When Song Minzhi was seven or eight months pregnant with Jiang Xun, she went to a temple to offer incense, her belly swollen.
The mountain path was difficult. She supported her lower back as she slowly climbed, carrying a bag of fruit offerings, and insisted on bringing Jiang Huaixiao along.
Jiang Huaixiao was only seven that year. Sweat dampened the wisps of hair on his forehead, and he was utterly unwilling to be there.
The steps along the mountain path were narrow and steep. Every few steps, he turned back to hurry his mother along. Song Minzhi smiled, her eyes curving, and said breathlessly, "What are you rushing me for? The Bodhisattva isn't going anywhere."
"I don't believe in the Bodhisattva." Little Jiang Huaixiao pursed his lips and reached out to tug at the wild grass beside the path. "Even if you pray to a hundred Bodhisattvas, the little brother you have still won't be close to me."
Song Minzhi stopped in front of the temple gate and handed him the fruit offerings. With her hands free, she straightened his crooked collar and said earnestly, "You have to pray sincerely. Only then will your little brother want to be close to you."
"Who wants to be close to him?" Little Jiang Huaixiao turned his face away, but his ears quietly reddened.
After bringing home the longevity lock she had prayed for, Song Minzhi had someone engrave a name on it, carefully threaded it onto a red cord, and placed it in a little wooden box beside the crib in the nursery.
Jiang Huaixiao secretly opened it once. The character "Xun" on the lock gleamed under the light, with auspicious cloud patterns winding around it like a glowing flower entwined within them.
He reached out to touch it, then quickly drew