Chapter 185: Little Treasure |
Was she truly too naive? A right laugh, thought Zhao Lan, dragging herself out of sleep and into the harsh glare of a new day.
A quick scroll through her social media feeds confirmed it – the internet was awash with praise for the beauty in the painting, yet not a single soul recognised the face staring back at them. *Her* face. How could she expect to find someone when no one knew who to look for?
A shrill ring cut through her thoughts. Her supervisor. After the obligatory pleasantries about her health and discharge, he cut to the chase: when could she grace them with her presence back at work?
A pang of envy stabbed at Zhao Lan as she sighed. Yu Xiao had it made. One day, she vowed silently, she too would know the sweet freedom of idleness and overflowing coffers.
“I’ll need at least another month,” she told her supervisor, her mind already made up. The post-discharge patient gathering wasn’t until then, and she wasn’t going to miss it. “Doctor’s orders, still recovering.”
A chipper “Rest well then!” chirped down the line before he hung up, clearly relieved to have a return date. Typical.
The house was still and quiet as Zhao Lan padded out of her room. Smiley and Precious were still sound asleep.
Stepping onto the balcony, she tossed her clothes into the washing machine, the morning sun warm on her face. Yu Xiao’s words about the hospital window framing nothing but a fake world echoed in her mind. She couldn’t recall what had happened, but standing here, feeling the wind on her skin… it all felt strangely unreal.
Face washed and a steaming bowl on the stove, Zhao Lan headed out to grab some breakfast, the quiet hum of the city already rising around her.
“I wish I could live another five hundred years…”
The insistent ringing dragged Yu Xiao from sleep. It was her mother. Always glamorous, she could have passed for forty even though she was pushing fifty, her life a constant parade of self-fulfilment.
“Smiley,” her mother’s voice was surprisingly gentle. “You didn’t tell me you were discharged! Are you at your father’s or at your flat?”
Truth be told, Yu Xiao rarely bothered calling her parents. Their insincere, long-distance concern used to grate on her. What good were empty words? But today, fresh from the hospital and soothed by the sound of her mother’s voice, an unexpected calm settled over her.
“I’m at a friend’s. I’m fine, don’t worry.”
Her mother, clearly picking up on the change in her tone, sounded delighted. “Oh, a friend’s! That’s good. You need proper rest, no need to rush back to school. Eat well! Do you need any money?”
“I’m good.”
While she no longer felt the urge to cut the conversation short, she had nothing to say either. It was pointless; her mother didn’t even ask where this friend lived, or offer to visit. Just if she needed money.
*Which was fine*, Yu Xiao thought. At least her mother was good for cash, unlike those stingy parents you saw on TV.
She got out of bed and opened the door. The aroma hit her immediately – Misty must have cooked something delicious.
Yu Xiao’s mood lifted instantly. “Really, I’m fine. If I need anything, I’ll let you know.”
“Oh.” Her mother sounded reluctant to hang up. “Does your father even know you’re out?”
“Probably not.” Yu Xiao’s attention had already wandered.
She peeked into the pot – red bean porridge, bubbling invitingly. Her stomach rumbled in appreciation.
“He doesn’t know? What kind of father is he? Hasn’t even called, has he? Doesn’t care about his own daughter…”
A torrent of complaints and insults followed. Yu Xiao listened patiently, and when her mother paused for breath, she interjected, “Don’t get yourself worked up, it’s bad for you. I’m fine. It doesn’t matter if he cares or not.”
“How can it not matter? I’ll give him a piece of my mind…”
The call finally ended. Yu Xiao scooped a spoonful of porridge – not too sweet, perfectly rich. Just how she liked it.
As she was about to wash up, the front door opened. Zhao Lan walked in, laden with bags of breakfast goodies.
“You’re up,” Zhao Lan said. “Go wash your face and come eat.”
“Alright!” Yu Xiao chirped, already heading for the bathroom.
Freshly washed and slathered in Zhao Lan’s luxurious skincare, Yu Xiao studied her reflection. She looked different from her hospital self; this was the face she’d had before the whole Sixth Hospital ordeal.
She touched her rosy cheek, then her chest.
