The girl who walked into the ward was tall and slender, with a graceful figure, wearing a light blue fitted dress with a Peter Pan collar that gave her a sweet and gentle vibe. Her soft, straight black hair was half tied up and half let down, giving her an overall fresh and refined aura—pure, youthful, and tender.
Grandma stared blankly at her: "You are... you are..."
The old woman’s eyes were vacant. She turned to look at Song Xinya: "Yaya, who is she?"
Song Xinya held her hand and gently guided her, saying, "Grandma, look at her. Doesn’t she look like Youyou?"
Grandma examined the girl at the door more carefully.
After a long moment, she shook her head: "No, she’s not Youyou."
Song Xinya remained patient and calm, her tone even: "Grandma, why do you think she’s not Youyou?"
Grandma glanced at the pillow in the bed and laughed: "Because my Youyou is sleeping in bed."
Song Tingye pointed anxiously at the pillow on the bed: "Grandma, that’s not Youyou, it’s just a pillow..."
"Xiaoye!" Song Xinya turned her head to look at Song Tingye, her eyes warning: "If you don’t want to lose your tongue, go home and let your brother-in-law pull it out for you!"
Song Tingye shut up.
Grandma glared angrily at Song Tingye: "This Kumamon dares to say that the one lying in bed isn’t Youyou. What a rude bear!"
"Bad bear!"
Song Tingye looked up to the heavens in speechless exasperation.
Oh God, he was clean-cut, fair-skinned, his complexion almost glowing, and yet someone called him a big black bear!
Song Tingye was not having it!
Clearly, the world of mentally ill people was different from normal people’s.
Oops, sorry about that, Grandma, for calling you mentally ill—though you really are.
Song Tingye muttered to himself for a while, then suddenly thought of something, his eyes lighting up as he looked at Grandma: "Grandma, do you remember any distinctive mark on Youyou?"
Grandma: "I remember. Youyou has a small round black mole on her bottom."
Song Tingye turned excitedly to Song Tingyou: "Hurry up, take off your pants and show Grandma your bottom."
Song Tingyou: "..."
Song Xinya: "..."
Song Tingye: "Oh, you’re not wearing pants, you’re wearing a skirt. Then lift your skirt and show Grandma."
Standing in the room at that moment was a male psychiatrist.
Even though no one was talking about him, the psychiatrist felt terribly awkward and adjusted his glasses with his fingers.
As for Song Tingyou, she was even more embarrassed, her face bright red.
Song Tingye, oblivious as ever, kept nagging: "Youyou, what are you waiting for? Show Grandma the little black mole on your bottom!"
Song Xinya shot him a cold sidelong glance: "Song Tingye, have you got a screw loose? Why don’t you show everyone your own bottom instead?"
Song Tingye: "If I had to show my bottom in public, fine—I wouldn’t mind. We men don’t care about that kind of thing."
Song Xinya rolled her eyes: "It’s just you, the shameless one, who wouldn’t care. Any man with an ounce of decency wouldn’t do something like flashing his rear in public."
Song Tingye turned to the psychiatrist beside him and asked, "Bro, would you mind showing your bottom in public?"
The psychiatrist: "A normal person would mind."
Song Tingye mulled over that sentence: "So you’re saying I’m not normal?"
The psychiatrist: "I sincerely recommend you book an appointment with me. I’ll check your brain."
Song Xinya: "Go ahead, do it now. Doctor, please take a good look at my brother’s brain."
Song Tingye: "I’m not going!"
Song Xinya gave the psychiatrist a meaningful look.
The psychiatrist dragged Song Tingye away: "Trust me, as an expert, you really do need a psychiatric evaluation."
After Song Tingye left, the room fell quiet.
In truth, what Song Tingye had said made some sense. The reason Song Xinya had the doctor drag him away was precisely that she thought his suggestion might work.
Only Song Xinya, Song Tingyou, and Grandma remained in the room.
Song Tingyou closed the ward door, locked it, and walked over to the bed.
Grandma wasn’t looking at her; instead, she gazed tenderly at the pillow on the bed: "Youyou, my precious Youyou."
Song Xinya: "Grandma, lift the blanket and see—there’s no little black mole on its bottom."
Grandma: "Yaya, you’re talking nonsense. How could my Youyou not have a little black mole on her bottom?"
Song Xinya coaxed her softly: "Why don’t you check it, Grandma?"
Grandma smiled affectionately at Song Xinya: "Alright, I’ll listen to you. Let me check."
She carefully lifted the blanket, turned the pillow over, and looked at its lower end, toward the "bottom" of the pillow.
The pillow was white. At a glance, all she saw was a blank expanse.
Confusion filled Grandma’s eyes: "Why doesn’t Youyou have that little black mole anymore?"
Song Xinya asked gently: "Grandma, is it possible that it’s not your Youyou?"
Grandma’s face was full of bewilderment, like a child stumped by a puzzle, staring at the "Song Tingyou" on the bed.
"She’s not my Youyou?"
"She’s not my Youyou?"
"Who is she, then?"
Song Xinya looked around, picked up another pillow from nearby, and placed it next to the "Song Tingyou" on the bed.
"Grandma, look—don’t they look alike?"
Grandma looked at one, then the other: "How did Youyou end up looking like a pillow?"
Suddenly, Grandma’s eyes cleared: "It’s not Youyou. It’s a pillow!"
Song Xinya clapped and cheered as if coaxing a child: "Wow, Grandma, you’re so smart! You figured out it’s not Youyou!"
Grandma covered her mouth and giggled.
Song Tingyou cooperated by lifting her skirt slightly, pulling her underwear down a bit, and revealing half of her pale white bottom.
Song Xinya: "Grandma, look—she has a small round black mole on her bottom."
Grandma looked over and poked it with her finger: "Ah, it really is a little black mole."
Song Xinya: "Youyou has a little black mole on her bottom, and she has one too. So who is she?"
Grandma: "So she’s Youyou?"
Song Xinya: "Exactly, Grandma! She is Youyou!"
Grandma looked at Song Tingyou, her eyes brightening.
But the brightness didn’t last long—like a shooting star, it faded in an instant.
Grandma waved her hand: "She’s not my Youyou."
Song Tingyou’s mouth was already open, ready to call out "Grandma," but she swallowed the words.
Faced with this situation, Song Xinya didn’t get discouraged or impatient. Instead, she kept a calm and steady attitude, actively trying to figure out the reason.
"Grandma, why do you still think she’s not Youyou?"
Grandma said: "Because my Youyou is only three years old, still a little baby. She’s a grown young lady now—how could she be my Youyou?"
Song Xinya understood. Grandma’s memories were frozen on the day Song Tingyou got lost. In Grandma’s world, Song Tingyou was still a delicate little cherub.
Song Tingyou looked at Song Xinya, feeling helpless.
How were they going to solve this one?
