A Short Story Collection with Non-Human Protagonists - Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Growing Mysteries and the Second Rainy Night

“A-choo—!”

Tang Yanqing was jolted awake by her own sneeze. Every muscle in her body throbbed with a searing pain, a sharp reminder of her heroic feat jumping into the Jiunian River to save someone the previous night.

Her phone vibrated under her pillow.

She picked it up, and Lu Xiaokui’s overly energetic voice exploded against her eardrum: “Senior Sister, why aren’t you here yet? I’ve been waiting for ages!”

“Sorry, cancel today’s plans,” Tang Yanqing’s voice was raspy, as if stuffed with cotton. “I have a fever.”

“Huh? Are you okay? I’ll bring you some fever medicine—”

“Don’t come.” Tang Yanqing hung up and stuffed herself back under the covers.

She drifted in and out of a daze, unsure of how long she slept.

Until the doorbell rang.

Tang Yanqing dragged her slippers to the entryway and peered through the peephole—a woman stood in the hallway, wearing a perfectly tailored grass-green cheongsam, her sleeves revealing arms as white as frost and snow.

She pulled the door open, and the warm, sweet scent of osmanthus flooded in.

“Why are you here?” Tang Yanqing regretted it the moment she said it. Her tone was so poor; she must sound incredibly harsh.

“Xiaokui said you had a fever,” Liu Jin said, carrying a thermal container, her tone as gentle as ever. “I asked Grandma Gu to brew some dried tangerine peel porridge for you.”

Tang Yanqing was truly ill; a single sentence from Liu Jin was enough to make her nose prickle with tears. She turned her head away and stepped aside to let her in.

While Tang Yanqing curled up at the dining table to eat the porridge, Liu Jin walked to the altar, lit a stick of incense, and leaned over to start tidying the dusty cardboard boxes in the living room.

Medical records, herbs, medical texts… Liu Jin categorized the items in the boxes, organizing them one by one and moving them into the study.

Tang Yanqing watched with a distracted, restless heart. Finally finishing the porridge, she followed her into the study.

Pale grey daylight filtered through the window. Through the floating dust motes, Liu Jin raised her hand to place a stack of old books on the top shelf. The emerald fabric clung to her slender frame, looking as if she had borrowed a segment of spring from March.

“Can you just leave me alone…” Tang Yanqing stopped beside Liu Jin, her tone turning irritable again. “You’re not my mother.”

Liu Jin froze. Her gaze landed on Tang Yanqing’s face, and her voice held a hint of supplication: “I’m sorry, Aqing…”

Tang Yanqing was so frustrated she didn’t know what to do; she grabbed at the air and clenched her fist. “Don’t apologize to me!”

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Her heart stung. Tang Yanqing didn’t dare look into Liu Jin’s eyes, but the moment she lowered her head, tears spilled out of their own accord.

“…I’m sorry…” Every word choked in her throat. “I don’t know… why I’m being like this…”

Liu Jin took a half-step toward her, rubbed the top of her head with one hand, and pressed her against her shoulder.

“It’s okay, Aqing, you’re just sick. I know you didn’t mean it,” Liu Jin said in the softest voice in the world.

As Tang Yanqing’s head buried into the warm crook of Liu Jin’s neck, she suddenly collapsed completely. She didn’t know where she had stored so many tears; she nearly soaked half of Liu Jin’s shoulder. It felt as if a sea were being born from her eyes, meant to bury them both.

“It’s okay, Aqing, it’s okay.”

Liu Jin stroked her back repeatedly, as if soothing a crying child, slowly smoothing out her knotted breaths. Tang Yanqing hated herself for being so childish, yet she couldn’t help but fall further into Liu Jin’s warmth.

She rested in Liu Jin’s embrace like a foolish whale returning to the sea or a bird landing on the ground, her hands clutching Liu Jin’s waist so hard she nearly shredded the fabric.

