The day after moving into their new home happened to be the day for their follow-up appointment at the hospital to have their dressings changed.
The doctor in Ning City examined their wounds for a long time before offering advice for each.
For Huo Ranyin: “Keep the dressings changed regularly and take care of yourself. You can exert force in moderation, but don’t force it.”
The implication was that the recovery was going well; proceed step-by-step, and there would be no problems.
Ji Xun asked from the side: “What about the scars? Can they disappear through natural healing?”
Huo Ranyin glanced at Ji Xun.
“Explosion-inflicted wounds are complex, with varying depths. Superficial injuries heal easily, but for deep-layer scarring, a light diet, consistent exercise, and age all play a role in how well they fade.”
The doctor studied the marks on Huo Ranyin’s body for a moment.
“Doing dangerous work, are you?”
“I’m a police officer.”
“You’re a cop, and you’re still worried about whether scars will disappear? Even if they vanish, others will just appear. That’s the cycle—life goes on, endless and recurring.” The doctor’s tone was filled with a sense of fatalistic optimism, urging them not to waste their energy worrying.
After finishing with Huo Ranyin, it was Ji Xun’s turn.
The doctor was more cautious this time. Since his arm had been shot, rehabilitation was a serious concern; if not managed well during the healing phase, it would cause significant trouble later.
“The healing is decent. Have you moved your fingers in the last couple of days?”
“I have.”
“How does it feel?”
“Stiffer than before.”
“That’s normal. I’ll teach you a set of exercises. You should practice them frequently. Move your fingers whenever you can to keep the flexibility.”
The doctor taught Ji Xun hand-over-hand, and after watching Ji Xun practice them once, the consultation was officially over.
Since they were already there, they weren’t in a hurry to leave. The two turned and headed toward the hospital’s rehabilitation room to exercise.
The room was crowded with patients, caregivers, doctors, and family members. The groans of pain that arose from time to time were suffocating, but the encouragement that followed was heartwarming.
They found a quiet corner and sat down.
Ji Xun began the finger exercises. His memory was actually quite excellent, and he remembered the doctor’s instructions perfectly. However, during the process, Huo Ranyin would occasionally speak up to correct his posture.
“You remember it that well?”
“Yes.”
“I recall there wasn’t a motion where the fingers bend backward?”
“There is,” Huo Ranyin said. “Listen to me.”
His tone was indisputable. Ji Xun looked up, but didn’t meet Huo Ranyin’s gaze. Huo Ranyin was looking down slightly, his dark, ink-like eyes fixed intently on Ji Xun’s moving fingers, unblinking.
Rehabilitation is a slow, grinding process—it cannot be rushed, nor can it be delayed.
After about half an hour, they finished up. Ji Xun said: “It’s noon. Let’s go to the mall for lunch, buy a few things, and then head back.”
Huo Ranyin had no objections.
The hospital was in the city center, and there was a five-story shopping plaza two streets away. However, Ji Xun didn’t choose that complex. They caught a taxi that weaved through the city’s heavy traffic, crossing almost half the city, before finally arriving at a different shopping mall.
The two malls were much the same—similar clothing brands, similar chain restaurants—but this one included a game arcade. Because this mall was closer to the school, it was packed with students during weekends and after-school hours, alongside a few bored adults looking to kill time.
Adults like Ji Xun, for example.
After lunch, Ji Xun didn’t stroll around the mall to buy necessities as he had suggested earlier. Instead, he dragged Huo Ranyin straight into the game arcade.
Motorcycles, Whack-a-Mole, basketball machines, dance pads.
Ji Xun was interested in everything, and he wanted to test every single one with a token.
“You really have a childlike heart,” Huo Ranyin remarked from the side.
Ji Xun’s response was to toss a basketball toward Huo Ranyin: “Officer Huo, don’t be so tense. When we first met, you were quite childlike yourself, acting all ‘sweet and submissive’ to lure me in.”
Huo Ranyin raised an eyebrow, caught the ball with one hand, gave his wrist a flick, and threw it forward.
Swish—
The ball hit the net, the hoop shaking continuously.
Ji Xun whistled.
After a round of games, they had used up all their tokens and accumulated a pile of tickets.
When Ji Xun took the tickets to the front desk to exchange for a prize, Huo Ranyin noticed that among the redemption options was a Tamagotchi.
To no one’s surprise, Ji Xun exchanged for two Tamagotchis.
One for himself, one for Huo Ranyin.
The colors had been carefully selected: one green, one blue.
He kept the green one and gave the blue one to Huo Ranyin.
Holding the egg-sized toy in his palm, Huo Ranyin stared at it for a long time, a soft sound escaping his lips.
“Just this?”
“Just this. You won them yourself.”
“It doesn’t count as a gift from you?” Huo Ranyin looked at Ji Xun.
“I’d be happy to gift you other things, but let’s pass on this one,” Ji Xun replied. He pulled Huo Ranyin over to a bench and began studying the device. “Let me see how to turn this on…”
“Didn’t you play with these before?”
“How many years ago was that? I’ve long forgotten,” Ji Xun answered, lost in thought for a moment. “It’s a toy for kids, it shouldn’t be hard. My impression is that the main point is raising a pet. You have to take care of its eating and pooping every day. The pet grows one year older every day, and once it reaches six, it can get married. Even though it’s just an electronic toy, it’s quite open-minded—same-sex marriage is possible. There are two ways to marry: one is waiting for a matchmaker, which is an arranged marriage; the other is online dating, which is called ‘freedom’…”
“And parents suppressing it,” Huo Ranyin added calmly.
He claimed he couldn’t remember much, yet as he spoke, he sounded exactly like an instruction manual. Such enviable memory.
Huo Ranyin pressed the screen to turn it on.
A pixelated pet appeared on the tiny screen, a blinking cursor indicating for the owner to input a name.
Did he truly envy other people’s toys when he was in school?
Huo Ranyin fell into a slight state of confusion.
Perhaps he had, but by now, that memory was long forgotten.
His childhood was like the things hidden in the diaries he had tried to erase—vague, fleeting, containing a terrifying shadow, yet that shadow was also empty and vast.
He had walked fast, walked decisively, all the way to the present.
But everyone has a past, and the past determines the present.
The diary had always hung prominently in the deepest part of his heart, along with another presence he always ignored, always forgot, and always hid in a corner no one could see… his younger self.
The toy in his hand was a small bridge.
At both ends of the bridge, the adult Huo Ranyin looked at the child Huo Ranyin.
He stepped onto the bridge and reached out to grab the hand of his younger self, who had been standing in the fog, head bowed.
The face that seemed to fade into the mist lifted, revealing a shy, surprised smile…
“Huo Ranyin,” Ji Xun shook the toy in his hand. “Hurry up and play. We’re waiting to get married.”
“It takes six days to get married. What’s the rush?” Huo Ranyin replied, his fingers tapping random letters into the pet’s name field.
First “hry,” then “jx,” then “x&y.”
They played all the way until Ji Xun turned to look at him: “You finally smiled.”
Huo Ranyin: “Because you’re here.”
__
Volume Six: The Golden Pavilion Temple on the Sea
