Chapter 38: 33

Chapter 33

Hold Hands, or to Be Washed Away

Translated by boilpoil
Edited by boilpoil

 

The next day marks the third spate of raining for Qiaohai.

Rain is rather scarce this side of the ocean, but during its monsoon season, rain strikes with gale and massive tidals.

The oceans rise visibly, almost engulfing the entire beach, reaching all the way to the little stairs. The restaurant, of course, is at no risk of flooding above the stairs, but watching the coast from within could convince one that the restaurant is floating across the ocean like a little dinghy inside a hurricane.

The whole day Bai Yao has been busy packing and organising the food that arrived just in time, and leaving nothing in the back garden that could be damaged in the storm.

In the afternoon, he goes out to grandpa Xü and auntie Zhang’s home to bring them some bread he already toasted earlier along with some blueberry jam.

Before heading outside, he first reassured Mu Mu’er he is just opposite the street, and not to be afraid. If something did happen, do not panic, and head across the street for him.

Mu Mu’er nods, and has to repeat what Bai Yao told him, before Bai Yao left.

Some time before, Bai Yao has already told the old couple that Mu Mu’er wasn’t terribly intelligent, and is here in town to spend his summer holiday. They were really sympathetic to the poor boy, and auntie Zhang has brought food over often for Mu Mu’er.

Bai Yao had small talk with the couple, especially reminding them to stay safe when the rain starts falling and not to leave the house as they might slip. He also washed and cleaned their house a little for them before leaving.

Outside, the sky has already dimmed by several shades. Four in the afternoon, and it is already dark as sundown.

Most tourists are gone from the area. The weather has also cooled dramatically. The air smells moist, and trees rustle quite loudly.

Bai Yao can already see Mu Mu’er waiting at the entrance for him with worried eyes and hands holding the fence tightly, looking in his direction. The boy sees him, and immediately starts waving at him and hopping in place, impatient.

“You’re back! Yaoyao is back!” He says excitedly and happily. Bai Yao is reminded of a puppy perking up its ears when it hears its owner return.

When he sees Mu Mu’er like this, he often feels a little something difficult to put into words inside his chest. It’s like if soft candy has replaced his heart, and emitting warmth, eventually melting it all into sugary goodness, and transmitting it throughout his body.

Bai Yao returns with a big smile, taking Mu Mu’er’s hand and walking inside, “why did you come outside? You should wait inside.”

Mu Mu’er nods at the word ‘wait,’ and smiles in response, “waiting for Yaoyao. Yaoyao said you will be home quick.”

The boy’s hair is blown swaying a little by the wind, and there are bangs hanging off his forehead. Bai Yao smooths it, and asks, “did you wait long?”

“No, no. Mu’er behaves well. Waiting, for Yaoyao to be back,” then Mu Mu’er adds, “Yaoyao, can you please stay?”

Bai Yao chuckles and replies, “ok. If Mu’er plants Yaoyao into the ground, then Yaoyao will not leave.”

The restaurant has closed in the face of the upcoming weather until the rain stops, but that doesn’t mean Bai Yao can slack off. This is the perfect time to marinate several types of ingredients, do a catalogue of his inventory, and fix any place that needs maintenance in the store without distraction.

This lasts until it’s almost seven, so Bai Yao hurries into the kitchen to cook dinner. Then he calls out for Mu Mu’er to come downstairs.

Running sounds accompany a Mu Mu’er prancing downstairs, and he is already sat in a chair in front of the table in record time.

Bai Yao smiles at the scene, and hands Mu Mu’er the fried tuna plus potato mash, and watches him eat. It’s an enjoyable pastime for cooks to watch others enjoy their cooking, after all.

By the time dinner is finished, a shower has already begun. Mu Mu’er heads back upstairs, and starts playing with the shells he collected recently, looking for places he can hide them on the second floor.

The town is now enveloped in a foggy drizzle, which has gently removed all the usual pedestrians from the streets. There is only the sound of rain dancing on the gravel in the road outside. The back garden has become murky silhouettes outside. Lines streak down racing across the glass windows. There is nothing but white fog on the oceans.

