The process of moving him was a bit difficult. Several times, Song Qing had the feeling that she couldn’t hold him up, that he was about to fall down, and then she hastily turned the tide and supported him back up again.
When they got halfway and she pinned him against the wall, her head was buried against his chest, her forehead pressing against his shoulder, breathing slightly — in that moment, Song Qing almost wanted to grow legs and walk down on his own.
Too exhausting for her.
He wanted to suggest being put on the ground, but she wouldn’t agree, because as soon as he made even a slight movement, her eyes would lock onto him, glaring away any little thought he had of speaking up.
In the end, he still didn’t do anything, quietly letting her press against him, supporting his butt — after quite a while, he joked, “Didn’t eat enough, if I had known I would’ve done one more sandwich.”
Yesterday when they ate outside, she had carried him back too. She had unexpectedly paused for a moment, then he heard her sigh and say: “Sure enough, eating till full really gives strength, makes it easier to carry.”
Just like that time, Song Qing also now felt like he was being flirted with, but he had no proof.
Luckily, the final result was good — he was still placed intact and unharmed into the wheelchair outside the door by this person.
She held onto the wheelchair to rest for a bit, then helped him tidy the parts of his clothes at the back that he couldn’t reach. The blanket was in his hands, and he folded back the messy part himself.
The back of his clothes had gotten caught by the wheelchair — he couldn’t reach it, so Nan Zhi pulled it down for him while bragging, “I’m actually pretty amazing, huh? Carried you over from that far.”
She specifically pointed out the distance.
Song Qing nodded, “Mm.”
He also thought she was quite amazing.
Nan Zhi, having received his affirmation, became even happier. With a beaming smile she helped fix him up, fastened the seatbelt, shut the door, and cheerfully brought him downstairs to get the package.
There was a long hallway on the way. She reminded him, “Hold onto the wheelchair, I’ll take you feifei~.” [“feifei” (飞飞) is a childish or playful expression derived from the verb “飞” (fēi), which means “to fly.”]
？？？
Song Qing was confused, but still obediently grabbed the wheelchair’s armrests tightly.
The next second, she stepped onto the stabilizing bar behind the wheelchair, pushed off with one foot and glided forward, taking herself and him sliding a long distance ahead.
On the tiles along both sides of the hallway, the two of their blurry, tall figures flashed past.
Song Qing slightly raised an eyebrow.
So this was the feifei she spoke of?
Actually, he had played this as a child. Back when his parents were still around, they doted on him. He had even ridden on his dad’s shoulders before, and his mom would suddenly pop out to scare him playfully.
Later on, when he went to live with his uncle and aunt, it was always him playing with the two younger kids.
As they grew up, the two probably realized that his status in that house might not even be as good as a nanny’s. At first they’d still call him ‘gege’ [older brother], but later on, they didn’t want to be close anymore — gradually treating him like their parents did, bossing him around.
Probably because of them, he actually didn’t have much attachment or feeling about this. But he felt that compared to him, it was Nan Zhi who seemed more eager to play.
She said she was taking him feifei, but it was her smiling the happiest.
—
Nan Zhi was originally just trying it out — she felt this was kind of like a supermarket cart.
When she was young, her grandma would take her to the supermarket and always let her sit inside. She’d see other young couples deliberately pushing fast, or even tuck up their legs and glide along with the cart to amuse their baby.
Her grandma didn’t want her childhood to have regrets. Gritting her teeth, she’d also take her feifei, playing along while saying, “This old bag of bones, huh.”
Maybe because Grandma had taken such good care of her, even after growing up Nan Zhi still liked this. Going to the supermarket alone, it was inevitable — like a sloth, she’d cling to the shopping cart.
When she bought this wheelchair, she hadn’t looked carefully underneath. She just felt the two crossbars at the back were sturdy, so she chose it. She hadn’t expected the space between the bars to be just right for her to tuck her feet in — not playing on it would’ve let the design down.
Nan Zhi gave another kick forward, and the figures of the two of them once again left fleeting traces on the tiles, only stopping when they reached the elevator entrance.
Luck wasn’t that great — someone from the same floor was also waiting for the elevator. Fearing that person would pay too much attention to Song Qing, Nan Zhi especially gathered the blanket, smoothing out the spots that had gotten a bit messy just now, tightly covering his legs. She also stood at the side herself, deliberately blocking that person’s line of sight.
Fortunately, that person only stared a few times before feeling a bit embarrassed and bowed their head to continue playing on their phone, still doing so even inside the elevator.
