From that day on, Chi Ku often stared at Tao Huainan’s eyes.

Tao Huainan didn’t know he was being stared at. A gaze wasn’t something he could touch or hear. He often started with fright when Chi Ku caught him off guard with a bellow right by his side, warning him not to move his eyes.

Tao Huainan couldn’t help but feel put upon with all the shouting. “I didn’t…” he retorted in a small voice.

“Stop moving your eyes round and round,” said Chi Ku.

“I didn’t move them…” Tao Huainan closed his eyes for a bit, then opened them again. “Are they turning now?” he asked innocently.

“Yes.” Chi Ku frowned, his expression as fierce as his tone. “Look forward. Don’t move them left and right.”

Tao Huainan was close to tears. “But I can’t see.”

Chi Ku didn’t know how to explain; the two of them couldn’t understand each other. Being yelled at by him made Tao Huainan feel not only aggrieved, but also afraid—afraid that his eyes would get even worse, he grew nervous.

Tao Huainan’s eyes were big, his pupils almost entirely visible; every movement they made was very obvious. Chi Ku nagged him at school all week, until Tao Huainan was a little fearful of him.

At bedtime he felt his way and climbed into bed himself. He turned to face the wall, his back towards the outer edge, not even holding the pillow cloth anymore.

Chi Ku poked his head out to look at him. The nanny asked him to lie back down; she was about to switch the lights off. He didn’t move, still twisting around to look at Tao Huainan.

After a while, he reached out and covered Tao Huainan’s eyes.

Tao Huainan heard him moving. Mentally prepared, he wasn’t scared like he was before. Worried that Chi Ku would nag him again, he preemptively asked, “…was I moving them again?”

Chi Ku’s hand exerted a bit of force. Tao Huainan’s eyes hurt from his pressing. He held his wrist and said in a little voice, “It hurts.”

“It won’t if you don’t move.” Chi Ku could feel his eyeballs shifting about under the eyelids. He frowned again.

“What’s going on?” asked the nanny, walking over.

Surrounded, Tao Huainan felt insecure. He shook his head to break free of Chi Ku’s hand, wanting to cover himself with his blanket.

Chi Ku leapt up from his own bed and walked over to Tao Huainan’s. With his thumb and middle finger, he pressed Tao Huainan’s eyes into place, saying, “Just stop them here.”

Pressing as he did, Tao Huainan’s eyeballs hurt with every move. He began to whine and moan, on the verge of crying. “What’s wrong with Huainan’s eyes?” the nanny asked hurriedly.

“Nothing,” said Chi Ku.

The nanny was none too fond of Chi Ku; he spoke coldly all the time, and adults much preferred soft and gentle children. But the nanny didn’t exactly dislike Chi Ku either, since he was easy to deal with and required little care. He was also unusually mature, taking care of his younger brother every day.

Tao Huainan was threatening tears as he continued to complain of the pain.

Chi Ku didn’t remove his hand. “All you do is cry. Wouldn’t it be fine if you didn’t move?”

When had Tao Huainan received such fierce treatment before? He didn’t dare to open his eyes; under his closed eyelids, tears leaked and flowed out.

It really did hurt; eyeballs pressed down, every move he made hurt. Now Tao Huainan really stopped moving them. His eyeballs simply stopped under Chi Ku’s hand, staying in their painless position.

Even when he didn’t move, he still cried. He felt aggrieved from the scolding; he was ashamed.

Chi Ku noted that he hadn’t moved for some time. “Don’t cry,” he said, without much emotion in his voice.

Tao Huainan raised his hand and wiped his tears. “I don’t want to be friends with you anymore.”

This time, he was as good as his word, unlike the common, playful sort of “I don’t want to be friends”.

This time, Tao Huainan remembered. He ignored Chi Ku, not seeking him out even when he was afraid; he would rather fall when he was walking than seek him out. It had always been Tao Huainan who warmly sought out the other to hold hands and talk to; Chi Ku’s demeanour was naturally frigid. Now that Tao Huainan wasn’t chasing after him, their temperamental relationship fell apart as a matter of course.

That was just how Chi Ku was. If he hadn’t been that way, he wouldn’t have been so silent for so long after moving to this place.

Even Tao Xiaodong could tell that the two were no longer on good terms. When he picked them up this week, it was clearly different from the previous times. Tao Huainan hung his little head, his face pasted to his brother’s shoulder as he kept silent.

“What’s with you two?” asked Tao Xiaodong.

Tao Huainan shifted his face on his shoulder and didn’t make a sound.

Chi Ku didn’t speak either, carrying his backpack and walking forward. Tao Xiaodong reached out and grabbed his bag. Chi Ku looked up at him. “Did you two fight?” Tao Xiaodong asked him.

Chi Ku shook his head.

Tao Huainan didn’t hear anything. His face was still pasted on his brother’s shoulder. When he was unhappy, his mouth would purse ever so slightly, like the expression of an unhappy little doll.

Tao Xiaodong shrugged his shoulder, teasing him. “Angry?”

Tao Huainan couldn’t say he was angry; he didn’t mind that much that Chi Ku nagged him, nagging was fine. He just hated how Chi Ku’s voice often carried an irritated tone. The blind were sensitive to sound; this sensitivity carried over into the emotions in a person’s voice.

Chi Ku was annoyed with him. Tao Huainan had always known that. After many such instances, he was a bit hurt too; it pricked his little pride.

Usually, when Tao Xiaodong came to pick them up, Tao Huainan would be overjoyed. This wilted appearance was uncommon indeed.

Tao Xiaodong lifted his other hand and patted his head. “It’s okay, don’t be mad anymore,” he said.

Flopped over his shoulder, Tao Huainan mumbled, “He pressed my eyes.”

