Ouyang and Jin Lu were tidying things in the kitchen. They were like magnets that automatically came together because neither of them liked to talk too much.
Mu Jiang and Xia Yue were sitting in the living room, and they seemed to have a lot of topics to talk about. Mu Jiang was curious about Xia Yue's farm, as he had never been to a farm before, so he insisted that Xia Yue let him go and take a look.
Xia Yue was able to hear some things about Ouyang from Mu Jiang, because no one knew Ouyang's current life better than Mu Jiang.
"She must be bored to death," Mu Jiang said. "Another time, I went to her basement, where she and her friends used to do investigations. They used to live there, but later, for some reason, no one was there except Ouyang. Oh, I saw her alone in the living room, holding a pair of scissors. Do you know what she was doing? You definitely don't know what she was doing?"
Xia Yue said, "She's cutting the plasticine?"
"How do you know?" Mu Jiang looked at him in surprise. "She was just cutting the plasticine, and then she cut it and glued it back together, and then she cut it again."
"That was a habit she had when she was a child," Xia Yue said. "Whenever she encountered something she couldn't solve, she would do it."
"Wouldn't she be stuck in a vicious cycle?" Mu Jiang thought cutting up the plasticine wasn't the right solution. "It's better to just get some sleep and forget about it the next day."
"But she wouldn't think that way," he explained. "She would feel that this mindless cycle would actually help her calm down and come up with better solutions."
"Really?" Mu Jiang felt that Xia Yue understood Ouyang quite well, but this understanding made him feel a little bit beyond the scope. At least now his concern was not just that of a brother, so he asked, "Brother Xia Yue, you don't have any feelings for Ouyang, right?"
Xia Yue didn't deny it, but he didn't dare to admit it completely, so he could only change the subject: "Chongqing has many good places. I'll take you to see them when I have the chance."
"That's fine," Mu Jiang didn't ask any further questions and happily agreed. "I'm half Chongqing, so I want to take a good look at what my hometown looks like."
"It won't let you down."
It was getting late, and Wang Yao's family watched them leave at the door.
Ouyang felt a little sleepy in the taxi. She had been busy in the kitchen for over an hour and was already exhausted. When she got home, she didn't pay much attention to the changes in the house. She washed up early and went to bed.
In the house, there was only a curious person and a nostalgic person who kept admiring it.
"Is this Ouyang's mother?" Mu Jiang saw some photos hanging on the living room wall. Most of them were of Mu Zishan and his brother's grandmother. There was no one else. He didn't even see a single thing related to his grandfather in this house. It was as if this house had never belonged to him.
"She was as young as Ouyang at that time." Zhuo Qiang muttered to himself.
Ouyang and her mother did look a lot like each other, and Mu Jiang couldn't discern any differences. Perhaps this was why Zhuo Qiang treated Ouyang like his own daughter. Mu Jiang also entered the room, unwilling to disturb Zhuo Qiang's memories. He thought, perhaps tonight, Zhuo Qiang would take down a photo from the wall, hold it tenderly in his hands, cradling it in his arms, memorizing it in his heart.
Of course, his guess was correct, but he missed not only Mu Zishan but also his deceased friend Lu Yang. So he went to the basement, lay on the small bed, and imagined how they had met, talked, and lived in the middle storage room. This was something Lu Yang had once talked about with great relish.
In the morning, Ouyang was the first to get up and found the kitchen filled with all kinds of food, then she went out again. There were three rooms in the house, but Zhuo Qiang's room was open. She walked in and looked around, but there was no one there: where did he go? Ouyang knocked on the next room: "Mu Jiang, are you awake?"
"Hmm?" Mu Jiang was still a little confused. "Who is it?"
"Do you know where Uncle Zhuo went?"
Mu Jiang opened the quilt, dragged his shoes, opened the door, and looked at Ouyang: "What did you just say so early in the morning?"
"Have you seen Uncle Zhuo?"
"Isn't he in the room?" He walked past Ouyang and into the next room. "Really? Maybe he went out for a walk?"
Ouyang then went to the door to check. Zhuo Qiang's shoes were still there, which meant he was in the house. She then remembered the basement and slowly walked down the stairs. It was still a bit cold, not cleaned up properly. She turned on the light and saw Zhuo Qiang lying on the small bed. "Uncle Zhuo?"
After spending a night in the basement, Zhuo Qiang fell ill, and Ouyang and Mu Jiang carried him back to his room.
"What happened to him?" Mu Jiang touched Zhuo Qiang's forehead. "Slept in such a cold place for a whole night?"
"You watch here," Ouyang said, "I'll make a phone call."
"You're not going to call 120, are you?" Mu Jiang asked, "because of a cold?"
Although it was a bit exaggerated, Ouyang did hit him. If Uncle Zhuo showed up here, she knew that her grandparents would be the ones she was most worried about. So no matter what, she couldn't let Zhuo Qiang get into any trouble.
So, the three of them followed the ambulance to the hospital. At Ouyang's strong request, the hospital conducted a comprehensive examination on Zhuo Qiang, for fear of missing a virus or bacteria.
Mu Jiang bought some breakfast and entered the ward. Seeing Ouyang's overly worried look, he said, "He just caught a cold. The doctor said it's nothing."
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