Nowadays the internet is developed, often there are bloggers showing off cats, and then playing and fooling around with them, hugging in arms, kissing and cuddling and so on; the cats are also mostly clingy like little tails growing on their bodies, standing on shoulders, lying on arms—just what Nan Zhi needed.
She just wanted to be stuck to like that, to be clearly loved by the cats, wanted them to look at her firmly with big Kalanzi eyes [卡兰姿 – possibly referencing a doll-like eye style], and she would also fiercely rub them bald, then love them to death, give them all her after-work time, even install a monitor to watch them during the day.
After Nan Zhi finished thinking, she couldn’t help but glance again at the boy sitting in the wheelchair by the bed, clean and thin, and sighed lightly.
Can’t rub anymore.
Nan Zhi rested quickly, then continued to sort those packages, opened a box of cling wrap, and a pack of barbecue paper, also a bag of milk tea powder, and one cat teaser stick.
When Nan Zhi held that cat teaser stick she paused for a moment—cat wasn’t bought yet, but because she had already made up her mind to buy, she had impatiently placed orders a few days ago for things cats needed.
The expensive ones she still hesitated, but the cheap ones she didn’t hold back—besides the cat teaser stick, there should also be a fish-shaped doll.
Not expensive, 9.9 yuan, bought for ten or so, just ordered casually while scrolling Douyin.
Sometimes paying too quickly isn’t good either—toy arrived, cat hasn’t.
Nan Zhi tore off the plastic packaging of the cat teaser stick, while combing the fluff on top, looked toward Song Qing.
Don’t know why, as if possessed by ghosts and gods, she extended the extendable stick of the cat teaser, reaching toward Song Qing’s side.
—
Song Qing, from the moment she left the bed, had followed her to this corner; she was sitting on a very low small stool opening packages, and he was picking up the discarded packaging from the floor—some were thrown into the trash can, some he folded up.
The few packages she had just opened all came with cardboard boxes, and cardboard could be sold for money. While Song Qing was folding the boxes, a blur appeared in front of his eyes, and he saw a stick with multicolored feathers and a bell shaking in front of him. The bell was jingling constantly.
Song Qing looked up, puzzled, and looked toward her. “What is it?”
Nan Zhi: “…Nothing.”
She withdrew the cat teaser stick, feeling like she had gone a little crazy.
How could she, just because he looked like a cat, use a cat teaser stick to tease him?
Key point—he didn’t even react at all.
Nan Zhi pressed her lips together.
This thing cost 9.9 yuan, didn’t come with shipping insurance, she didn’t plan to return it, placed the cat teaser stick to the side, and continued to open others.
Song Qing, on the other hand, stayed by her side, neatly and quickly folding cardboard boxes, paper bags, and plastic bags.
The kind of plastic bags used for clothes and shoes, the resealable and seemingly reusable kind, he didn’t throw away either—stacked them neatly and placed them into the cardboard boxes.
Cardboard boxes were also piled up, with extended plastic bags at the bottom, seemingly ready to be bundled together.
Nan Zhi looked at the many items on the ground, couldn’t help but think of Grandma. Grandma was just like him, also had the habit of saving these things. Good plastic bags were saved to line trash bins, or to pack things later; cardboard, soda cans, mineral water bottles were meant to be saved up, to be sold once there were enough.
When Nan Zhi was younger, she felt it was a little shameful, unwilling to accompany Grandma picking up bottles from trash bins or ground when passing by. Even the ones at home, she threw away if she could. Later, when she reached a certain age, she also seemed to awaken this bloodline trait, becoming the same as Grandma—unwilling to throw these things away.
So seeing Song Qing doing this kind of thing, she not only didn’t feel any discomfort, but even found it very dear.
This kind of one opening, one folding, both doing work together kind of behavior also made her think of doing farm work with Grandma in the courtyard during autumn harvest—scenes of shelling corn.
Grandma used to be a university teacher, worked up to vice principal, the kind with many titles, retirement pension very high, very high, but she didn’t show it, didn’t reveal mountains or water [不显山不露水 – idiom meaning modest, not showing off], couldn’t tell from the surface.
Before receiving her saved-up deposits and house, Nan Zhi didn’t know, felt the inheritance seemed a bit much, couldn’t help asking others before finding out.
That little old lady hid it from her so bitterly. She had always thought Grandma relied on thrift and frugality, giving the best to her, and that with Dad’s and Uncle’s elderly support money combined with a meager pension, she was able to create such good conditions for her. In the end, the old woman’s pension alone was already more than she could finish spending—completely more than enough.
Nan Zhi felt that even if she worked as a nurse to the peak, her salary might not even be as much as Grandma’s pension.
She was really too low-key. Looked just like an ordinary countryside little old lady—planting in spring, harvesting in autumn, busy every day until she wasn’t seen, even reclaimed the land in front of the house, every season something edible would grow.
Almost year-round, Nan Zhi accompanied Grandma doing work, sitting in the courtyard with the lights on. If it was summer, they’d turn on the electric fan, blowing along with the cool night wind. This kind of daily life pretty much made up the majority of her childhood.
Of course, most of the work was done by Grandma. She was on the side pouring tea for Grandma, doing homework while accompanying her. Truly lending a hand didn’t happen often.
Because there wasn’t much land work—just the front yard and by the riverside a little bit—Grandma would do a bit each day while she did homework, a bit more and it was done.
