Chapter 46, Side Story 2: Starlight and Fluff
In the third spring after Ping An's departure, an uninvited guest came to the eaves of "Yu Ran Flower House".
At that time, the late spring cold snap had just passed, and the weather was getting warmer day by day. Su Ran was squatting by the newly repaired flower bed, transplanting a batch of newly cultivated violet seedlings. Her fingertips were covered with cool soil, mixed with the crisp scent of plant roots.
The sunlight warmed the back of my neck. Without Ping An's fluffy head suddenly nudging me, or its peaceful purring as it sunbathed beside me, the flowerbed felt empty. This emptiness wasn't a sharp pain, but a lingering melancholy seeping into the cracks of daily life, like a corner of my heart, soothed for years, now often silently swept away by the wind.
Wen Yu was inspecting the automatic sprinkler system in the greenhouse. Time had added a touch of unassuming composure to his once nimble movements, but his hands, which were adjusting the precision equipment, remained as steady as ever.
He would occasionally look up through the greenhouse glass and glance at Su Ran's slender, slightly hunched back as she stood by the flowerbed outside. He knew what Su Ran was thinking. When he trimmed his tools, he would always subconsciously watch his step, as if afraid of stepping on some quiet, crouching white figure. More than a decade of inseparable companionship had left its mark deep in his bones, one that time could not easily erase.
The incident occurred in the afternoon. Wen Yu had just come out of the greenhouse and was about to go to the warehouse to get some spare fertilizer when he suddenly heard a very faint but continuous rustling sound coming from the direction of the town's garbage dump outside the courtyard wall, interspersed with the weak whimpers of a young animal.
The sound was so faint that it was almost indistinguishable amidst the rustling of the wind through the fence and the faint noise of the distant town.
But Wen Yu and Su Ran stopped simultaneously. They exchanged a glance, both seeing a similar wariness and an indescribable stirring in each other's eyes. That voice... was like an extremely fine needle, gently piercing the tranquility of the afternoon air, and also striking a soft corner in their hearts that had not yet fully healed.
Without saying a word, Wen Yu picked up a cane from behind the door and gestured for Su Ran to stay in the courtyard. He tiptoed quietly around to the side of the courtyard and peered out through the sparse gaps in the fence.
At the edge of the garbage dump, beneath a pile of rain-soaked, rotten planks and scrap metal, lay a grimy, slightly wriggling, grayish-brown creature. It looked like… a puppy? It was much smaller than when Ping An was found years ago, probably only one or two months old, skin and bones, its fur barely discernible.
It was trying to crawl out from under a crooked plank, but its hind legs seemed unable to provide any strength, and it could only struggle with its two front legs. Each struggle stirred up wood chips and dust, and made it let out even weaker moans. Some unidentifiable filth was scattered around it, and a faint stench of decay wafted in the air.
A disabled puppy, abandoned by its owner. In this small town where resources are still scarce and human kindness is often cold and indifferent, its fate was almost predictable.
Wen Yu frowned slightly, his sharp gaze sweeping over the surroundings to confirm there were no other dangers or ambushes. Then, he turned back and made a gesture to Su Ran, who was looking at him worriedly from inside the courtyard, indicating "safe, just a small dog, injured."
Su Ran immediately put down the small shovel in his hand and hurried to the door, his face filled with anxiety. "Can it be saved?" he asked in a low voice, his fingers unconsciously clutching the hem of his clothes. After Ping An left, they had considered getting another dog, but the immense sense of loss and the unease of "betraying" Ping An had prevented them from making a decision. At this moment, seeing such a dying little life, Su Ran could hardly think of anything else.
Wen Yu didn't answer immediately. He pushed open the simple gate of the fence and went out. He didn't approach rashly, but stood a few steps away, observing carefully. The puppy seemed to sense someone approaching; its struggling stopped, and it raised its head.
What eyes they were—wet, seemingly large because of their thinness, brimming with terror, pain, and a faint, almost extinguished, yearning for life. It looked at Wen Yu, letting out a mournful "woo-woo" sound, its small body trembling like a leaf in the wind.
Its hind legs dragged on the ground at an unnatural angle, clearly lame, perhaps congenital, or possibly injured by beatings or crushing. Its body was covered in filth, but its original fur color, seemingly a pale golden yellow, was faintly visible. Its ears drooped softly; it was a very common, mixed-breed dog of unknown pedigree.
Wen Yu's heart skipped a beat, as if struck by that gaze. He recalled a pair of similar, pleading blue eyes outside the ventilation duct many years ago. Times had changed, circumstances were different, but that struggling, survival-seeking look in his eyes was so similar.
