The classroom for the little kids’ class wasn’t very big. Today, five children had come for the lesson and were currently warming up. Coach Kobayashi held Su Youli’s little hand, standing him in the very center of the room. “We have a new friend joining our class today, everyone. Let’s give him a warm welcome!”
A group of four or five-year-old children was either sitting or lying down, some had kicked off their shoes, each doing their own thing. A smattering of applause echoed through the room. Yang Yang, of course, was the one standing the straightest and clapping the loudest. After the introductions, Coach Kobayashi started having the children run laps.
Two laps in, the little guy’s face had turned rosy red, his complexion excellent. Yang Yang brought over a water bottle and helped him take a few sips. Of the ten minutes of class, eight were spent practicing the basic stance—standing with fists clenched—and then learning how to shout “Hiyah!” more powerfully.
Yang Shiqing hid behind the door, phone in hand, video-calling Su Siwen and Qin Kun. “See that? Youyou is amazing!”
On the other end of the call, the two fathers watched their son, who had only managed to utter a not-very-loud “Hiyah!” with all his might under Coach Kobayashi’s encouragement, and felt a bit speechless at Yang Shiqing. Isn’t this filter a bit too thick? Seems like your son yelled louder.
“You could have Youyou shout Yuanzi’s name. It’d be several times louder than that.”
Yang Shiqing retorted: “What do you two know? You think the coach is teaching nonsense? Shouting ‘Hiyah’ helps engage the core, you know?”
Teaching core engagement to a three-year-old whose physical development was closer to that of a two-and-a-half-year-old? Do you hear what you’re saying? If it weren’t for the walls of Yang Shiqing’s home and his cabinet full of taekwondo competition trophies and awards, Su Siwen would have been tempted to take his son home immediately.
“Hey, hey, hey, Brother Yang, how did Youyou fall!” Su Siwen nearly stood up from his wheelchair.
Yang Shiqing tore his gaze away from his phone and saw the little guy surrounded by several children. Two of them had even pounced directly on him. As the smallest kid in the class in terms of build, Youyou had no chance to resist. He ended up sprawled on his back, limbs in the air, with one of his navy-blue tie-dye cloth shoes flying off.
Yang Yang hopped around frantically, trying to pull the kids holding Youyou down while shouting for Coach Kobayashi to come help. Yang Shiqing finally understood: the little guy wasn’t just the most popular cub on Cloud Water Street; he was the most popular everywhere.
The new classmate, with his short little limbs, was like a moving ball of sticky white rice. When he smiled, he was just so sweet. Who doesn’t love a beautiful little kid? Especially children, with their simple and straightforward hearts. Coach Kobayashi rescued the little guy, who then clung to his neck and refused to let go.
“You can’t do that,” Coach Kobayashi began educating his students. “Classmates should care for and protect each other. You can’t pile on Youyou like that. He could get hurt.”
The chastened children huddled around Coach Kobayashi’s feet like little quails, looking up and chorusing, “Sorry, Youyou.”
Su Youli’s eyelashes were dotted with tears. He cautiously tilted his head a little. “…It’s okay.”
Daddy had said that when someone says sorry, you have to say it’s okay. How could there be a kid with such a good temperament? Coach Kobayashi’s heart went soft and mushy. Little Youyou was simply the most magnanimous, most tolerant child he had ever met.
Yang Shiqing pushed the door open and walked in. His tall, upright figure instantly scared the offending little rascals, who scattered and hid behind the tall stacks of mats. Every corner of the little kids’ classroom was carpeted. If Yang Yang had fallen, Yang Shiqing might have even gloated a little. But the one who fell was Youyou. So delicate, with such soft skin. The little guy whom his two fathers coddled endlessly, cherished in their mouths and palms. Even Grandpa and Grandma Yang doted on him like a treasure.
“Youyou, does your head hurt? Does your bottom hurt?”
Su Youli was carried aside by Uncle Yang and sat on his knee. He shook his head. Yang Yang retrieved the shoe that had flown off, just in time to hear Youyou ask, in a tearful voice, when he could go home. He missed his daddies. The little guy didn’t yet know the word “rough” to describe the kids in the taekwondo class.
At home, these children were little tyrants bursting with energy, sent here by their parents to burn off their weekend energy. It let them expend energy and learn taekwondo at the same time.
“Youyou, your daddies have some things to take care of today. How about you stay here at the dojo and play with Brother Yang Yang?”
Su Youli blinked. He remembered that today was Kunkun’s day off. He saw Kunkun off to work every day, and after five days, Kunkun got to rest for two. But this morning, Kunkun had been the one to bring him to class instead. The little guy sat on Uncle Yang’s lap, his round, soft cheek pressed against Uncle Yang’s stomach, feeling very wronged.
He seemed to sense something was different, but at three years old, his vocabulary was limited. He didn’t know what to call this feeling. It was like when he had patiently licked a lollipop for two days, only for Yuanzi to be a brat and bite it all off in one go. He felt a bit angry and very wronged, but Yuanzi was his most loyal friend. He couldn’t scold Yuanzi.
So, he could only be sad by himself. Lunch was brought over by Grandma Yang in an insulated lunchbox. Uncle Yang was carrying Youyou when, passing by a classroom, they suddenly heard a commotion. Several older kids ran out calling for the coach, saying a child had fainted. This was no small matter. Yang Shiqing, still holding Su Youli, rushed over immediately.
The child who fainted is also from Yunshui Street. His nickname is Chengzi, and he is six years old this year. Grandma Yang rushed over upon hearing the news. She pushed through the crowd to pick oranges and, after confirming that the child’s breathing was stable, poured two mouthfuls of chicken soup that she had specially prepared for Yang Yang and Youyou into his mouth. There was complete silence, but the sound of someone gulping down chicken soup was very clear.
Youyou got hungry just watching. He blinked and asked, “Can Brother Chengzi eat even when he’s asleep?”
Yang Shiqing was speechless for a moment. He pinched the little guy’s cheek and said, “That’s a bad habit. Don’t you copy it.”
“Okay,” the little guy nodded in agreement.
After downing two whole bowls of chicken soup, Chengzi finally opened his dazed eyes. In a faint voice, he saw his parents rushing over.
“Chengzi, my precious, why did you suddenly faint?”
“You scared mommy to death.”
Chengzi’s mother scooped him up, tears nearly spilling from her eyes. His father, beside her, also looked tense, his forehead covered in sweat.
“Mom, waaah, waaah, can I not do extracurricular classes anymore?” Chengzi’s face was still a bit pale. His mother felt his round cheeks had thinned out and, immediately disregarding everything else, agreed to whatever her son said.
“No more, no more. If you don’t like them, then no more.”
Chengzi’s eyes lit up. “Really? I don’t have to do English class or piano class anymore?”
As parents hoping their son would succeed, Chengzi’s mom and dad had enrolled him in many extracurricular tutoring classes ever since he started kindergarten.
“It’s all because Chengzi’s mom’s nephew in the city attends tutoring classes and participates in this or that competition. Every time Chengzi’s cousin comes over, there’s a round of comparison.”
Grandma Yang muttered to herself as she tidied up.
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