Ever since Nightmare had taken up residence in her Obsession Heart, lulling it into a temporary slumber, she felt more human, her emotions returning. She smiled at her reflection, savouring the feeling.
Back in the living room, Zhou Xiao Zhen, bald head gleaming, stumbled out of her room, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Morning…”
“Good morning.” Yu Xiao settled at the table where Zhao Lan had already laid out three steaming bowls of red bean porridge.
- (Red bean porridge (红豆粥; hóng dòu zhōu): A sweet porridge made from red beans, commonly eaten in Chinese cuisine.)
Grabbing a fried dough stick, she casually asked, “Any news on that painting?”
- (Youtiao (油条; yóu tiáo; fried dough stick): A traditional Chinese breakfast food, often eaten with porridge or soy milk.)
“No such luck.” Zhao Lan tore the dough stick into pieces, letting them fall into her porridge with a shake of her head. “Finding someone from that long ago is like searching for a needle in a haystack.”
Yu Xiao had to agree; she was fresh out of ideas too.
“I’m not giving up though,” Zhao Lan said, a determined glint in her eyes as she scooped a spoonful of porridge.
Yu Xiao nodded, her gaze following the movement of the spoon.
“We only get, what, seventy years on this earth?” Zhao Lan suddenly asked, her brow furrowing.
“Something like that,” Yu Xiao murmured, taking another bite.
Zhao Lan began counting on her fingers, her expression turning troubled. “With the way they keep pushing back the retirement age, if we kick the bucket at seventy, we’ll barely get a pension. What a rip-off.”
Yu Xiao choked back a laugh. “Seriously? You’re already planning your retirement?”
“To live a good life, you gotta plan ahead,” Zhao Lan declared sagely. “No way I’m spending my whole life working. I need time for the good stuff.”
Yu Xiao, hiding a smile, focused on her porridge, listening as Zhao Lan launched into a detailed breakdown of her golden years.
Zhou Xiao Zhen emerged from the bathroom to find Zhao Lan hunched over a piece of paper, scribbling furiously.
“Doing the accounts, Misty?” she asked, peering over her shoulder.
Yu Xiao grinned. “She’s calculating the optimal age to retire.”
“Huh?” Eighteen-year-old Zhou Xiao Zhen looked bewildered. “You get to choose when you retire?”
“I wish I could live another five hundred years…”
Yu Xiao watched her, amused, as she answered, a cheerful lilt to her voice. “Hello? Uncle Zheng, have you eaten?“
- (吃了吗？(chī le ma?; Have you eaten?): This phrase is commonly used in Chinese culture as a greeting, similar to asking “How are you?” in English. It reflects the importance of food in daily life and shows care for the other person’s well-being.)
“Yes, yes,” a man’s voice replied. “I’ve reached out to a few people. Most are free for the gathering. How about three days from now, in Beijing? Would that work for you?”
“Perfect.” Yu Xiao had been meaning to visit Beijing anyway; Bed Brother had lived there.
“Excellent,” Zheng Dong Li said. “I’ll let you know the venue once it’s confirmed.”
“Thank you, Uncle,” Yu Xiao said sincerely. “You’re truly a good person.”
Zheng Dong Li’s laughter boomed through the phone. “You wouldn’t believe it now, but back in my day, they used to call me ‘The Real Rascal’—”
“—It’s settled!” Yu Xiao announced, snapping her phone shut. “The reunion’s in three days, in Beijing!”
Zhao Lan immediately abandoned her calculations. “Shall I book flights for the day after tomorrow?”
“I want to go sooner,” Yu Xiao said. “I’ve got someone to find.”
Neither Yu Xiao nor Zhou Xiao Zhen had ever set foot in Beijing. Born and raised in the south, their lives had been consumed by textbooks and exams, leaving little room for adventure. Beijing, or any northern city for that matter, felt like another world.
Thankfully, Zhao Lan was a seasoned traveller.
As they navigated the bustling airport, fresh off the plane, Zhou Xiao Zhen nervously patted her wig. “Smiley, does this look… obvious?”
Yu Xiao took one look at the meticulously styled, undeniably ladylike wig perched atop Precious’s head and winced inwardly.
