The story went off the rails. I'm planning to rewrite it.
In the winter of 1998, He Jing entrusted her one-year-old son, Qiao Zechuan, to Zeng Tao, then died.
Qiao Zechuan became Song Zheng’s second older brother. They grew up under the same roof, slept in the same bed, and walked the same little path, thinking this was how things would be for the rest of their lives: just the two of them, inseparable.
From childhood innocence to the age of twenty-one, it took them twenty years to learn how to draw close, let go, and draw close again.
Zeng Tao fell ill, the family sank into debt, their origins left them adrift, and then came seven years apart. Each of them had to shoulder the years of the other’s absence alone.
They had known hatred and pain, but neither could let go of their obsession.
“Take my hand. Nothing but death can tear us apart.”
That year, Song Zheng was four and a half, and Qiao Zechuan was five. They had no idea it would take them a lifetime to make those words come true.
More than half the story is written, and updates will be steady. Currently revising.
Theme: Grow up well
