5 – They all want to kill me
The hospital’s heating was quite sufficient, and with no one else in the ordinary ward, the two little ones lying together on a single bed felt rather warm.
Jin Zhi was finally willing to communicate with Fu Yao. After a casual discussion for a short while, Fu Yao learned that Jin Zhi’s illness had already been cured.
Just before dawn, Jin Zhi kept staring at the ceiling, and Fu Yao also began to feel drowsy.
As if guided by some unseen force, Jin Zhi gazed at the ceiling and suddenly said:
“They all want to kill me.”
The voice was faint, carrying a hoarse, grainy friction, like a mental dagger that instantly dispelled Fu Yao’s sleepiness. She focused her gaze on Jin Zhi.
“They all want to kill you? Who? Why would they want to kill you?”
Jin Zhi’s lips, so beautifully shaped, parted and closed. His eyes remained fixed on the ceiling, as if locked in place, calm as still water, without a ripple.
“Those who want me dead.”
Fu Yao was still puzzled. What could a six-year-old child have done to provoke someone to the point of wanting him dead?
She continued to ask.
But Jin Zhi never spoke again.
He hugged his head, curling his entire body into a ball, as if his emotions had reached a breaking point and suddenly burst through that threshold. He began to sob silently.
“I don’t know… I don’t know anything. I didn’t do anything wrong. They don’t want me. They want to kill me… They want me dead.”
He seemed to be suffering immensely. His small body began to writhe on the bed, screaming silently, his expression filled with fear. It was as if the shadows buried deep in his mind refused to fade, eroding his sanity, numbing his nerves, and causing him immense pain.
Cold sweat broke out all over his body. The purple aura around him grew denser and more oppressive. Just by watching, Fu Yao felt as if an invisible hand were tightly gripping her throat, suffocating her.
Fu Yao quickly reached out to touch his face. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I won’t ask anymore. No one will let you die. I’ll protect you.”
Her comfort was effective. Jin Zhi’s emotions did indeed calm down considerably.
Jin Zhi’s body remained stiff as he turned his head to look at Fu Yao. Like a wounded little beast that dared not let down its guard but had finally found its family, tears welled up in his eyes. In an instant, the dam broke, and they flooded out.
Large teardrops streamed from his eyes. His dry, hoarse child’s voice trembled as he said, “Fu Yao, I’m scared… I’m so scared…”
Fu Yao felt as if something had struck her heart—a sour, aching sensation that left her with an indescribable discomfort and sympathy.
She hugged Jin Zhi, letting his head rest on her shoulder, patting his bony back as she comforted him in an even gentler voice,
“It’s okay, I’m here. I’ll protect you…”
Jin Zhi’s body was still trembling, but slowly, he dared to reach out and hug Fu Yao back. The two little ones nestled together just as the golden rays of the sun broke over the horizon, shining directly upon them.
Jin Zhi’s nose was enveloped in a rich, fragrant scent, and he felt as if his entire body were wrapped in layers of warmth—a sensation he had never experienced before.
He knew nothing.
All he knew was that the person he was hugging possessed the warmth he longed for.
Fu Yao carried within her the warmth he had been missing.
It was a warmth that could shield him from hunger and cold, protect him from beatings, and transform him from an unwanted, rabid dog into someone truly deserving of being human.
His small hands clutched the fabric of Fu Yao’s back, holding on tightly.
…
For the next few days, Jin Zhi and Fu Yao lived quite well, with no unexpected incidents occurring.
Jin Zhi grew somewhat dependent on this feeling—he could study, read, and write like other children, with a playmate to accompany him in eating, drinking, and having fun.
He no longer had to fight with the three dogs at the welfare center for food, and he could openly sit at the table to eat meat and vegetables.
The two little ones usually played simple games in the yard, with Jin Zhi habitually holding onto the hem of Fu Yao’s clothes and following behind her.
Even when going to the bathroom, he would only let go if Fu Yao told him he couldn’t follow any further.
But as soon as Fu Yao came out, he would cling to her again.
Fu Yao always liked to pat his head, and he liked it too—he liked the warmth of Fu Yao’s palm.
This life seemed too leisurely and joyful, to the point that even Jin Zhi’s face would occasionally show a smile.
Until that person arrived.
That day.
After a few days of rare warmth, a snowfall covered everything, dropping the temperature by several degrees again. The two little ones were in the room, playing a clapping game, rubbing their hands together and still feeling cold.
Suddenly, the director opened the door, beaming with joy: “Fu Yao, come out for a moment.”
Fu Yao turned to look. The director was enveloped in a rich, pure orange color, untainted by any other hues.
This was the first time Fu Yao had seen the director so happy.
Fu Yao turned and told Jin Zhi, “I’ll be out for a while. I’ll be back soon.”
Jin Zhi nodded, sitting obediently on the bed and waiting, only to be met with a malicious glance from the director.
Just that one glance was enough to nearly awaken the wildness within him, making him bare his teeth. But halfway through the motion, he remembered Fu Yao saying it was impolite and stopped, instead glaring darkly at the director.
The director closed the door.
Fu Yao asked, “What did you need me for?”
The director said, “Your father is here to pick you up.”
In that moment, Fu Yao felt an indescribable emotion, finding nothing to be happy about.
Sure enough, when she reached the main gate of the welfare center, a handsome, tall man stood in front of an expensive SUV. Even upon seeing his daughter, the man’s expression remained indifferent. Fu Yao could see that his emotions were red and green.
Anger and guilt—essentially, trouble.
Fu Chengyu commanded coldly, “Let’s go home.”
Fu Yao said, “I want to bring someone with me.”
Fu Chengyu looked up and saw, through the window of the room Fu Yao had just left, a thin, frail little boy.
He sneered coldly:
“Fu Yao, how many times have I told you? Don’t cause me unnecessary trouble. Don’t bring every stray cat or dog home. Our home isn’t an adoption center.”
Fu Yao’s expression remained unchanged, her eyelashes slightly lowered. “He’s not a stray cat or dog.”
The red around Fu Chengyu intensified sharply. “Fu Yao!”
Fu Yao took a deep breath, glaring darkly at Fu Chengyu, knowing she had no power to defy this man.
“You’re always like this, which is why you keep losing.”
“I’ll go say goodbye to him.”
With that, Fu Yao turned and walked back into the room.
She looked at the little wolf cub before her, who knew nothing of what was happening. He jumped off the bed again to tug at her clothes, but Fu Yao stopped him.
A confused blue-green aura flickered around Jin Zhi’s head, his expression equally puzzled.
Fu Yao said calmly:
“I have to go back.”
Afraid the other party wouldn’t understand, she added another sentence.
“Go home.”
The cold December wind howled bitterly. Fu Yao watched as the faint orange glow on the other’s body faded away, replaced by increasing shades of blue and red. The happiness in their pupils quickly vanished, and the rosy lips that had regained color over the past two days rapidly paled to white.
Their body felt as if nailed in place by steel spikes, unable to move.