Ferocious Dog of Old

The smack was heavy enough to push Chi Ku one step forward.

Frowning, he turned back around. He saw Tao Huainan’s sulking face and pouting lips—it was Tao Huainan’s standard ‘unhappy’ face. Chi Ku was in no mood to talk to him right now. He faced the room and said, “We don’t have a single cent to give you.”

Tao Xiaodong waved the back of his arm towards him, telling him to go outside first, and so Chi Ku retreated and closed the door.

“Why’d you hit me?” Chi Ku asked Tao Huainan.

Tao Huainan was grinding his teeth, his eyes red from how hard he was glaring.

He clearly couldn’t see anything at all, and yet he kept glaring at people whenever he was angry. Even if he glared, he couldn’t see anything anyway. Chi Ku raised a hand and covered Tao Huainan’s eyes. “Stop glaring.”

Tao Huainan once again reached out—smack, the hit landing on the back of Chi Ku’s hand.

Chi Ku didn’t take it seriously; he brought Tao Huainan back to the set of small sofas in the main lobby. Tao Huainan had been sleeping under Chi Ku’s coat earlier. Chi Ku picked it up, draped it by the side and said to him, “I can’t let ge give him money.”

Tao Huainan didn’t want to listen to this at all—he actually wasn’t able to understand anything he listened to right now. That sentence from Chi Ku just then had directly pushed out everything else in Tao Huainan’s brain.

When he opened his mouth, his voice wasn’t very steady; Tao Huainan couldn’t control his emotions. He asked Chi Ku, “Have you not heard anything I’ve said to you?” 

Chi Ku didn’t reply, and so Tao Huainan then said, “I already said I won’t let you go. I won’t let you go, but you’re still talking like that.” 

“Then should I let ge give him money? Give him one million?” Chi Ku smoothed out one of Tao Huainan’s flipped up cuffs in passing and said to him, “He came this time specifically for money. If we give him money this time, there’ll be a next time. It won’t end.” 

Tao Huainan didn’t understand these things. He actually didn’t know how they should settle this, either; he too was very scared. He didn’t want ge to give money—he worked so hard for it—but he also didn’t want to let Chi Ku go.

“Even if I leave with him, I’ll still come back.” It was very rare for Chi Ku to patiently explain something to Tao Huainan. The two of them were currently sitting on the sofa, and no one could hear what they were saying with the sofa separating them. Chi Ku lowered his voice and said to Tao Huainan, “He can’t stay at home forever. I’ll come back as soon as he leaves.”

Tao Huainan couldn’t accept it; he shook his head, refusing to listen.

“He’s too bothersome. He won’t drop it.” Holding onto Tao Huainan’s head, Chi Ku didn’t let him shake it. He said to him, “I’ll definitely come back before school starts. Okay?”

“No no no no no.” Tao Huainan covered his ears, and he also turned his face away. He was so angry he was gasping for air. “I don’t want to listen to you anymore… Stop talking.”

From the day Chi Ku officially arrived by his side until now, Tao Huainan had yet to be separated from him for more than one day. They’d never been apart for more than twelve hours. They’d always been together, no matter when.

Tao Huainan had no way to accept this at all—he was heartbroken from Chi Ku wanting to leave, but it felt like it was only him who felt the pain.

–

Over the next few days, Tao Huainan used actions to express his disagreement. He opposed Chi Ku on every single thing, actively singing a different key. He was truly angry this time; he wasn’t throwing a pretend tantrum nor having just a small disagreement. But it seemed like Chi Ku had made a firm decision—no one could stop him.

For the first time, even Tao Xiaodong realised that Chi Ku was so obstinate. Chi Ku was like a young stubborn ox, unwilling to turn back once he’d decided on something.

Tao Xiaodong refused to let him return, saying ge’s here, what are you scared of.

Chi Ku said, “I’m not scared. But there’s no point in wasting time with someone like that. It’s not like he can always stay and not leave. We know he’s here just to blackmail us for money. Things will end once he can’t get any.” 

He understood things too well, able to see things clearly and thoroughly in his heart. Being born in that kind of home, it’d be strange if he didn’t mature early. Tao Xiaodong lifted a hand and stroked his head—even though Chi Ku stood there a bit unnaturally, he didn’t dodge.

