Chapter 29: Five Plums

It was nearly two o'clock when Qiu Shengming returned.

Qiu Yiyao sat on the sofa. An idol drama was playing on the television, but she had no heart to watch it, her eyes fixed intently on the doorway. When she saw the familiar figure appear, she quickly stood up to greet him.

"Dad, you're finally back. I've been so worried."

Qiu Shengming patted her shoulder reassuringly. "Nothing to worry about. It was just a little fox; I took it back up the mountain. Don't worry, it won't come back to scare you again."

Yet, Qiu Yiyao still felt it was strange. "But my bag's zipper was clearly closed. How did it get inside?"

"As long as it didn't hurt anyone, don't worry about the rest." Qiu Shengming placed the bag he was holding onto the sofa. "I'll go wash the bag later; that little creature made it all dirty."

Hearing this, Qiu Yiyao grabbed the bag and headed toward the bathroom. "It's fine, I'll wash it myself."

Listening to the sound of rushing water from the bathroom, Qiu Shengming wore a sorrowful expression. He sat at the dining table, not bothering to heat up his meal, and shoveled a few bites into his mouth, swallowing without much chewing.

Outside, the sky suddenly turned gloomy, and a muffled roll of thunder echoed through the clouds. It looked like a heavy downpour was imminent.

"Sigh!"

Qiu Shengming let out a heavy sigh and dumped the rest of his food into the trash can.

...

The rain fell heavily, and the sky was a murky gray with no sign of stopping.

Qiu Yiyao stood at the front door. Rain mist sprayed onto her, but she seemed not to feel it, her eyes fixed on the clock shop diagonally across the street. Someone was standing at the entrance talking to Grandpa Qin, gesturing wildly with his arms, his expression animated.

Qiu Yiyao had an idea. She turned to the kitchen, took a few plums from a basket, and walked toward the clock shop under an umbrella.

Grandpa Qin smiled happily when he saw her.

"Yaoyao is here!"

"Yes, the plums at home are ripe, so I brought you a few."

Qiu Yiyao smiled, put down her umbrella, and placed the plums on the table. "My dad picked them this morning; they're very sweet."

As she spoke, her eyes flicked toward Grandpa Qin's leg. She noticed his left leg was slightly bent and not touching the ground; his entire weight was supported by his right leg.

"Grandpa Qin, your leg... I heard it's been over two months since the accident. How is the recovery going?"

At this, Grandpa Qin reached out and gently patted his leg, smiling bitterly. "At my age, as long as the leg isn't lost and is still on my body, I'm still a whole person. Whether I limp or not doesn't really matter."

"You wouldn't know this, young lady, but when old Qin was young, he was the town's sprint champion. No one could catch him," the middle-aged man beside them said loudly.

"Is that so? That's a real pity."

"It's not a pity," the man leaned closer to Qiu Yiyao and said mysteriously, "Who's to say it won't suddenly get better one day?"

Qiu Yiyao was startled, but then she saw Grandpa Qin strike the man on the head with his palm-leaf fan. He laughed so hard that the wrinkles on his face bunched together, enough to crush a mosquito.

"Haha, I'll take your word for it! I hope I can move like the wind again soon, hahaha!"

The two of them burst into loud laughter. Grandpa Qin laughed so unrestrainedly that he lost all composure, showing a mouthful of large, yellow teeth with traces of blood clinging to the gaps—abrupt and eerie.

"Grandpa Qin, you have such good teeth. I remember my grandmother had lost most of hers by your age."

Before Grandpa Qin could speak, the middle-aged man interrupted again: "Your Grandpa Qin just looks old; inside, he's still a young man."

At this, Grandpa Qin suddenly stopped laughing and hit him hard with the fan again.

Struck by the blow, the man seemed to realize something. A flash of embarrassment crossed his eyes, and he looked back. "Oh, the rain is letting up. I should head back; the old woman at home is waiting."

He grabbed his umbrella from the floor and rushed into the rain.

"Yaoyao, come here, Grandpa has something to show you."

Qiu Yiyao turned around. Grandpa Qin was already standing at the doorway of the inner room, beckoning her. For some reason, she felt that the half of his face hidden in the shadows looked somewhat strange.

"Come quickly."

Perhaps because she remained standing in place, Grandpa Qin's voice suddenly changed, becoming sharp—the same voice from that night. His previously smiling face twisted into a ferocious expression in a split second. "I told you to come here."

Qiu Yiyao's scalp tingled, and a cold chill crawled up her back. She wanted to go home, but her legs refused to obey, carrying her toward the inner room.

"It's over. Am I hallucinating again?"

She wanted to struggle, to scream, but no matter what her mind wanted to do, her body was beyond her control, as if it were someone else's body and she were merely a soul dwelling within it.

When she reached Grandpa Qin, he smiled eerily. "Let me show you something good."

He bent down, grabbed his own leg, and gave it a forceful tug. The leg was torn clean off.

"Look, can my leg still recover? Will I be able to run in the future?"

Looking at the leg that kept dripping fresh blood, Qiu Yiyao felt the world turn black and spin around her.

...

When she woke up, she was back in her bed.

Was it a hallucination? Or a dream?

She rubbed her temples, got out of bed, and left the room. Qiu Shengming was in the kitchen preparing dinner.

"Dad, when did I fall asleep?"

Qiu Shengming didn't even look up. "You went to your room after hanging up your bag. You must have fallen asleep right then. Why?"

"I dreamed of Grandpa Qin, but it didn't feel like a dream. It felt so real."

"Dreamed of him? What's there to dream about an old man?"

Qiu Yiyao didn't speak. She glanced at the small table beside the refrigerator; there were five plums in the red basket. In her dream, she had taken those five plums to Grandpa Qin.

"I dreamed I brought him plums."

"Our Yaoyao is such a good girl," Qiu Shengming said, glancing back at her. "Try one; they're quite sweet. If you like them, I'll go pick some more."

Qiu Yiyao agreed and picked up a plum, but her expression suddenly changed. "Dad, when were these picked?"

"This morning. Didn't you see them in the room?"

Qiu Shengming started the stove and added oil, continuing, "When the rain stops, I'll go pick a few more to take to your sister Zhen..."

The greens hit the pan, hot oil hissed with a wisp of white smoke, and the sizzling sound drowned out his words.

Qiu Yiyao watched his busy back, and for the first time, he felt like a complete stranger.