Jǐ Yi very soon received a call from the newspaper, urging her to hurry back to work again.
When she arrived in her office, she took the information that one of her co-workers was handing her and flipped through it. It was the latest photographs after Cyclone Nargis swept through south-central Myanmar at the beginning of May. With just this one cyclone, the death toll had already exceeded 130,000.
The student intern standing beside her had brought over an already-translated foreign news agency report on the xenophobic conflict in South Africa, in which more than sixty fatalities had already occurred.
……
Nothing had changed.
Each minute, each second, all sorts of Heaven-sent disasters and manmade catastrophes were occurring. And she was to process all this information and, after filtering and compiling it, send it out; this was her job.
But her life…
In that moment as she took a seat in front of the computer, turned on the monitor, and pressed the power button, she recalled that awkward scene from several days ago.
When she, Jì Chengyang, and Grandpa Jì left the dependents’ residence area, she had looked vacillatingly for a long time at Grandpa Jì, who had been inside the black sedan, but still she had not said a single word of farewell.
“Just address him as Grandpa right now. In the future, when it’s time to change the form of address, you can slowly adjust to it then.”
This was what Jì Chengyang had instructed her at the time. With his astuteness, he had clearly beheld and understood all of her little struggles and hesitations.
That evening, Jì Nuannuan had called her, on one hand congratulating Jǐ Yi for finally overcoming all obstacles and becoming half a member of the Jì family. At the same time, she had quietly complained that the one wish she had had since she was a child about her marriage was that Jǐ Yi would be her maid-of-honour, and in order to achieve that wish, Nuannuan had even secretly ordered the maid-of-honour gown already, but now that wish was considered to have completely gone down the drain.
“My mom said, how ludicrous would that be, to have your future Little Aunt as your maid-of-honour,” Nuannuan grumbled. On the phone, she had moaned and sighed away until they hung up the phone.
The seniorities and positions in the family hierarchy had become utterly mixed up.
If time would turn back to the very first time she had called him Little Uncle Jì, it would be absolutely impossible for her to imagination that after ten and more years, she would no longer be calling this man before her by this form of address, this young man who at the time was dozens of centimetres taller than herself, who could pick her up and set her on his arm without feeling any strain at all; rather, she would address him with three simple characters: Jì Chengyang.
She finally understood the thinking of those people who now knew, or would know in the near future, about her relationship with Jì Chengyang. Even she, when she wanted to change how she addressed those in the Jì family, felt so awkward, let alone other people.
But Jì Chengyang was forever able to calmly and openly face everything.
Towards fate and one’s own lot, towards those constant setbacks and defeats, he always had a candid unperturbedness that was beyond his years. And similarly, for the feelings in his heart that he had confirmed and validated, he also carried a calm openness that wholly disregarded all worldly views.
<>Please support this translation by reading it at hui3r[dot]wordpress[dot]com, its actual site of posting, instead. Thank you.
As Jì Chengyang was about to be going for surgery, on the day she returned to work, her team director only arranged a morning’s worth of work for her. Not hearing any movement when she arrived back at home in the afternoon, she changed her shoes and leisurely looked in each room for him. Because she was afraid he might be doing something, she did not call aloud to him. When she had stepped far enough into the home that she was by the doorway of the study, she saw that the door was actually ajar.
Stepping over, she, through the crack in the door that was not even five centimetres wide, saw him.
He sat on the sheepskin that covered the window seat, his legs, which were clad in a pair of workout pants, extended in front of him and his eyes closed as he leaned back and rested there. His legs were very long, stretching across the entire window seat. From this angle, she could even clearly see how the sunlight shone through the ends of his hair.
And at the same time, it illuminated the side of his face.
She saw that beside him lay a rolled-up scroll of paper. Walking over, she unfurled it. It was the map of the world she had once bought to keep a record of where he had gone. She had bought this map before he went to Iraq, but afterwards, it had been placed on the desk in the study and then left there unused for many years. Now, taped to it was note after note that very detailedly labeled each place he had been, as well as the date.
“Come on up.” He lifted her up onto the window seat and circled her in front of himself in his arms, holding her like he would a soft, little throw pillow.
“You went to Syria in 1997?” Her head lowered, she ran her fingers lightly over the map, touching that place that she had never before been to.
“It was the summertime when I went to Syria. It was the year that I took you to your dance performance.”