Without further hesitation, he took a clean, soft cloth from his toolbox, crouched down, and approached as slowly and gently as possible. "Don't be afraid," he whispered, his voice gentle to a degree he himself didn't realize, "I won't touch you."
The puppy flinched, but lacked the strength to run away, only looking at him fearfully. Wen Yu carefully wrapped it completely in a soft cloth, protecting it from the filth and preventing it from scratching or biting. It felt incredibly light, almost weightless. He steadily lifted it up and turned to walk back into the yard.
Su Ran had already opened the door, holding another clean, damp cloth and a small basin of warm water, her eyes fixed on the small, trembling gray cloth bundle in Wen Yu's hand. "How is it?" he asked, his voice strained.
"His hind leg is injured, and he's very weak. Let's clean him up first." Wen Yu said succinctly, carrying the puppy straight to the small room they had built behind the flower house, which served as a washing and simple wound treatment area. This room, usually used to treat freshly dug wildflower roots, had now become a temporary first aid station.
What followed was almost a carbon copy of the rescue of Ping An years ago, yet with some differences. Su Ran was still responsible for cleaning and comforting, but her movements lacked the awkwardness and panic of back then, replaced by a calm and gentle demeanor honed by time.
Warm water was used to carefully wipe away the dirt, revealing a thin, bony body and sparse, matted, pale golden down. The injury to the hind leg was more complicated than expected; not only was the joint dislocated, but there were also old scars and infection. Wen Yu examined it more thoroughly, temporarily immobilizing the injured leg with a simple splint, cleaning the wound, and applying anti-inflammatory powder.
The puppy trembled in pain, but only looked at Su Ran with its wet eyes, occasionally licking the fingers that touched it, so docile it was heartbreaking.
"We don't have Ping An's good luck in getting professional veterinary medicine." Wen Yu finished treating the dog, his brow still furrowed. "The leg injury is too old. Even if he survives, he probably won't be able to run and jump like a normal dog in the future."
Su Ran was carefully feeding the puppy diluted glucose water with a thin tube. Hearing this, she looked up at him with clear and firm eyes: "It's okay. When Ping An came, her leg wasn't good either. If we can raise it and heal it, we can raise another one. It doesn't need to be able to run and jump. As long as it can live, and has a home here, that's enough."
His tone was calm, yet it contained an undeniable determination. Wen Yu looked at him, then at the little creature on the cushion who had finally drunk some water, seemed to have regained some life, and was timidly looking at them. The hesitation in her heart caused by the "trouble" and the "possibility of experiencing separation again" quietly dissipated.
He reached out and ruffled Su Ran's soft hair—a habitual gesture that remained unchanged for decades. "Hmm. Then let's keep her."
A puppy's resilience can sometimes be astonishing. Perhaps it's because it's already struggling on the brink of life and death, and it greedily absorbs any kindness or warmth, transforming it into the strength to survive.
Under Su Ran's tireless care, it survived the initial critical period, its body temperature gradually returned to normal, and it began to swallow specially made, easily digestible minced meat paste. It ate whatever was given to it without being picky, and when given water, it would lick it in small sips. It was so well-behaved that it didn't seem like a puppy at all, but rather like an overly sensible orphan.
It seemed to have an innate and endless attachment to Su Ran. Whenever Su Ran was in sight, its gaze would follow him. When Su Ran tended to the flowers and plants, it would drag its unsteady hind legs, trying its best to move to a place where it could see him and lie down. When Su Ran sat down to rest, it would inch closer, resting its little head on Su Ran's shoes, gazing at him expectantly.
It maintained a mixture of fear and curiosity towards Wen Yu. It seemed to sense that this tall man was the "head of the household" and had the power to decide its fate. When Wen Yu approached, it would instinctively shrink back, but would quickly relax because of the food Wen Yu occasionally fed it or the gentle stroking of its head, and would even tentatively lick Wen Yu's fingers.
Compared to Ping An's lively and active childhood, this puppy, named "Xiaoman" by Su Ran—meaning "small perfection," and also because it came into their lives in late spring and early summer, a time when all things are beginning to fill their lives—is much quieter and more reserved. Most of the time, it simply stays quietly, looking at the flowers, the clouds, or at Su Ran and Wen Yu.
Its hind legs never fully recovered, and it walked with a limp, its running was even more bumpy, but it didn't seem to care. It always tried its best to slowly follow them, exploring this new world that belonged to it.
Its bark is very soft, almost like a whimper, and it only makes a short, thin "woof" when it is extremely anxious or to alert a stranger to the approach of the fence.
