Chapter 36

The days leading up to the New Year were surprisingly snowless.

The air was dry, carrying a crisp scent of grass and trees.

Ruan Zhen had gone to town early with Zhang Laotou to buy New Year’s supplies: cured meat, dried vegetables, old tofu, smoked fish, and glutinous rice. They didn’t need to buy greens; the school was close to Huangyang Village, and it was a short walk to the fields where they could pick two large cabbages from the yard.

Every household in the village grew vegetables. The land was vast and sparsely populated, making vegetables cheap and abundant. The village chief’s wife was particularly skilled at steaming buns and often sent them to Ruan Zhen. Zhang Laotou felt a bit embarrassed and would clean the fish he caught and return them to her. That winter, both he and the yellow dog gained a few pounds.

Among the New Year’s supplies, the most important were the Spring Festival couplets and yellow wine. After buying the last door god, Zhang Laotou came over with a sugar-coated haw skewer, holding it out to Ruan Zhen. “Try it, it’s sweet!”

Ruan Zhen sat in the tricycle, wearing a woolen hat and scarf, bundled up like a ball, his large eyes visible, and his breath forming white clouds when he spoke.

“Grandpa, you should try it too!”

“I don’t like these,” Zhang Laotou waved his hand. “I need to roll a couple of cigarettes!”

The yellow dog, lying at his feet, barked and struggled to stand up.

Zhang Laotou chuckled. “Alright, I’ll smoke less… It’s the New Year, you can’t stop me from relaxing a bit!”

He gently patted the yellow dog’s head. “Don’t worry, I’m not coughing anymore.”

Satisfied, the yellow dog lay back down, resting his head on his paws to sleep.

After returning from town, Zhang Laotou went to play poker with the village doctor. Ruan Zhen, seeing it was about time, took a walk around the playground and the teaching building—his duty was to ensure the school was manned during working hours.

Everything was fine. The classroom doors and windows were locked, and it was quiet.

Ruan Zhen took a photo and sent it to the work group, half-jokingly captioning it: “Leaders, rest assured, the desks and blackboards haven’t been stolen.”

Someone quickly replied.

“Then what about Teacher Ruan, don’t let him get stolen!”

Ruan Zhen laughed for a while.

In this empty school, if anyone else appeared besides him, it would be a ghost.

Today was the 28th of the twelfth lunar month, and it was a bit colder. Ruan Zhen had recently developed a hobby of roasting tangerines on Zhang Laotou’s stove. This was something the barefoot doctor had taught them—placing two tangerines directly on the charcoal, poking them out when the time was right, and eating them while they were hot, which was good for the throat.

Both Zhang Laotou and the yellow dog had respiratory issues, and the sweet and sour tangerines did indeed make them feel much better.

Even Ruan Zhen enjoyed the taste.

It didn’t take long for the tangerines to turn a burnt orange. He peeled off the skin and the fine white pith—Zhang Laotou didn’t remove the pith, saying it was a kind of traditional medicine that was good for the body, but Ruan Zhen found it bitter.

The room was quiet. Ruan Zhen waited for the tangerines to roast, sitting on the bed and swinging his legs aimlessly.

He felt an unusual sense of peace.

Yes, this kind of idle contentment.

Outside, birds chirped. There was no need to worry about being coveted or bullied, no need to fret over an uncertain future. He just needed to stay in his small room, quietly waiting for the tangerines to roast.

There was a faint sound outside.

Ruan Zhen didn’t pay much attention.

It might have been a branch breaking under the weight of snow or a cluster of birds. When there were too many, the entire branch would snap and fall to the ground.

Thinking it was about time, Ruan Zhen picked up the tongs and carefully removed the two tangerines. He blew on them and touched one.

It was hot, almost glowing with a reddish spark.

But the ritual of roasting tangerines was to peel them while they were still hot. Ruan Zhen found a pair of thick gloves in the kitchen and continued peeling. However, he wasn’t careful, and the other tangerine rolled off the table and landed on his foot.

“Ouch.”

Ruan Zhen, who had already taken off his clothes and shoes, was dressed in a sweater and sweatpants, feeling comfortable.

The thin cotton sock now had a grayish-black mark. Ruan Zhen went to the bathroom, turned on the shower, and rinsed his foot with cold water before carefully removing the sock. He saw a small red mark.

It wasn’t a big deal, but there was no burn ointment in the house.

He didn’t want to make a trip to the village doctor.

More importantly, he was alone in the house.

Even the yellow dog wasn’t there.

The yellow dog was old and didn’t like going out in the winter. He didn’t want to exert himself, but the doctor had advised ensuring he got some daily exercise. So today, he went out with Zhang Laotou. Before leaving, Zhang Laotou even put a woolen hat on him, worried about his ears getting frostbitten.

On the 23rd of the twelfth lunar month, the yellow dog refused to eat the dumplings, so Zhang Laotou grumbled, saying, “If you don’t eat the dumplings, your ears might freeze off!”

The yellow dog looked at him pitifully.

