Chapter 89: Childhood Extra Story (Part Two

The little chubby boy watched her long lashes flutter, her lips pouting; even after being kidnapped, she showed no sign of fear. She could still speak to him clearly, which he admired all the more. Grinning, he said, “Alright, I’ll take you back, but the effect of this medicine only lasts half an hour. We need to hurry, and we’ll have to take the back roads.”

“Alright, I’ll do as you say,” little Chuchu nodded obediently.

“But I’m hungry. Let me eat something first.” The chubby boy reached for the chicken leg on the table. Thinking it too troublesome and time-consuming to sit here and eat, he rolled the rice into balls, drained the sauce from the dishes, poured it all into a cloth pouch, and tied it around Chuchu’s neck.

The fragrance of rice and vegetables at her chest made Chuchu’s stomach growl. She flushed with embarrassment, thankful the chubby boy didn’t notice.

“Let’s go.” He opened the door, checked that the coast was clear, then led her quietly downstairs. Once out the inn’s back door, they broke into a run.

This town was remote, surrounded by mountains. After running a while, they got lost in the woods. Neither dared to ask for directions, fearing they’d arouse suspicion.

“Big brother, what do we do? It’s pitch dark now.” The forest was thick with shadows, the cries of wild beasts echoing from the distant mountains, each call sharper in the night. Chuchu, for all her cleverness, couldn’t help but feel a shiver run down her spine.

The chubby boy had never traveled alone before, and now he’d encountered ill-intentioned strangers. It had taken all his wits to shake them off. But he knew they weren’t far; if they left the woods now, they’d surely be found. Better to rest here for the night and hope to avoid their pursuers.

“Little sister, shall we find a clean cave to stay in?”

Chuchu hesitated, swinging her arms, but she was exhausted, barely able to stand. The boy was also panting hard—if they kept going, they’d collapse on the road. Reluctantly, she nodded. “Alright.”

“Let’s go, while there’s still moonlight.” He pointed up at the full moon.

Chuchu looked up, dazed, and suddenly her eyes brimmed with tears.

After walking some distance, the boy finally heard her muffled sobs and turned to her with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I miss my mother.” Chuchu’s crystal tears fell one by one, tugging at his heart.

He could only press her head to his chest and comfort her. “There, don’t cry. I’m here. Tomorrow at dawn, I’ll take you home to find your mother.”

Chuchu understood that in this situation, crying was useless. She wiped her tears and continued on with him.

“There’s a cave!” After another mile, dragging their weary bodies, they finally found a cave that could fit them both. The chubby boy excitedly pulled her inside, only to find a wolfhound guarding the entrance, its eyes glowing green. It almost lunged at them. Terrified, he scooped her up and ran.

“Big brother, the wolfhound didn’t chase us,” Chuchu reassured him, knowing he was at his limit and would have collapsed if not for the fright. Looking back, she saw nothing but the wind rustling the branches, the wolfhound nowhere in sight. She pinched his cold ear and called to him.

“It’s not chasing us?” He looked back, reassured, then collapsed to the ground. “I’ve never run so fast in my life. I’m exhausted.”

“Thank you, big brother.” Chuchu sat beside him, too tired to be afraid or to cry. She took a chicken leg from the pouch at her chest and handed it to him. “Eat before we run again.”

“Run again?” The chubby boy nearly jumped in fright, then realized he was being silly. Meeting her clear, innocent gaze, he scratched his head in embarrassment. “Alright, we’ll eat and then see.”

Chuchu grinned, took out some plain rice, mixed it with greens and mushrooms, and nibbled on a small rice ball.

“Why are you only eating vegetables?” The boy only noticed after finishing his second chicken leg.

“Oh, you’re bigger, you eat more. I’m fine with vegetables,” Chuchu replied without hesitation, her tone full of care.

He couldn’t help but twitch his lips. Was he digging his own grave? Was he really fat? Looking down at himself, he thought, I’m sturdy—pure muscle! He squeezed his belly and chubby cheeks.

Chuchu, oblivious to his thoughts, sat a while after eating, then began to shiver with cold. How could the autumn night wind be so cold?

“What’s wrong?” The boy gazed at the stars, having already repented his decision to run away from home for the thousandth time, when he finally noticed her trembling.

“I’m cold.”

He had thick skin and didn’t feel it, but the mountain air was damp and chillier than outside. Her clothes were thin, and she was clearly pampered—not like him. He quickly took off his outer robe and draped it over her. Rested, he pulled her to her feet. “Let’s walk a bit to warm up. We should find a cave to spend the night before the hour is too late.”

“Alright.” Chuchu breathed into her palms to warm them and followed his footprints.

“There’s one.” Heaven showed mercy; before long, they found a cave even larger than the last.

Chuchu, delighted, clapped her hands. “You’re amazing, big brother!”

He scratched his head bashfully, but was more cautious this time—throwing a big stone inside first. Satisfied nothing stirred, he led her in carefully.

Chuchu, following by moonlight, looked around. “This looks like a farmer’s yam storage cave—look, there are piles of yams over there.”

“Indeed.” He smiled, following her gaze. “Are you thirsty? If you are, I’ll peel one for you to eat.”

“But these belong to someone else. If we take them without asking, that’s stealing. Besides, we’re already staying in their yam cave without permission.”

She was right. He was an upright young man, a gentleman—he couldn’t be a thief. He pondered, then said, “We can leave some money, then.”

“Alright.” Chuchu never carried money, and looked at him expectantly.

He reached for his purse, but his smile froze.

“You didn’t bring any money either?”

“No worries, I have this.” He removed the jade pendant from his neck, intending to leave it, but was clearly reluctant.

