We left the area around Xiao Xuan's home.
Song Xiaotian and I felt somewhat weighed down.
We weren't made of stone. We'd thought we were just here to deal with a little ghost, and once we'd taken care of him, that would be that.
But we hadn't expected there to be so much more to the story.
Especially Xiao Xuan's words, "I'm holding it in." They had shaken me deeply.
When I was eight, whether I was Chen Mo or Li Fuguang, my family had been intact, and I'd lived happily.
But at eight, Xiao Xuan couldn't even cry when he thought of his mother.
He knew that even if he cried, no mother would come to comfort him.
"I already saw Rat last night."
I told Song Xiaotian, "That kid was very short, and so thin he barely looked like himself anymore."
And after people died, before they went to the Underworld, they wore whatever clothes they'd died in.
Rat's clothes were in tatters, worse than a homeless man's. He looked like a beggar.
Then there was Xiao Xuan, cleanly dressed, well-fed and chubby, with a sturdy little face. He didn't look as though he'd suffered at all.
Because Rat had done all the suffering.
"He stole money, things, and food, all for Xiao Xuan."
"He gave Xiao Xuan the good food and had him save the stolen money so he could go to school someday."
Listening to me, Song Xiaotian put his hands on his hips and sighed. "This Xiao Xuan isn't even related to him by blood. He's basically a little brother he picked up off the streets. Why is he so good to him?"
I said, "He was a street kid too, with no father to care for him or mother to love him. Maybe he