One

There was, in fact, no yellow sand in Huangsha Town. Decades ago, it had been an ordinary southern riverside village, with a T-shaped canal slicing through its heart: on the west bank lived the Huang family, and on the east, the Sha family, hence the name Huangsha Village. Owing to its location at the confluence of canals, people gradually gathered, and the place grew into a bustling little town.

Huang Qi was one among the several hundred Huangs in town. For a long time in her childhood, she believed the town’s name came from the endless parade of barges carrying cement and sand that stopped here to unload, leaving great mounds of yellow sand on the riverbanks—paradise for children. She was also convinced that beyond the town lay even more yellow sand, like the boundless deserts in the film "New Dragon Gate Inn"—an endless horizon of wilderness, so cool and majestic.

Her greatest joy was to drape her mother’s scarf as a cape, brandish a short sword she’d whittled from a plank, and, leading her gang of wild children, capture the riverbank “hilltops.” She’d point her wooden sword at her rivals and declare, “I am the Lord of Huangsha City! From now on, this is my territory. If you want to hang around here, pay tribute!”

The losers would present their treasures—usually rubber bands or glass marbles. Sometimes, a group of rascals would mischievously push someone forward, winking and grinning, “Great Lord, we offer you a beauty as your bandit bride!”

The child they pushed forward was Sha Zhouyin, the best-looking boy in town. At the sight of him, the Lord of the City would flush, spit, and retort, “Shameless! You’re the one always scheming to get a wife.” She’d then turn, feigning nonchalance, and stride off to seize the next hilltop.

Behind her, the boys would snicker, for everyone in Huangsha Town knew one of Sha Zhouyin’s father’s favorite sayings was, “Little Qi, when you grow up, marry my boy, alright?”

Sometimes, they'd offer other "beauties" to the City Lord—like Li Mingzhi or Huang Yuan from school. Then the Lord would fly into a rage, chasing the boys with her wooden sword, battering them until they shrieked, with Li Mingzhi and Huang Yuan taking the brunt. The Lord considered them the culprits who sullied her reputation.

Gradually, the children learned the pattern: only Sha Zhouyin was favored by the City Lord; offering him wouldn’t earn them a beating. So, he became the rightful consort of the Lord.

The City Lord herself resented how even heroes could not resist beautiful faces—she despised the tribute game, yet could never bring herself to treat Sha Zhouyin as roughly as she did the others. After all, their houses were just a bridge apart, facing each other. Sha Zhouyin was half a year younger, and with his parents often busy, Huang Qi’s mother was frequently asked to look after him. Naturally, the City Lord felt she should protect and indulge him.

No boy with a shred of pride could stand being offered as a bandit bride; Li Mingzhi and Huang Yuan had fought countless battles with the City Lord over this, both openly and in secret. From her observations, Huang Qi could tell that Sha Zhouyin didn't particularly enjoy the role either, but he never showed her a sour face. Every evening, when the games broke up, he’d help gather up her scattered books, stationery, and clothing, sling them over his back, and walk home with her.

At such moments, she couldn’t help secretly marvel: Little Yin must be the gentlest person in the world, second only to his mother, Teacher Zhou. Of course, such sappy, poetic words would never leave the City Lord’s mouth. At most, she’d say, “Little Yin, you’re the best!”

For the thousand and first time, Sha Zhouyin would patiently correct her, “How many times do I have to tell you? That character is pronounced ‘Yin,’ not ‘Ying.’”

She’d listen carefully but hear no difference. “Isn’t it ‘Ying’? Sha Zhouying, Little Ying, I didn’t say it wrong.”

“One’s a nasal with a falling tone, the other’s a rising tone.”

“Alright, alright, my mom’s a language teacher, I don’t need you to teach me!”

Locals couldn’t distinguish between front and back nasals, even though her mother, Teacher Ding, was the best language teacher at the town’s middle school—her Mandarin, too, carried a regional accent. Only Sha Zhouyin and his mother, Teacher Zhou, spoke Mandarin with perfect diction.

Speaking of Teacher Zhou, she was a local celebrity, known and admired by all. She was the only English teacher at Huangsha Middle School, and the most educated among the staff. In this unremarkable township school, which only went up to junior high, most teachers were homegrown and self-taught, like Huang Qi’s own parents. Only Teacher Zhou had a master’s degree from a prestigious normal university.

