When Zong Hang returned to the room, he saw that Yi Sa had indeed gotten back into bed without changing her wet clothes.
After much hesitation, he still reminded her: “Yi Sa, you’ll catch a cold like this.”
Yi Sa pulled up the pillowcase to cover her head.
The meaning was very clear. Zong Hang sat in the room lost in thought: the past couple of days were better when Ding Yudie was here – when Yi Sa wouldn’t speak, he could still chat with someone to pass the time…
He went out to find the wugui, but as always, it didn’t welcome him. When it got annoyed with his teasing, it twisted away toward the lake.
He then went to find the owner, a middle-aged widower who was watching “Rural Love Story” on TV, laughing heartily and too lazy to chat with Zong Hang. When Zong Hang asked to borrow some books, he rummaged around for a while before saying, “Why don’t you just watch TV with me?”
Zong Hang didn’t want to watch TV and returned to the room, utterly bored.
As soon as he entered, he saw Yi Sa. She must have been hungry, standing by the table, holding a bowl of porridge, and tilting her head back to drink.
Zong Hang urgently said: “That’s already cold…”
He spoke too late – she had already finished drinking. She dropped the bowl with a clang, wiped her mouth with it, and asked abruptly: “Did Ding Yudie leave?”
“Yes.”
“Why haven’t you left?”
Zong Hang was stunned: “Where would I go?”
Yi Sa shuffled to the bedside and lay down again, mumbling unclearly: “You have parents and a home, don’t you know where to go? Don’t tell me you’re still following me. Haven’t you seen it? This isn’t a game – people die.”
After speaking, she closed her eyes drowsily.
She felt tired and annoyed. She didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to see anyone moving around in front of her, and didn’t want to recall what had happened in the past few days. She just wanted the world to be silent, without sound or disturbance, letting her sleep mindlessly for days and nights until she could return fully recharged.
[Continuing for clarity and completeness…]
Getting caught in the rain, eating cold food, plus a weakened and lethargic will – the cold inevitably came as predicted. By nightfall, Yi Sa was already somewhat congested, and in the latter half of the night, she began coughing. Her stomach was affected too, and she rushed to the bathroom to vomit. When she came out feeling light-headed as if walking on cotton, Zong Hang had also gotten up: “Yi Sa, do you have a fever?”
Yi Sa spoke carelessly, as if drunk: “It’s nothing!”
Then she climbed back into bed.
What a joke – could a little headache and fever take her down? She never took medicine for colds.
She slept until daybreak. When she woke up, her nose was completely stuffed and her head felt as heavy as lead. After returning from the bathroom, she felt something was missing in the room. She looked around several times before realizing: that Zong Hang was gone.
Where did he go?
She opened the door to look – not there. She looked outside the courtyard – also not there.
Did he go home? She went back to the room to look but couldn’t find any note left behind.
If he left, then let him leave. She didn’t care.
She lay down again.
This time her sleep was restless, full of dreams with various strange scenes. She even dreamed she was sitting behind a large office desk, and Zong Hang came carrying bags and a shoulder pole, like someone going to the city for work, handing her an application form requesting approval to go home.
She coldly read the application form from start to finish, pressed the seal into the red ink pad, and stamped it with a “pa” sound.
Not approved!
Zong Hang asked with a dejected face: “Why?”
She lifted her chin, snorted through her nose, and said arrogantly: “Because I feel like it.”
…
When she opened her eyes again, it was already afternoon. The weather was surprisingly good, with bright sunlight outside, but because the doors and windows were closed, light beams could only enter through several cracks, crisscrossing at odd angles, dividing the darkroom in a way that seemed somewhat surreal and absurd, yet peaceful and distant.
Surprisingly, Zong Hang was there, sitting at the end of the ground mat where light and shadow met. By his feet was a thermos brought from the kitchen, and a plastic bag printed with “Guokang Pharmacy” characters, filled with colorful items that were probably medicines.
No wonder he wasn’t seen in the morning – he had gone to buy medicine. There were no pharmacies nearby, so he must have walked quite a distance.
He had already opened one box and was reading the instructions with furrowed brows, mumbling softly: “Cannot be taken with antihypertensive drugs, antidepressants… for nasal congestion relief, take three pills with meals…”
He carefully removed three capsules from the package and placed them on the box, then looked at another set of instructions: “For higher blood concentration, recommended on empty stomach… this one needs to be taken on an empty stomach…”
He took out another capsule and placed it on the package, far from the previous pills.
