The boy who stole from her
CHAPTER ONE — THE BOY WHO STOLE FROM HER
The village was unusually busy that afternoon.
People were walking through the narrow streets, carrying baskets of vegetables, sacks of rice, and whatever they could afford to buy. Children ran between the stalls, laughing and shouting while the adults complained about how expensive everything had become.
Among all of them was a little boy.
His name was Han Ziyuan.
He was thin, his clothes were old and slightly torn, and his hair looked as if he had been fighting with the wind all morning.
Because he had.
Ziyuan slowly walked past the food stalls, trying not to stare too obviously at the bread displayed on one of the tables.
His stomach growled.
He immediately looked around.
“Quiet,” he whispered to his stomach. “You're making me look suspicious.”
His stomach growled again.
Ziyuan frowned.
“Traitor.”
He looked at the bread again.
He hadn't eaten since yesterday.
He knew stealing was wrong.
But being hungry made it difficult to think about right and wrong.
He waited until the shopkeeper turned around.
Then he quickly grabbed a small piece of bread from the table.
“Got it.”
He turned around—
—and immediately bumped into someone.
The bread flew out of his hand.
A little girl standing in front of him stared at the bread as it landed in the dirt.
There was a long silence.
Ziyuan slowly looked at her.
She slowly looked at him.
Then she looked at the bread.
Then back at him.
“You stole that.”
Ziyuan blinked.
“No.”
She pointed at the bread.
“It literally fell out of your hand.”
“That doesn't prove anything.”
“You were holding it.”
“I was... inspecting it.”
She stared at him.
“Inspecting?”
“Yes.”
“With your hands?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Ziyuan paused.
“...I like bread.”
The girl crossed her arms.
“That doesn't make it yours.”
Ziyuan looked away.
“I know.”
The girl studied him for a moment.
He looked nervous now.
Not like someone who was proud of stealing.
More like someone who had been caught doing something he already knew was wrong.
“What were you going to do with it?” she asked.
“Eat it.”
“That was obvious.”
“I was hungry.”
Her expression changed slightly.
She looked at his clothes, then at his thin arms.
“You haven't eaten?”
Ziyuan shrugged.
“I'll eat later.”
“Later when?”
He didn't answer.
The girl sighed.
She reached into the small cloth bag she was carrying and pulled out another piece of bread.
She held it toward him.
Ziyuan stared at it.
Then at her.
“What's that?”
“Bread.”
“I know it's bread.”
“Then why did you ask?”
“I don't know.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Take it.”
Ziyuan hesitated.
“Why?”
“Because you're hungry.”
“But you don't know me.”
“Exactly.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It doesn't have to.”
She placed the bread in his hand.
Ziyuan looked down at it.
For a few seconds, he didn't say anything.
“...Thank you.”
The girl smiled a little.
“You're welcome.”
Ziyuan took a small bite.
His eyes widened.
“This is good.”
She laughed.
“Of course it is.”
“You made it?”
“No.”
“Then why are you so proud?”
“Because I gave it to you.”
Ziyuan looked at her.
Then he smiled.
It was a small smile, but it was genuine.
“What is your name?”
“Zhou Yui.”
“Zhou Yui...”
She nodded.
“And you?”
“Han Ziyuan.”
“Han Ziyuan.”
“Yeah.”
She looked at him for a moment.
“You're strange.”
Ziyuan nearly choked on his bread.
“What?!”
“You stole bread, argued with me about stealing bread, and then thanked me for giving you bread.”
He thought about it.
“...When you say it like that, I sound stupid.”
“You are a little stupid.”
“I'm not!”
“You are.”
“I am not!”
She laughed.
For the first time that day, Ziyuan laughed too.
They eventually moved away from the busy market and sat near the edge of the village, where the noise wasn't as loud.
Zhou Yui noticed that Ziyuan kept looking at the ground.
“So...” she said. “Where do you live?”
Ziyuan became quiet.
“Nowhere.”
She looked at him.
“What do you mean?”
“I don't have a home.”
Her smile slowly disappeared.
Ziyuan picked at a loose thread on his sleeve.
“I sleep wherever I can. Sometimes near the market. Sometimes under the roof of an old building.”
“And your parents?”
He shook his head.
“I don't have them.”
Zhou Yui didn't know what to say.
She looked down at her hands.
“I live with my grandmother.”
“You have a grandmother?”
“Yeah.”
“Is she nice?”
“Very.”
“Does she cook?”
“Sometimes.”
“What does she cook?”
“Why are you asking so many questions?”
“I'm hungry.”
She laughed quietly.
“You really think about food a lot.”
“I have to.”
The laughter disappeared again.
Zhou Yui understood.
She looked toward the village.
“My grandmother isn't rich either,” she said. “Sometimes we don't have enough food. Sometimes she tells me she's not hungry so I can eat more.”
Ziyuan looked at her.
“She does that too?”
Zhou Yui nodded.
“She thinks I don't notice.”
“I think adults do that.”
“What?”
“Pretend they're okay.”
Zhou Yui looked at him.
Ziyuan continued quietly.
“They smile even when they're tired. They say they're not hungry when they are. They say everything will be fine even when they don't know if it will.”
Neither of them spoke for a while.
The sounds of the village continued around them.
People talking.
Children laughing.
A cart rolling across the dirt road.
But for a moment, the two children seemed separated from all of it.
Zhou Yui looked at him.
“You're not as strange as I thought.”
Ziyuan raised an eyebrow.
“That's the nicest thing you've said to me.”
“Don't get used to it.”
He smiled.
“You're strange too.”
“I am not!”
“You are.”
“Why?”
“You gave bread to a thief.”
Zhou Yui stared at him.
Then she started laughing.
“You're the one who stole it!”
“I know.”
“And you're proud of that?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I just think it's funny.”
She shook her head.
“You really are strange.”
The sun slowly began to set.
Zhou Yui suddenly remembered something.
“I have to go.”
Ziyuan looked at her.
“Already?”
“My grandmother is waiting for me.”
“Oh.”
He tried to hide his disappointment.
Zhou Yui stood up and brushed the dirt from her clothes.
“You should go somewhere safe too.”
“I will.”
“Promise?”
Ziyuan nodded.
“Promise.”
She took a few steps before turning around.
“Han Ziyuan!”
He looked at her.
“What?”
“Don't steal again!”
He smiled.
“I'll try!”
“That's not a promise!”
“Fine! I promise!”
She smiled.
“Good.”
She started walking away.
Ziyuan watched her disappear into the crowd.
He didn't know why he felt like something had changed.
Maybe because, for the first time in a long while, someone had actually talked to him without looking at him like he was nothing.
Someone had asked if he was hungry.
Someone had listened to his story.
Someone had given him something without asking for anything in return.
And he didn't know it yet—
but the little girl walking away from him would become one of the most important memories of his life.
That afternoon, they were only two poor children who happened to meet in a crowded village.
Neither of them knew that war would soon tear their lives apart.
Neither knew that fifteen years would pass before they saw each other again.
And neither knew that the promise they made that day—
the simple promise to never forget each other—
would survive everything that came after.