This, they’d heard from adults. For the children, these were vague, half-understood symbols. What mattered more was that Teacher Zhou spoke the most beautifully, was the most elegant and well-dressed, and always gentle and radiant.

Put simply, as everyone often said, Teacher Zhou was a city woman—different from the rest of their country-bumpkin selves.

Her family was from the provincial capital; a genuine city dweller, she could easily have taught in a top city school. The reason she came to Huangsha Middle School was the stuff of local legend: she married Sha Zhouyin’s father.

What Sha Zhouyin’s father’s actual name was, Huang Qi never quite figured out. Everyone in town called him Boss Sha. He was wealthy, drove a sedan, wore a gold chain thicker than their jump ropes, and owned all the sand and gravel at the wharf, along with three brickworks and cement factories outside town. Whenever his car roared through the streets, villagers would gaze after it with envy. Yet, as soon as it passed, they’d turn back, lips curling in mockery, and say to outsiders, “See that? That’s the richest boss on our street. Used to be a thug, didn’t even finish elementary school. Now he’s in construction, married a beauty with a graduate degree from a top university!”

Huang Qi found it puzzling too—how could two people so utterly mismatched as Teacher Zhou and Boss Sha come together, with Teacher Zhou willing to leave the city for a remote township school? In her mind, the only suitable match for Teacher Zhou would be a refined, cultured man—if not a graduate from a top university, then at least someone like the dashing young vice-principal all the girls admired. Could it be, as everyone speculated, that she’d married for money?

“Teacher Zhou isn’t that kind of person—they’re just talking nonsense!” Huang Qi’s deskmate, Yu Weiwei, was indignant at such rumors. “Boss Sha is rich here, but compared to city folks, he’s nothing. If Teacher Zhou wanted money, why not marry a city man? It wasn’t for money!”

Huang Qi agreed—Teacher Zhou was too refined and cultured to marry for wealth. “Then why?”

“Because Boss Sha once saved Teacher Zhou!” Yu Weiwei’s eyes sparkled as she stood, gesticulating. “Do you know how they met? Teacher Zhou was in college, doing tutoring late at night. She took a shortcut through an alley, some thugs tried to assault her, and Boss Sha happened by. He grabbed a steel bar and—wham, wham, wham!—rescued her! He got hurt too, because there were a lot of them. Remember the scar on the back of his neck? That’s from then. Afterward, Teacher Zhou nursed him daily, and feelings grew. When she graduated, she married him and came to teach here. That’s the story!”

“Really? But my grandpa always says he’s Boss Sha’s lifesaver because he stitched up that scar.”

Yu Weiwei choked, “Then maybe it’s some other scar? I heard Boss Sha has lots of scars from old fights. Anyway, there’s definitely one from saving Teacher Zhou!”

Huang Qi was skeptical, “How do you know so much? Teacher Zhou never talks about this.”

“Isn’t it obvious? It’s just like in books!” Yu Weiwei pulled out a romance novel from her desk. “In this book, the heroine’s parents are a gangster and a teacher—just like Boss Sha and Teacher Zhou! They met the same way. Hero saves beauty—so romantic!”

Huang Qi glanced at the cover—one of Yu Weiwei’s clandestinely read romance novels.

Whatever the truth, one thing everyone agreed on: Boss Sha truly adored his wife. Out in public, he was fierce as a tiger, but at home with Teacher Zhou, he was a docile kitten, indulging her every wish. Even their son, Sha Zhouyin—whose name Huang Qi always mispronounced—was named to mean “descendant of Sha and Zhou.” Boss Sha constantly found excuses to show off his affection.

Huang Qi reasoned that if Boss Sha loved his wife so much, he’d want a gentle and delicate daughter-in-law, too. Why was he so eager to arrange a childhood betrothal with her family?

Boss Sha’s explanation: “If my Little Yin had my temper, he’d need a wife like his mother. But since he’s like his mother, he needs someone like me!”

Sitting by her grandfather’s medicine mortar, helping grind herbs, Huang Qi could only inwardly scream: I’m a model student of outstanding morals! I’m always top three in exams! How am I anything like you? How?