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Bai Yao has already cleaned the kitchen, and has made cups of hot cocoa, with extra marshmallow in the cup for Mu Mu’er’s. He takes them upstairs.

The shower has already intensified into a proper storm. The droplets striking the roof is much closer to the ears upstairs.

And the wind is howling beside the rain as well.

Mu Mu’er hasn’t turned on the lights upstairs, but Bai Yao can also see that he isn’t in the living room. It’s awfully quiet. Bai Yao thought Mu Mu’er would be running towards him hearing him come upstairs, but no one comes. With furrowed brows, he puts the cups of cocoa down on the coffee table. There is worry in his eyes.

“Mu’er?” He calls out. There is no answer but a deafening silence.

Bai Yao heads first for the guest storeroom. There is no one. The blankets and mattress are undisturbed as he left them that night before. He visits every room in turn.

The second time he enters his bedroom, he finally finds him.

The lights are off. The barely lit room from the last remnants of the twilight which has also coloured part of the horizon and raindrops amber illuminates Mu Mu’er behind the wardrobe. He has the blanket on the bed with him in his hiding place.

“Yaoyao,” he calls out to him, “Yaoyao.”

The trembling voice is on the verge of tears. His hair is shaking. He dares not emerge from the wardrobe even when his beloved Yaoyao is in front of him. What emerges is a little hand in his direction.

The wardrobe is the furthest furniture away from the window in the corner of the room. Mu Mu’er has forced himself into the tiny gap between the wall on the wardrobe there. His other hand has wrapped around his foetal form.

Even if he is too thin, he must still be suffocating. His legs are curled up in a deeply uncomfortable sight, with his kneecaps right up against his chest.

Bai Yao is suffocating too. He rushes for the wardrobe, and crouches down. The crumpled boy is unsettling to him, and he looks up and down to make sure he isn’t hurt anywhere, even if it can only barely alleviate his worries to see no visible wounds.

He touches Mu Mu’er on the shoulder, asking, “I’m here; I’m here. What’s wrong?”

Mu Mu’er does not answer, and his hand is still hanging in the air. He is worried, frightened, and clearly in distress about something.

“Hold hands. We must hold hands,” Mu Mu’er leans outside a little more as he speaks, until he is much closer to Bai Yao. There is only deep fear in his expression, as he puts his hand in Bai Yao’s palm.

He continues to mumble quietly. Bai Yao leans closer so that his ears can pick it up.

“Always hold hands. If not, water will wash away.”

Bai Yao’s chest is heavy. He holds Mu Mu’er’s hand more tightly.

It is a soft hand a few sizes smaller than his own. And chilling. Bai Yao then holds Mu Mu’er’s other hand with his own, and puts them together, rubbing them for warmth. He pulls them close to his mouth, and puffs, that it might become warmer.

Mu Mu’er’s head continues to hang low. Bai Yao then curls his legs to sit down, and asks gently and slowly, “why did you not come downstairs to look for me? Were you too afraid to turn on the lights?”

Mu Mu’er only answers after a long time. He sounds woeful, “I called for Yaoyao. I called.”

The noises of the clattering utensils as he cleaned downstairs definitely did not help Bai Yao hear that. He can’t help but feel both guilty and ashamed. He doesn’t know what he can do to help the shaking pile of sea otter in front of him.

After a brief hesitation, he decides to hug the boy with the blanket and all, and then carry him smoothly towards the bed, and sit there with him. He keeps Mu Mu’er’s hands in his own the whole time without letting go.

With his fingertips, he caresses Mu Mu’er gently, and reassures him, “don’t worry. Look, I’m here.”

While there is only the sound of rain and wind without thunder, it might even feel homely and warm like a lullaby; however, Mu Mu’er is still curled up, trying to bury himself as deeply as he can inside the blanket.

Bai Yao helps pull up the blanket for him, and pats him. He is going to ask if the boy is scared of the rain, when noises from the outside divert his attention.

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