Jì Chengyang’s wrist brushed against her soft bosom, but there were no other unnecessary, additional actions from him. He temporarily forgot about all those thoughts that had been flooding his mind just now, those plans for her future after his surgery, if by chance the surgery did fail.
She asked him question after question about year after year of his past, until at last, everything stopped at the year 2003.
And then, it was 2007.
“Last year… you went to Jordan?”
He told her, “I had some bad luck in Iraq and was abducted. It was about 2007 when I was rescued, and the first place I was sent to was a hospital in Jordan to undergo medical treatment.”
During those days when Jì Chengyang had been in another country undergoing a series of medical treatments for both his mental and physical health, in that period when he was unable to find Jǐ Yi, whenever he saw a young, ethnic Chinese girl similar in age to her, he would always take a couple of extra glances, wanting to give his brain details that were more specific to allow his imagination to picture how she might have changed. Was her hair long or short now? Was the baby fat on her face gone? Did she still cry over the littlest things?
Those of the older generation always tend to say, only after experiencing great setbacks will a person’s attitude and approach to life change.
He looked back now on all those years of his past. Leaving the mountainous area and coming to Beijing in the 1980s could be considered one time when his perspective of the world had changed: He saw a world that was beyond his imagination. He had needed to change to integrate himself into that world, and even needed to become part of that small number of outstanding people within it.
2001 was the second time. Without that serious illness, he perhaps would never have broken through his own mental barrier and decided to be with Jǐ Yi. That serious illness had also made him even more resolute about his own values on life: “Time waits for no man; go do everything you wish to do.” This was the Jì Chengyang of that time… At the age of twenty-five, twenty-six years old, when, after going through a great setback and discouragement, he had regained a new life and love, those had been a man’s best years.
The he of the present was no longer the he who had used words to tell Jǐ Yi, “I am not a perfect person; no one should think of me as being that perfect.” Rather, he now genuinely was aware of the fact that he ultimately was just an ordinary person.
He truly was unable to be perfect.
His thoughts halted at this point.
Jǐ Yi shifted herself, turning around so that she could see him. She spoke no superfluous words. Her heart was already aching. She could not even bear to listen to all those hardships and sufferings of the time when he was rootless and away from home; how did he even get through all of them?
“When you first came back to China, I went out with schoolmates and drank beer.” She suddenly felt trepidation.
“And?” Jì Chengyang was unable to guess what it was that she wanted to say.
“That year that you had the brain tumour surgery, I went to Yonghe Temple to offer up incense, and I vowed that as long as you could regain your health, I would no longer drink anything other than water…” She did not know how to continue saying the next part. She had worried about this matter for a long time, until that worry was now fast eating into her heart and becoming like a sickness.
“Oh, primitive superstitiousness,” he chuckled.
“… It’s better to believe the worst and then hopefully be pleasantly surprised.”
“Set your mind at ease; there won’t be any problems.” Dropping his head down, he touched his forehead lightly against hers. “There absolutely will not be any problems.”
This was the last conversation between the two of them about this surgery.
<>Copyright of Fanatical, hui3r[dot]wordpress[dot]com. Translated with the express permission of the author for hui3r[dot]wordpress[dot]com only
On the day of the surgery, Jǐ Yi brought along a very thick dictionary, and with bowed head, she madly recited English vocabulary words.
After Jì Chengyang went to Iraq in 2003, this had been the only way she could console herself.
The entire time, she told herself, she needed to forget the content of the discussion between him and the doctor last night, as well as what the doctor, as part of routine procedure, had told the people standing outside the door today before the surgery began. She was not certain how much Nuannuan’s parents knew, but at the time, when Nuannuan heard those words, the colour had drained from her face. And she had watched as Nuannuan’s father held the pen in his hand and signed his name on those papers.
More than ten pages had been flipped through in the dictionary.
Time was slipping by in minutes and seconds.
She could sense that Nuannuan wanted to talk to her, yet no words came forth.
The dictionary in her hands was unexpectedly taken away. “Xixi…” Nuannuan called her name. But then, in that instant, Nuannuan’s hand touched the foot of the page. That spot had been ripped by Jǐ Yi’s fingernail, which had been digging into it, and was wrinkled and crumpled into a thick, little layer.
“Hold it for me for a bit. I’m going to the bathroom.”