Of all the wigs in the world, why did she have to choose one that screamed ‘grandma chic’? Still, she lied, “Not at all, it looks great!”
Zhou Xiao Zhen puffed up like a preening peacock. Hair, it seemed, did wonders for her confidence.
“Smiley,” she asked, “Brother Bed… he’s from, like, ages ago. What if his address is out of date?”
“It’s fine,” Zhao Lan reassured her. “I checked online. The neighbourhood still exists.”
“Oh, good.” Zhou Xiao Zhen nodded, then her brow furrowed. “But what if his family moved?”
Yu Xiao felt a flicker of anxiety, but Zhao Lan remained unfazed. “Doubtful.”
“Why?” Zhou Xiao Zhen looked unconvinced.
“Moving in Beijing? Costs a fortune,” Zhao Lan explained.
“Right…” Zhou Xiao Zhen sighed. “Unless his family is like yours, Smiley, with flats coming out of their ears. Speaking of which, I hear you’re getting another one?”
“Yeah.” Yu Xiao’s mind was already miles away, replaying memories of the friends she’d made within the hospital walls. “Mum had a go at Dad, he felt bad, so now I’m getting a place near school.”
Zhao Lan masked a wince, while Zhou Xiao Zhen’s eyes widened. “And you’re still going to work?”
“I am working,” Yu Xiao deadpanned. “Hello? Director on set here.”
“Wow.” Zhou Xiao Zhen breathed, her eyes sparkling with awe. “Last night I read this book, right? About this guy who worked for the National Dragon Group, like a ghost-busting department. You think that’s real?”
Zhao Lan paused, a thoughtful frown creasing her brow. “You’d think Zheng Dong Li would know if there was, right?”
“I doubt there is one,” Yu Xiao said. “If there was some secret government agency for superpowered people, they’d be all over us by now. Imagine, all those discharged patients suddenly developing abilities? They wouldn’t just let that slide.”
“Good point,” Zhou Xiao Zhen agreed, patting Yu Xiao’s shoulder. “Imagine if they found out Smiley doesn’t have a heartbeat! Straight to the zombie lab with you!”
Yu Xiao suppressed a shudder. The image was all too easy to conjure.
By the time they reached Beijing, the afternoon sun was already dipping below the horizon. After checking into a hotel and grabbing a quick dinner, they stepped out into the cool night air. The address Flying to Someone Else’s Bed had given her was within walking distance, so they decided to explore the neighbourhood in the morning.
Sleep was elusive for Yu Xiao that night. She didn’t actually need much of it anymore, but the rhythm of a human life, of settling into bed each night, was a hard habit to break.
Tossing and turning, her mind awhirl with anxieties, she finally gave up and got dressed. A walk might help clear her head.
Before she knew it, her feet had led her to the very complex where Bed Brother had once lived. It was past eleven, the streets quiet but still alive with the murmur of a city that never truly slept. She lingered outside the gates, drawing a suspicious glance from the security guard.
Circling around, she spotted a gap in the fence, conveniently free of security cameras, and hopped over.
Bed Brother had given her his phone before he died, a lifeline in case she needed to use his identity to escape the hospital. As it turned out, becoming a Director had its perks, and she’d never needed his goodwill. He’d asked her to return the phone to his family, but other patients’ phones couldn’t be taken out of the hospital, so she couldn’t fulfil his request.
Now, here she was, lurking around his old neighbourhood like a thief in the night, her mind a tangled mess. What on earth was she going to say to his family?
*Hi, I’m your son’s friend*?
Hardly. She’d been a baby when he died over a decade ago.
*I’m your son’s friend’s daughter*? Now that was just ridiculous. Yu Xiao scrubbed a hand over her face in frustration.
A sound made her pause – hurried footsteps approaching. She turned to see a group of people rushing towards her, led by an elderly man with worry etched on his face. His eyes, magnified by thick glasses, landed on her. “Excuse me, have you seen an old man, blue clothes, white hair, very thin?”
Yu Xiao shook her head, and they hurried past, their calls of “Dad! Dad, where are you?” fading into the night.
She watched them go, a strange feeling settling in her stomach. The neighbourhood wasn’t large, and she’d walked its length several times. She hadn’t seen any elderly men. Not a single one.