The osmanthus, battered by autumn rain, bloomed and withered at the tip of her nose. Liu Jin’s breath hovered near her ear like a circling kiss.

“Take your medicine, then have a good sleep. You’ll get better soon.”

Liu Jin coaxed her into bed.

She didn’t resist, nor did she take much initiative, allowing Liu Jin to lead her to the bedroom, their fingers tangling. She was dazed enough by the fever that she no longer felt embarrassed.

Tang Yanqing lay obediently in bed. Liu Jin fed her the medicine and tucked her in.

“Aren’t you going to stay with me?” she asked hurriedly as she saw Liu Jin rise, her voice muffled and thick from crying.

Liu Jin set down the water glass and sat back on the edge of the bed, a gentle smile on her lips.

“There are things to do at the inn tonight. I’ll wait until you’re asleep before I leave.”

A warmth touched her fingertips; Liu Jin took her hand again. Tang Yanqing simply pulled Liu Jin’s hand onto her pillow and pressed her entire face against it.

Cheek and palm warmed each other like the embers of a bonfire, making her feel even more drowsy. The curtains were drawn, filtering all light into warm hues. The air was warm, the heartbeat was warm. Even the silence was stained with ambiguity.

Tang Yanqing closed her eyes and opened them again, looking at the person before her. After weighing her words for several rounds, she finally managed to make a sound: “Can I… stop calling you Auntie Liu?”

“What do you want to call me?” Liu Jin asked.

Tang Yanqing took a deep breath, hoping the volume of air would support her.

“…What did that person call you?” she asked.

Liu Jin didn’t understand. “Which person?”

Tang Yanqing exerted a great deal of effort to organize her complex thoughts into a relatively simple sentence.

“…The one you said you were very concerned about.”

She saw Liu Jin freeze, her eyes losing focus for a moment. Liu Jin continued to smile, but she let out a very, very soft sigh.

“It’s been so many years; I’ve long since forgotten.”

Tang Yanqing, of course, could hear Liu Jin’s evasion. Her chest felt sour and a bit tight with dull pain, but it didn’t matter. She was used to this level of hurt.

Tang Yanqing closed her eyes and lay back into Liu Jin’s palm. At least the person by Liu Jin’s side right now was her; she still had a long enough future to fight and hope for.

The fever medicine dragged Tang Yanqing’s consciousness slowly downward until it was swallowed by darkness. Even the darkness was warm.

She had a short, sweet dream. Liu Jin stayed with her, sitting by her side for a very, very long time. When she left, she leaned down and cautiously kissed her hair, the movement so light as if she were afraid of breaking her. Her breath blew against the top of her head, tingling like the gentlest electric current humans could imagine.

If only this were real, the Tang Yanqing in the dream thought quietly.

She slept until evening. When she woke, all her discomfort had vanished, and her body felt an unreal lightness. Generally speaking, even a mild cold doesn’t heal completely in a single afternoon. It was truly strange.

Tang Yanqing reached out to touch the spot where Liu Jin had just been sitting; the sheets still held a trace of fading body heat. Liu Jin must have just left.

What exactly is wrong…

She pondered for a moment, then suddenly became aware of the pitter-patter of rain outside. Tang Yanqing got out of bed and pulled back the curtains. Lead-grey clouds filled the sky, and heavy rain was falling; the entire city was damp, looking like the apocalypse.

Fragments from the past suddenly connected in her mind, piecing together an ominous premonition.

—The woman walking alone, and the killer who only appeared on rainy nights.

Tang Yanqing grabbed her motorcycle keys and rushed out the door.

She was like a black heron cutting through the curtain of rain. Her heart pounded in her chest. She had no time to worry about the rain pouring into her collar; she just looked around desperately, searching for Liu Jin’s figure.

Finally, at the edge of her vision, something was illuminated by the headlight—a flash of cold light. It was the silver hairpin in Liu Jin’s hair.

