Tian Sangsang cleared her throat and reminded him, "Your room is ready, it’s next door. If anything happens at night, you can call out loudly for my help."
Zhao Chun nodded weakly, carefully scooting off the bed.
Seeing his awkward movents, Tian Sangsang imdiately understood what was going on. She said, "Wait a mont, I’ll get you a crutch." When she was cleaning out the storage earlier, she had spotted a crutch standing against the wall. She quickly went to the storage room, found the crutch—which appeared to have once belonged to the original owner’s grandmother. The crutch was entirely brown, with a curved handle designed for better grip.
Tian Sangsang tossed the crutch toward him. "Here, give it a try."
Zhao Chun took it, gripping the crutch in his hand—it was just the right size, quite good. Using the crutch as a substitute for his other leg was far better than hopping around on one foot like before. His eyes reddened, overwheld with complicated emotions—it truly was a "mix of feelings," impossible to describe in just one word. Thinking back to a few days ago—those were the lowest days of his life, crawling around on the ground. While Biao-ge was the instigator behind all this, Tian Sangsang hadn’t been entirely uninvolved either; yet now, ironically, it was also Tian Sangsang who had saved him, given him a place to stay, treated him, fed him, clothed him. Though... well, damn it, the clothes he was wearing right now were won’s clothes.
In his most desperate mont, the only one who reached out... was this Tian Sangsang, with her pitch-black hands.
What triumph and what defeat—all tied to Tian Sangsang.
"Mom, he’s crying again," ng Shuyan tugged at the hem of Tian Sangsang’s shirt, saying quietly while looking up at her. This was, without a doubt, the most fragile uncle he had ever seen.
Tian Sangsang was stunned, watching as the tear rolled down Zhao Chun’s cheek. She thought to herself, "This is like a male version of Lin Daiyu." She patted ng Shuyan’s head and said in a calm and collected tone, "He’s crying tears of gratitude. Because we’re just that kind. Yanyan, rember this: ’To gift soone a rose leaves a lingering fragrance on the hand.’ If everyone offers a little love, the world will beco a better place~~~"
Damn it. Zhao Chun weakly pouted. Who’s crying from gratitude? This woman is not only stingy but shalessly narcissistic.
That evening, the main room was bathed in the dim glow of a kerosene lamp.
Tian Sangsang, after soaking in her rose petal bath in her "space," ca out to help ng Shuyan take his bath. The two of them had their daily ritual of bathing—a stark contrast to most families in the village, where people rarely bathed. The villagers found bathing inconvenient—it required heating water and lighting a fire; and in sumr, n often stood in their yards, stripped to a pair of boxers, pouring water over themselves. But in Tian Sangsang’s household, the bathwater was prepared in her "space" and carried out to use, eliminating the need to fetch water or chop wood, saving both ti and effort.
Tian Sangsang wrapped her arms loosely around ng Shuyan’s small body, fanning herself leisurely with a little palm-leaf fan.
Familiar with the scent of roses from her baths, ng Shuyan nestled his fluffy head into her embrace, rubbing against her before glancing up at her. "Mom, can I go find Chun Zisu?"
It took Tian Sangsang a mont to process who "Chun Zisu" was before she burst out laughing. "Why are you calling him Chun Zisu?"
"Grandma Zhong calls that dog Goushengsheng, so I decided to call him Chun Zisu," ng Shuyan answered seriously.
Suppressing her laughter, Tian Sangsang ruffled his hair and praised him, "Son, you’re so clever~~!"
Maybe I should start calling him Chun Chunzi... Three syllables. But she quickly dismissed the thought; children spoke innocently, but as an adult, she couldn’t lose her composure too.
Blushing slightly, ng Shuyan lowered his head, a small smile secretly tugging at the corners of his lips.
"And why do you want to go find him?" Tian Sangsang asked again. In truth, she could sense her son’s excitent; having a man finally in the house had made her son a bit livelier. It wasn’t unreasonable—after all, "like attracts like," as they say.
"I’m afraid Chun Zisu might be secretly crying in his room. If I go talk to him, he might feel a little better," ng Shuyan replied with a maturity that belied his years.
With Tian Sangsang’s permission, ng Shuyan’s eyes sparkled as he excitedly made his way to Zhao Chun’s room, calling softly with his sugary voice, "Chun Zisu!"
As ng Shuyan had guessed, Zhao Chun, sitting alone in the quiet, was almost brought to tears again. Hearing ng Shuyan’s voice, he quickly dabbed at the corner of his eye and, sounding slightly more animated, asked, "Little Yan, you’re still awake?"
ng Shuyan shook his head and climbed onto the bed slowly. "Chun Zisu, I’ll tell you a story, okay? Stories will make you stop wanting to cry. I know how to tell stories, so just listen, alright?"
"Alright," Zhao Chun replied, his movents mimicking Tian Sangsang’s as he placed his hand on ng Shuyan’s head. This feeling... this feeling...
ng Shuyan’s little heart raced in his chest; the hand resting on his head felt different from his mom’s—it was broad and strong. Squinting his eyes, ng Shuyan asked, "Chun Zisu, have you been to my house before?"
"Nope," Zhao Chun answered honestly. He really hadn’t been to this place before, a spot so remote it didn’t even have electricity. Yet, oddly, he didn’t mind it now.
ng Shuyan let out a slow "Oh," his gaze dropping as a trace of disappointnt flickered in his eyes.
"What’s wrong, Little Yan?" Zhao Chun, visibly flustered, held him clumsily. With no experience raising kids, he awkwardly shifted his weight to hug the little body, trying to redirect the conversation. "Didn’t you say you’d tell a story? What story is it?" The child’s body felt so soft—so different from the rough, fiery energy of grown n.
ng Shuyan said lancholically, "The bedti stories my mom tells ."
Oh? Tian Sangsang told bedti stories? Zhao Chun’s eyes glinted with curiosity. That woman knew how to... tell stories?
"Little Yan, you’re amazing, already knowing how to tell stories!" Zhao Chun’s voice softened as he spoke to ng Shuyan. "Go ahead—I love listening to stories."
ng Shuyan’s eyes imdiately curved into crescent moons. "These stories all have the sa na—they’re called ’Deeply Unsettling if You Think About It.’
Zhao Chun’s voice trembled ever so slightly; an ominous feeling crept up his spine.
It must be said, ng Shuyan had an impeccable mory. Every story Tian Sangsang told him, he could recall perfectly and retell just as vividly.
"Yesterday, eight people were playing hide-and-seek. About five minutes later, I was found. Five minutes after that, three others were found. And in another five minutes, the last four were found. It was so fast! We’ll definitely have to play again next ti."
"The birds my family keeps are always noisy, so sotis my family puts the cage in the dark bathroom. One day, sitting in the unlit living room, I suddenly heard the birds’ cries coming from the bathroom—they sounded like screams.
I thought sothing must’ve happened to them and rushed over to open the bathroom door. Inside, I found one bird sleeping in its little birdhouse and the other perched on its swing, dazed.
’Ugh...’
I closed the door and went back to the couch to continue watching TV. The news was reporting on a break-in involving a thief who secretly lived in a house for a prolonged period, tying up the tenants."
I thought to myself, ’I’ll take the birdcage out later so they can fly around the house.’"
"These stories..." Zhao Chun muttered under his breath, his eyes suddenly widening as a shiver ran down his spine. "Little Yan, wasn’t it just eight people? So who was the extra person?"
"It was ," ng Shuyan said, his black, shining eyes blinking innocently as he grinned. "I found all eight of them."
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