–

“Ge doesn’t need you to be so understanding. You should grow up slowly along with Xiao Nan; it’s fine as long as you grow up smoothly.” Tao Xiaodong looked at him and said to him slowly, “I don’t know what role you’ve given yourself in our family, but to me, you’re the same as Xiao Nan: you’re also my little brother.” 

On his head, ge’s hand was very hot. His palm always seemed to be like that—it had felt the same from the past until now. Every time Chi Ku felt ge’s hand, he would always think of memories from childhood: the hand that’d brought him out of the hospital in winter, the hand that’d held his arm as they walked out of the unlit small neighbourhood during a summer night—and the hands that’d held onto him and Tao Huainan separately as they entered the blind school.

Those hands carried an adult’s thickness—they carried a warm and soothing heat.

Chi Ku nodded, saying, “You’re my ge. He’s my di.”

“That’s right. Ge’s here.” Tao Xiaodong ruffled the top of Chi Ku’s head and then let go. Smiling, he said, “You don’t need to care about these things.”

Chi Ku gave a ‘mn’, yet he still said, “Doing this will be easiest.”

Tao Xiaodong tsk’ed. “So you didn’t hear anything I just said, did you?”

Chi Ku said, “I know you want to give him money. I can’t let him use me to blackmail you.”

–

Tao Xiaodong spent so long talking to him, but it was all a waste. Once Chi Ku decided on something, he wouldn’t change his mind. Tao Xiaodong was speechless.

The next time Chi Zhide came, Chi Ku directly said, “I’ll go back with you. When are we leaving?”

Tao Huainan was sitting next to him; he didn’t make a single sound. His eyes were focused to the front, and he didn’t have a single reaction. 

Chi Zhide swept his eyes over Chi Ku and didn’t reply.

Tao Xiaodong jerked his chin towards the sofa, telling Chi Zhide to wait.

Chi Ku said, “Don’t wait anymore. Let’s leave now.”

With a scowling face, Tao Xiaodong called out “Chi Ku”—but Chi Ku immediately stood up and went to the door, saying to Chi Zhide, “Let’s go.”

Chi Zhide didn’t think Chi Ku would actually do something like this. He lifted his hand and swung it over for a slap; Chi Ku retreated backwards, wasting Chi Zhide’s slap.

Tao Xiaodong pointed at Chi Zhide. “Want to try hitting him again?”

“A father hitting his son is right and proper!” Chi Zhide’s face was flushed, his eyes staring at Chi Ku so fiercely it was as though he wanted to kill him.

Chi Ku asked him, “Are you going or not?”

Tao Xiaodong came over and pulled him to the side. He didn’t look too happy either, and he told Chi Ku to stop making a fuss.

–

Chi Zhide truly had come for money. He didn’t want Chi Ku in the least; he didn’t care an iota about whether Chi Ku was dead or alive. He’d already considered him as dead these last few years. He’d actually not counted on Tao Xiaodong really giving him one million—he’d expected more along the lines of three hundred or five hundred thousand. Chi Zhide visited the police frequently, and he even went to get legal consultations, wanting to sue Tao Xiaodong for kidnapping. He simply wanted to make a big deal, big enough until Tao Xiaodong couldn’t take it anymore and gave him money.

He’d never expected things to be messed up by Chi Ku. If Chi Ku dared to lose him this batch of money, Chi Zhide could truly kill this wretched child.

And yet Chi Ku refused to let him do what he wanted.

It didn’t matter what anyone said; Chi Ku insisted on going back with him.

–

At first, Tao Huainan had continued speaking to him, communicating his refusal. Later, when he saw it was useless, he stopped talking.

Tao Huainan used to always think the two of them would never be separated, no matter what happened. He never thought Chi Ku actually took them so lightly—he didn’t care about them at all.

From his initial disappointment and heartbreak, Tao Huainan now accepted it. From worrying about whether Chi Ku was still there or not every morning when he opened his eyes, Tao Huainan now stopped searching for him; he stopped asking.

This was different from any of their previous arguments. Tao Huainan would rather Chi Ku be dating the academic rep—at least it’d be better than him currently wanting to leave.

–

That night, Tao Huainan lay on his side in bed, his back towards Chi Ku and face towards the wall.

Chi Ku called out to him. “Tao Huainan.”

Tao Huainan kept silent.

“Don’t keep thinking about all kinds of useless things in your brain.” Chi Ku pushed at his back. He said to him, “It’s not like I’m not coming back. I’ve already promised you that I’ll definitely be back before school starts. Just take it as me going on a trip.”