After exiting the elevator, Nan Zhi lowered her head and took a glance — there wasn’t much change in Song Qing’s expression, but she still feared his thoughts would linger on just now being watched, so she continued flying with him, so he wouldn’t have time to overthink other things.
Downstairs from the apartment building, in front was a big shopping mall, and behind was where they lived. A not-too-big, not-too-small area was sectioned off — part of it was used for parking, another part was like first-floor garages, but most people had converted them into living spaces, and some had even started small businesses.
For example, the package pickup point was here, and it was divided into several stalls — you had to go to multiple places to collect everything.
Part of the path was under the eaves, tiled and slippery, another part was slate pavement. Nan Zhi pushed him along the tiled section to play.
This part was narrow. From the way Song Qing gripped the wheelchair’s armrests tightly, Nan Zhi could easily tell — whether or not he was worried about being seen by others, he was definitely worried about being dropped by her.
Alright then, if the mind is filled with stuff, he won’t have energy to overthink anything else.
When they arrived at one of the pickup stalls, Nan Zhi pulled on the wheelchair’s handbrake and parked him in a spot facing outward, with his back to the pickup stall — he couldn’t see people, so naturally wouldn’t know whether others were paying attention to him. For him, this was the best.
As for herself, she squeezed into the queue to get the packages, thinking while waiting: if she had known earlier, she wouldn’t have brought him out.
He’s so young and sitting in a wheelchair — no matter how careful one is, there would still be people looking.
But Nan Zhi quickly thought: this way at least they were facing it together. If one day he had to be out alone and was stared at or watched for a long time, wouldn’t that feel even worse?
It’d be better to bring him out more often while they’re together. After he got used to it, being alone later on wouldn’t matter so much, right?
—
About ten meters away from the pickup point, in a corner, after a moment of silence, Song Qing touched the seatbelt around his waist, confirming that it was buckled tightly before he felt at ease.
With this on, at the very least, if he falls later while doing feifei, it won’t look too embarrassing.
He thought about this as he turned to glance at Nan Zhi. It was obvious — she truly liked playing that way. Just now, there was a little kid skateboarding. She appeared nonchalant on the surface, but actually quietly passed by the kid, overtaking them.
The kid couldn’t catch up. She smiled with the corners of her mouth raised high, and it hadn’t come down for a long while.
Happiness must be contagious, right? He didn’t know why, but seeing her happy, he also felt much lighter inside.
Song Qing glanced again at the wheelchair under him. The rods were thick, four wheels — two big, two small — the overall frame was very sturdy. It could completely handle the weight of two people. She also had a sense of measure — she didn’t play at corners or on slopes, and her speed wasn’t fast. The chance of falling was very low. So actually, there was no need to worry.
If she liked it — then just let her play.
Also quite interesting.
Perhaps because his mood was good, Song Qing spent a bit more thought paying attention to his surroundings.
This place used to be an old district. Part of it had been torn down and rebuilt, and another part, located within the road itself, had never been touched — like high-rise buildings and black-tile red-brick houses, pyramids and slums — the difference between the two was like night and day.
He saw, outside the fenced-off area, between many small buildings and narrow alleyways, many elderly people gathered in circles. Some were chatting idly, some holding yarn in their hands knitting, others had even moved a table outside, sitting beside it doing handicraft work, the kind like packaging and such.
He undid the handbrake, turned the wheelchair to move a bit closer in that direction. He could faintly hear them talking about which place paid more, which was cheap, which was black-hearted, delayed wages, and so on.
Behind them, there were also many small factories stationed — people constantly coming in and out, wearing industrial hats and uniforms. The walls on the side were covered with small ads — red, green, purple — colorful and messy, all covered with contact information.
This was the alley he had wanted to go to before.
Only, something had changed.
He wasn’t crawling on the ground, scrambling his way over, nor was he huddled in some tiny corner to live — going to work when there was work, staying curled up when there wasn’t. On rainy days or when the weather suddenly changed, he wouldn’t even be able to protect himself, and could only grit through it. Maybe someone walking by would even sneer at him, calling him a soaking-wet dog.
Now, he was sitting in a new wheelchair, wrapped up tightly, clean and tidy, brought here by someone who was protecting him.
He had food, drink, and a place to live — and someone taking care of him. That person was very good. They were mindful of his food, clothing, and daily needs — and even looked after his useless pride.
One wall apart — yet worlds apart.
And because of that person’s kindness, the future he envisioned for himself had turned out to be vastly different from before.