“It is going to rain.” Shi Ting began to pack up the fishing gear.

Yan Qing could offer no help, and could only look anxiously at the horizon.

“Shi Ting, look — there are so many fish in the water.” Yan Qing noticed countless bubbles rising to the surface of the river, and fish that had been completely invisible before were now swimming up in clusters.

When rain is coming, the atmospheric pressure drops, the dissolved oxygen in the water decreases, and fish struggle to breathe below the surface — so they naturally rise to breathe at the top.

Yan Qing said, “If you cast a net right now, you would catch a full haul.”

After Shi Ting finished packing everything onto his back, he turned and pushed her wheelchair. “This rain looks like it will be heavy. Let us find somewhere to shelter first.”

“All those fish — what a shame.”

Even as they were leaving, Yan Qing was still gazing longingly at the great shoal of fish, full of regret.

They had barely taken a few steps when raindrops began to patter down.

Shi Ting spotted a thatched cottage in the grove and suggested, “Let us take shelter in there.”

The car was still far away, and making a dash for it through the rain would surely leave them soaked. He was robust enough that it would not matter much for him, but Yan Qing’s constitution absolutely could not withstand getting drenched.

The thatched cottage was built in a clearing within the grove. Around it ran a low fence of woven branches, with sharp wire tied along the top — clearly a barrier against wild animals.

The gate to the yard was unlocked. Shi Ting gave it a push and it swung open.

“Is anyone home?” Shi Ting called into the cottage.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the door was pushed open. An elderly man in a coarse cloth jacket looked the two of them over and, understanding they were seeking shelter from the rain, said, “Come in.”

Shi Ting and Yan Qing went inside. The kind old man fetched a dry towel. Shi Ting, without a moment’s thought for himself, immediately set to wiping the rain droplets from Yan Qing’s head and face.

Fortunately they had not been out in it long. The two of them had only caught a few scattered drops; they were not soaked through.

“Grandfather, do you live here alone?” Yan Qing looked around at the simple cottage.

The old man sat on a wooden stool, holding a long-stemmed pipe packed with tobacco leaves. He took a puff with a soft sound. “Me and Shunzi.”

“Where is he, then?”

The old man’s eyes suddenly reddened. “Three days ago he went out and never came back.”

Yan Qing had not expected to touch on such a painful matter and quickly offered comfort. “Perhaps something held him up. He will most likely be back before long.”

The old man shook his head. “He is not coming back. He is not coming back.”

No wonder the old man had left his gate unlatched — it had been left open all this time for Shunzi. Yan Qing’s heart ached at the realization.

The home could be described as bare and destitute. The bedding was simple, worn through and showing patches of cotton. Even the two bowls on the table were chipped and had lost much of their glaze.

Shi Ting placed the bucket of fish in front of the old man. “Grandfather, these are the fish we just caught. Please take them as a gift.”

“You are truly good people.” The old man was deeply moved. “When Shunzi was here, his favorite thing to eat was roasted fish.”

“Is Shunzi your son?”

The old man nodded vigorously, then lowered his head and went back to smoking his long pipe in silence.

Yan Qing thought to herself that this home was likely sustained entirely by Shunzi, the young one. The old man did not look to be in good health either, and now that his son had gone missing, it was no wonder he was overcome with grief.

“Shunzi was a filial and good child,” the old man murmured with a heavy sigh. “Please go inside and wait out the rain. We are poor here and I have nothing to offer you.”

“We are sorry to trouble you. We will leave as soon as the rain stops.” Shi Ting pushed Yan Qing inside, only to find that the roof was leaking — a steady drip, drip, drip onto the earthen floor.

Shi Ting went outside and found two broken basins to place under the leaks. The drops fell into the basins with a louder sound than before.

“Shi Ting, why do you suppose this grandfather lives out here?” Yan Qing wondered.

Shi Ting’s voice came from the darkness. “Not far from here is a grove of white poplars. The old man must be a forest warden. In his room there is a worn uniform and a pair of hiking boots — the standard equipment of a forest warden.”

“Then could Shunzi be like the grandfather — a forest warden who has taken over from him? He might have been attacked by a wild animal while patrolling the woods, or perhaps he is trapped somewhere.”

“When the rain stops, we will go and look. Get some sleep for now.”

“Alright.” Yan Qing tried to close her eyes, but sleep would not come. On a sudden impulse she said, “Shi Ting, do you know how to sing?”

“You want to hear a song?”

“Yes — do you know any lullabies, that sort of thing?”

“No.” His answer was blunt and direct. “Do you?”

“I do.” Yan Qing said, and softly began to hum: “Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are, up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky.”

Shi Ting listened, puzzled. “I have never heard this melody before. It does not sound like the style of the present day.”

“It is easy to sing, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I could learn it after hearing it once.”

“Then sing it for me.”

Shi Ting paused for a moment. Then his warm, resonant voice drifted gently through the darkness: “Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are…”

His voice was mellow and pleasant, as though it carried a healing warmth. That simple little rhyme, sung by him, took on an ineffably tender quality.

“That was lovely. Shi Ting, you have a beautiful voice.” Yan Qing clapped softly. “Now let me teach you another one.”

“All right.”

Yan Qing thought for a moment. “I found a coin on the roadside, I gave it to Officer Uncle, Officer Uncle took the coin, nodded his head at me, and I happily said, goodbye, Officer Uncle.”

“That is… a song?”

“Is it not pleasant? It trips right off the tongue.”

Shi Ting had to concede, and went along singing with her — though when he reached the part about “Officer Uncle,” he could not help asking, “What is an officer uncle?”

“A police officer, of course.”

“Then why call it ‘officer uncle’?”

Yan Qing could not explain it, so she simply turned shameless about it. “It is a folk song, and that is just how folk songs go.”

“Why is it that every song you know, I have never heard before? Is it from your uncle’s side too?”

Yan Qing laughed. “Why ask so many questions? Come on — let me teach you another one. By the bridge in front of the gate, a flock of ducks swim past, come and count them quick, two four six seven eight…”

That night, Yan Qing taught Shi Ting many children’s songs, and she was still murmuring “Looking, looking, looking for a friend” even as she drifted off to sleep.

Shi Ting took off his own outer jacket and draped it gently over her. In the darkness, his fingers lightly traced her brow. “Good night.”

Good night, my girl.

The next morning the rain had stopped. When Yan Qing woke, she caught a faint, familiar scent in the air.

She adjusted herself upright in the wheelchair and the familiar jacket slid from her body. She picked it up and held it lightly to her chest, a soft flush rising to her cheeks.

Shi Ting had used the crucian carp to simmer a pot of fish broth. By the time Yan Qing came out, the old man was cradling a bowl of it, drinking with sweat beading on his forehead.

She marveled quietly to herself — was there anything in this world he did not know how to do?

After breakfast, the two of them decided to go into the woods to look for Shunzi. Whether or not Shunzi had met with misfortune, they needed to find him — alive or in death — if only to repay the old man for his kindness in sheltering them for the night.

Passing through the small grove, they came upon a vast stand of white poplar trees that suddenly filled their view. This particular stretch of forest was privately owned and grew tall and lush, and it had once been the old man’s duty to guard it around the clock, preventing unauthorized logging and fire. Now that he was old, the warden’s duties had long since been handed to someone else.

“Shi Ting, look — there is a building over there.”

Within a clearing amid the white poplars stood a two-story structure. Beside it was a sign that read: “Inn.”

Yan Qing was puzzled. “Why would there be an inn in the middle of this forest?”

—