AOI 4

The next morning, daylight was already bright and full.

Xu Minghai, entrusted with a task, was determined to see it through. He sat in a chair, legs crossed, summoning every ounce of his focus to “watch the kid.”

After who knows how long, just when Xu Minghai felt he was about to reach a state of Zen meditation, the figure on the bed finally showed some signs of stirring.

The child turned over, gradually uncurling from the tightly wound ball he’d been in, and then those two brush-like lashes quivered a few times before finally parting. He stared blankly at the dust-coated fluorescent tube on the ceiling for a long while, as if trying to figure out where he was. Only then did he slowly turn his head and finally bestow his gaze upon Xu Minghai.

“You’re finally awake!”

Xu Minghai immediately scrambled to his feet. He grabbed a dark, fragrant fried dough cake from the table and gestured toward Qiu Shi with it, in a manner somewhat reminiscent of teasing a dog. “Want some? Sweet oil cake~”

The child didn’t speak, just stretched his neck, looking all around.

“Godfather took Auntie to the neighborhood office. Said they had to find someone at the administrative station to handle some paperwork.” Xu Minghai turned and placed the oil cake back onto the plate, urging, “Don’t just lie there wilted in bed! Godfather specifically told me before he left: make sure you brush your teeth, wash your face, and eat breakfast.”

Having announced his temporary position as “kindergarten auntie,” Xu Minghai then flipped open the quilt wrapped around Qiu Shi. The sight of those pale, lotus-root-like arms and legs made Xu Minghai think the kid looked just like the little child sitting on the lotus flower—the “Fishing Boy” from that cartoon about the two groups fighting over a treasure. So he promptly huffed a warm breath onto his fingers and mischievously went to tickle Qiu Shi’s armpits.

Unfortunately, the child did not produce the expected reaction of rolling around the bed in helpless laughter. No matter how he tickled, the kid’s expression conveyed only one meaning: Keep your greasy hands away from me.

Xu Minghai was quite disappointed. “You don’t have a tickle spot?”

Qiu Shi reached over, grabbed his clothes, and began putting them on piece by piece, saying quietly, “Nope.”

“They say no tickle spot means no one loves you!” Xu Minghai had a knack for bringing up the worst possible subject.

Qiu Shi sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on his socks, then strained to reach his padded cotton shoes with his feet. After a long moment, he finally muttered, “I’m not afraid.” Then he stood up and tried to bolt outside.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Xu Minghai quickly grabbed him but then caught on. “The public toilet’s at the hutong entrance! It’s freezing out there. Your butt will freeze and split into eight pieces. Isn’t there a chamber pot under the bed?”

Qiu Shi refused, insisting on going out.

“Why are you so fussy?” Xu Minghai was out of options but still felt the weight of his “watching the kid” responsibility. He had no choice but to supervise Qiu Shi putting on his padded coat, scarf, and hat. Then Xu Minghai grabbed a roll of pink toilet paper from the windowsill and led Qiu Shi out the courtyard gate toward the hutong entrance.

Today was Sunday, and the hutong was bustling with people. With the New Year approaching, everyone was pushing bicycles, coming and going—a lively, busy scene.

“This is Old Sun’s place. He used to be a cart driver, now he’s switched to making kites. This is Qian Xiaoliu’s home. His family is famous for making ‘hairy monkeys.’ Do you know what a hairy monkey is? Forget it, you probably don’t.”

Xu Minghai continued his monologue. “It’s made from cicada shells and flower buds, put together to make little monkeys. I’ll take you to see someday—they’re really fun!”

“Oh, and this is Uncle Luo’s corner shop. Lots of good snacks inside, and there’s a public phone. Anyone in the hutong who needs to make a call comes here.”

While acting as tour guide for Qiu Shi, Xu Minghai also had to greet the passing grandpas, grandmas, uncles, and aunties every few steps.

“Xiaohai, whose kid is this? He’s really cute!” someone inquired.

Xu Minghai had been waiting all morning, neck craned, for someone to ask. A pleased dimple immediately bloomed on his face. “My little brother!”

“Oh wow, how’d you suddenly get such a big little brother? Go home and tell your mom: human trafficking is illegal!”

“He’s not trafficked,” Xu Minghai bantered back. “He came right to my door!”

A few years ago, Li Yandong had said she was going to give Xu Minghai a little brother or sister. Xu Minghai had been wildly excited for a while, telling anyone who would listen that he was going to be a big brother.

But then, something happened. Li Yandong had gone out to dump the trash, slipped and fell, and was rushed to the hospital in a panic. When she came back, her big, round belly was flat. During that time, Xu Minghai noticed his mom often secretly crying and didn’t dare keep crowing about becoming a brother.

Li Yandong had planned to try again, but who knew the One-Child Policy would come down. Small plans couldn’t beat big plans. Whether brother or sister, they were planned right out of existence, and Xu Minghai was utterly deflated.

Sometimes, visiting classmates’ homes and seeing their bustling rooms full of brothers and sisters, he’d feel a pang of envy. So unlike his own home, where the only after-dinner entertainment was Li Yandong scolding Xu Yong for being a failure or yelling at her son for bombing another exam. And Xu Yong, after all these years, had long cultivated a hide of iron and bones of steel. His favorite “Taiping” ditty to hum went: “With nothing to do, I strolled outside the western gate, saw others riding horses while I rode a donkey. Turned my head and saw a man pushing a cart—I’m not as good as those above, but better off than those below.”

