Chapter 17

When I arrived at the orphanage, a teacher who knew when I arrived was standing at the door to greet me. She saw the gauze and asked in surprise, "How did you get injured? And on your neck."

I was about to tell her the whole story with a wry smile when the words suddenly stopped me.

I wasn't familiar with this teacher; we were just volunteers and staff. In the past, at least around this time last week, I would have simply nodded and smiled when greeted by others.

Have I seen too many people this week? In order to deal with people who are too close to me, I've also become more prone to getting close to others?

I didn't think about it for long. I have no intention of explaining myself to anyone. Although it may seem a bit extreme, I don't want anyone to know me, just as I came here quietly, so should I leave quietly.

If it weren't for making a living, I wouldn't associate with people.

...So why did I choose to volunteer here?

I smiled and said, "The broken glass fell from a height."

She asked me a few words of concern, led me inside, and said the task was the same as before, and I could just do as I pleased. Watching her departing figure, I slowly put on my volunteer uniform. The dark blue vest felt smooth to the touch, with words on the front.

When I went outside, the children in the yard already knew someone had come. The most lively one saw me, ran over excitedly, looked me up and down, and said with considerable disappointment, "Brother didn't bring any treats this time."

He stood in front of me with his hands behind his back, shaking his head and swaying his body, his chubby cheeks slightly puffed out.

I chuckled and pinched his cheek. "What..." I looked at my hand blankly, but was quickly driven by instinct to continue. "What, does that mean I'm not your brother if I don't bring you delicious food or fun toys?"

I feel like I've forgotten some very important decision, but if it's truly important, it won't disappear. In that case, let's just go through everything according to the established process.

"Hehe." The child chuckled twice. "It's okay that you didn't bring any treats, everyone's very understanding." He called out to the children behind him who were watching expectantly, "Come on over, Brother Qinghe didn't bring anything today and even made fun of us, we have to be prepared to punish him!"

I know he was just joking; most kids, even when unhappy, only do minor things like littering. Besides, seeing their occasional spoiled and cunning side makes them seem perfectly justified, as if they grew up in love.

I said, "Okay, you can't be too hard on me, because I'll definitely bring some good food next week."

The little girl with her hair tied in a strawberry-colored braid looked quietly at my clothes with her bright black eyes and spoke slowly: "Qinghe, brother, we won't go too far."

I pulled down my collar to barely cover the gauze, squatted down to look her in the eye, and smiled, "Yes, Xuanxuan is the most trustworthy person."

She gave me a shy, cute smile, her eyes slightly darting away. I didn't pay much attention and got up to call the children to prepare breakfast, while also waking up some of the sleepy ones. They often hid in the corners of the room or under the covers, not giving the inspection auntie any chance, or they would sneak in after the auntie left.

I found the dormitory, and the sleeping child had already left his head outside. Although I could see his unease from his hands tightly gripping the corner of the blanket, he showed no intention of opening his eyes.

Just as I was about to walk over, someone stood next to me.

I've met him before. He's a volunteer like me, also a university student, majoring in anthropology—completely different from my seemingly unrelated field. We only met last week, our relationship is neither too close nor too distant; he initiated the conversation, but unlike my reason for befriending a senior student, this time I don't need help.

Therefore, I don't need to maintain unnecessary relationships.

However, it shouldn't be made too ugly.

So his name was... what was it again? I can't remember right now.

"Qinghe!" He greeted me cheerfully, ignoring my stiff expression. "Good morning! You always arrive early, but you're suddenly right on time today. I thought you weren't coming."

I nodded and vaguely replied, "Something happened."

He saw the bandage on my neck and said anxiously, "Oh dear, why is there such a big bandage? Are you injured? Does it hurt a lot? Have you been to the hospital for a checkup?"

He was very enthusiastic, so much so that his hand unconsciously touched my neck. The unusual touch made me frown and take two steps back, my tone becoming a little colder: "It's nothing, thank you for your concern."

His eyes lingered on the back of my neck for a long time, as if trying to see the bite marks through the thick gauze. His gaze gradually became unfocused, then fixed on something else, and seemed rather gloomy. I really wasn't going to continue this standoff, so I asked, "Are you done with your work?"

He snapped out of his reverie, his eyes shifting from lingering on my neck to stealing glances: "Then I'll go work over there... Let me know if you need anything!"

We were talking quite loudly, and the children in the room were tossing and turning in their beds.

I nodded perfunctorily at him, intending to take advantage of my half-asleep state to wake them up: waking a sleeping child is a real test of conscience; adults are already struggling to get enough sleep, how can we bear to take it away from children?

To my surprise, this sleeping child was the only one in all the rooms, and upon closer inspection, I realized that he wasn't resting because he was sleepy.

Tears streamed down his face, his eyelashes clung wetly to his eyelids, cold sweat soaked his forehead, and his cheeks were as red as the rising sun. In fact, the temperature was just as scorching.

I gently shook his shoulders, but he didn't wake up. The earlier commotion was probably just because he was unwell, not because he was actually disturbed by the noise outside. I tried to gently pick him up, but my waist, arms, and wrists all creaked under the weight.

I:"……"

When you keep things silent, you eventually get used to it.

He felt lighter in my arms than when I held him; I had to get him to the infirmary quickly. How did such a small child, who looked only eight or nine years old, manage to escape the notice of so many adults?

He probably felt uncomfortable in my arms and tried to turn over, but the length of my arm and the size of his body woke him up in frustration. He opened his mouth uncomfortably and said, "..."

Why is he so quiet? I had sensed that he was about to open his eyes, but after waiting for a while without any response, I looked down at him curiously, wondering if he was going to say something swearing or simply venting his anger.

He just stared at me blankly, making me wonder if there was something on my face. Maybe we made eye contact, and he was afraid of adults? With these random thoughts in mind, I easily opened the door to the infirmary, put him on the bed, and went to call the doctor.

He grabbed the hem of my clothes, and when I looked at him, he lowered his head as if he had been electrocuted.