Poor Little Thing

When Tong Zhao climbed through the window, he saw Shu Sizhuo driving a bamboo pole into Fenli's eye.

Fenli threw his head back and howled, his cry exploding through the air alongside a rumble of thunder.

This is bad, Tong Zhao thought. As Fenli reached for Shu Sizhuo with a clawed hand, Tong Zhao rushed over and sent him flying with a kick. He also grabbed a stool beside him and smashed it into Fenli's head.

The stool's legs broke, and Fenli lay on the floor clutching his eye, writhing in pain.

Tong Zhao seized Shu Sizhuo's hand and ran for the window. "Let's go!"

Rain poured outside. Tong Zhao leaned out and tested how secure the rope was, then lifted the emaciated Shu Sizhuo onto the windowsill. Looking into his eyes, he asked, "Are you afraid of heights?"

Shu Sizhuo stared at his face and shook his head.

"Then can you climb down the rope?"

Shu Sizhuo nodded.

"Hold on tight," Tong Zhao cautioned.

Shu Sizhuo climbed down the rope as it swayed in the rain. Once he had landed safely, he looked up at Tong Zhao.

Worried that the rope wouldn't bear both their weights, Tong Zhao had waited until then to climb through the window. But before he could get his other foot out, someone suddenly grabbed his ankle and yanked him back into the room.

The figure at the window vanished in an instant. Alarmed, Shu Sizhuo stepped forward and grabbed the rope, just about to climb back up when the handsome young man poked his head out and waved at him. "It's fine. He grabbed me, so I hit him again. I'll be right down!"

Only then did Shu Sizhuo breathe a sigh of relief.

After landing, Tong Zhao took his little hand and ran. But as they ran, he saw that the child was covered in injuries and stumbling, so he picked him up and carried him onward.

The rain was heavy, and Shu Sizhuo wrapped his whip-marked arms tightly around Tong Zhao. He didn't even ask where the handsome man was taking him; wherever it was, he would go.

Tong Zhao ran for his life until he finally reached the bicycle lying on its side in the mud, gasping for breath. He put Shu Sizhuo down, picked up the bicycle, and set him on the rear seat. "Hold on tight to me in a moment. I'll be riding really fast."

Shu Sizhuo nodded.

Not far behind them, headlights came on one after another. Tong Zhao pedaled frantically through the heavy rain, while Shu Sizhuo did as he was told and held him very, very tightly.

In the dilapidated shantytown, the character for "demolish" was written everywhere. Tong Zhao wound his way through one similar-looking alley after another before finally stopping at an apartment building.

A big yellow dog downstairs had been startled awake. Tong Zhao casually greeted it with a "Hi, Big Yellow," then led Shu Sizhuo up to the third floor.

Once they were inside, the wooden door barely muffled the sound of the pouring rain outside.

Tong Zhao leaned against the door and let out a long, heavy breath, as if he had narrowly escaped death.

After a few quiet seconds, Tong Zhao reached out and felt for the switch. He pulled it, and a dim yellow bulb lit up.

The little boy standing in front of him squinted, taking a moment to adjust to the light before looking up at him.

Only then did Tong Zhao get a clear look at Shu Sizhuo, and he couldn't help drawing a sharp breath.

Shu Sizhuo wasn't short for his age, but he was very thin. His clothes were in tatters, and his body was covered in wounds. The rainwater and blood had mixed together, making them impossible to tell apart.

His face was bruised and swollen too, so much so that his original appearance was unrecognizable.

Tong Zhao crouched down and held his thin but tense shoulders, his heart aching terribly. "Poor little thing, how much have you suffered?"

Shu Sizhuo looked at him. Even though this handsome man had rescued him, and even though he had just held him tightly, there was still wariness in Shu Sizhuo's eyes. "Who are you?"

Tong Zhao had prepared his answer long ago. "I'm a friend of your mother's. I just got back from out of town. Don't worry, Little Sizhuo. I'll take care of you, help you drive all the bad guys away, and then take you home."

Tong Zhao was very good-looking. His features weren't sharp; their lines had a soft glow to them. His voice was pleasant too, clear and bright, with a slight lift at the end.

In short, in the eyes of Shu Sizhuo, who was almost eleven, Tong Zhao was like an angel who had descended from the sky into his battered world, lifting him on rain-soaked feathers and saving him from a sea of flames.

In the cramped bathroom, Shu Sizhuo sat obediently on a little stool while Tong Zhao washed his hair and bathed him.

The whip wounds on his body were still open, but he was covered in mud and had to be washed.

Shu Sizhuo only frowned, his little fists clenched tightly on his legs. He didn't make a sound.

That made Tong Zhao's heart ache even more.

He quickly washed him clean, wrapped him in a bath towel, and took him to the sofa, where he had Shu Sizhuo lie on his stomach.

Tong Zhao took out the first-aid kit he had prepared and treated the child's wounds.

Whenever the povidone-iodine soaked into a wound, Shu Sizhuo trembled slightly. When the pain became too intense, he bit down on his lower lip.

When Tong Zhao had finished, Shu Sizhuo turned his head and saw that his eyes had reddened.

"Beast," Tong Zhao cursed under his breath.

After treating his wounds, Tong Zhao brought Shu Sizhuo a clean, fresh oversized T-shirt. It smelled of laundry detergent, and Shu Sizhuo quietly raised a sleeve to his nose and sniffed it greedily.

He had spent so long at Ode Mountain House that he hadn't smelled such a fresh scent in a long time.

In this world at this time, the economy wasn't very developed, communications were extremely poor in more remote places, and the houses were also very rundown.

Tong Zhao had chosen this house marked for demolition after spending a day surveying the area and carefully studying escape routes. The neighborhood was crisscrossed by a web of narrow alleys, making it hard to find someone there.

The house was small and rundown, and rain leaked through one part of the ceiling. Tong Zhao had placed a bucket beneath it, and the rainwater dripped steadily into it.

There was a small bed in the bedroom. Tong Zhao had Shu Sizhuo sleep on the inside against the wall and took the outside himself, gently covering Shu Sizhuo with a thin quilt.

The quilt was brand new and smelled of laundry detergent too.

Shu Sizhuo's small, thin body was curled up in the bedding, but he wasn't sleepy at all. His wide eyes remained fixed on Tong Zhao.

Tong Zhao felt that the child was still tense all over, so he moved a little closer, patted his shoulder, and gently rubbed the back of his head. "What's wrong? Can't sleep?"

As his neck was rubbed again and again, Shu Sizhuo gradually relaxed. Suddenly, he asked, "What's your name?"

Tong Zhao said, "My name is Tang Xu. Um... you can call me Brother Tang Xu."

Shu Sizhuo didn't call him Brother Tang Xu. He addressed him by name, Tang Xu, and Tong Zhao didn't mind.

That night, Tong Zhao spent a long time soothing Shu Sizhuo, drifting in and out of sleep. He didn't know if it was because the wounds hurt, but Shu Sizhuo couldn't fall asleep.

But he was very well-behaved. When he felt uncomfortable, he only shifted slightly, without making a sound.

Tong Zhao stroked his head, rubbed the back of it, and squeezed his shoulder from time to time. It wasn't until the second half of the night that Shu Sizhuo finally fell into a deep sleep.

The wind and rain continued all night, beating against the awning outside the window. It was quieter inside, with only the sound of rainwater dripping into the wooden bucket.

This could be called the most peaceful sleep Shu Sizhuo had had since his parents died.