Li Nanzhu's hand was still frozen in mid-air, her palm still holding the residual dampness and warmth from Xiao Ya's sweat, but now, only a cold emptiness remained.
She watched as Xiao Ya was led away by the couple, one on each side, her face radiant with a dreamlike, happy smile. She watched as the director gave her routine list of instructions and precautions. She watched the envious or dejected gazes of the other children around her...
She stood there, her small figure appearing exceptionally lonely, cold, and... out of place beneath the grey, overcast sky.
Her heart felt as though it were being gripped by a cold hand, then slowly and ruthlessly squeezed tight.
She wasn't chosen.
It wasn't her.
Was it because... her answer was "incorrect"?
Because she didn't say the "right" words that could move people?
Because she... wasn't "enough like a normal child who wanted to be loved"?
A coldness deeper and more indefinable than the disappointment of rejection rose from the soles of her feet, instantly sweeping through her entire body.
It wasn't just the disappointment of being abandoned once again; it was a deeper sense of bewilderment and coldness, a negation of her own "way of being."
Why... was wanting to live well... wrong?
Was living like a shadow the only right way to exist here?
This sharp question, which threatened to tear apart her fledgling understanding of the world, combined with the coldness of rejection to press heavily against her chest, making it almost impossible to breathe.
The surroundings of the orphanage seemed to warp in a way imperceptible to ordinary people, reacting to the heavy question and the deathly cold disappointment emanating from Li Nanzhu.
The grey light from the sky seemed heavier, the peeling paint on the walls faded faster, and even the smell of disinfectant in the air seemed to carry a hint of stagnation and decay.
Since that day, everything in the orphanage seemed to have changed quietly.
Xiao Ya's departure didn't just take away the only warmth around Li Nanzhu; it also stripped away the invisible "protective umbrella" she had held in the small society of the orphanage.
Before, Xiao Ya was there.
Xiao Ya was like a little sun—lively, sweet-talking, and clever. Although she was also an orphan, she always managed to receive a bit more kindness from the director and occasionally shared extra candies or old clothes.
As her inseparable best friend, Li Nanzhu naturally benefited from this association. The other children, out of respect for the director and Xiao Ya, wouldn't go out of their way to bully her; at most, they found her a bit dull and didn't play with her much.
But Xiao Ya was gone.
That day, Li Nanzhu's words, "I want to live well," were like a stone thrown into a pool of stagnant water, creating ripples that refused to fade.
The children might not have understood the complex weight behind those words, but they were sensitive enough to feel the moment when the refined couple's expressions froze and the director's brow furrowed.
In the children's minds, this was equivalent to: "Li Nanzhu said the wrong thing and made the adults angry, so she wasn't chosen."
Furthermore, without Xiao Ya acting as a buffer, Li Nanzhu's natural silence, her aversion to crowds, and her eyes—which were often too quiet and even slightly scrutinizing—made her appear exceptionally "un-gregarious."
It started with silent isolation.
During meals, the children who used to leave her a spot at the edge intentionally or unintentionally crowded into her usual seat.
She held her bowl, silently walked to the furthest corner, and finished her meal alone with her head bowed.
While washing dishes, children laughing and playing by the sink would "accidentally" splash water on her, followed by a few perfunctory apologies of "Oops, didn't see you," before they continued their boisterous games.
Gradually, it turned into verbal probing and exclusion.
"Look, it's her. She's the one who said she wanted to live well that day and chased the foster parents away, right?"
"Who knows what she's thinking all day? She's weird."
"Stay away from her. She's a jinx."
"It looks like the director doesn't like her anymore either, seeing her like that."
These whispers weren't loud, yet they always drifted clearly into Li Nanzhu's ears.
She hugged her knees, pretending she hadn't heard, but her body couldn't help but tremble slightly.
She didn't understand. She only wanted... she only wanted to leave this place, to have a home, to stop living her life looking at others' faces. Why was that "weird"? Why was she a "jinx"?
The change in the director's attitude was even more obvious.
Before, although she was strict, her gaze would at least sweep over Li Nanzhu when assigning tasks or distributing items, and she would occasionally ask a question.
Now, the director's gaze often skipped right over her. When giving instructions, she didn't even bother to say much to her, as if she were a transparent person.
Once, Li Nanzhu mustered her courage and wanted to ask the director if she had done something wrong. But as soon as she called out "Director," the woman gave her a cold glance and threw out a sentence: "If you have nothing to do, don't just wander around. Go sweep the backyard." Then, she turned and left.
That look was colder than a winter wind.
Li Nanzhu crouched in the backyard, holding a tattered broom taller than herself, dragging it across the fallen leaves and dust. Tears fell in large, sudden drops, hitting the dirt and vanishing instantly.
She missed Xiao Ya so much.
If Xiao Ya were here, she would definitely hold her hand and tell her not to be afraid. She would help her chase away the children who gossiped and plead with the director for her...
But Xiao Ya wasn't there.
She "herself" had failed to be chosen.
It was because... she had said the wrong thing.
It was because... she didn't know how to smile like Xiao Ya, didn't know how to speak sweetly, and didn't know how to express that she "wanted a home and wanted to love a mommy and daddy."
It was because... she wasn't good enough.
This realization was like a cold stone, pressing heavily on the heart of the five-year-old child.
She began to reflect, to carefully observe how the other "likable" children spoke, how they smiled, and how they behaved in front of the director.
She tried, during meals, to offer a stiff smile to the children who had taken her seat and whisper, "Is... anyone sitting here?"
The other child glanced at her and said irritably, "Yes! Go find somewhere else!"
The smile froze on her face, then slowly crumbled.
She tried, when the director passed by, to mimic the other children in her memory. She tilted her face up, trying her best to look well-behaved and cute as she greeted in a small voice, "Hello, Director..."
The director didn't stop her pace, only giving a faint grunt of acknowledgement. Her gaze didn't even linger on Li Nanzhu's face.
She tried to take the initiative to help the younger children get dressed, wanting to show she was "friendly," but the child dodged her as if startled and ran toward their own little group, leaving behind a shout: "I don't want your help! Go away!"
Time after time, her attempts were met with coldness, disregard, and even more obvious rejection.
Li Nanzhu did not give up.
Or rather, the longing to be "accepted," to be "recognized," or even just "not to be bullied," as well as the deep-seated confusion of "why not me?" made it impossible for her to truly give up.
What exactly was the difference between her and Xiao Ya?
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