She was the type who couldn’t stay idle. The house was cleaned very neatly by her. She raised flowers, built a fish pond. Even when there was nothing to do, she’d sweep the already clean ground, get down and scrub the floor. Nan Zhi felt that her farming was just to find something to do—or maybe, keeping her company during homework was too boring, doing some chores just right.
When she was young, Nan Zhi didn’t like it—because she always saw Grandma busy, using those thin, dry hands. She felt a bit heartache. Later, she came to understand that Grandma was just enjoying herself. Even if she didn’t do it, she’d still have enough to eat and drink. The latter half of her life was lived very, very well.
This matter was no longer a painful memory for her, instead there was even some longing.
Nan Zhi couldn’t explain what kind of thought she had—just like back then helping Grandma—she took the plastic bag she had just torn open and felt was still usable and took the initiative to hand it to Song Qing.
Song Qing casually took it. When it landed in his hands, he paused slightly, then quickly continued folding.
The two didn’t exchange a single word the entire time—it just seemed naturally and tacitly accepted and cooperated with one another.
—
Actually, Song Qing didn’t pay attention to what he was doing at first. It was just like eating and drinking—an instinct to crouch down and pick up boxes and bags off the floor to tidy up. Only when he noticed Nan Zhi’s gaze, intentionally or not falling on his hands, did he realize what he was doing.
He was used to picking these things up in daily life—and even in a girl’s home where money wasn’t lacking and the house was big, he was still doing the same.
Song Qing’s movements unconsciously slowed down. What appeared in his mind were the disdainful expressions of the daughters and sons at his uncle and aunt’s house in the past.
Their parents also picked up these kinds of things, but even they couldn’t help showing contempt—let alone an outsider.
Young people seemed to especially dislike this kind of behavior—thinking it petty and cheap, a useless kind of frugality, even saying it made the house messy.
As he was hesitating, planning to throw them all into the trash can in one go, he saw her hand him a cardboard box and a bag. Didn’t know if she was curious or what, her expression was calm as she watched him take them apart in his hands.
Song Qing carefully observed her expression—couldn’t see any anger or displeasure. In fact, she even looked in a better mood than earlier. The corners of her mouth were raised as she continued to open other packages. Her movements were a lot more light and quick, and after finishing with a box, she handed it to him again.
Song Qing was relieved. His actions relaxed. She handed one, and he sorted one.
Hands were busy, but his mind wasn’t idle either—he was in a daze thinking about that hug earlier.
His parents passed away early. His uncle and aunt were just average toward him. No one had ever been affectionate with him before. Teachers mostly just focused on his studies. That hug—was, ever since he had memory, the first one apart from his parents.
You could tell, Nan Zhi had a cold constitution, afraid of the cold, wore very thickly. Her hoodie was wide and fleece-lined. When she hugged him, she wrapped him tightly—surrounded all around by her clothes and her warm body heat, overbearing and unreasonable as it passed into him, like flowing through blood vessels straight to the heart.
Song Qing closed his eyes.
Really warm.
“Song Qing, has anyone ever pursued you?”
Only doing chores was a bit boring. Nan Zhi couldn’t help but ask him.
Song Qing was slightly stunned, hesitated for a moment, then shook his head.
At school his reputation wasn’t good. Didn’t know why, but those girls would always fall silent the moment he appeared, then start nudging each other and whispering: “He’s here.”
It seemed they had already been talking about him before.
Sometimes he had indeed caught one or two mentions of his name from their mouths, and every time, those girls looked just like they’d been caught doing something bad—faces full of embarrassment.
So he guessed that he probably wasn’t well-liked at school.
Nan Zhi raised her eyebrows, her expression clearly disbelieving. “Impossible, right?”
He looked like that and no one pursued him?
When Nan Zhi was in school, even the school grass [校草 – the most handsome boy in school] wasn’t one-tenth as good as him, and his grades were terrible too, but he still had tons of admirers. Someone like Song Qing—it’s impossible no one pursued him.
Nan Zhi carefully recalled those few photos, and the two little girls who took them. From their cautiousness, and Song Qing’s handsome yet indifferent expression, she seemed to find part of the reason.
Before his leg was amputated, it was obvious that even while in dire straits, his brows and eyes still remained sharp, like an unsheathed long sword—his awareness of his goals and life path was very clear, and he worked toward that direction.
At the same age, most boys and girls were still in a phase of about to enter society, confused and at a loss.
He was completely different.
Even the way he walked carried wind, high-spirited yet cold and indifferent—a true “flower on the high mountain” [高岭之花 – lit. “high ridge flower,” meaning someone beautiful but cold and unattainable].
Someone like him was actually very difficult to approach. That was probably also the reason those two girls only dared to like him secretly, pretending to take photos with each other but actually quietly recording him—yet never daring to really interact with him.
Those two could basically represent everyone else.
A snow lotus blooming in the slums, growing on cliff faces, enduring wind, frost, rain, and snow, yet still blooming proudly—not something that could be casually touched.
Nan Zhi suddenly thought—this person, who may have been many people’s white moonlight [白月光 – lit. “white moonlight,” a poetic metaphor for a pure, unreachable love] during school days, yearned for morning and night, loved but never obtained, admired but never approached…
…had been brought home by her.
Raised at home.