Xiaoman's arrival did not replace Ping'an's place in their hearts. Ping'an was unique, a family member who accompanied them through the darkest night. But Xiaoman, like a resilient vine, quietly entwined herself into their lives, which were somewhat empty due to loss, using her quiet companionship and complete dependence to gradually fill those silent gaps.
Inside the flower-filled house, the soft sound of footsteps returned, along with the gentle chewing of food and the contented sighs of basking in the sun. Life seemed to have completed a silent handover and continuation.
That night, the moonlight was as clear as water. Xiaoman took its medicine and fell into a deep sleep in its soft nest, its injured hind leg occasionally twitching slightly in its sleep.
Su Ran and Wen Yu sat under the eaves of the expanded flower house—a long bench that Wen Yu had made by hand from old wooden planks had become their usual spot for enjoying the cool summer nights and stargazing.
The late spring breeze still carried a chill, but it was already quite gentle. The air was filled with the complex fragrance of various flowers and plants in the courtyard: the rich scent of magnolia, the sweet aroma of jasmine, and the fresh smell of earth moistened by the night dew. The sparse lights of the distant town made the night sky appear even deeper, and the Milky Way even more dazzling.
Su Ran leaned on Wen Yu's shoulder, his arm naturally wrapped around hers. Both of them tilted their heads slightly, gazing at the starry sky. The metal ring on their ring fingers shimmered with a dim yet enduring luster in the hazy moonlight.
"Look," Su Ran suddenly said softly, pointing to one side of the sky, "that star is especially bright. Isn't it… in that spot on our wedding day?"
Wen Yu followed his finger, his deep eyes reflecting the Milky Way. He didn't actually remember which star it was; the star projection that night was simulated, unrealistically beautiful. But now, the real Milky Way was vast, each star seeming to speak of eternity.
"Maybe," he replied softly, pulling Su Ran closer to him and gently nuzzling his head with his chin. "It's always been there."
"Xiaoman tried to chase a butterfly today, tripped and fell, but got up on her own and continued walking slowly." Su Ran said, her voice filled with laughter but also a hint of heartache as she recounted the day's events. "It tried very hard."
"Like you," Wen Yu said.
Su Ran was taken aback for a moment, then turned to look at him: "Like me?"
"Hmm. Looks soft, but is tough inside." Wen Yu's gaze fell on Xiaoman's quiet nest in the shadows of the courtyard. "Once you've chosen a place, a person, you hold on to it with all your might, try to live, and try to get better."
Su Ran was silent for a while, then buried her face in Wen Yu's neck, her voice muffled: "Just like you. You look tough, but you're soft inside."
Wen Yu didn't deny it, but tightened his arms around her.
A night breeze rustled the flowers and leaves. The Milky Way flowed silently overhead, as it has since time immemorial.
"Brother Yu".
"Um?"
"Thank you." Su Ran's voice was soft but clear. "Thank you for bringing me home back then. Thank you for always being by my side. And thank you... for bringing Xiaoman home again today."
Wen Yu's heart felt as if it were being washed by a warm tide. He didn't say anything like "Thank you too," but simply lowered his head, found Su Ran's lips, and placed a gentle and lingering kiss on them. In the kiss, there was the fragrance of flowers, the coolness of the night dew, the intertwined breaths, and the profound love that had been brewing for decades, a love that needed no words.
When the kiss ended, their foreheads touched, their breaths mingling.
"Go back to sleep if you're tired," Wen Yu said softly.
"Sit a little longer." Su Ran nestled in his arms, gazing at the starry sky. "Look, there are so many stars, don't they look like... so many eyes watching us? Is Ping An on one of them, watching over us and Xiao Man?"
Wen Yu followed his gaze to the dazzling starry sky, and it seemed as if he could really see a pair of familiar, gentle blue eyes, twinkling among the starlight, filled with comfort and tranquility.
"Perhaps," he said slowly, completely enveloping Su Ran's hand in his palm, his fingertips caressing the slightly cool ring. "It knows that we are doing well. We will carry its share and continue on our journey together."
Xiaoman rolled over in her nest, making soft, contented murmurs, as if she were echoing in a dream.
The moonlight was like water, the Milky Way like a ribbon, and the fragrance of flowers like mist. The figures leaning against each other on the bench, along with the tranquil night, the fragrant courtyard, the starry sky, and the newborn sleeping peacefully in its nest, blended into an eternal picture called "home".
The apocalypse has taken away countless lives, and time has taken away much as well. But there are always some things, such as love, such as promises, such as the gentle bonds between lives, like stars, like seeds, that, after a long period of darkness and struggle, will still stubbornly shine, tenaciously take root, and bloom season after season of tranquil and fragrant flowers on the seemingly barren fields of the heart.