This non-violent, non-cooperative, leisurely attitude had deeply influenced Xu Minghai. Father and son thus formed a united front, often sneaking little maneuvers right under Li Yandong’s nose, thrilling in the excitement of what felt like underground resistance work. So although Li Yandong had issued a stern, thrice-repeated warning last night—”Don’t you dare play with that fatherless, motherless wretch!”—it went in one of Xu Minghai’s ears and straight out the other.

Especially since, while they were lying in bed last night, Chen Lei, lying on the folding cot, had for the first time spoken to Xu Minghai like an adult, explaining why they needed to vacate the room for Qiu Shi and his mother. He also said they mustn’t bully a widow and her orphan, because it would be “dishonorable” and “shameless.” Things that were both dishonorable and shameless were things Xu Minghai could not do. So, very unceremoniously, he appointed himself as the kid’s big brother.

Xu Minghai stood outside the men’s toilet and handed the paper to Qiu Shi. “I’ll wait right here for you.”

“I know how to get back myself.”

“Don’t dawdle,” Xu Minghai insisted, standing in the knife-sharp cold wind, stomping his feet. “In the time it takes you to argue, you could’ve been out already.” And he pushed the kid inside.

Later, when Xu Minghai looked back on his past with Qiu Shi, he would suddenly realize that this long, drawn-out waiting seemed to have begun right there, outside the hutong public toilet in the dead of winter. It was precisely because it was so profoundly unromantic that, in his midnight dreams, drifting in and out of a daze, he was convinced all of it had truly happened and wasn’t some long-running TV drama he’d concocted himself.

Once Qiu Shi came out, Xu Minghai led the way back to the courtyard, marching with an air of triumph. He had planned to assume a grown-up’s authority and urge Qiu Shi to wash his hands and face and brush his teeth. He hadn’t expected the kid to be so self-disciplined—attitude proper, motions precise—leaving not a shred of room for anyone to act the swaggering bully.

In the end, Xu Minghai had to resort to finding fault where there was none, insisting that the children’s snowflower cream Qiu Shi had dug out of Zhou Yingying’s bag was a counterfeit, shoddy product. He turned around, went to his own room, and fetched a bottle of “Yumeijing” face cream, the one with the little girl resting her cheek on her hand.

This was something Xu Minghai normally couldn’t be bothered to use and generally only smeared on haphazardly, like a cat covering its mess, when Li Yandong was watching. He unscrewed the cap, generously scooped out a blob, and meticulously spread the fragrant cream all over the kid’s face, not even sparing the neck.

At this moment, Qiu Shi’s obedient, cooperative demeanor was completely different from the vicious kid who’d bitten him the day before. So much so that Xu Minghai couldn’t help but suspect everything yesterday had been a figment of his overactive imagination after eating too much.

And during this process of being smeared and daubed by Xu Minghai, Qiu Shi got a close-up look at the “masterpiece” he’d left on the web of the other’s hand. The distinct individual tooth marks had now formed dark red scabs, a startling, gruesome sight.

“What?” Xu Minghai noticed Qiu Shi’s gaze and instantly went on alert. “Don’t even think about trying to sneak in another bite when I’m not looking! I didn’t do anything to provoke you today.”

Qiu Shi struggled with himself for a long moment, then finally, awkwardly, murmured, “I didn’t do it on purpose. I’m sorry.”

“You bit me that badly not on purpose? If you were doing it on purpose, you’d probably bite my hand right off!” Xu Minghai, cheerfully oblivious, burst out laughing.

Then he saw the kid’s face flush red and quickly corrected himself. “Hey, I’m just teasing you! It’s nothing. It stopped hurting ages ago. Godfather says this is how it goes—’No fight, no acquaintance.'”

Xu Minghai rubbed the remaining Yumeijing cream into his own hands, then brought the congee and oil cakes that had been keeping warm on the stove back to the table, issuing the command: “Dig in!”

Xu Minghai’s cheerful, forgiving nature made Qiu Shi feel a bit more at ease with him. So he sat down on the chair, picked up his spoon, and began sipping the sweet, thick Laba congee mouthful by mouthful.

Xu Minghai, committed to the principle of “love what you do and do what you love,” really wanted to keep this “babysitting” job going. Unfortunately, this new little brother truly required no effort to entertain, leaving Xu Minghai feeling like a hero with no battlefield.

So Xu Minghai propped his elbow on the table and rested his chin on his forearm. Watching the person across from him, he made do with what was at hand and started reciting to himself, “Little kid, little kid, don’t you crave. After Laba, the New Year’s on its way. Drink Laba congee for a few days, then it’s the twenty-third in a lilting haze…”

With his mouth full of the Beijing dialect bred in the hutongs, Xu Minghai managed to recite this folk rhyme with an effortless, light charm, sounding playfully carefree.

Right then, the tender winter sunlight streamed in through the window. Tiny dust motes, accompanied by the crackling sounds from the stove chamber, danced with life-like vigor above their heads.

Qiu Shi watched Xu Minghai. While drinking his congee, he found himself involuntarily reciting the nursery rhyme along with him in his heart.

“Twenty-third, sticky melon candy. Twenty-fourth, sweep the house clean. Twenty-fifth, make the tofu. Twenty-sixth, stew the meat. Twenty-seventh, kill the year’s rooster. Twenty-eighth, leaven the dough. Twenty-ninth, steam the buns. Thirtieth night, play all night. New Year’s Day, stroll every street…”

Seeing the kid staring at him, unblinking, even nodding along gently, Xu Minghai felt an indescribable satisfaction ripple through him. First, he thought, so babysitting could be this rewarding. Second, he decided “Guozi” was far more agreeable than anyone else’s little brother—so long as he didn’t bite.

What Xu Minghai didn’t know was that, at that very moment, Li Yandong was less than ten minutes away from storming in to pick a fight.