"Miya!" 

A rough hand reaches out to shake her shoulder. 

"Yah! Miya!" 

She tells him to go away, and continues sleeping. 

Yifan doesn't give up. "Miya, wake up!" His own voice is thick from sleep, but his hand still continues shaking her shoulder. He knows she's a heavy sleeper, and only constantly annoying her would wake her up. 

So he doesn't give up. 

And eventually, she does wake up to a pink sky, cool breeze, and dark silhouettes of trees against the odd colors. 

She guesses it must be a little past dawn. 

There's no watch on either pair of wrists. Just tattered sleeves giving way to dirty, soot-covered hands. 

"We slept here," Yifan points out the obvious, scratching his ankle. "We didn't go home."

Miya sits up, leaning against the wall, and looks around. Her back and thighs hurt from sleeping on the pavement. 

No one in the alley. Just Miya and her gege, out on the streets once again. 

"Hey." Miya winces when Yifan gently pokes her knee. "What's this?"

A gash, Miya notices as she leans forward to take a look. Must be from sleeping out here. "It hurts, gege."

Yifan moves and gently blows on her knee. Miya smiles cheekily. He's the best for her. "I'll make it better soon."

Then he stands up, helping her up, too. He doesn't ask if she can walk. They've seen worse days and they had to make it through. Kids like them didn't get a choice. 

"Your mom must be worried," Yifan says as they make their way out of the dirty alley. He's only fourteen, and yet, he already has to play the third parent to Miya. 

"Ma doesn't care," Miya mumbles, carefully following her gege amidst the mucky puddles and trash. 

Yifan turns around and gives her a weak glare. 

Miya shrugs. "Ma doesn't. She has to look after bá, and jiejie, too."

"He isn't . . . ?" He leaves his question hanging in the air. But Miya understands anyway and shakes her head. She may only be nine, but she knows nothing—or no one—lasts forever. 

"Lái." Yifan reaches for her small hand and pulls her with him. "Let's go to my place and have something first."

Miya smiles. She likes being around him. She likes feeling like she is looked after. Like she is cared for. 

They enter his run-down studio apartment, where Yifan's mother comes yelling out the tiny excuse for a kitchen. 

"Yifan! What do you think you—" She stops when she sees the little girl trying to hide behind her son. "Ah, Miya!" 

She smiles up at her. She's always liked Yifan's mother. She cares, too. 

"Miya's hurt, mama." Yifan points to the wound on her knee. 

"Oh!" She grabs Miya's hand to make her sit on a wobbly chair. "Yifan, I made breakfast. Get some from the kitchen for yourselves." Then she leaves, but only to come back moments later with a broad strip of cloth. She kneels down in front of Miya and ties the rag around the little girl's gash. "Be more careful, okay?"

Miya nods, silently watching Yifan's mom tie knot after knot to keep the rag in place. 

"Your mother must be worried."

Miya's response is automatic: "Ma doesn't care."

Yifan's mother has heard it one too many times, so she stands up, pats the girl's cheek, and turns to her son. 

"You two eat. I'll be back, okay?"

Yifan nods, sliding a plate full of fruits towards Miya. 

Without his mother, the studio feels empty with just the two of them. Yifan has never seen or heard about his father, and now, he thinks he's okay with it. 

"Gege," Miya begins, eyes taking in the twilight sky: blue, green, and all shades of gray, dotted with stars. 

Yifan lets out a "Hmm?" in response as the he wanders aimlessly in the dirty alley. 

"Do rich people see the same?"

Yifan stops walking when he realizes Miya isn't following him anymore. Just standing still and watching the sky. He walks over and silently takes her tiny hand. 

"They do, Miya."

Miya continues watching the sky, not even bothering to push her bangs back, so Yifan does it for her, making her smile. A few birds chirp in the distance. 

For a child, Yifan thinks, Miya is very mature. 

"Bá told me and my sister once that according to an old Japanese legend, if you fold a thousand paper cranes within a year, you will be granted a wish."

Yifan looks at her, slightly amused. 

"But, gege, I don't know how to make paper cranes. And I really want a wish." She finally looks up at the taller kid, with eyes that seem a little too wise for her age. 

"I'll teach you," Yifan says. "Mama taught me once, and I think I remember."

"Really?" Her tiny fingers unconsciously wrap themselves tighter around Yifan's.  "Can we start tomorrow?" 

He nods, and Miya's smile turns into a cheeky grin. 

"I know jie has packets of colored paper. I'll borrow some from her, and then we'll hang them all. Ma won't mind, I'm sure. Even bá would be happy that I remembered his story." 

Yifan can't help but smile fondly at the little girl. Her eyes filled with visions of a non-existent world, agape, her lips stretched into a pretty little smile . . . 

He pulls her to start walking with him. "Go home tonight, Miya. Ask your jiejie if we can borrow the paper. Then I'll teach you tomorrow."

The lights are all out when she finally reaches home. It's not uncommon because they never really can afford to pay the bill. So like always, she feels along the chipping walls to make he