Tao Huainan continued to not speak.

“Eat well every day. Sleep with ge at night.” Chi Ku looked at the back of Tao Huainan’s head, as well as the pyjama collar peeking out of the blankets. “Don’t be unhappy by yourself, do you hear me?”

Tao Huainan was quiet the entire time, only rubbing his eyes softly with his worn down blanket.

“I’m talking to you.” Chi Ku pulled at his shoulder until Tao Huainan was lying on his back. “I’m taking my cellphone with me. Just call me if you have nothing to do.”

Tao Huainan frowned in irritation and finally opened his mouth. “Shut up, you.”

Chi Ku had always been the one to find him annoying; this was the first time for Tao Huainan. He didn’t want to hear a single word from Chi Ku.

With a husky voice, Tao Huainan said to Chi Ku, “Ever since we were kids, it’s always been me who clung to you. You found me annoying no matter what I said. I’m afraid of everything—maybe it’s because I can’t see. You have good eyes, so you don’t care about anything.” 

Chi Ku had just wanted to speak, but Tao Huainan sniffled and continued in a quiet voice, “If you don’t come back by the time school starts, I’ll get ge to transfer me back to a blind school. I’ll live there from now on; I’ll be able to go to school myself.”

“I knew you were going to cry,” Chi Ku helplessly said. “I said I’ll definitely be back. What are you crying for.”

Tao Huainan turned back over and hauled the old blanket over his head. As a young child, he couldn’t differentiate all those muddled feelings in his heart—he only knew that he was in pain.1

–

Chi Ku really did leave.

When he left, he carried a backpack with some clothes, along with his cellphone and charger. He didn’t take anything else. Tao Xiaodong didn’t even know he was going—he got up in the morning and went to work, and then later in the morning, Chi Ku brought Tao Huainan to the shop and left.

Tao Huainan kept his hands in his pockets. He didn’t go inside; he kept his head lowered. No one knew what he was thinking.

It was Chinese New Year tomorrow, and the occasional sounds of small firecrackers rang on the streets—the bang snaps of children. Tao Huainan liked playing with firecrackers, because even though he couldn’t see, he enjoyed listening to the crackles and adding to the fun. Chi Ku always played with him when it came time for Chinese New Year; he’d grip Tao Huainan’s hand and take him to a place he could set them on fire. Once they lit one up, he’d hold Tao Huainan’s hand and hurriedly run away.

They hadn’t even set any yet, this year.

He stood there for a good few minutes. A thick layer of winter frost covered the glass door, and so the people in the shop didn’t see there was someone standing at the entrance—no one came outside for him, either.

“Crying again?”

The sound of footsteps neared; the question was asked with a helpless air.

Tao Huainan shook his head, keeping it lowered. He asked, “Why haven’t you left yet?”

Chi Ku said, “You’re foolishly standing there looking like someone threw you away. How could I leave?”

Half of Tao Huainan’s face was stuffed into the zipper of his down jacket, and his voice came gloomily from within. “Didn’t you throw me away to begin with?”

“Bullshit I did.” Chi Ku pushed him forward with his hands on Tao Huainan’s back. “Go inside. Don’t just stand here so dumbly.”

Tao Huainan didn’t move, the fur on his cap fluttering from the wind.

Chi Ku tugged his cap down again; only then would it be better at blocking the wind. Tao Huainan asked him, “Are you coming back.”

“How many times do I have to say it. I am.”

Tao Huainan dipped his head, said “okay”—and yet he still didn’t move.

Chi Ku silently stayed with him for a while, and then he bent over, looking up at Tao Huainan’s face from below. He didn’t know if Tao Huainan’s nose was red from the cold or from something else; his pair of large eyes kept blinking, no light in them at all.

The little blind boy had been so fragile ever since he was a child, and he was the same even now. He was too sensitive.

Chi Ku gazed at him for a few moments, and then he stood back up. He wrapped his arms around him.

“I’m coming back.” Chi Ku patted Tao Huainan’s back with one hand, and he pressed his face against Tao Huainan’s, separated by the cap and the furry edge. Next to Tao Huainan’s ear, he said in a low voice, “I’m your dog.”

1 The term used here is 难过. There’s no direct translation of it to English — the term encompasses everything from upset, to the whole width of being sad/heartbroken/in pain/distressed/suffering.