When Jǐ Yi stood, she realized her legs were limp, but afraid that the Jì family members around her would notice, she could only grit through and take a couple of forward steps until she finally again found the feeling of walking. The bathroom on this level was not very large, so although there were not many people, she still needed to wait for quite a while. By the time she came out again, she discovered that the light over the door of the operating room was already extinguished… Her heart dropped and nearly stopped beating.
The doctor stepped out and informed them that the surgery had been very successful and Jì Chengyang had already been transferred directly into a VIP intensive care room.
Therefore, these people who were waiting outside would not be able to see him at the moment.
<>It would be sincerely appreciated if you would support this translation by reading it at hui3r[dot]wordpress[dot]com, its actual site of posting, instead. Thank you.
As it was a VIP room, one family member was allowed to be wih him. When a nurse asked whether they wanted someone to go in and accompany him, Nuannuan’s father did not say anything, but Nuannuan’s mother shifted her gaze and landed it on Jǐ Yi. “Xixi, will you be able to hold up if you go in?”
She nodded, afraid that they would not allow her to be by his side.
Nuannuan’s mother smilingly instructed her, “Here, it’s all nurses who are responsible for taking care of the patients, not nursing aides. With them caring for him, it’ll be a little easier on you. You just need to keep him company, that’s all.” Though Jǐ Yi was still uncertain whether, in the days to come, she should call this person in front of her “Auntie” or switch over and address her in the same way Jì Chengyang did, the essence of the relationship would not change; Nuannuan’s mother still treated her like a child when she gave her instructions.
Assuring her that she would, she saw the people of the Jì family out.
Late at night, Jǐ Yi, wearing the green garments and slippers that had been specifically prepared for her, was there with him by his bedside. The doctor had said that, based on his physical state, he should regain consciousness four or five hours after the surgery, which would be approximately one or two o’clock in the morning. So, she kept watch over this period. Not wanting to have to leave this place out of a need to go to the bathroom, she would only take a small sip of water to moisten her throat if she was thirsty.
But two o’clock passed, and Jì Chengyang still showed no signs of waking.
When the clock jumped past two on the dot, it was as if it had also jumped over her last psychological line of defense. She began to grow fearful. While off to the side a nurse checked him and recorded down the information, she nervously searched for where the doctor was. Very soon, the doctor strode in. After looking over his condition, the doctor told her not to worry and also once more explained that, for someone like Jì Chengyang whose physical state was not very good to begin with, it was very normal that he would be slow to awaken.
Jǐ Yi gave a nod. Her complexion was already somewhat pale.
The doctor left very shortly, and once again, only she and two nurses remained in this place. Time seemed to be infinitely stretched out. Each second moved past very distinctly. She did not know how many seconds, how many minutes she had counted.
Would he wake up? If he didn’t regain consciousness, what should she do?
The more panicked she became, the more she began making conjectures.
Her throat felt as if a breath of air was being heavily suppressed within it. She wanted only to cry. Luckily, someone behind her unexpectedly patted her on the shoulder.
Dazedly, her mind was yanked back to awareness.
“He’s awake.” The nurse’s voice informed her of this. Then the nurse hurried off to call the doctor.
<>Copyright of Fanatical, hui3r[dot]wordpress[dot]com. Translated with the express permission of the author for hui3r[dot]wordpress[dot]com only
Tears blurred her vision, but still she could see that his eyes were open and searching for her.
Moving in close, Jǐ Yi dared not speak and only riveted her gaze on him.
She did not know what to do with her hands and feet, not daring at all to touch him, afraid even to move.
Eventually, it was Jì Chengyang who first lifted his hand, seeming as if he wanted to touch hers. Hurriedly, she gave her hand to him. Jì Chengyang initially grasped it tightly, but soon he loosened his hold, and, letting his hand slide down the back of hers, he found the place where her ring finger was.
And then, he circled two of his fingers around it.
This was the first thing he did after regaining consciousness.
The tears that Jǐ Yi had been trying with all her might to hold back came pouring downwards. No matter how she tried, she could not stop them.
She was unable at all to clearly make out any of what was in front of her. When the doctor came into the room, what he said, and then what he did as he circled about Jì Chengyang—she was in a daze during all of these and did not think to try to figure them out…
She seemed only to see Jì Chengyang’s lips open and close ever so slightly and call her, “Little crybaby.”
