Chapter 5: A Warm Hand in the Dark

Her forehead burned fiercely. She felt as if she were walking on cotton, her whole body floating.

She didn’t know how many steps she had taken.

Maybe a dozen, maybe several dozen.

She couldn’t walk anymore.

Really, she couldn’t.

Su Yutao slid down along the wall and curled back into that corner she had been in before.

Not because that corner was any good.

It was simply the only place she could return to.

At least there were walls and a roof there, shelter from the wind and rain.

She huddled in the corner, burying her head in her knees.

Her stomach growled.

A sharp, twisting pain struck again and again.

She tried pressing her hand against her stomach, but it did no good. The pain clawed its way out from the inside, impossible to suppress.

She thought back to her time in the orphanage. She had gone hungry sometimes then. But that was when she was little.

Later, when she grew up and could work, she never went hungry again.

Now she was even hungrier than she had been as a child.

So hungry her stomach cramped.

So hungry her vision went black—though it was already black.

So hungry she started thinking about strange things: Were there weeds in the corner? Could you eat grass? Probably.

She felt along the crevices in the corner with her hand.

No grass.

Only a few dried, fallen leaves, soaked rotten by the rain, sticky and slimy.

She didn’t know if she could eat them.

But she was too hungry.

Su Yutao stuffed one of those rotten leaves into her mouth.

Bitter.

Astringent.

And it tasted like dirt.

She chewed and swallowed.

Her stomach churned, and the pain grew worse.

She didn’t throw up.

She felt for another leaf and stuffed it into her mouth.

…

She didn’t know how many rotten leaves she had eaten.

Only that her stomach wasn’t so empty anymore, but the pain had intensified.

Su Yutao leaned against the wall, gasping for breath.

Her head grew hotter.

Her body grew colder.

Her mind grew foggier.

She didn’t know how much longer she could hold on.

She closed her eyes—even though they were closed the whole time.

She didn’t know how much time passed.

It could have been a few minutes, maybe half an hour.

Sunlight fell on her, and she felt its warmth. Dawn had come; it must be morning.

But daybreak made no difference to her.

She still couldn’t see anything.

Still had a fever.

Still was hungry.

Still didn’t know what to do.

Su Yutao curled up in the corner, listening to the sounds from afar—car engines, people talking, footsteps, bicycle bells.

The city was waking up, people starting their new day.

No one noticed a little beggar curled up in this corner.

No one would stop for her.

She was just a blind and mute vagrant, no different from a roadside trash can or a stray cat in the corner.

Su Yutao buried her face deeper.

Then she heard footsteps.

At first, she didn’t pay attention.

People passing by here was normal.

But the footsteps grew closer.

Closer and closer.

Then they stopped.

Right in front of her.

Very close.

Su Yutao’s whole body tensed.

She raised her head, ‘looking’ ahead.

She couldn’t see.

She couldn’t see anything.

But she could sense someone standing there, looking down at her.

Silence.

A few seconds felt like hours.

Then that voice spoke up.

Soft and gentle.

Like the spring breeze, like warm milk, like the orphanage headmistress tucking her in as a child and saying, ‘Sleep now.’

The voice said:

‘Why are you squatting here all alone?’

Su Yutao froze.

She opened her mouth.

No sound came out.

All she could do was point to her throat and wave her hand.

Silence.

The voice spoke again, with a hint of surprise:

‘You can’t speak?’

Su Yutao nodded.

Silence again.

Then Su Yutao heard the person’s footsteps shift a little closer—they crouched down.

Right in front of her.

So close she could feel their breath, warm and carrying a faint scent, like laundry detergent.

The person didn’t reach out immediately. Instead, they studied her for a moment.

Then that voice said, clearly puzzled:

‘You… can’t see either?’

Su Yutao nodded again.

Silence for a few seconds.

The voice continued:

‘Why are your clothes so ragged? All patched up. And with that heavy rain last night, you just squatted here and let it fall on you?’

Su Yutao didn’t know how to answer.

She could only nod.

The person seemed even more confused:

‘Are you homeless? Or did you run away from somewhere? Where’s your family?’

Su Yutao shook her head.

She didn’t have any family.

Growing up in an orphanage—did that count as having a family?

The person paused, then asked again:

‘You stayed here the whole night?’

Su Yutao nodded.

Then a hand reached out and pressed gently against her forehead.

That hand was cool.

But against her burning forehead, it felt so good that she shivered slightly.

The voice suddenly changed, now clearly anxious:

‘You have a fever? Why are you so hot?’

Su Yutao didn’t know how to react.

She just sat there, feeling that cool hand against her forehead.

Then the hand moved away, touched her cheek, her neck, checking again.

The voice grew even more worried:

‘This fever is so high… You’ll get seriously ill like this!’

Then the hand withdrew.

Su Yutao heard the person stand up, then the sound of rummaging through a bag, and then—

‘Hello, is this 120? There’s someone here who…’

Su Yutao suddenly reached out and grabbed something—probably the hem of the person’s clothes.

She shook her head desperately.

120?

An ambulance?

She couldn’t go to the hospital.

She didn’t even know if she had any identification, but she definitely had no money, nothing at all. Going to the hospital would only cause more trouble.

The person stopped.

Someone seemed to be talking on the other end of the line, but the person hung up.

The voice spoke again, confused:

‘You don’t want to go to the hospital?’

Su Yutao nodded frantically.

‘Why?’

Su Yutao opened her mouth, pointed to her throat, then to her tattered clothes, and spread her hands—

‘I have no money. I have nothing.’

The person paused for a few seconds.

Then crouched down again, their voice right next to her ear:

‘Are you worried about the money?’

Su Yutao nodded.

The person sighed.

‘But you can’t just tough it out like this. With a fever this high, something bad will happen.’

Su Yutao lowered her head, not knowing what to say.

She just kept holding onto the person’s clothes, not letting go.

The person was silent for a while.

Then that voice spoke again, with a hint of helplessness:

‘Wait here. I’ll go buy you some medicine.’

The footsteps began to move away.

Su Yutao held on tighter.

She didn’t know why she clung on.

Maybe it was fear.

Maybe she was afraid that if this person left, they wouldn’t come back.

Maybe it was that in this unfamiliar world, the one person who had shown her warmth was about to walk away.

The person stopped moving.

A second of silence.

Then that hand returned, gently patting the back of hers:

‘I’m not going far. Just to the pharmacy ahead, only a few steps away.’

Su Yutao didn’t let go.

The person sighed again.

‘Alright, then… how about you come with me?’

Su Yutao was stunned.

Go with them?

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