He leaned over and pinched his son’s cheek. “You little brat. Tomorrow, I’m adding another one or two pages of arithmetic problems to your homework!”
Su Li burrowed deeper under the covers. “I’m asleep. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Considering that the boy was still injured, Su Lang let it go and tucked the blanket securely around him.
After all that commotion, he was exhausted too, so he lay down on the hospital bed to rest.
Grandpa Yan was moved into a room in the Department of Traditional Chinese Medicine.
His condition kept fluctuating, but there was never any real improvement.
The old man was advanced in age, and this bout of illness had drained the last of his strength. His already gaunt body had wasted away until there was little left but bones, a sight that made one’s heart ache.
With Yan Yuan away, Liang Ping had been the one watching over him. Linlin and Su Li also came by on weekends to keep Grandpa Yan company and chat with him.
Liang Ping had completed his military service this year and was officially discharged. He had been assigned to a shipping station on an island, which meant he now had a secure government job.
He took several days off specifically to stay with Grandpa Yan.
He was doing it out of kindness, and Commander Han and Wang Xiuzhi did not stop him.
Yan Yuan was far away in the capital. The moment he received Su Lang’s call, he submitted a leave request to his school, put everything else aside, and hurried home without stopping.
He was due to graduate that summer. His teachers thought highly of him and had even hoped he would stay on for further study.
Yan Yuan refused.
His grandfather was his only family. He had been determined to graduate as soon as possible and find a stable job so that he could take good care of his grandfather and let him enjoy a few peaceful years.
But no matter how carefully one plans, life has other ideas. Just as he was about to fulfill his wish of caring for his grandfather, the old man’s sudden illness shattered all his plans.
By the time Yan Yuan finally made it back to the island, several days had already passed.
As soon as he got off the boat, he headed straight for the hospital.
His heart was a tangled mess, and he did not dare let himself imagine the worst.
Lin Zhilan watched as Yan Yuan rushed in.
He had barely slept in the past few days. The young man who was usually handsome, upright, and sharp-featured now looked almost like a vagrant.
His eye sockets were deeply sunken, dark bruises beneath them, and stubble had sprouted across his face. Lin Zhilan had never seen him in such a disheveled state.
“Auntie…”
The moment Yan Yuan spoke, his voice trembled.
“Xiao Yuan,” Lin Zhilan said with a soft sigh. “Your grandfather’s in the ward. Go see him.”
Inside the ward, Liang Ping was holding a bowl and feeding Grandpa Yan congee.
Grandpa Yan’s gaze fell on the person behind him. After staring blankly for several seconds, he said, “Xiao Yuan… you’re back.”
Yan Yuan rushed over and dropped to his knees beside the bed, clutching his grandfather’s withered hand. “I’m back, Grandpa.”
Grandpa Yan grinned, his wrinkles bunching together. “Good, good. You’re back.”
He patted the back of Yan Yuan’s hand and began rambling on, asking whether Yan Yuan had been eating well at school, whether he had been sleeping well, and so on.
Yan Yuan nodded repeatedly, his eyes burning red.
After Yan Yuan returned, Grandpa Yan’s spirits improved almost at once. He was able to eat, drink, and sleep again.
At first, Yan Yuan thought things had turned around.
Sadly, on the morning of the second day, Grandpa Yan passed away peacefully in his sleep.
Yan Yuan had only ever had one family member.
His grandfather’s death seemed to take something from within him. In an instant, he became like a man with nowhere left to go.
Lin Zhilan and Su Lang stepped in to arrange Grandpa Yan’s funeral.
Restrictions on old customs and superstitions were no longer as strict as they had once been, so the funeral could be conducted according to tradition.
A mourning hall was set up in the main room of Yan Yuan’s house. A perpetual lamp burned beneath the table, and the younger generations were supposed to keep adding oil to it so that it would never go out.
Yan Yuan knew that Auntie and the others had already helped him a great deal, so he forced himself to stay strong and handle the miscellaneous arrangements, refusing to let Lin Zhilan and the others tire themselves out any further.