Chuchu noticed at once and quickly held his hand. “That’s too valuable. Use my earring instead. It’s just silver, nothing expensive. Use mine.” She took off an earring and placed it on the ground, then carefully picked three yams from the pile—two for him, one for herself.

“Alright, I’ll clean one for you.” The chubby boy, now with food in hand, became attentive, using his sleeve and robe hem to wipe the yams clean.

Chuchu didn’t mind. Seeing the mud wiped off, she didn’t care if it was really clean or not and bit into it, though she had to spit out sand from time to time. Still, after all that running and with food in her belly, the yam was quite refreshing.

“Are you done?” He finished eating before her and had already spread straw into a bed a yard long and a foot wide. “Come sleep when you’re done.”

“Alright.” Though raised in comfort, Chuchu didn’t fuss in this situation. She lay down without a care and sighed contentedly, “This is so comfortable.”

“As long as you’re comfortable.” The chubby boy lay beside her and kicked his feet.

“Big brother, my name is Chuchu. You can call me Chuchu.”

“‘Slender-waisted and elegant, like a breeze swirling snow,’” he quoted softly, brushing the hair from her forehead.

“You know that poem?”

“But of course,” he boasted, though inwardly uncertain—he only knew it by chance. If she pressed him, he’d be stumped. Luckily, Chuchu let it drop and asked, “What’s your name, big brother?”

“My name is Jun Cheng. My grandfather gave it to me.”

“Oh, my grandfather named me as well.”

“Then it must be fate.” Hearing her gentle voice, he felt secretly joyful.

But Chuchu lowered her eyes. “Sadly, my grandfather has passed away. When he was alive, he taught me to read and write poetry.”

“Your grandfather was wonderful.” Jun Cheng thought of his own grandfather and wanted to shake his head—his only joy was forcing him to practice martial arts, and if he refused, he’d get spanked. He was already ten years old and still being spanked—how humiliating! So he ran back to his father’s house, but his parents didn’t help, just dragged him back. That’s how he ran away.

But he’d been gone so long—why was there no news from the capital? Instead, he’d run into those mysterious, black-clad bandits.

“Jun Cheng, what are you thinking about?” For the first time sleeping outdoors, Chuchu found it difficult to sleep. Seeing he was also awake, she turned to him, propping her face in her hands.

“Nothing,” he denied reflexively.

Chuchu pouted in protest.

“Hmm.” He hesitated a while, then buried his face. “I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s sleep. We have a long way to go tomorrow.”

Chuchu had no choice but to agree. She curled up in a corner, counting the scent of yams in the cave, guessing how many there were, and slowly drifting off. Yet the cave was cold and the straw poked her. Every time she was about to fall asleep, she’d startle awake. It was so uncomfortable—she just couldn’t sleep.

“Chuchu, what’s wrong?” He turned over and saw her holding a thin object in her palm, wiping away tears.

“I miss my mother.” Chuchu sat up with a sob, no longer crying silently but openly weeping.

Jun Cheng had no idea how to comfort a little girl. Tugging at his hair, he tried to distract her. “What’s that in your hand?”

“It’s a bookmark. My mother made it.”

“It looks pretty and unusual. How did you make it?” He stared, intrigued, his eyes shining in the dark.

Her tears paused as she began to explain. “There are three magnolia trees in front of my house—my mother’s favorite flower. My father had them brought from far away just for her.”

“Your father must love your mother very much.”

“Of course! My mother was once Nanjing’s most beautiful woman.” Chuchu couldn’t help but boast.

“So your mother is from Nanjing too?” Jun Cheng smiled. “They say all beauties come from Nanjing—it must be true.”

Chuchu, missing the meaning of his words, poured all her enthusiasm into describing the magnolia leaf bookmark. “Magnolia leaves are large and green, the flowers white and fragrant, just like lotuses. Bookmarks made from other leaves are too small and soft, but magnolia leaves are big and sturdy—it makes the prettiest bookmarks...”

But as she spoke, her tears welled up again. “Jun Cheng, I miss my mother. I miss her so much. I miss my father, my little brother—they must be so worried about me.”

“There, don’t cry, don’t cry.” He began to ramble about anything he could think of, hoping to distract her from feeling lost and alone. But whatever the topic, she always circled back to her mother. She’d describe her loving parents, her adorable little brother, her kind grandmother. Such a happy family—he was truly envious. Why, he wondered, was his own family so different?

He never fought with his brother, so why did they force him to live with the Jin family?

Through her teary eyes, Chuchu noticed his sorrow and stopped crying, gently tugging his ear. “Jun Cheng, what’s wrong? What are you thinking about?”

“I... Actually, I had an argument with my father,” he replied slowly after a hesitation. “I wanted to go home, but they wouldn’t let me, so I ran away.”

“You’re sulking with your father? Your mother must be heartbroken.” Chuchu only knew that if she disappeared, her mother would be worried sick. But this boy’s mother wouldn’t even let him come home—how strange. Yet she didn’t press further, sensing he wouldn’t explain, and he didn’t really understand himself. He was a Xue by birth, yet his surname was Jin, and he had to call his grandfather, “Grandfather.” He was scolded and beaten daily, never happy.

“Jun Cheng, I’m sleepy now.” After all her crying, Chuchu finally quieted, feeling an unprecedented weariness. She leaned into his arms, yawning.

“Then sleep.” He gently patted her hair, laying his robe beneath her as a cushion.

But Chuchu didn’t answer. She simply slumped over and fell into dreams. Jun Cheng smiled, gently touched her soft cheek, and closed his own eyes.