Bai Youwei watched from nearby, her own feelings unsettled.

Out of the corner of her eye she spotted the severed hand peeking out from beneath the sofa. She shot it a sharp glare!

The severed hand flinched and withdrew back under the sofa.

Bai Youwei felt her irritation sharpen.

This severed hand was never at rest — acting as though it had been born with a compulsive restlessness. She had locked it securely in the storage room, and it had apparently heard A’qing’s endless begging for water, let its curiosity get the better of it, and on its own initiative procured a ladleful of water.

Mainly, it was just utterly addicted to being in the middle of things.

Ashalina picked up the spoon from the floor, walked back to the dining table, and set it down there. She looked exhausted.

“That thing just now was one of my tools,” Bai Youwei explained to her, to avoid any misunderstanding. “It doesn’t really listen to instructions. I normally keep it locked up — it probably heard A’qing’s voice and slipped out on its own.”

“It’s all right…” Ashalina managed a weary smile. “It was only a spoonful of water — and most of it spilled anyway. I’m just worried about A’qing’s condition.”

Bai Youwei didn’t quite know what to say to comfort her.

Fortunately, Ashalina didn’t sink into her sorrow for long. She gave Bai Youwei a faint smile and said: “I’m going upstairs to sleep. You should rest too. Tomorrow morning we’ll all figure something out together.”

Bai Youwei gave a small nod.

After Ashalina had gone upstairs, Bai Youwei gathered her draft papers from the table and happened to notice Teacher Cheng hovering at the top of the stairway, peering down.

“What is it, Teacher Cheng?” she asked with a puzzled look.

Teacher Cheng hesitated a moment, then tiptoed downstairs and asked quietly: “Weiwei, are you really going to keep not giving him water? If he goes days without drinking, won’t that become a serious problem…?”

“He’s been poisoned. Drinking water will only kill him faster.” Bai Youwei knitted her brow slightly and looked Teacher Cheng up and down. “Teacher Cheng — that spoonful of water the severed hand brought just now… it wasn’t at your instruction, was it?”

“No — no, absolutely not! How could it be!” Teacher Cheng waved both hands in frantic denial, then put in a word for the severed hand: “Don’t be too hard on it either — it has the disposition of a child, it meant no harm.”

Bai Youwei pursed her lips. “I’m not concerned with whether it meant harm or not. The point is it’s a troublemaker. It does nothing but cause me trouble all day long and has not a single useful quality!”

Teacher Cheng said in a small voice: “It’s not completely without uses…”

Bai Youwei raised an eyebrow. “What use does it have?”

Teacher Cheng thought about it for a moment and replied, with some uncertainty: “…Feeding the chickens?”

Bai Youwei: “…”

After a long, wordless pause, Bai Youwei sighed. “Teacher Cheng, I truly have no patience for jokes right now. Next time I lock it in the storage room, please don’t go soft and let it out. You’ve spoiled it.”

Teacher Cheng looked slightly flustered and smiled. “All right, understood. Let me help you back to your room, and then I’ll put it away in the storage room — you don’t need to worry.”

Bai Youwei braced her arms and pushed herself up with effort.

Cheng Weicai steadied her arm.

“You can let go at the stairs,” Bai Youwei said. “I’d like to go up on my own.”

So Cheng Weicai released her and stood watching as Bai Youwei moved slowly, one step at a time, up the staircase.

Afterward, Cheng Weicai looked toward the underside of the sofa and shook his head with a helpless sigh.

He walked to the storage room and opened the door. Seeing that the severed hand still showed no intention of returning, he patiently crouched down and coaxed it in a low voice: “Come on out now. The underside of the sofa is all dust — get dirty again and you’ll catch another scolding.”

Only then did the severed hand drag itself out reluctantly from beneath the sofa.

It was afraid of Bai Youwei, but it had no fear of Cheng Weicai. In fact, because Cheng Weicai had spent the most time inside the dollhouse, the severed hand was closest to him.

The storage room was packed with all manner of objects — varied but orderly, kept in careful arrangement by Cheng Weicai.

On the shelving sat a small round bamboo basket — the severed hand’s little bed.

Inside the basket were a tiny pillow and a tiny blanket, all made by Cheng Weicai himself, and a few scattered pieces of jewelry that served as the severed hand’s toys.

Cheng Weicai placed the severed hand back in its basket and said quietly: “You need to behave. Don’t always act on impulse. A person must be born to serve a purpose — otherwise what was the point of having lived?”

Then he let out a gentle sigh. “Don’t be like me. Without any use at all…”

…

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