Yu Xiao decided against pushing her luck further. This little escapade was already straying dangerously close to “trespassing” territory. As she turned to leave, a faint groan, barely audible over the rustle of leaves, stopped her in her tracks.
She peered behind a lush bush and found an old man sprawled beneath it, his snow-white hair blending with the moonlight. His face, a roadmap of wrinkles and age spots, was creased in pain. A quick glance back at the street confirmed her suspicions – the frantic family was gone.
“Sir, are you alright?” She rushed over and gently helped him up.
He groaned, clutching at his leg. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the bone was broken.
*Oh, fantastic*, she thought wryly. *Because dealing with confused relatives wasn’t enough, now we’ve got broken bones. Just another Tuesday night.*
“Sir, let me take you to your family,” she offered.
He mumbled something incoherent, his fingers twisting into the fabric of her sleeve. “Should I call an ambulance?” she tried again.
Still mumbling, the old man stared blankly ahead. He was clearly disoriented, lost in some internal world. No wonder his family had been frantic.
Gently, she guided him to a nearby bench. The neighbourhood wasn’t that big; she could probably catch up with his family if she ran. “Stay put,” she instructed. “I’ll find them.”
As she turned to leave, she felt a tug on her sleeve. Looking down, she saw the old man’s hand, trembling but surprisingly strong, gripping her tight.
“Little treasure,” he rasped, his voice thin and reedy. “Grandpa hurts…”
Yu Xiao sighed. So much for a quiet stroll. “Consider yourself lucky,” she muttered. “Insomnia is a real bitch.”
With a practised ease that belied her slender frame, she hoisted him onto her back and retraced her steps, jumping back over the fence with the old man clinging to her like a particularly bony backpack.
Luck, it seemed, was on her side tonight. A pharmacy, bathed in the harsh glow of fluorescent lights, appeared around the corner. Alcohol, cinnabar – check. A few streets down, a funeral services shop, its windows filled with paper lanterns and incense, yielded yellow paper and a calligraphy brush.
Under the dim glow of a streetlamp, Yu Xiao crouched down and began drawing talismans, the old man’s incessant mumbling providing a bizarre soundtrack. She’d drawn countless emergency healing talismans before, her success rate bordering on miraculous. Three talismans, drawn with swift, sure strokes, lay on the pavement.
One by one, she placed them on the old man’s broken leg. They dissolved into shimmering dust, and as if by magic, the swelling began to recede. Two more talismans, and the tremors subsided, the old man’s face relaxing into an expression of peaceful relief.
“Can you remember how to get home now?” she asked, hoping for a miracle.
He stared at her, his eyes clouded and distant. “Little treasure,” he whispered. “Find little treasure…”
Yu Xiao sighed, resignation settling over her. This poor old man was clearly lost in more ways than one. As she packed up her makeshift talisman-making kit, an idea sparked. Could a crisis healing talisman, designed to soothe the soul as much as the body, help clear his mind? It was a long shot, but desperate times…
Ten talismans, drawn with meticulous care, formed a circle on the old man’s forehead. Yu Xiao held her breath, cinnabar powder falling like crimson snowflakes. She waited.
A beat of silence. Then, a flicker of awareness in the old man’s eyes. He blinked, gaze slowly focusing on Yu Xiao’s face.
“Dear?” he mumbled, voice thick with confusion. “Why am I out here?”
- (妮儿 (nī er): Nier; affectionate term similar to “dear” or “darling” used by an elderly person addressing a younger female.)
“Grandpa, do you recognise me?” she asked gently, testing the waters.
He stared, brow furrowed in concentration. “You…” He shook his head, confusion clouding his features. “I don’t know you.”
His eyes darted around, wide and lost. “Where is this? How did I get here?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll take you home.” Yu Xiao, with surprising strength, scooped him up in her arms.
He let out a startled yelp, then chuckled, eyes twinkling as he gave her a thumbs-up. “Strong girl!”
The security guard, thankfully, recognised him. “Old Mr. Mei! There you are! Sneaking out again? Your family was worried sick!”
Old Mr. Mei blinked, bewildered. “I don’t…” he began, clinging to Yu Xiao as if she were his lifeline.