He spread a straw mat in the mourning hall and kept vigil there day and night.
Worried about leaving him alone, Lin Zhilan sent Su Li to keep him company.
Su Li was fearless to the point of foolishness, with a heart as big as they came.
Yan Yuan knelt on the straw mat and chatted with him. Before long, Su Li had curled up beside Yan Yuan’s knees and fallen asleep, sprawled out in every direction.
Yan Yuan looked at Su Li, who could sleep so soundly even in a mourning hall, and could not help but laugh helplessly.
He rolled his stiff shoulders, then bent down and tried to carry him to the bed in the inner room.
But he had barely eaten anything in the past few days. After trying several times, he still could not lift Su Li.
“Xiao Yuan, just put him down.”
Linlin’s voice came from behind him. “My mom says Li Li is built like a sack of rice. He’s too heavy. It’s not your fault.”
The little girl considerately gave him a way out.
Yan Yuan smiled bitterly and set Su Li down before turning to look at Linlin.
Until then, he had been completely focused on his grandfather’s condition. This was the first time since returning that he had really looked at her.
Linlin had blossomed into a graceful young woman. She had grown taller, her figure lengthening into its full shape. Standing quietly in the half-lit doorway, she looked like a thin, cool ray of moonlight.
There was a photograph of Linlin in Jiang Chengzhou’s wallet. When his roommates discovered it, they all clamored for Jiang Chengzhou to introduce her to them as their sister-in-law.
Because of that, when Jiang Chengzhou met up with Yan Yuan in the capital, he had dismissed all his roommates as worthless toads dreaming of eating swan meat.
Jiang Chengzhou’s roommates were all exceptionally gifted young men, and Yan Yuan had no opinion on the matter.
But Linlin really had grown into a cool, ethereally beautiful swan.
Linlin walked in and placed the lunchbox she was carrying on the table beside them. When she lifted the lid, the fragrance of egg fried rice immediately filled the room, mingling with the scent of scallions and the smoky aroma from the wok. It was enough to awaken anyone’s appetite.
“Mom made it and asked me to bring it to you.” Linlin set out the chopsticks. “Xiao Yuan, eat some while it’s hot.”
Yan Yuan’s stomach had already cramped into numbness. At the smell of the egg fried rice, however, he finally felt a little hungry.
“Have you eaten?” he asked, looking up at Linlin.
Linlin nodded. “I have.”
She paused, then added, “But I could eat a little more.”
Yan Yuan chuckled. He went to the kitchen, washed another bowl and spoon, and divided most of the fried rice into it for her.
Linlin hurriedly raised a hand to stop him. “That’s enough, that’s enough. I already ate at home. I can’t eat much.”
As she spoke, she pushed half of it back into his bowl, leaving herself only a very shallow layer at the bottom—barely two or three bites.
She picked up her spoon and began eating as though counting every grain of rice.
Yan Yuan suddenly understood.
She did not really want to eat. She simply thought it would be too lonely for him to eat by himself and wanted to keep him company.
Lin Zhilan’s egg fried rice was perfectly cooked, soft yet springy, with the fragrance of egg spreading across the tongue. Yan Yuan chewed a few times and swallowed it together with the ache in his heart.
After finishing the meal, Yan Yuan quickly washed the lunchbox, bowl, and chopsticks.
Linlin took the clean lunchbox from him, but she did not leave right away. She hesitated by the door for a moment, then turned back and said, “Xiao Yuan, you’re allowed to cry.”
When Grandpa Yan died, Linlin had wept bitterly, and Lin Zhilan had shed tears as well.
But Yan Yuan had not cried even once from beginning to end. Linlin did not believe that he was neither sad nor heartbroken.
Meeting his suddenly startled gaze, Linlin pressed her lips together. “Suppressing your sorrow is bad for the liver. That’s what my mom says.”
After saying that, she seemed a little embarrassed and turned to run away.