He was still opening more – how much medicine did he buy?
“Should not be taken with Western cold medicine, if two medicines contain the same ingredient, can only choose one… same ingredient…”
Did they contain the same ingredients? He picked up the previous instructions again, comparing the two side by side, squinting his eyes – these medicine ingredients were really hard to pronounce, like maleic acid… chlorphenamine…
Yi Sa couldn’t help but laugh at his labored appearance.
Who takes medicine in such a complicated way?
Zong Hang heard the sound and was startled. Looking back to see her awake, he was both surprised and delighted: “Yi Sa…”
Yi Sa said: “Pour some water.”
Finding it too troublesome to stand up, she crawled like a reptile from the bed to the ground mat. The bowl was already half-filled with cold water, and Zong Hang mixed in some warm water from the thermos. When he turned to hand it to her, she had already poured all the medicine from the packaging into her palm, clutching them like candy, and with a tilt of her head, poured them all into her mouth.
Zong Hang cried out: “Ah… you can’t…”
She took the bowl, gulped down a large mouthful, and swallowed everything with a gurgle.
Knowing it was too late, Zong Hang still insisted on finishing his sentence: “Yi Sa, you can’t take them like that, you need to read the instructions.”
Yi Sa said: “What’s there to worry about.”
She didn’t know why, but despite her stuffed nose and muffled voice, her spirits were surprisingly good as she looked Zong Hang up and down.
He was finally clean and dressed like a normal young man – white crew neck T-shirt, khaki shorts with pockets, white sneakers.
Yi Sa pinched the hem of his shirt, turning her index finger inside to stretch the fabric for a look: “How much did you buy this for?”
The quality was just average, but clothes make the man and the man makes the clothes – it looked good on Zong Hang.
“One hundred and twenty.”
After a pause, he added proudly: “I even bargained.”
A rich kid like him, usually careless with money, knew how to bargain. Did Ding Yudie teach him?
That seemed unlikely – Ding Yudie wasn’t careful with money either. Unlike her, who had worked various jobs in Southeast Asia and developed a sharp eye for value.
“She wanted one hundred and fifty, I was ready to pay it, but then an old lady beside us asked if they’d sell a fifty-yuan pair of shoes for thirty. That’s when I learned you could bargain. I saw you didn’t have much cash left in your bag, so might as well save where we can. So I bargained down to one hundred and twenty, didn’t feel right pushing for more. She said her wholesale price was one hundred and ten, so she only made ten yuan off me.”
And he believed such nonsense?
Yi Sa didn’t want to discourage him, so she just sniffled: “Not bad.”
This sniffle reminded Zong Hang: “Yi Sa, you should sleep again. When I bought the medicine, they told me if you take the medicine, cover yourself with a blanket, and sleep to sweat it out, you’ll be half better.”
Sleep again?
Yi Sa lowered her eyes and saw wet mud on the edges of his shoes.
So she made a sound of agreement.
Though she didn’t want to sleep, once she lay down and wrapped herself in the blanket, she did feel drowsy.
Zong Hang sat on the ground mat, leaning against the bed edge, reading a book, turning a page every so often, seeming quite focused.
Yi Sa was curious: “What book are you reading?”
She felt any book would seem odd with him, maybe comics would be more fitting.
Zong Hang showed her the book – surprisingly, it was titled “Anatomical Applications in Military and Police Combat Techniques.”
Combat was one thing, but what did it have to do with anatomy?
She took it and flipped through it.
Zong Hang explained beside her: “I saw it at a book stall while buying medicine. The owner said it’s good – regular books only teach moves, but this one also teaches you about the body’s weak points, vital areas, and injury principles. It’s easy to understand and you can apply the knowledge broadly.”
It did have combat illustrations along with anatomical diagrams of human organs.
The first time I saw someone learning martial arts from paper, Yi Sa couldn’t help but laugh: “Why are you learning this?”
Zong Hang said: “After learning… if you’re in danger again, I can help you.”
Oh, “after.”
So there was still an “after” – didn’t she tell him to go home? Not leaving? Still, following?
Yi Sa stared at Zong Hang.
Zong Hang looked back at her.
