66 Musu Garden Street, Zhongjin Garden of Meihua Villa Complex, Qinhuai District.

This was one of the few residential areas in the city that was still habitable. The facilities were old but intact. Years ago, apartments here cost over 30,000 yuan per square meter, but now there were no buyers.

A young girl with a backpack passed through the community entrance. Vines grew wildly on the walls of the residential buildings on both sides, with pink marble paint showing through the gaps between layers of round green leaves. No one had maintained it for many years. A seagull fluttered over and perched on a windowsill, tilting its head curiously.

She lived in Building 11, Unit 2, twenty meters left after entering the community.

Eighth floor, 804.

The old building had no elevator; one had to climb the stairs step by step. It was quite tiring. The girl climbed to the fifth floor in one breath, then slowed her pace. She carried her backpack and a heavy cloth bag that dripped along the way.

When she reached the seventh floor, she knocked on door 703 and called out: “Uncle Huang! Old Huang! I’m back! Your daughter Ban Xia is back!”

No one responded from inside. He was probably still sleeping.

Old Huang always had his days and nights reversed.

Ban Xia climbed the stairs, panting, the cloth bag in her hand swaying back and forth. Crimson viscous liquid had soaked through the fabric, dripping onto the steps.

She didn’t notice, continuing to drip her way up the stairs.

The eighth floor was the top floor, with two households facing each other. One door could open; the other had been sealed off with miscellaneous items. Wet clothes hung on ropes in the stairwell. Ban Xia ducked under a black coat, touching her hair as she passed.

At her door, she switched the bag to her other hand, fished out her key from her pocket, and turned it with a “creak.” She went inside, put down her things, and changed her shoes.

“Mom, Dad, I’m back.”

Her parents sat on the sofa. Ban Xia looked up and noticed more dust had settled over the day, so she came over to dust them off.

Some dust had blown in through the windows. She’d forgotten to close the floor-to-ceiling window in the living room last night. There were even some fresh bird droppings on the floor.

“I went to the teacher’s place. She’s still as strict as ever. I talked with her about today’s study progress, though there wasn’t much progress. Self-study is so hard.”

Ban Xia cheerfully took off her coat and long pants, leaving only a tank top and shorts. She stretched her long arms and legs, then flopped down on the sofa. The old sofa’s spine immediately collapsed under her, springs creaking. The girl rested there for a moment, then hugged her father’s shoulders. “If only someone could teach me. Heaven, please send me a master, preferably a handsome one.”

Heaven still ignored her request.

She had prayed many times, standing on the rooftop shouting to the sky: “Dear heavens! Please send me a handsome guy! One who can help me carry wild vegetables like an ox or horse!”

Sadly, heaven only granted half her wish.

No handsome guy.

But plenty of oxen and horses.

Countless water buffaloes wandered in herds down Musu Garden Street in front of her building, defecating as they went, swishing their tails and scattering dung everywhere.

“There’s a lot more deer droppings on Musu Garden Street. I don’t know what kind of deer, but a large herd came through. I’ll check again tomorrow, wonder if it’s the same herd as last time.”

“Crescent Lake has less and less water, the bottom is all silt. I think the lake will dry up soon. I passed by today and saw a pile of iron cans in the mud at the bottom. Don’t know who threw them there.”

The girl massaged her parents’ shoulders as she spoke.

Her parents sat motionless.

“I still didn’t run into anyone today. I’ll try calling on the radio again tonight. Do you think anyone will hear? Even though we can’t find anyone no matter how hard we look, Teacher says we must keep trying. She says someone will hear us. What’s the date today? September… September 5th? No, September 6th.”

“I’ll make dinner. One more person eating tonight, I brought Teacher back to eat with us!” Ban Xia got up, dragging the cloth bag from the door into the kitchen, leaving a dark red, nearly congealed trail. “Oh no! It leaked and made the floor dirty!”

She quickly dragged the bag into the kitchen, then “bang!” shut the kitchen door.

After a while, the sound of a cleaver forcefully chopping bones rang out from the kitchen.

“So hard to chop.”

“This is so tough, is it spine?”

“Oh, the head fell in the sink.”

“Can’t chop through. Dad! Mom! Any objections to spare ribs for dinner tonight? If not, I’m cooking spare ribs!”

Soon rich meat aromas filled the house, the pot in the kitchen bubbling away.

A rat slipped down from the ceiling, crawled across the floor onto the sofa, then up onto her parents’ shoulders, gnawing at their clothes.

Ban Xia heard the squeaking from the kitchen, poked her head out to see the rat, and immediately charged over wielding a ladle.

“Damn rat!”

She swung the ladle.

The rat squealed sharply and disappeared under the sofa.

The rats were annoying, and these rats weren’t afraid of people. They came out to make mischief at night. When Ban Xia lay in bed at night, she could hear them having races on the floorboards, rustling about, making it impossible to sleep.

If you did fall asleep, they became even more lawless. They would crawl into your blanket, into your sleeves, into your hair. More than once, Ban Xia woke up in the morning to find something moving in her hair, and when she combed it, a small rat would fall out, twisting and squealing on the ground.

Well, that took care of breakfast.

Several dozen minutes later, Ban Xia emerged from the kitchen covered in grease and sweat, carrying a steaming aluminum pot wrapped in a cloth. She walked unsteadily, sucking in air through her teeth, and set the pot down on the tea table.

Milky white soup spilled over the pot’s rim onto the table.

“Hot hot hot hot hot! So hot.” The girl put her fingers in her mouth and stamped her feet hard as if stamping could speed up cooling and heat dissipation. She stirred the soup with a spoon, then brought out a stack of four bowls from the kitchen.

She arranged the four bowls on the table, saying as she placed each one:

“This is Dad’s.”

“This is Mom’s.”

“This is mine.”

The last bowl was pushed to the empty edge of the table.

“This is Teacher’s.”

“Teacher is the guest, so Teacher goes first.” Ban Xia grinned, using chopsticks to fish out a small, well-cooked hand from the soup pot and place it in that bowl. “Here, it’s cooked very tender, don’t be shy.”

With that, she clasped her hands together and took a deep breath:

“Well then Dad, Mom, Teacher, time to eat!”