Translator: dapotaturs
Release Date: 04/07/2024
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Jiang Wang suddenly found it difficult to reason with his seven-year-old self.
"I won't sell you," he said slowly. "Actually... I'm a relative entrusted by your mother to take care of you. According to our family relations, I'm your cousin."
"You're safe now."
Peng Xingwang hadn't seen his mother for several years. His eyes were filled with tears from the pain, and he looked up at Jiang Wang.
"Is it true?"
Jiang Wang felt relieved internally, thinking he had finally come up with a decent excuse. His tone softened a bit.
"Yes, actually, I look a lot like her if you look closely."
Peng Xingwang pondered for a few seconds.
"Can you call her?"
Jiang Wang remained expressionless. "I don't have a phone."
"There's a landline at the hotel reception."
"Go to sleep."
Peng Xingwang looked disappointed as if he wanted to write 'You're lying to me' all over his face. He sniffled and crawled back into bed, curling up into a ball, soon falling asleep with steady breathing.
Leaving Jiang Wang alone sitting by the bed, lost in thought, holding half a roll of gauze.
He hadn't anticipated things would develop to this extent.
Out of nowhere, he had brought out his younger self, and there was no way he could return the child. He would have to continue raising him, even if it meant doing so with a sense of resignation.
Someone with zero dating experience to this day, annoyed by the sound of children crying, had originally resigned himself to being single for life. He planned to find a place to dig a hole and lie down before dying, saving money on a coffin. He found Peng Xingwang a bit annoying.
Early the next morning, just as dawn was breaking, Peng Xingwang cautiously slipped out of bed, barefoot, glanced at the lump under the blanket on the neighboring bed, and then quickly ran outside.
Three steps later, he bumped into a set of iron-like eight-pack abs.
"Oops!"
Jiang Wang looked down at him, holding a bag of soy milk and fried dough sticks, casting a long shadow.
Peng Xingwang turned and ran back, diving back into his blanket, pretending nothing had happened.
"Get up," the man said coldly. "Have breakfast, take a shower, and go to school."
The boy thought he misheard. "Go to school?"
Jiang Wang had already put on a cheap T-shirt and turned away to tidy up his shirt on the balcony. "What time do you finish school? I'll come pick you up later."
The boy was quiet for a moment, his voice much softer. "No one has ever picked me up from school before."
Peng Xingwang is seven years old this year, and according to the custom of early enrollment in City A, he should be in second grade. However, he never attended kindergarten. His biological father drowned himself in alcohol and vomit from the day he was born, and his mother hastily fled the city two years after giving birth. He owes his survival to the hospitality of the neighbors. With nowhere else to go, the child spent his days picking up trash and playing with stray cats and dogs on the streets. Thanks to the strict urban civilization construction this year, the neighborhood committee aunties forcibly enrolled him in compulsory education for nine years at the local primary school. However, since he's not their child, the neighbors' care is sporadic at best. Being too close would not only waste money but also draw criticism from family members.
What else could the little boy do but make do with his situation?
Jiang Wang fell silent for a few seconds, neatly folding his old coat and holding it against his chest with one hand as he led Peng Xingwang outside. Hongshan Primary School opens its doors at seven in the morning. The school uniform consists of brownish-yellow with black double stripes, looking from a distance like a group of little dogs or bees lining up to enter.
The tall man stood with the little boy near the bus stop diagonally across from the school gate for a long time. Suddenly, Jiang Wang remembered that Peng Xingwang didn't have a school uniform. More accurately, he didn't receive a clean set of clothes until almost graduation. Before that, he wore raggedy clothes like a little beggar.
Peng Xingwang didn't understand what he was thinking and asked, "Can I go now?" Jiang Wang furrowed his brow, turned around, and said, "Let's go." He needed to find some money to buy him a school uniform first.
The tall and the small one walked aimlessly along the street for a while before turning into a sports lottery shop. The old television inside still had a black and white screen, and the signal for the football program was poor, flashing and snowing intermittently. Now and then, an elderly person would raise their hand and slap it several times to improve the reception.