Jǐ Yi very soon received a call from the newspaper, urging her to hurry back to work again.
When she arrived in her office, she took the information that one of her co-workers was handing her and flipped through it. It was the latest photographs after Cyclone Nargis swept through south-central Myanmar at the beginning of May. With just this one cyclone, the death toll had already exceeded 130,000.
The student intern standing beside her had brought over an already-translated foreign news agency report on the xenophobic conflict in South Africa, in which more than sixty fatalities had already occurred.
……
Nothing had changed.
Each minute, each second, all sorts of Heaven-sent disasters and manmade catastrophes were occurring. And she was to process all this information and, after filtering and compiling it, send it out; this was her job.
But her life…
In that moment as she took a seat in front of the computer, turned on the monitor, and pressed the power button, she recalled that awkward scene from several days ago.
When she, Jì Chengyang, and Grandpa Jì left the dependents’ residence area, she had looked vacillatingly for a long time at Grandpa Jì, who had been inside the black sedan, but still she had not said a single word of farewell.
“Just address him as Grandpa right now. In the future, when it’s time to change the form of address, you can slowly adjust to it then.”
This was what Jì Chengyang had instructed her at the time. With his astuteness, he had clearly beheld and understood all of her little struggles and hesitations.
That evening, Jì Nuannuan had called her, on one hand congratulating Jǐ Yi for finally overcoming all obstacles and becoming half a member of the Jì family. At the same time, she had quietly complained that the one wish she had had since she was a child about her marriage was that Jǐ Yi would be her maid-of-honour, and in order to achieve that wish, Nuannuan had even secretly ordered the maid-of-honour gown already, but now that wish was considered to have completely gone down the drain.
“My mom said, how ludicrous would that be, to have your future Little Aunt as your maid-of-honour,” Nuannuan grumbled. On the phone, she had moaned and sighed away until they hung up the phone.
The seniorities and positions in the family hierarchy had become utterly mixed up.
If time would turn back to the very first time she had called him Little Uncle Jì, it would be absolutely impossible for her to imagination that after ten and more years, she would no longer be calling this man before her by this form of address, this young man who at the time was dozens of centimetres taller than herself, who could pick her up and set her on his arm without feeling any strain at all; rather, she would address him with three simple characters: Jì Chengyang.
She finally understood the thinking of those people who now knew, or would know in the near future, about her relationship with Jì Chengyang. Even she, when she wanted to change how she addressed those in the Jì family, felt so awkward, let alone other people.
But Jì Chengyang was forever able to calmly and openly face everything.
Towards fate and one’s own lot, towards those constant setbacks and defeats, he always had a candid unperturbedness that was beyond his years. And similarly, for the feelings in his heart that he had confirmed and validated, he also carried a calm openness that wholly disregarded all worldly views.
<>Please support this translation by reading it at hui3r[dot]wordpress[dot]com, its actual site of posting, instead. Thank you.
As Jì Chengyang was about to be going for surgery, on the day she returned to work, her team director only arranged a morning’s worth of work for her. Not hearing any movement when she arrived back at home in the afternoon, she changed her shoes and leisurely looked in each room for him. Because she was afraid he might be doing something, she did not call aloud to him. When she had stepped far enough into the home that she was by the doorway of the study, she saw that the door was actually ajar.
Stepping over, she, through the crack in the door that was not even five centimetres wide, saw him.
He sat on the sheepskin that covered the window seat, his legs, which were clad in a pair of workout pants, extended in front of him and his eyes closed as he leaned back and rested there. His legs were very long, stretching across the entire window seat. From this angle, she could even clearly see how the sunlight shone through the ends of his hair.
And at the same time, it illuminated the side of his face.
She saw that beside him lay a rolled-up scroll of paper. Walking over, she unfurled it. It was the map of the world she had once bought to keep a record of where he had gone. She had bought this map before he went to Iraq, but afterwards, it had been placed on the desk in the study and then left there unused for many years. Now, taped to it was note after note that very detailedly labeled each place he had been, as well as the date.
“Come on up.” He lifted her up onto the window seat and circled her in front of himself in his arms, holding her like he would a soft, little throw pillow.
“You went to Syria in 1997?” Her head lowered, she ran her fingers lightly over the map, touching that place that she had never before been to.
“It was the summertime when I went to Syria. It was the year that I took you to your dance performance.”