“Where does he live?” Yu Xiao asked, raising her voice.
The guard, assuming she was just a kind soul helping a forgetful old man, rattled off an address.
Yu Xiao froze, blood turning to ice. Her mind reeled as she stared at Old Mr. Mei.
“Thank you, darling,” he said, patting her hand. “You go home now. I’m fine.”
Finding her voice, Yu Xiao leaned closer. “Grandpa,” she asked softly, “do you know… Mei Huai Xin?”
Recognition sparked in his cloudy eyes. “Ah, you knew my Little Treasure too?” His voice cracked, tears welling. “Little Treasure… gone now…”
Before Yu Xiao could process this bombshell, the security guard’s shouts heralded the arrival of a frantic middle-aged man, hair streaked with grey, his voice thick with panic.
“Dad! What are you doing here…?”
The guard, ever helpful, gestured towards Yu Xiao. “This kind young lady found him wandering and brought him back.”
A woman, her face etched with worry, rushed forward, clutching Yu Xiao’s hand. “Thank you, thank you so much…”
The old man’s soft sobs filled the air, choked and heart-wrenching. “Little Treasure…” he choked out, clutching his son’s hand. “Little Treasure is… gone…”
The grey-haired man froze, tears welling in his own eyes. But then, a watery smile spread across his face as he turned to the woman beside him. “See? He remembers! The new medication… it’s working! He remembers everything… and he’s speaking clearly!”
Yu Xiao watched it all unfold, a knot of unease tightening in her stomach.
Later that evening, she found herself a guest in the old man’s home. The couple, his son and daughter-in-law, fussed over him, their relief at his improved mental state palpable. The talismans had worked their magic, and after a good cry, the old man was energised enough to pull out old photo albums.
He pointed a trembling finger at a picture of a young man, his smile bright and carefree. “This is my son, Little Treasure. Dear, how did you know my son?”
Yu Xiao’s breath caught in her throat. She glanced at the woman who had brought her tea, a silent plea for help in her eyes.
“Dad,” the grey-haired man chuckled, “you’re at it again. Miss Yu is only twenty. How could she know Huai Xin? He passed away nineteen years ago.”
Old Mr. Mei faltered, doubt creeping into his eyes.
“Dear,” he asked, his voice serious now, “do you truly not know my son, Little Treasure?”
Yu Xiao licked her lips. “…I don’t.”
“Ah,” Old Mr. Mei sighed, tapping his head. “Must be my old mind playing tricks again. Can’t trust it these days.”
Seizing the opportunity, Yu Xiao casually asked, “How did… Grandpa Mei’s son pass away?”
The grey-haired man sighed again, a shadow falling over his face. “Heart condition. Over ten years ago. Medical care wasn’t what it is now… they couldn’t save him…”
Yu Xiao’s mind raced. She needed to know where he was buried, but how could she ask without raising suspicions?
As if reading her mind, the old man declared, “We’ll visit Little Treasure tomorrow!”
The couple exchanged a worried look. He was frail, prone to these bouts of confusion… a trip to the cemetery was pushing it.
“I’m an old man,” he said, his voice taking on a stubborn edge. “Might as well be buried next to Little Treasure when my time comes.”
The couple’s faces fell. There wasn’t any space left beside his son’s grave.
Yu Xiao saw her chance. “Actually,” she interjected, “I know a Feng Shui master. Very skilled in cemetery matters.”
Old Mr. Mei’s eyes lit up. “Really? Could he… could he take a look at the gravesite?”
“Dad,” the grey-haired man started, exasperated, “his ashes are in a public cemetery. What’s the point of Feng Shui now?”
“Even public cemeteries need good Feng Shui!” Old Mr. Mei clutched Yu Xiao’s hand, his grip surprisingly strong. “Please, I beg you.”
“No problem,” Yu Xiao said, a sly smile playing on her lips.
“Dad!”
“He’s a friend,” she added quickly. “No charge.”
“No charge!” Old Mr. Mei echoed, beaming at his son.
The grey-haired man, defeated, threw his hands up in the air. If it stopped his father’s incessant pleas to be buried next to a son he barely remembered, then so be it. Feng Shui it was.