These kinds of places were always reserved for retired elderly people to play cards and chat. Despite opening early, business was sparse, but there were quite a few people inside. The old man at the counter saw a young man with a child and his expression wasn't particularly friendly. "What do you need?" he asked.
Jiang Wang stared at the television for a while before saying, "World Cup?"
"You need to buy a lottery ticket to watch the game," the old man replied bluntly. "There are no seats left, so stand."
Peng Xingwang looked timidly towards the street outside, unsure whether he should run away.
Jiang Wang wasn't interested in watching football. He had very few interests and had lived a secluded life for these years. In the first few years of working, there was a projector in the living room of his rented house. His roommates would watch football on weekends and even dig up matches from previous years to rewatch repeatedly. Jiang Wang occasionally accepted the drink his roommate offered, listening to their lively chatter while he half-slept and half-drank beside them. Occasionally, when a goal was scored, the living room would erupt in cheers loud enough to be heard downstairs, and Jiang Wang would rub his sleepy eyes, take a sip of his drink, watch the screen for a while, and then drift off to sleep on the sofa.
The old man had made up his mind to drive them away, but he didn't expect the young man to pull out a wad of bills. There were hundreds of them, but he didn't know how to break them into smaller changes.
Jiang Wang counted out one hundred and eighty and handed it to him. "Poland vs. Ecuador, bet on 0-2."
The old man eyed him suspiciously, then used a counterfeit detector to scan each fifty and twenty bill before reluctantly issuing a ticket.
A middle-aged man sitting nearby, watching the game while avoiding his wife's glare, chuckled. "You're betting on Ecuador?"
"Last year in the friendly match, Poland won 3-0. Young man, if you want to bet on an underdog, don't play it like this."
"Zurawski's attacks are damn impressive," the man next to him chuckled, tapping his cigarette. "Trust me, go all in on Poland, you won't lose."
Peng Xingwang found a small stool to sit on and soon fell asleep with his head on the table. Two hours later, the man pocketed the brand-new five hundred yuan, bent down, and flicked the boy's head.
"Ow!" Peng Xingwang instinctively reached to protect his head. "That hurts!"
"Wanna drink soda?" Jiang Wang said as if he was asking a question, already pulling open the refrigerator. "What flavor?"
Peng Xingwang was cautious. "I don't want any."
Jiang Wang grabbed two bottles of 'Arctic Ocean' without hesitation. As the shop owner opened the bottles for them, he casually asked, "Is this kid your son?"
"How is that possible?" Jiang Wang smirked. "I couldn't produce someone this dull."
At noon, the two returned to the school and bought a set of school uniforms, white shoes, red scarves, and small yellow caps from the Office of Academic Affairs. When they were paying, some classmates recognized Peng Xingwang, then looked up at Jiang Wang with curiosity.
"Peng Xingwang, who's he?" Peng Xingwang called out brightly, "He's my big brother!"
Jiang Wang's inexplicable pressure seemed to increase.
The teacher had been bothered by the fact that this child's family hadn't paid any money. Seeing that someone finally took care of it, they breathed a sigh of relief and quickly produced a set of well-fitted clothes. The child's eyes sparkled as he hugged the clothes, then he ran to the restroom to change and came out, pulling at Jiang Wang's clothes with a silly smile.
"Does it look good?" Jiang Wang thought the color scheme was hardly flattering, but he reluctantly nodded with narrowed eyes.
Peng Xingwang's smile grew even brighter, and he bounced around, wanting to blend in with the other primary school students. "Can I go to class now?" Jiang Wang had just raised his head when his gaze suddenly froze.
At the other end of the corridor, there was a familiar figure. The person was slender and delicate, with a white jade bracelet on their right wrist, and their features were as clear and bright as the moon on a summer night.
Time seemed to slow down suddenly, and Jiang Wang took a step forward, feeling like a student revisiting the school to visit his old teachers after more than twenty years.
The person saw Peng Xingwang wearing his new school uniform, smiled, and affectionately tousled the child's head, praising his appearance, then took his hand and led him back to class.
The man stood at the distant end, watching as their figures gradually receded like the ebbing tide, lost in thought for a long time. Eventually, he looked down at the old jacket he had been holding in his arms.
He didn't even know the person's name.
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