Jì Chengyang’s wrist brushed against her soft bosom, but there were no other unnecessary, additional actions from him. He temporarily forgot about all those thoughts that had been flooding his mind just now, those plans for her future after his surgery, if by chance the surgery did fail.
She asked him question after question about year after year of his past, until at last, everything stopped at the year 2003.
And then, it was 2007.
“Last year… you went to Jordan?”
He told her, “I had some bad luck in Iraq and was abducted. It was about 2007 when I was rescued, and the first place I was sent to was a hospital in Jordan to undergo medical treatment.”
During those days when Jì Chengyang had been in another country undergoing a series of medical treatments for both his mental and physical health, in that period when he was unable to find Jǐ Yi, whenever he saw a young, ethnic Chinese girl similar in age to her, he would always take a couple of extra glances, wanting to give his brain details that were more specific to allow his imagination to picture how she might have changed. Was her hair long or short now? Was the baby fat on her face gone? Did she still cry over the littlest things?
Those of the older generation always tend to say, only after experiencing great setbacks will a person’s attitude and approach to life change.
He looked back now on all those years of his past. Leaving the mountainous area and coming to Beijing in the 1980s could be considered one time when his perspective of the world had changed: He saw a world that was beyond his imagination. He had needed to change to integrate himself into that world, and even needed to become part of that small number of outstanding people within it.
2001 was the second time. Without that serious illness, he perhaps would never have broken through his own mental barrier and decided to be with Jǐ Yi. That serious illness had also made him even more resolute about his own values on life: “Time waits for no man; go do everything you wish to do.” This was the Jì Chengyang of that time… At the age of twenty-five, twenty-six years old, when, after going through a great setback and discouragement, he had regained a new life and love, those had been a man’s best years.
The he of the present was no longer the he who had used words to tell Jǐ Yi, “I am not a perfect person; no one should think of me as being that perfect.” Rather, he now genuinely was aware of the fact that he ultimately was just an ordinary person.
He truly was unable to be perfect.
His thoughts halted at this point.
Jǐ Yi shifted herself, turning around so that she could see him. She spoke no superfluous words. Her heart was already aching. She could not even bear to listen to all those hardships and sufferings of the time when he was rootless and away from home; how did he even get through all of them?
“When you first came back to China, I went out with schoolmates and drank beer.” She suddenly felt trepidation.
“And?” Jì Chengyang was unable to guess what it was that she wanted to say.
“That year that you had the brain tumour surgery, I went to Yonghe Temple to offer up incense, and I vowed that as long as you could regain your health, I would no longer drink anything other than water…” She did not know how to continue saying the next part. She had worried about this matter for a long time, until that worry was now fast eating into her heart and becoming like a sickness.
“Oh, primitive superstitiousness,” he chuckled.
“… It’s better to believe the worst and then hopefully be pleasantly surprised.”
“Set your mind at ease; there won’t be any problems.” Dropping his head down, he touched his forehead lightly against hers. “There absolutely will not be any problems.”
This was the last conversation between the two of them about this surgery.
<>Copyright of Fanatical, hui3r[dot]wordpress[dot]com. Translated with the express permission of the author for hui3r[dot]wordpress[dot]com only
On the day of the surgery, Jǐ Yi brought along a very thick dictionary, and with bowed head, she madly recited English vocabulary words.
After Jì Chengyang went to Iraq in 2003, this had been the only way she could console herself.
The entire time, she told herself, she needed to forget the content of the discussion between him and the doctor last night, as well as what the doctor, as part of routine procedure, had told the people standing outside the door today before the surgery began. She was not certain how much Nuannuan’s parents knew, but at the time, when Nuannuan heard those words, the colour had drained from her face. And she had watched as Nuannuan’s father held the pen in his hand and signed his name on those papers.
More than ten pages had been flipped through in the dictionary.
Time was slipping by in minutes and seconds.
She could sense that Nuannuan wanted to talk to her, yet no words came forth.
The dictionary in her hands was unexpectedly taken away. “Xixi…” Nuannuan called her name. But then, in that instant, Nuannuan’s hand touched the foot of the page. That spot had been ripped by Jǐ Yi’s fingernail, which had been digging into it, and was wrinkled and crumpled into a thick, little layer.
“Hold it for me for a bit. I’m going to the bathroom.”