After a while, he suddenly felt self-conscious and grabbed the book back, turning his back to her: “Is there something wrong with trying to improve myself?”
Rare for him to claim it was “self-improvement.”
Yi Sa made a flicking motion at his head with her finger. He had a cowlick on top of his head, actually no different from most people’s, but Yi Sa just felt this whorl seemed particularly stubborn.
“Zong Hang?”
The self-improving person didn’t turn around: “Mm?”
“You spent some time with my sister… what kind of person was she?”
Zong Hang’s heart skipped a beat.
Yi Sa had finally brought up Yi Xiao.
He put down the book, turned toward her, folded his arms on the bed edge, and rested his chin on them: “Yi Sa, are you very upset about what happened to your sister?”
Yi Sa said: “Not really. People’s feelings come from spending time together. I never had the chance to spend time with my sister, so I can’t say I feel particularly close to her. I just remember she was beautiful, and that she didn’t like me and always bullied me.”
“Why didn’t she like you?”
“I don’t know either. It wasn’t until I grew up that Aunt Yunqiao told me a bit. She said back then, during the one-child policy period, everyone thought it was normal for parents to only have one child.”
Plus Yi Xiao was almost grown up, and Yi Jiuge and his wife were getting older – no one expected they could conceive again.
“My mom’s health wasn’t very good to begin with, and she was older when she was pregnant with me. During the prenatal checkup, the doctor advised against keeping me, saying it was very dangerous for the mother. My sister went with her, and when they came back, she had a cold face, taking the doctor’s side.”
“My mom couldn’t bear to abort me and eventually gave birth, but her health got worse. Seems like there were some complications, and she passed away after just a few months.”
“Maybe that’s why my sister didn’t like me. She never spoke kindly to me, would yell when impatient, and pull my ears – when she was rough, she could lift me by my ears. She didn’t care if she pulled them off.”
She unconsciously reached up to rub her ears.
“I always felt that she didn’t like me, and if she didn’t like me, I didn’t like her either, but…”
But in the dome, there weren’t any tear-jerking conversations. Yi Xiao only said a few words and gently pinched her earlobe, yet something in her heart seemed to collapse and drift away, carried by the rushing flood of emotions.
For the first time in her life, she wanted to ask others, ask everyone who had known Yi Xiao –
What kind of person was her sister?
Zong Hang couldn’t answer either. His interactions with Yi Xiao had always been superficial, and he only had a few dry exchanges to talk about, plus that one time with the “Breaking Crocodile.”
But Yi Sa had heard all of these already.
The sleeping effect of the cold medicine gradually kicked in.
When Yi Sa closed her eyes, that question still lingered in her mind –
What kind of person was Yi Xiao?
She kept searching in her dreams, finding a kiln factory where wild grass grew past the knees, pulling out a black notebook from between stacked red bricks, and opening it to find every page blank.
Somehow, she ended up in an empty underground passage, like a subway tunnel, completely deserted.
She walked forward, and in the corridor advertising frames on both sides, what were originally the latest movie schedules, hottest celebrities, and trendiest variety shows gradually turned into Taiji clock faces. Suddenly, from the emptiness came a sound like a subway arriving at the station, and countless S-shaped hands on all the clocks began counting time simultaneously.
Tick-tock — tick-tock —
Human voices gradually grew louder, countless whisper-like soft sounds echoing from all directions.
“They’re coming, they’re coming…”
Yi Sa turned around.
At the end of the corridor, a large crowd of people emerged, hurrying along, quickly reaching her and passing by.
Looking carefully, these people weren’t much different from her – some in business suits, some slim and graceful, all rushing about for their livelihoods, constantly on the move.
Suddenly someone in the crowd shouted: “Yi Sa!”
Who was it?
They called again, with an anxious tone: “Yi Sa, Yi Sa!”
Yi Sa opened her eyes, looked at Zong Hang in front of her, then looked down at herself. Her hand trembled, and the broken spoon handle fell onto the table surface.
She was sitting at the table.
The table surface was covered in writing, and looking carefully, they were all the same four characters.
— They are coming.
Zong Hang’s face had turned pale: “You fell asleep, then suddenly got up, your eyes were blank, you wouldn’t respond when I talked to you, you sat down at the table, broke a spoon handle, and just started writing, writing and writing… Yi Sa, what’s wrong with you?”