Chapter 3: Awakening Memories

Most of the trash at school was just paper and similar things. There was no cafeteria, so everyone brought their own lunch, usually finishing everything with little leftovers. Occasionally, a few snack wrappers would give off a scent, but it wasn’t household waste, so the odor was mild; that’s why everyone liked to play here.

Truthfully, country kids didn’t have much pocket money, so they would rummage through the trash for discarded exercise books, scrap paper, some books, or plastic bottles, all of which could be exchanged for a bit of cash.

But the two girls who used to play with Mu Yin had completely ignored her, turning away to continue scribbling on the ground. Well, it was mostly just doodling, since they didn’t go to school.

“Why aren’t you talking to me?” Mu Yin pouted, looking at her two friends.

“You act so proud now that you go to school—why do you still want to play with us?” Lily said directly, her little face tense, clearly still upset about Mu Yin’s previous smug attitude.

“Uh...” Mu Yin was at a loss; yes, she probably had acted that way last time. “Sorry about that.”

“We won’t forgive you,” Skylark chimed in.

“Well...” Seeing their attitude, Mu Yin thought for a moment, then reluctantly pulled out her pocket money. “I’ll buy you some candy. Please don’t be mad, okay?”

“Okay!” The two girls instantly turned around, their eyes shining. Mu Yin felt a pang of reluctance, but since she had brought this upon herself, she took her friends to the village’s only shop and bought ginger candies. Only then did the three reconcile and play together.

After making up, the two girls grew curious about school life. “A Yin, what do you learn at school?” Lily asked eagerly.

“Reading, singing, drawing,” Mu Yin counted them off on her fingers.

“Singing? What songs? Can you teach us?” Skylark suggested.

“Of course.” Mu Yin nodded and began teaching them, “Under the bridge in front of the gate, a flock of ducks swims by, come and count them—two, four, six, eight...”

Mu Yin sang a line, and they followed. The morning slipped away as they learned the song. When Mu Yin glanced at the sky, she said, “I’m going home for lunch.”

“Yeah, us too,” her friends replied, and they each went home. That afternoon, they gathered again, this time heading to the dump, found a cardboard box, tore it apart, and sat on it to slide down the slope.

This was a favorite game among the children here. Mu Yin had played it a few times and was quite adept, but for some reason, she miscalculated this time. Near the bottom, something jolted her off course and she rolled down, tumbling twice.

“A Yin!” Her friends cried out in alarm and rushed over.

“Ah!” After rolling, Mu Yin landed in a patch of weeds, hit her head, felt dizzy, and something flashed through her mind but faded quickly. “I’m fine,” she said, pressing her head as she got up, reassuring her worried friends.

“Good, you scared me to death,” Skylark said, patting her chest.

“Really okay?” Lily checked Mu Yin over, relieved to see there was no blood.

“Just a bump, not painful,” Mu Yin shook her head; the pain was already gone.

“That’s good, let’s stop playing and go home,” Skylark proposed, still shaken by Mu Yin’s tumble.

Mu Yin and Lily nodded without objection. Mu Yin pressed her head thoughtfully. “What’s wrong? Does it still hurt?”

“A little, only when I press it,” Mu Yin replied honestly.

“Let me see,” Lily insisted, making Mu Yin bow her head as she parted her hair for inspection. “No swelling, no bleeding, you’ll be fine soon.”

“Mm.” Mu Yin nodded.

The three parted and went home. When Mu Yin returned, Zhou Qi saw how dirty she was and dragged her to the bathroom for a thorough scrub. Mu Yin cooperated obediently. After washing and changing clothes, she went to watch TV.

That night, Mu Yin dreamed again. The next morning, she vaguely remembered bits and pieces, mostly about drawing.

Coincidentally, there was an art class that day. As she looked at the apple the teacher wanted them to draw, Mu Yin felt it looked nothing like the apples she ate. Apples shouldn’t be drawn like that, they should be... hmm, but how exactly? She blinked and ended up drawing apples just like everyone else—childish doodles. For the next few days, she dreamed every night, always remembering something, but it was always related to drawing.

Because of this, she suddenly fell in love with drawing, spending every day scribbling and sketching on scrap paper. Her drawings grew better and more lifelike.

Half a month later, she could draw apples so realistic that, aside from the color, there was little difference from the real thing. Staring at the apple on the paper, Mu Yin reached out instinctively, and some light seeped from her fingertips, merging into the drawing.

Mu Yin’s eyes widened in astonishment as the apple under her hand materialized. Her mouth hung open. She picked up the apple—it was big, requiring both hands to hold it, and the scrap paper was now blank.

Her apple had turned real? Did she possess Ma Liang’s magical brush? Mu Yin had never learned the story, but she’d seen the animation. She wondered as she absentmindedly took a bite of the apple. It was sweet—so sweet, better than any apple she’d tasted.

She quickly devoured the entire apple, burped, and seeing the juice left on her hand, confirmed it wasn’t a hallucination. She washed her hands, returned, and tried to draw another apple, hoping to create another.

But things weren’t so simple. She drew an identical apple, but it wouldn’t materialize again. She almost doubted if she’d dreamed the whole thing.

Afterward, Mu Yin kept drawing apples. Her family noticed. “A Yin, why do you keep drawing apples? You already draw them so well,” her mother Zhou Qi couldn’t help but ask.

“I want to make an apple appear, but it didn’t work,” Mu Yin answered honestly.

“Must be all those cartoons you watch,” Zhou Qi replied, exasperated, and left it at that.

Mu Yin looked at her paper apple and sighed. She was telling the truth, yet maybe it really had been a dream. After over ten days without it happening again, she gave up.

But she didn’t give up drawing—she simply began sketching other things. The nightly dreams continued, but what she remembered were always just drawing techniques.

More than a year passed in this way, and she finally entered first grade. One day, she happened to see a news report about an earthquake somewhere. Watching the ground shake and the world turn upside down, she suddenly felt a sharp pain in her head and fainted, frightening her family.