When Jǐ Yi stood, she realized her legs were limp, but afraid that the Jì family members around her would notice, she could only grit through and take a couple of forward steps until she finally again found the feeling of walking. The bathroom on this level was not very large, so although there were not many people, she still needed to wait for quite a while. By the time she came out again, she discovered that the light over the door of the operating room was already extinguished… Her heart dropped and nearly stopped beating.
The doctor stepped out and informed them that the surgery had been very successful and Jì Chengyang had already been transferred directly into a VIP intensive care room.
Therefore, these people who were waiting outside would not be able to see him at the moment.
<>It would be sincerely appreciated if you would support this translation by reading it at hui3r[dot]wordpress[dot]com, its actual site of posting, instead. Thank you.
As it was a VIP room, one family member was allowed to be wih him. When a nurse asked whether they wanted someone to go in and accompany him, Nuannuan’s father did not say anything, but Nuannuan’s mother shifted her gaze and landed it on Jǐ Yi. “Xixi, will you be able to hold up if you go in?”
She nodded, afraid that they would not allow her to be by his side.
Nuannuan’s mother smilingly instructed her, “Here, it’s all nurses who are responsible for taking care of the patients, not nursing aides. With them caring for him, it’ll be a little easier on you. You just need to keep him company, that’s all.” Though Jǐ Yi was still uncertain whether, in the days to come, she should call this person in front of her “Auntie” or switch over and address her in the same way Jì Chengyang did, the essence of the relationship would not change; Nuannuan’s mother still treated her like a child when she gave her instructions.
Assuring her that she would, she saw the people of the Jì family out.
Late at night, Jǐ Yi, wearing the green garments and slippers that had been specifically prepared for her, was there with him by his bedside. The doctor had said that, based on his physical state, he should regain consciousness four or five hours after the surgery, which would be approximately one or two o’clock in the morning. So, she kept watch over this period. Not wanting to have to leave this place out of a need to go to the bathroom, she would only take a small sip of water to moisten her throat if she was thirsty.
But two o’clock passed, and Jì Chengyang still showed no signs of waking.
When the clock jumped past two on the dot, it was as if it had also jumped over her last psychological line of defense. She began to grow fearful. While off to the side a nurse checked him and recorded down the information, she nervously searched for where the doctor was. Very soon, the doctor strode in. After looking over his condition, the doctor told her not to worry and also once more explained that, for someone like Jì Chengyang whose physical state was not very good to begin with, it was very normal that he would be slow to awaken.
Jǐ Yi gave a nod. Her complexion was already somewhat pale.
The doctor left very shortly, and once again, only she and two nurses remained in this place. Time seemed to be infinitely stretched out. Each second moved past very distinctly. She did not know how many seconds, how many minutes she had counted.
Would he wake up? If he didn’t regain consciousness, what should she do?
The more panicked she became, the more she began making conjectures.
Her throat felt as if a breath of air was being heavily suppressed within it. She wanted only to cry. Luckily, someone behind her unexpectedly patted her on the shoulder.
Dazedly, her mind was yanked back to awareness.
“He’s awake.” The nurse’s voice informed her of this. Then the nurse hurried off to call the doctor.
<>Copyright of Fanatical, hui3r[dot]wordpress[dot]com. Translated with the express permission of the author for hui3r[dot]wordpress[dot]com only
Tears blurred her vision, but still she could see that his eyes were open and searching for her.
Moving in close, Jǐ Yi dared not speak and only riveted her gaze on him.
She did not know what to do with her hands and feet, not daring at all to touch him, afraid even to move.
Eventually, it was Jì Chengyang who first lifted his hand, seeming as if he wanted to touch hers. Hurriedly, she gave her hand to him. Jì Chengyang initially grasped it tightly, but soon he loosened his hold, and, letting his hand slide down the back of hers, he found the place where her ring finger was.
And then, he circled two of his fingers around it.
This was the first thing he did after regaining consciousness.
The tears that Jǐ Yi had been trying with all her might to hold back came pouring downwards. No matter how she tried, she could not stop them.
She was unable at all to clearly make out any of what was in front of her. When the doctor came into the room, what he said, and then what he did as he circled about Jì Chengyang—she was in a daze during all of these and did not think to try to figure them out…
She seemed only to see Jì Chengyang’s lips open and close ever so slightly and call her, “Little crybaby.”