At the entrance of Pagoda Tree Alley, Liu Jin was leaning against the wall, moving her steps with difficulty. Her cheongsam was soaked a dark shade by the storm, clinging to her skin.

“Auntie Liu!” Tang Yanqing abandoned her bike and rushed over, pulling her into an embrace.

The moment her hand touched Liu Jin’s arm, a chill climbed up her fingertips. Liu Jin’s body temperature was lower than the rainwater; she almost didn’t feel like a living person.

A clang echoed as a trash can at the corner was knocked over.

“Who’s there!”

Tang Yanqing looked up to see a dark figure in a peaked cap running away, vanishing at the end of the alley. The person was clearly suspicious, but Tang Yanqing had no time to give chase.

Liu Jin lay in her arms, looking at her with blurred eyes. It took a long time for her to regain some consciousness.

“Aqing, why are you…”

Before she could finish, Liu Jin suddenly coughed up a mouthful of blood, which joined the water flowing on the ground.

“I’m taking you to the hospital!”

Tang Yanqing was frantic, but her phone screen was wet from the rain, and her fingers kept slipping.

Liu Jin simply shook her head, her voice as thin as silk.

“No… I can’t go to the hospital… Aqing, take me back…”

“Stop being stubborn! You have to go to the hospital!” Tang Yanqing roared.

Liu Jin used all her strength to grip her wrist. A strand of wet hair stuck to her pale face. She looked as fragile as a doll that had fallen into the mud—a single touch might shatter her completely.

“Aqing… your grandfather couldn’t cure my illness, and the hospital can’t cure it either… Aqing, please, take me back…”

The hand about to press the call button eventually stopped, trembling.

Tang Yanqing half-carried, half-dragged Liu Jin back to the inn.

“Miss! What happened!” Grandma Gu rushed to meet them.

Grandma Gu helped Tang Yanqing move Liu Jin to the bed, changed her out of her wet clothes, and wiped her body with warm water.

Tang Yanqing inserted a silver needle into the Taixi point on Liu Jin’s ankle, manipulating it with the “three advances, one retreat” technique, slowly rotating it until Liu Jin’s icy sole gradually began to warm. Ginger slices were cut to the thickness of a copper coin with a hole in the center and placed over the Guanyuan point below the navel, followed by a walnut-sized moxa cone that was ignited.

Baihui, Chize, Yongquan, Zusanli…

The smoke of the moxa wove a grey-white web in the room. Liu Jin’s pulse finally began to smooth out. Tang Yanqing breathed a sigh of relief, left Grandma Gu to look after Liu Jin, and went downstairs to drink some water.

The rain had slowed, but the courtyard was still soaked, filled with messy puddles. Lu Xiaokui walked in through the main gate, hopping and skipping with an umbrella, looking at her in surprise: “Senior Sister, why are you here? Weren’t you sick?”

Tang Yanqing kept a cold face, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. “None of your business.”

“Fine, I was just asking…”

It was clear Lu Xiaokui felt a bit wronged; she pouted, closed her umbrella, and turned to head upstairs.

“Lu Xiaokui,” Tang Yanqing called out.

Lu Xiaokui jumped and turned back quickly: “What is it?”

“Keep it quiet tonight. Don’t disturb Auntie Liu’s rest,” Tang Yanqing reminded her.

Lu Xiaokui nodded obediently. “Oh, okay, I got it.”

Watching Lu Xiaokui’s back as she climbed the stairs, Tang Yanqing felt more and more that everything was strange. Lu Xiaokui was so afraid of the “Rainy Night Killer,” yet she dared to go out alone on a rainy day. And Liu Jin’s last relapse was also after it rained.

Perhaps she would have to wait until Liu Jin woke up tomorrow morning to ask her properly. Or perhaps there was another way to understand her condition…

Tang Yanqing slept through the night leaning against the edge of Liu Jin’s bed.

When she woke in the early morning, a thin blanket had been placed over her.

The bed was empty. Only the scent of osmanthus had not yet fully dispersed.