Night seventy-five was long and drawn out.

The villagers here are rather prone to jealousy; they can't stand to see those who were once worse off than them now living better lives. I took a careful look at the car—one tire had been slashed, while the other two showed no obvious signs of puncture, yet they were both flat.

Who could have done this? It certainly wasn't Aunt Wang; if our car was out of commission, she wouldn't be able to visit her grandson in town, so there was no benefit for her. My prime suspect was Old Ma, but without catching him red-handed, I couldn't confront him about it.

Had it just been a single flat tire, I could have swapped it out for the spare and driven to the repair shop in town. But with three tires deflated, things were far trickier. The only choice was to call someone for help.

I didn't own a car, nor did I even have a driver's license, so I'd never had any dealings with mechanics before, much less their phone numbers.

All I could do was call Fatty Wang and ask if he had a mechanic's number. Fatty Wang replied, "It's too late now. We'll have to wait until morning, and I'll bring the mechanic along myself."

I explained the situation to Sister Li. She said, "It's all right. Let's spend another night here and leave tomorrow morning." Though she spoke lightly, I knew she must be feeling frustrated to encounter such trouble upon her return to her childhood home.

Aunt Wang had already had her meals and packed her things, planning to catch a ride with us into town to visit her son's family. Now, seeing our car with three flat tires, she had no choice but to wait until morning.

Sister Li and I returned inside and kindled a fire to warm ourselves. Rural houses like this, old and dilapidated, had neither heaters nor air conditioning; people generally kept warm by gathering around a fire.

We sat side by side, staring into the flames. Out of boredom, I noticed there was still some glutinous rice wine left on the table. "Sister," I couldn't help but suggest, "how about we have a little more of that rice wine to ward off the cold?"

She nodded approval, so I fetched two disposable cups and set the bottle of rice wine by the fire to warm. In winter, a heated yellow wine is gentle on the stomach, and here in Mingzhou, rice wine is a kind of yellow wine.

As the wine warmed, its fragrance filled the room. Sister Li poured me a cup, then filled her own. I brought over the last of the beef, a few pieces of sesame oil duck, and half a plate of peanuts.

I grinned. "Sister, this is all we've got for snacks." She laughed, "It's more than enough!" Raising her cup, she said, "Little brother, let me toast you," and with that, she drained her wine in a single gulp. I couldn't help but notice that she could really hold her liquor.

Perhaps she drank too quickly, for the alcohol seemed to catch in her lungs, and she began to cough uncontrollably. I patted her gently on the back and joked, "Why the rush? I'm not going to steal your wine!"

She sighed, "Brother, to tell the truth, I've been feeling troubled." I thought she was upset about the tires and tried to comfort her, "Sister, some people in this village have shallow hearts and can't stand to see others doing well. Let's just be magnanimous. The car will be fixed tomorrow anyway—don't let petty people upset you."

She shook her head. "It's not the car. That's nothing—just a bit of money. What troubles me is something else."

"You have something on your mind?" I asked.

She nodded. "Brother, I have few confidants. The burdens in my heart have no place to go, so I've always kept them to myself."

"Then tell me," I said. "Maybe I can help ease your worries."

She smiled sadly. "I don't expect you to solve anything, but you're my little brother—if I can't talk to you, who can I talk to?"

Seeing her empty cup, I refilled it. "Sister, the night is long. Let's drink and talk at our own pace."

She gazed at her cup, her beautiful eyes clouded. "Brother, do you want to know why I never married?"

"I suppose you never met the right person," I replied. "But, sister, time waits for no one. Listen to your little brother—perhaps you should lower your standards a bit."

She shook her head. "No, it's not that. I did meet someone. All these years, I haven't married because I've been waiting for him."

Curious, I asked, "Who is he?"

She sank into sorrow. "He was my university sweetheart. I gave him my first and most precious love. But he went abroad, and when we parted, he told me to wait for him for ten years. After ten years, when he had made a success of himself, he would return to marry me."

"And did he come back?" I asked.

She nodded, forlorn. "He did. I waited ten years, and he finally returned."

"Then you could go find him!"

"When he got back, he started an internet company," she said.

"So he's a boss now. You should go to him."

She shook her head. "Brother, things aren't that simple. I went to his company to find him, and he told me to wait a little longer—to wait until his company went public before we married."

"But why?" I asked.

He explained, she told me, that his company was at a critical stage. He needed to attract venture capital, prepare for an IPO, and had no energy for marriage just yet. Later, I secretly made inquiries and learned he was pursuing a company executive's daughter.

I couldn't help but curse, "So he's a scoundrel!"

Sister Li took a gulp of wine. "When I learned the truth, I was furious. I confronted him—why was he abandoning me? If he didn't love me, why deceive me? Why make me wait ten years?"

She coughed from agitation, wine catching in her lungs. I quickly patted her back, and she leaned into my arms, tears streaming down her face.

Gently, I wiped away her tears. "Sister, don't grieve for such a scoundrel. He's not worth it."

She shook her head. "It's not just grief. It's the indignity of being deceived for over a decade. When he went abroad and ran short of money, I borrowed from my adoptive parents to give him thousands. Later, when he was strapped for cash overseas, I sent him more than three million in total. I just wanted an explanation. How could he treat me like this?"

"So what did he say?" I asked.

She replied, "He knelt before me, crying, begging me not to make a scene. He claimed he loved me but had to court that executive's daughter to secure venture capital for his company. If I caused trouble and she found out, the funding would fall through and his company would be finished. He pleaded tearfully for my understanding."

"Did you believe him? Did you forgive him?"

She shook her head. "What good is believing or forgiving? He said if I made a fuss, he'd lose everything—he'd never win over the executive's daughter. But I wouldn't be any better off. If word got out, even his employees would laugh at me for wasting my youth and love on a man like him."

The night stretched on, heavy with sorrow and the scent of wine.