Her grandfather, now old and stooped, would cough after working too long. Huang Qi would stand to massage his back and pull the herbs closer. “Grandpa, you go measure medicine for Uncle Sha. I’ll do the rest.”

Boss Sha would beam at her, “Doctor Huang, look at this child—she’s a girl, but she has a spirit of loyalty and honor. Righteousness, courage, faithfulness, and filial piety—rare in a girl.”

Huang Qi didn’t quite understand these words, but Boss Sha’s tone sounded like praise. If he said she was loyal, it was true: if anyone dared bully her crew, she’d always stand up for them. In that, perhaps she was like Boss Sha—a person of the rivers and lakes.

As she grew older, stepping into girlhood, Huang Qi was not immune to pink dreams—especially with Yu Weiwei, an avid romance reader, as her deskmate. Sha Zhouyin, inheriting Teacher Zhou’s looks, was a handsome boy, but he also had an indefinable aura that set him apart, thanks to his mother’s influence. He was tall and sturdy, like Boss Sha, not a delicate pretty boy. He was also a top student, Huang Qi’s main rival for first in their grade. But apart from her grades and fighting skills, Huang Qi admitted she had little else to show, while Sha Zhouyin, under Teacher Zhou’s tutelage, was versed in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting—especially painting, winning citywide awards every year.

In short, as Yu Weiwei said, Sha Zhouyin was a dazzling leading man straight from a romance novel. What’s more, he’d never been involved in any gossip, proof of his steadfast devotion to Huang Qi—such men were rare even in fiction.

Whenever Yu Weiwei teased her, Huang Qi would chase her in mock fury, but deep down her adolescent heart would race. She knew Little Yin treated her differently than others; that after entering middle school, as his voice deepened and soft mustache appeared, his gaze seemed to change when he looked at her; that after accidental touches, he’d blush and look away; and that one evening, walking home by the yellow sandbanks, he suddenly asked, “Xiao Qi, how did you write today’s essay on aspirations? Have you ever thought about your future?”

Like most young students, Huang Qi’s understanding of “the future” was limited to essays—scientist, doctor, teacher. Her parents, both teachers, hoped she would follow in their footsteps; her grandfather, a traditional doctor, longed for her to inherit his craft. But she worried her temper might lead to trouble, either fighting students or harming a patient through carelessness.

“I wrote about being a scientist—protecting the environment and all that. Not bad, right? What about you?”

“I want to study architecture.”

“Your dad’s in construction—following the family business, very good.”

He nudged the sand with his foot. “Not construction like that. I want to be an architect—a designer.”

“An architect? Drawing blueprints? That’s great—you draw so well, it suits you.”

They walked in silence for a while. Then he said, “I’ve always dreamed of building my own castle, like the ones I used to make here. Do you remember?”

Huang Qi did remember. While she and her gang played war on the sand piles, Sha Zhouyin would squat nearby, quietly building sandcastles.

She laughed, “Of course. The others used to tease you for playing alone, like a girl. Then you built a huge one, almost as big as a ping-pong table, with many rooms, like a fairy tale castle. They were all stunned. And you said…”

She stopped, suddenly realizing something.

He turned to look at her. Dusk had fallen, hiding his expression, but his eyes were bright. “What did I say?”

What did he say? They had been children, knowing nothing, thinking it a joke—she’d teased him for it for ages.

He’d said, “Xiao Qi, when I grow up, I’ll build a castle like this and marry you. Okay?”

Her face flushed crimson, but thankfully it was dark. She spun around and ran ahead to hide her embarrassment. “Who remembers things from that long ago? It’s late—time to go home. My mom’s waiting for dinner!”

Many years later, Huang Qi would still recall these moments, and still imagine: if nothing had happened afterwards, perhaps Little Yin would have gone on to a good university, become the architect he dreamed of. She herself was at one of the top architecture programs in the country—maybe he would have chosen the same. Maybe, just like all those stories of childhood sweethearts, they would have grown up together, gone to school together, and eventually been together.

Together forever, never apart. What a beautiful thought that would have been.

—If only nothing had happened afterwards; if only, at the very beginning, on that Sunday afternoon, she hadn’t sneaked into the school.