After sending Tang Xin off and returning, the convenience store at the entrance was still open. Chen An went in to buy cigarettes. The shopkeeper was Uncle Yang who lived on the fourth floor of their apartment building. After giving him the cigarettes, Uncle Yang suddenly asked, “I just stewed some eight-treasure porridge for a midnight snack. Want some?”

Chen An was about to say no, but Uncle Yang had already filled a bowl and handed it over, so he could only thank him and accept the bowl, sitting down at the small table by the door with its damaged edges.

The interior was cramped and the table was low. Being tall and long-limbed, his two long legs could only be placed awkwardly in the aisle.

Uncle Yang also filled a bowl for himself and sat across from him. He blew on the hot steam and asked, “Did you have a fight with Little Swallow?”

“You heard it all?”

“Heard a bit. It’s not that I was deliberately listening—it was late at night and you two were standing in the courtyard arguing. Who couldn’t hear?”

Just now, caught up in venting emotions, he hadn’t chosen a location, letting everyone up and down the entire building and even the entire residential complex enjoy the spectacle.

“I’m sorry for disturbing everyone’s rest.”

“Disturbing what? We found it quite entertaining to listen to.”

“…” Chen An’s hand stirring the porridge paused.

Uncle Yang sighed. “Ah, youth is wonderful—even your arguments are sweet. When we reach our age and argue at this hour, people upstairs would throw hot water bottles down at us. It’s only because you two were arguing that everyone could stand to listen.”

“…”

“You and Little Swallow probably only fought when you were in split-pants diapers, right? After that, you got along so well—wherever you went, you took her with you, and she only knew to stick to you. That’s what you call childhood sweethearts, innocent affection.” Uncle Yang swallowed a mouthful of porridge. “I remember once, Little Swallow ran up to the rooftop, beating drums and gongs to cheer you on, shouting slogans so loudly. Old Zhou on the fifth floor had just had surgery and couldn’t sleep well at night. He was so annoyed by Little Swallow that he chased after her upstairs with his cane. Little Swallow ran so fiercely she fell on the stairs. Oh, the way she cried—she cried until Old Zhou gave her all his nutritional supplements.”

Chen An had only seen the result and didn’t know Lele had fallen. “She fell?”

“Yeah, fell on her knee. That spot hurts when you fall on it, probably still has a scar.”

“She never told me.” Chen An lowered his head. The porridge had cooled down, but he still had no appetite.

“Ah, there was another time, the weather was about like today—also a snowy day. I hadn’t fallen into deep sleep yet. In the middle of the night, I heard rustling sounds downstairs. I got up and opened the window to look. If I didn’t have good eyesight, I would have really caught Little Swallow as a thief. This little girl wasn’t sleeping in the middle of the night—she was climbing trees for fun. After I went to the bathroom for a bit and looked out the window again, hey, Little Swallow had climbed onto the roof of the carport.”

Chen An looked up. “When was this?”

“The night before Old Cheng passed away. She was climbing up and down and sprained her foot too. I remember it very clearly.”

Chen An paused. “The day my godfather died?”

“That’s right. She climbed up there to write big characters for you. I saw it all.”

“What did she write?” Chen An’s gaze contracted.

Uncle Yang squinted his eyes. “Let me think. It seemed to be ‘Young Master, keep going’ with a little heart after it. Right, you had a competition that day, and she was cheering you on. You didn’t know?”

Chen An’s throat choked up. “I didn’t know.” Back then when he was at winter camp and didn’t receive a reply, he thought she was still sulking in a cold war, so he didn’t take it seriously enough and let it drag until the last day. If only he had seen her message, he definitely wouldn’t have misunderstood. Once she didn’t reply to his text, he would have noticed something was wrong and abandoned the competition to come back. Perhaps the rift between the two families wouldn’t have formed…

Uncle Yang finished the last mouthful of porridge, his spoon scraping against the porcelain bowl with clanging sounds. “Don’t look at how Little Swallow giggles and laughs—she’s someone who understands principles and has a transparent heart. Sigh, An’an, there are many things she doesn’t tell you, not because she doesn’t want to, but because telling you would be useless and would just make one more person sad. She can’t bear to see you suffer. When she lost her dad, she knew you were his godson, and she hoped you’d come back. When she lost her mom, you were still her mom’s godson, and she hoped for you just the same. You know that, right?”

“I know.”

“This old building only sees people moving out—no young people move in anymore. During the years you weren’t here, we all felt it was desolate. If you can still make do, stay and keep us old folks company, even if it’s just arguing—at least it’s lively.”

“Mm.” Chen An responded.

Uncle Yang stood up and collected the bowls and chopsticks. “If you don’t want to eat, don’t force it. You never liked sweet things since you were little. Hurry back and sleep.”

Chen An also stood up, lifted the plastic curtain—the draft didn’t seem so biting anymore—and slowly walked home.

When he got home, Chen An didn’t even take off his clothes before sitting on the sofa and using his phone to search for “myeloma.” When he received the news that his godmother had long since passed away, he was overwhelmed with resentment and heartache. When he saw Cheng Lele, however, his words came out angry and rushed, and they bickered so much he hadn’t even bothered to ask about details. Now that he had calmed down, feelings of tenderness and concern took over, but it was too late to ask her again. He could only look up information first.

After searching for a while, a bedside diary uploaded by a patient’s family member caught his attention. The diary used both text and images to record the countless sufferings the patient endured during treatment. The cumulative list of medications used alone took up several pages. The physical torment also caused the patient’s mental state to plummet. At first, the patient could still optimistically fight the cancer, but the disease’s progression and chemotherapy’s side effects were like extracting marrow from bones, tormenting a person in the prime of life into a lifeless bundle of dry grass. He stated frankly that by the time the patient was dying, there was no shred of dignity left—they only wished for death. In the end, he gave up futile resuscitation, so that when death came, it actually felt like a release for both parties.

Chen An flipped through dozens of pages of the diary, projecting his godmother’s and Cheng Lele’s cancer-fighting journey over these years, and his heart surged with bitterness. His godmother had been pampered since childhood, gentle in temperament and elegant in manner. After his godfather’s death, depression had made her sensitive, extreme, suspicious, and paranoid. Fortunately, afterward she gradually emerged from the shadows and found a new partner and job in a new city. They say after great disaster comes great fortune—she who should have turned misfortune into blessing instead…

Thinking of this, Chen An couldn’t help but choke up. He hadn’t seen his godfather one last time, and when his godmother endured five full years of both physical and mental torture, he wasn’t there by her side to fulfill his filial duties. And in this world, if there were two elders who couldn’t let go, it was Cheng Lele.

And Cheng Lele had Zhong Ming.

Like a gecko severing its tail to survive, he shouldn’t see Cheng Lele again.

Chen An lit a cigarette. The blood-red glow was the only light in the darkness of night.