The warm afternoon sun filtered through the canopy of bamboo trees, painting golden patterns across the ground. In a quiet village on the edge of a forest lived a cheerful girl named Lina. She was brave, curious, and always excited to explore new things—especially when those things involved animals. Her favorite place to visit was the small rescue center where injured or abandoned monkeys were cared for.
Among all the monkeys in the center, one stood out: Xingxing.
Xingxing was small, with bright eyes that sparkled just like his name—“Star.” His fur was soft and fluffy, and he was known for being playful, jumping from branch to branch with endless energy. Most visitors adored him because of how cute he looked while clinging to his favorite wooden pole. Lina especially liked him. She visited him almost every week.
But Xingxing also had a shy side. Sometimes he didn’t want people too close. The caretakers always reminded visitors, “Let Xingxing come to you. Don’t rush him.”
One Saturday morning, Lina woke up extra early. She packed some fruit—bananas and little pieces of papaya—for the monkeys. She rode her bike to the center, waving at neighbors along the way. The air smelled fresh after a night of rain, and tiny droplets still clung to the leaves.
When Lina arrived, the caretaker, Uncle Dara, greeted her with a smile.
“You’re early today,” he laughed.
“I missed Xingxing,” Lina said. “Is he feeling playful today?”
Uncle Dara shrugged. “Hard to say. Monkeys are like people—some days they’re friendly, some days they just want space.”
Lina nodded. She set her bag on a bench and walked slowly toward Xingxing’s enclosure. He was perched on a low branch, nibbling on a piece of sugarcane.
“Hi, Xingxing,” Lina whispered gently.
For a moment, Xingxing looked at her curiously. His head tilted to the side, and his little tail twitched. Lina smiled, thinking he was happy to see her. She crouched down and held a piece of banana through the bars.
Xingxing moved closer, his tiny fingers gripping the branch. Slowly, carefully, he reached forward. Lina held her breath.
But just when Xingxing was about to take the banana, a sudden loud sound echoed from the back of the center. A crate fell—BANG! The noise startled him. His eyes widened, and without thinking, Xingxing lunged forward in fear.
His small teeth caught Lina’s finger—not deep, not serious, but enough to make her gasp. Lina quickly pulled her hand back.
“Ow!” she whispered, more surprised than hurt.
Xingxing jumped back too, equally startled. His little chest rose and fell quickly. He hadn’t meant to hurt her—he had only reacted to the loud noise. His hands pressed against his mouth, as if he understood something went wrong.
Lina sat down on the bench, holding her finger. It wasn’t bad—it was just a tiny nip—but she felt nervous. Not because of pain, but because she didn’t want Xingxing to get in trouble. She cared about him.
Uncle Dara rushed over. “What happened?”
“It’s okay,” Lina said quickly. “He only nipped me. He got scared.”
Uncle Dara examined her finger. “You’ll be fine, but we should clean it.”
As he brought out a first-aid kit, Lina peeked toward Xingxing. The little monkey had curled into a ball on the branch, watching her with wide, worried eyes. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t bad. He was just frightened.
Uncle Dara gently cleaned her finger with warm water and antiseptic. “You know,” he said, “animals don’t have words like we do. When they’re scared, they react fast. Xingxing didn’t mean it.”
“I know,” Lina said. “I shouldn’t have moved so close while he was nervous.”
“You did fine,” he reassured her. “You were gentle. It was just a sudden moment.”
After her finger was bandaged, Lina stayed seated for a while. She wondered if Xingxing would ever come close to her again. She wondered if he felt guilty. She didn’t want their friendship to end because of this.
So she got an idea.
She took another small piece of banana and placed it on the ground just inside the enclosure—not too close, not too far. She didn’t hold it with her fingers this time. She just set it down and sat back.
For a minute, Xingxing didn’t move. Then, slowly, he crawled down from his branch. His steps were tiny. He paused again and again. Finally, he reached the banana. He picked it up and looked at Lina with big, round eyes.
Lina smiled warmly.
“It’s okay, Xingxing. I’m not mad.”
Xingxing let out a soft sound—a gentle chirp that monkeys make when they’re unsure but trying to be friendly. Then he took a small bite of the banana, glancing back at her as if to say thank you.
Little by little, the tension faded. The rescue center returned to its usual peaceful atmosphere. Birds chirped overhead. Leaves rustled softly. The monkeys groomed each other in the shade.
Lina stayed for another hour, watching Xingxing swing and play. She didn’t try to feed him by hand again that day, giving him space to feel safe. But she talked to him from where she sat, telling him stories about school, her family, and her silly cat at home who chased her own tail.
Surprisingly, Xingxing seemed to listen. He kept glancing down at her, blinking slowly, which Uncle Dara later explained was a sign of trust.
Before Lina left, she waved at him. “See you next week, okay?”
Xingxing gave a tiny hop in response.
As Lina rode her bike home, she thought about everything that had happened. She realized something important—animals have feelings, fears, and instincts. Even small moments can teach big lessons.
She wasn’t upset at all. In fact, she felt closer to Xingxing than before. Their friendship wasn’t just about feeding him or petting him. It was about understanding and patience.
When she got home, her mother asked, “Did you have a good day?”
Lina looked at her bandaged finger and then smiled brightly.
“Yes,” she said. “A really good day.”
Because even though she had been bitten—just a tiny, accidental nip—she had learned something about compassion. And she knew that the next time she saw Xingxing, she would be ready to meet him with even more kindness.
