Meng Yan's Transformation

"Did Defu and his sister have a fight?"

Zhan Mengyan tried to ask again, without mentioning any specific reason, "Defu, if you're feeling upset, it'll make you feel better if you talk about it."

Zhang Defu shook his head slightly, but resolutely. His fingers unconsciously picked at the newspaper on the wall, his knuckles turning white. It was a mixture of grievance, anger, and perhaps a hint of shame, all locked behind his tightly pursed lips and reddened eyes. He didn't even want to turn around, as if maintaining this posture of turning his back to everything was his only defense and dignity at this moment.

Such silence allows one to better imagine the scene that might have occurred: perhaps the mischievous child crossed the line, and the elder's authority descended with chilling force. For the younger child, the "discipline" from family members with whom they spend every day is often more complex than punishment from outsiders, mixed with resentment towards discipline, helplessness in the face of a power imbalance, and perhaps still lingering dependence and fear deep within. Zhang Defu wanted to complain, but he knew that complaining might not be useful, and might even lead to "exacerbation" afterward. So he decided to swallow this small grievance, letting it become a dark and unclear knot on his path of growth.

Zhan Mengyan didn't press him further, but simply stayed quietly by his side. She placed the comic book on the corner of the table. She handed Zhang Defu a towel, but he didn't take it. After a while, he reached for a towel on the towel rack himself.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, then don’t.” Zhan Mengyan said calmly. “Sometimes, some emotions are just your own, but remember, Xiaojuan might just be expressing her anxiety in her own way.” This wasn’t about any inappropriate behavior, but rather an illustration of a common, awkward relationship pattern in sibling relationships. Many intense conflicts, in retrospect, may not have been driven by malice beneath the surface of anger.

Zhang Defu remained silent, but his tense shoulders seemed to relax almost imperceptibly. That silent resistance concealed a boy's attempt to preserve the initial signs of "strength" and "self-reliance in problem-solving." The meaning of comfort sometimes lies not in immediately prying open the tightly closed shell and removing the prickly grain of sand, but in letting the clam know that the seawater is warm and that it has enough time to transform the sand into something of its own.

The sunlight outside the window gradually slanted westward, casting a pale gold hue on Zhang Defu's soft hair. The room quieted down, with only faint laughter coming from the east room.

Zhang Defu's small figure remained the same, but the sharp, lonely trembling he had felt earlier had gradually subsided, transforming into the calm breathing that follows the receding tide.

Some growth is quietly completed in such silence, a stubborn tempering, which also allows Zhan Mengyan to undergo a transformation.

Zhan Mengyan felt as if she had suddenly grown up a lot, like an elder, and gently stroked Zhang Defu's head. He initially resisted and dodged away, thinking, "If it weren't for you coming to visit, would I have taken leave from school to read comic books with you? Would I have been scolded by my older sister?"

Zhang Defu turned around and saw Zhan Mengyan's bright eyes. There was no blame or superiority in her gaze; instead, it radiated a clear understanding, even a hint of comforting ease. Her eyes were calm, as if saying, "I know you're upset right now, it's okay." This calmness and understanding was like a handful of cool water, instantly extinguishing the nameless fire in his heart. All his grievances and anger towards outsiders vanished in that look. It turned out that Zhan Mengyan hadn't treated him like an immature child observing from the sidelines; she had sensed his emotions.