“He didn’t mean to,” Tao Xiaodong replied casually.

“Yes, he did.” Tao Huainan pursed his lips, then added, “…because my eyes move.”

Hearing this, Tao Xiaodong leaned back and pulled his shoulder straight. “Let me see?”

Tao Huainan straightened his back and faced his brother, blinking at him. “Are they moving now?” he asked softly.

His big eyes were fixed in one direction. Tao Xiaodong rubbed his back. “No, it’s fine.”

As soon as he saw his brother, Tao Huainan felt sorry for himself, complaining in a low voice, “He pressed my eyeballs with his fingers. It hurt a lot.”

Chi Ku turned back to look, then turned away again.

Tao Xiaodong laughed slightly, his chest vibrating. “Snitch,” he said.

At night, with the TV on a random children’s channel, the cartoon playing noisily, Tao Huainan leaned against the sofa, stroking Shi Yeye as he listened.

Tao Xiaodong washed some fruit and carried them over. Seeing Chi Ku going to the balcony by himself, he called out to him.

Chi Ku didn’t come over.

Tao Xiaodong took an apple and placed it in Tao Huainan’s hand for him to munch on by himself. Tao Xiaodong was just about to turn and leave when he saw Tao Huainan’s face. He stopped and came back.

“Lift your head.”

Tao Huainan smiled and looked up. “What is it?”

Tao Xiaodong held his head and placed his thumbs lightly on his eyes. Now accustomed to Chi Ku’s pressing, Tao Huainan stopped moving his eyes the moment the hands landed upon them.

“Do your eyes hurt?” Tao Xiaodong asked.

“No,” Tao Huainan replied in a low voice.

His brother’s hands were still wet from washing fruit. Tao Huainan didn’t feel any pain from the pressure; it was even a little comfortable.

“Can you tell when they move?”

Tao Huainan thought for a while before responding, “Not really. When you press, I can, but normally I can’t.”

Tao Xiaodong let him go. Tao Huainan’s eyes shifted again. “Did you notice that they just moved?” Tao Xiaodong asked him.

“I did this time,” said Tao Huainan.

“Normally you can tell too. You just don’t pay attention.” Tao Xiaodong pressed his eyes again. “Don’t move them about. It’s very ugly,” he said.

His brother seldom said such heavy words to him. Tao Huainan was taken aback. “When you move your eyes all around, you look like an idiot,” Tao Xiaodong added.

These words were not particularly gentle. Tao Huainan nodded subconsciously. When his brother grew serious, Tao Huainan would get scared; he was scared when anyone was serious with him.

Tao Xiaodong’s words made Tao Huainan’s heart pound whenever he thought of them for many days after.

He would lift his hands occasionally, using his fingers to press his eyelids over his eyeballs, trying to see if he was moving them. He was afraid of looking ugly, or looking like an idiot.

Chi Ku left him alone now. He didn’t know whether it was because he really didn’t move them, or because Chi Ku couldn’t be bothered with him anymore.

Not being able to see made a lot of minor matters quite inconvenient. Even something as simple as not moving his eyes about randomly was very difficult to Tao Huainan.

Before he’d settled this matter, he also adopted a habit of constantly touching his eyes.

The teachers scolded Tao Huainan for it multiple times in class.

Tao Huainan was thin-skinned. Every time he was scolded, he took most of the day to get over it.

Among all the teachers, their English teacher was the most impressive, with the hottest temper. They had a new English teacher this term, who had yet to remember Tao Huainan’s name. When Tao Huainan touched his eyes again, the English teacher threw a piece of chalk at him and reprimanded him, saying, “Why don’t you ever remember?”

Tao Huainan’s face began to boil in a flash.

The chalk bounced off Tao Huainan’s shoulder onto Chi Ku’s table, then bounced again and landed on the floor.

Chi Ku kicked it away.

Tao Huainan’s face stayed heated until class ended.

He didn’t dare to touch his eyes anymore. He wanted to know whether his eyes were moving, but didn’t know what to do.

Blind people didn’t have very sensitive eyeballs; without the help of sight to inform him, he sometimes really didn’t mean to move them—he just didn’t know.

Tao Huainan sat in his seat, his shoulders stiff. Good children were always sad after being reprimanded.

And he had received far too many reprimands lately.

After class, Chi Ku stood next to him, waiting. Tao Huainan stood and knocked into him, then reached out and felt. Chi Ku pulled his wrist. Tao Huainan wanted to say “Chi Ku”, but kept his mouth shut.

After a while, he finally couldn’t help himself. He called out, “Chi Ku.”

The stick of chalk from earlier that afternoon had been kicked by Chi Ku into the path between the desks. When Chi Ku walked over, he kicked it away again.

“What do I do…” asked Tao Huainan sadly.

“Nothing,” said Chi Ku.

Tao Huainan turned to his direction and asked carefully, “Am I moving them again?”

Chi Ku looked at him. “No.”

Tao Huainan let out a quiet “oh”.

When school finished on Friday, Tao Huainan turned and leaned onto Chi Ku’s desk. “Don’t tell ge that the teachers scolded me…” he said to Chi Ku.

Chi Ku mhm-ed.

“I’m scared that he’ll be angry,” said Tao Huainan.

“Angry at who?”

“Me.” Tao Huainan bowed, his jaw moving his whole head as he spoke. “I’m useless, I don’t know how to do anything. You’re angry at me. I’m scared that ge’ll be angry too.”

Chi Ku looked at him and gaped. After a moment of stunned silence, he said, “I’m not angry.”

“You are,” said Tao Huainan. “I know.”

Before Chi Ku could speak, Tao Huainan added, “And I know you’ve never liked me.”

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