Flower-like years

Samgyeopsal and Xiaolongbao (Chinaline side story)

There are only one pair of hands that he remembers,

And it is his mother's.

Her hands were frail and chippy, skin darkened by the sunlight with thin wrinkles and small red burnt marks on the finger tips.

They were far from the prettiest, but they were always there to hold him to sleep when he got scared of the shadow in the dark, to shower him with care and love even when he rebelliously misbehaved.

It was those thin fingers and small hands that defined home as he knew and knit them a safety web that Junhui could fall freely without fear and doubt, letting her softness and warmth brighten up the cold world they live in.

In order to survive and pay the bills, her mother has transformed a small second hand metal cart into a steamed bun, xiaolongbao vending stand.

Early each morning, the mother and son pair has to advance the heavy cart to the main street where many other table already arrived, waiting for customers who quickly lined up in the much tiny avenue only to savor small piece of heaven to start their busy and stressful day until the clock reaches seven that the young boy quickly gathered his school bags and rushed towards school.
At the sunset, on the crooked roads, the pair again pushed it back as the young Junhui chewed on the best buns that her mother kept aside for him, to the light breeze of the dawn as the sun turned into a bright orange that ressembled the yolk of eggs that only appears on their table during the few rare moment of luxury.

The wet and oily smell of the streets, the loud cheer and shout of the merchants and the clatter of the wheels on the graves were all fond sounds deep craved into his dearest memories. The hot and humid weather surrounding them in spring and summer days. Still, Junhui never ever even thought negatively of his past shaping him into who he is. Their neighbours of their village were all kind and friendly, and no body hesitated lead a helping hand to the sometime struggling single mother and son.

Those, to his memories, were the best years of his life.

Though growing up in a frugal life, nothing never seemed to be missed at home. His mother would always work magic to find everything they need, and the young Junhui was never demanding to begin with. Even with his naturally smartness, Junhui never quite used his intelligence to study. Like all young boys of his age he was far more interested in games and sports, and most of all pranks. His mother scold him a lot, once for painting a mustach on the face of the sleeping uncle living next door, another time for setting a bucket of water on top of the door as the teacher approached their class.

But Junhui deeply loved her and would never do anything that would hur her, with his frivolity limited to harmless little pranks.

There is no one he could ever cheerish more than his mother and his grandparents that he get excited to meet at each new year.

His world crashed completely in a cold October day. It was raining and the cloud, low and weirdly calm in the usually noisy alley.

Junhui felt a tightning in his chest and had difficulty to concentrate in class. By the time school was dismissed and he reached home, a group of elder ladies that her mother befriended were the ones greeting him but the owner was nowhere to be found.

Their gloomy and saddened expression spoke stronger than words, but Junhui's heart has already dropped to the ground.

One of them made him sit down and patted him in the back as she told him with a shaky voice she desparetly tried to hide that his mother has been transported to the hospital and he should mentally prepare himself.

When he reached the hospital, his grandparents were already there and as the doctor appeared a few moments later and bowed down to them apologetically. Junhui seem to have lost all five senses, not bulging as grandmother hugged him tightly into her arms and chocked on her sobs as his grandfahter squeezed his hand and tried to not let his tears drop down.