There was no help for it. The dumplings were from the village chief’s house and had carrot filling. The yellow dog ate everything but didn’t like carrots. Even if Ruan Zhen picked them out, he couldn’t stand the smell.

They both realized they had forgotten to tell the village chief.

But there was no way around it. Neither of them was good at making dough, and it was too late to buy dumplings from town. So Zhang Laotou took apart one of Ruan Zhen’s old hats, modified it slightly, and put it on the yellow dog. It was a bit crooked but fit well.

Now they were both reassured that his ears wouldn’t freeze off.

Ruan Zhen cleaned the bathroom floor and, when he came out, the tangerines were warm. He took them to his room, changed into a clean pair of socks, washed his hands, and continued peeling.

Since Zhang Laotou and the yellow dog weren’t home, Ruan Zhen wasn’t being fussy.

If Zhang Laotou were there, he would still be the child who could only taste a bit of wine on a chopstick.

Putting a warm tangerine segment in his mouth, Ruan Zhen sighed contentedly. The sweet and sour taste was indeed soothing for the throat, especially for someone like his grandfather, who smoked a lot. Eating a couple and drinking more tea would make his throat feel better.

Song Shuling also smoked.

The guy had some strange ideas, thinking that smoking made men look cool and handsome. After Ruan Zhen teased him, he actually went to the kitchen and started chopping a duck in front of him, trying to prove that a handsome man had grace in everything he did.

Ruan Zhen couldn’t help but laugh.

Then he wondered why he was thinking about it.

Someone of Song Shuling’s status and position would definitely have a nutritionist and a doctor to create the best medical and dietary plan. He didn’t need Ruan Zhen to tell him that roasting tangerines was good for the throat.

After a while, Ruan Zhen lowered his eyelashes.

His phone screen lit up, and his long fingers swiped a few times, stopping on the chat page.

The last message was from Song Shuling a few days ago.

“Recently, the weather has been dry. Drink more water.”

Ruan Zhen didn’t reply.

He stared at it for a while, then put the phone away, thinking that Song Shuling, despite his words, was quite straightforward.

“Remember to bring an umbrella; it’s going to rain.”

“Tomorrow there will be a heavy snowfall. Be careful when you go out.”

And this one about drinking more water.

Ruan Zhen rarely replied, and when he did, it was just a simple “Okay.”

This awkward atmosphere had persisted for half a year, a relationship that seemed plastic, where neither spoke unless necessary, and occasional pleasantries were exchanged.

But in this bed, he had indeed been held from behind by Song Shuling, their bodies intertwined, their feet touching.

It was half-forced.

But he hadn’t truly pushed him away.

Perhaps it was because of the way Song Shuling looked at him, or the embrace that, though filled with desire, was still restrained. In any case, Ruan Zhen counted his heartbeats and fell asleep in Song Shuling’s arms.

It was very warm.

Ruan Zhen was woken by a phone call.

He didn’t check the number, reaching out groggily to answer. “Hello…”

“Teacher Ruan!”

The voice on the other end was anxious. “Hurry, your grandfather has fallen!”

In certain situations, people can truly lose all their senses.

Ruan Zhen didn’t remember how he got to the hospital. He seemed to have seen the village chief, but he couldn’t recall if he spoke. He only remembered gesturing, grabbing the chief’s arm, and repeating, “Grandpa fell.”

Long-forgotten, impossible scenes flashed in his mind—Zhang Laotou and the yellow dog guarding outside the Song family’s door, lying on the steps.

Was it his fault?

He had brought Zhang Laotou and the yellow dog to the dam, thinking it would be far from conflict and the air would be moist.

His heart was numb.

His world was reduced to colors.

The walls of the hospital were white, the lights in the emergency room were red, and the green signs of the fire escape glowed faintly in the empty corridor.

The village chief followed, sitting beside him and saying not to worry.

The village doctor rubbed his hands, looking guilty.

He had just won a game of poker and stood up too quickly, losing his balance and falling backward. The yellow dog, sharp-eyed but slow-moving, could only watch helplessly as Zhang Laotou fell, barking in vain.

“The dog is fine, my wife is watching him. Don’t worry.”

The village chief comforted him for a while, then said he needed to go smoke and gave the village doctor a look. “Want to join?”

The village doctor hurriedly followed. “Sure.”

The quiet corridor was empty, with only Ruan Zhen sitting there.

The metal bench was cold, and Ruan Zhen, who was always cold, had left in a hurry and hadn’t taken a coat.

The faint smell of disinfectant was uncomfortable.

His eyes stung.

Ruan Zhen raised his arm and rubbed his face vigorously.

He wasn’t thinking about anything. His mind was blank, numb, and slow to react to the surroundings.

Footsteps stopped.

Someone stood in front of him, draping a soft blanket over his shoulders, then knelt down to look Ruan Zhen in the eye.

Ruan Zhen didn’t look up, still rubbing his face.

He didn’t speak, and the other person didn’t ask, just staring at him.

After a while, a small, dark circle of moisture appeared at the edge of the blanket, gradually spreading.

Song Shuling reached out and pulled Ruan Zhen into a tight embrace.