Extra — Those Later Days (4)
The matter of Zhu Yurùn being thrown to Jīng Zhǎn by Qīng Míng set off a fierce domestic war between Old Ghost Head and Qīng Míng. Unfortunately, Old Ghost Head was no match for Qīng Míng in force; it wasn’t until several days later that he found a chance to storm, full of rage, straight to Jīng Zhǎn’s place, vowing to run away from home with Zhu Yurùn.
Before arriving, Old Ghost Head had imagined all kinds of lives Zhu Yurùn might be living here—pitifully enslaved by Jīng Zhǎn, left alone to fend for himself, or currying favor to win sympathy. Yet no matter how wildly he imagined, he could not have pictured the scene before him.
Within sight, outside the elegant bamboo dwelling, Jīng Zhǎn lounged leisurely against a bamboo couch, brush in hand, writing something on the small table before him. At his side, Zhu Yurùn lay there obediently, watching Jīng Zhǎn’s movements with full attention.
Soon Jīng Zhǎn set down the brush and signaled Zhu Yurùn to follow him in reading, “Zhu Yurùn.”
Zhu Yurùn softly repeated it, then looked up curiously. “Is this Little Pig’s name?”
Jīng Zhǎn nodded, casually writing two more characters, “Jīng Zhǎn.”
This time, without prompting, Zhu Yurùn read it himself, “Jīng Zhǎn.”
Jīng Zhǎn gave him an approving look. Zhu Yurùn carefully stretched out a fair little finger and traced over the characters Jīng Zhǎn had written.
Jīng Zhǎn smiled lightly, taking Zhu Yurùn’s hand and guiding the brush to write “Zhu Yurùn” stroke by stroke. Then he let go and watched Zhu Yurùn clumsily grip the brush and begin writing on his own.
To his surprise, Zhu Yurùn did not write his own name, but “Jīng Zhǎn.”
As the crooked characters gradually took shape, Jīng Zhǎn’s gaze grew softer. When the last stroke fell, Zhu Yurùn pointed at the words and smiled at Jīng Zhǎn in a flattering way.
Jīng Zhǎn nodded, the corners of his mouth lifting. Encouraged, Zhu Yurùn filled an entire sheet with their two names—big, small, crooked—but still presented it like a treasure.
Jīng Zhǎn’s smile widened. From beside him, he took out a plum-shaped pastry and held it to Zhu Yurùn’s mouth.
Zhu Yurùn’s eyes lit up instantly. He bit into the pastry—and along with it, Jīng Zhǎn’s finger.
Soft, warm touch. Jīng Zhǎn felt his heart soften as well. Gently withdrawing his finger, he watched Zhu Yurùn rub against his arm, happily eating, utterly content.
Old Ghost Head stood there in shock, forgetting to step out. Jīng Zhǎn glanced faintly in his direction but ignored him, still watching Zhu Yurùn with a smile.
Old Ghost Head blinked, then blinked again. “I’m not seeing things, right?”
“If you are, then clearly we’re both seeing things,” Qīng Míng’s voice suddenly sounded beside him.
Startled, Old Ghost Head jumped. “When did you get here?”
“I’ve been following you the whole time.”
Old Ghost Head glared. “I’m running away from home.”
Qīng Míng looked at him indulgently. “Wherever you go, I’ll go with you.”
“I don’t want you. I’m going alone.”
“Ha!” Jīng Zhǎn’s sneer came over. “You’re just talking big, Chu Qīngyī.”
“You!” Old Ghost Head immediately jumped out, glaring at him.
“Old Ghost Head!” Zhu Yurùn, seeing him, leapt down excitedly and scrambled into his arms. The next instant, when Qīng Míng stepped out, Zhu Yurùn shrieked, scrambled down, and ran back, hiding behind Jīng Zhǎn.
“…!” Old Ghost Head
“…!” Qīng Míng
Old Ghost Head glared fiercely at Qīng Míng. Qīng Míng helplessly stepped back. Zhu Yurùn watched cautiously before returning to Old Ghost Head’s side.
Old Ghost Head stroked him fondly. “Let’s go find Little Yù.”
“Really?” Zhu Yurùn’s eyes brightened. “Little Pig misses Little Monster.”
Old Ghost Head smiled. “Little Yù misses Little Pig too.”
Zhu Yurùn eyed him suspiciously. “But didn’t you say Little Monster would forget us once he’s with Big Senior Brother?”
“…!” Old Ghost Head
Embarrassed, he scooped Zhu Yurùn up and left without looking back. Qīng Míng awkwardly faced Jīng Zhǎn, but Jīng Zhǎn only gestured for him to leave.
When they were gone, Jīng Zhǎn returned to the table and stared at the page filled with crooked characters. After a long moment, he folded it carefully and tucked it into his sleeve.
That night, instead of sleeping, he went into the burial grounds.
Trees stood silently in the night. Closing his eyes, his consciousness spread. Faces appeared—no longer terrified or desperate, but peaceful.
At last, it settled on one smiling face.
Opening his eyes, Jīng Zhǎn gathered spiritual energy into his palm, forming that face—then let it disperse.
He smiled wryly. Was he just too lonely?
The next morning, Qīng Míng returned, dumping Zhu Yurùn back into his arms.
“Big bad man!” Zhu Yurùn accused.
“Bad man?”
“He bullied Old Ghost Head!”
“…!”
Zhu Yurùn insisted Qīng Míng was “stealing treasure,” repeating what Little Monster had once told him.
Jīng Zhǎn couldn’t help laughing.
In the golden morning light, Zhu Yurùn stared blankly. “You look really good when you smile… better than Little Monster.”
Jīng Zhǎn smiled. “Do you want to live with me?”
“What does that mean?”
“Stay with me every day.”
“Will you give Little Pig snacks every day?”
“Yes.”
“Play every day?”
“Yes.”
“Sleep together every night?”
“Yes.”
Zhu Yurùn nodded, then hesitated. “You won’t steal Little Pig’s treasure, right?”
Jīng Zhǎn burst out laughing again.
Zhu Yurùn stared, dazed.
As for the answer—who would still care?