math, moral education—every certificate Aunt carefully taped to the most visible wall in the living room.
That wall used to be dull gray. Because of those certificates, it turned colorful.
Whenever neighbors came over, Aunt would point at the wall, puff out her chest, and brag loud enough for the whole hallway to hear:
"See that? My Qiaoqiao gets first every time! This kid takes after her dad—smart!"
Gu Feng's grades were only average. He always curled his lip like he didn't care, but every time I got a new certificate, he would snatch it, climb on a stool, and stick it in the best spot for me.
Uncle still didn't talk much, but he began bringing me little surprises on his way home from work.
Sometimes a brand-new pencil, sometimes a notebook with cartoon patterns.
Once during final exams, I got double hundreds.
That night Uncle brought home half a roast chicken from outside.
The shiny skin gave off a tempting smell. Aunt gave me the biggest drumstick, then gave the other one to Gu Feng.
Uncle watched me bury my head and gnaw the drumstick. He poured himself a cup of liquor, took a sip, and said:
"Study hard. You'll definitely make something of yourself later."
I nodded hard. Tears welled up in my eyes again.
I knew I was using my own effort, little by little, to change from a burden in this family into their pride.