From the moment Yan stepped out the door, Jun had been fully aware that this man was about to embark on an extremely perilous journey.
Millet could only be acquired from another world, a place that few knew existed – a world that held a strong aversion to supernatural occurrences. Yan discarded the cover of the night, exposing himself to the broad daylight and prying eyes. Moreover, he lacked money, and in the off chance...
The more Jun thought about it, the more she regretted it. Why did she complain to Yan about being bored and having nothing to do? If she hadn't complained, Yan wouldn't have brought her a bird, and without that bird, he wouldn't have taken such a risky move.
Finally, there was some activity in the courtyard. Jun dashed out with joy in her heart. It was Ling, who had devoured all the grapes within its sight.
Dejectedly, Jun hung her head and turned to go back inside, but the parrot stopped her with a call, "Ling is hungry, Ling wants to eat."
"Always eating, eating, eating. Don't you have any other pursuits?" Jun pretended to be annoyed and started lecturing Ling.
"Ling is hungry, Ling wants to eat."
It seemed this bird had a stubbornness as strong as an ox. A thought crossed Jun's mind. She looked around to ensure that no one was eavesdropping from the other side of the wall, then leaned closer to the parrot. "You've said that Little Zou and Second Niu, hand in hand wherever go. Can you say it again?"
Ling's tiny black eyes showed a hint of confusion, conveying the message, "I don't know what you're saying."
"Say something, and I'll give you treats. Lots and lots of millet," Jun tried to tempt it.
Ling scrutinized Jun from head to toe and quipped, "You look like millet."
"Hey, bird, what did you say?"
"What did you say?" Ling retorted playfully with Jun.
"I'm back," Yan's voice appeared out of nowhere.
Jun quickly turned around, relieved to see that Yan appeared unharmed and without any visible injuries or signs of distress.
"You're back. Is everything okay?" Jun quickly inquired with concern.
Yan remained silent and pulled out a cloth bag, handing it over to Jun.
Jun took the bag and gave it a little shake. It should be a bag of millet. When she touched it, she felt that the bag was damp, as if it were dripping water.
"Why is it so damp?" Jun couldn't help but ask.
"It might be because the place where the food was stored is too humid."
This answer clearly had some issues. Jun stared at Yan and noticed that he kept avoiding her gaze.
"That's not right..."
"What's not right? Just find a small container and pour some millet for it. Remember, don't feed too much at once."
Yan clearly looked around before speaking, and Jun stepped forward, tugging at his jacket.
"What are you doing? You tore it last time, and now you're tugging at it again. This is my only jacket. Could you please take better care of it?" Yan complained.
Jun pulled her hand back, her five fingers damp and sticky. She sniffed them and detected a faint metallic scent.
"It's sweat," Yan interjected before Jun could ask.
Jun clearly had doubts.
"Don't believe me? Look, there's salt residue from sweating on it," Yan said, taking hold of the front of his jacket and presenting it to Jun. He was convinced that Jun would hesitate due to the propriety of not being too close between men and women. However, to his surprise, not only did Jun seize the front of the jacket, but she also brought it up to her nose to smell.
A pungent odour shot straight into her nostrils.
"It doesn't smell like sweat..."
"Are you a dog? it's just sweat."
"Why would you be sweating this much?" Jun squinted her eyes, trying to extract the truth from Yan.
"Just worried that the bird would starve to death. I ran all the way, and it's a long road. Running made me sweat, and getting wet made me dry. Getting dry made me wet again."
The irritation that Jun had felt dissipated. After all, Yan had gone through the trouble for the sake of her pet. To question the details further would be impolite on her part.
"Thank you!" unexpectedly came from the parrot.
"Don't mention it. You're more reasonable than someone here," Yan remarked, casting a meaningful glance at Jun.
"You're a good kid, Little Zou," the parrot initiated a mutual praise session with Yan.
Both of them were taken aback.
Jun hesitated for a moment, then asked Yan if he had ever heard this bird say, "Little Zou and Second Niu, hand in hand wherever go."
"No," Yan answered, leaving no room for doubt.
"Little Zou and Second Niu, hand in hand wherever go," Ling obediently provided the missing piece of the puzzle for Yan.
Jun stared at Yan in silence, her eyes filled with meaning.
"It, uh, it's just imitating human speech," Yan seemed determined to deny any connection between Ling and "Little Zou."
"Whether it's imitating or not, whether you're clearing your name or not, I just want to ask, is it possible that this 'Little Zou' refers to you?" Jun persisted.
"It's not possible."
Another firm denial. Seeing that Jun still didn't believe him, Yan quickly added an explanation. He claimed that the parrot, being a tropical species, had a Southern accent and couldn't distinguish between Zou and Zhou. Therefore, when it said "Little Zou," it was actually referring to someone else named Little Zhou.
Jun squinted her eyes again, clearly finding Yan's explanation far-fetched.
"What's this? Do you think this 'Second Niu' is you? You knew me when you were alive? Weren't you the one called 'Hi there', and then there's Aisin-Gioro Yundan? Oh, so you were deceiving me. Is it because I did something to hurt you when you were alive, and now you don't want to acknowledge me?"
Jun's rapid string of accusations silenced Yan's counterarguments, and the memories triggered by the parrot had to come to a halt. After all, the name "Second Niu" was too common – throw a stone in Beijing, and eight out of ten people you hit might be named Second Niu.
"Stop making wild guesses. Just feed the bird already," Yan said and then retreated into the west wing of the house.
He slammed the door shut with a loud thud, as if that single action could keep all idle gossip and worldly distractions outside, leaving him with a quiet and ethereal world to savour the memories of his past life in peace.
Jun's guess was correct, the "Little Zou" in Ling's speech was indeed Yan.
This name was first uttered by Emperor Guangxu, during Yan's audience as part of the fifth group of young Chinese sent to the United States for education during the Qing Dynasty.
Yan remembered how their group of twenty lined up in a dim hall of the Palace, their gaze fixed on their toes, barely daring to breathe.
Emperor Guangxu was unexpectedly affable, asking each of them their name and age before instructing his attendants to provide them with refreshments.
Yan hadn't finished eating a piece of cake when he heard Emperor Guangxu sigh, commenting that these young children were truly too small in age, even surviving in the United States could pose a problem for them.
Immediately, there was a response from one of the attendants, saying that the age wasn't too young; it was similar to the ages of the previous four batches.
Emperor Guangxu continued to sigh, "Forget it. The country has just suffered a heavy blow, and it's been nearly twenty years. Sending young children to the United States for education again will certainly face numerous difficulties. Let's take it slow."
The attendant praised the Emperor's wisdom and, in order to boost morale and demonstrate their competence in front of Emperor Guangxu, casually singled out Yan, who seemed bright and clever, to approach and ask a question.
"Why did you tell the Emperor you want to go to the United States?" the attendant gently encouraged.
Yan lifted his head to glance at the visibly distressed Guangxu, and then he turned to the attendant. "Should I tell the truth?"
"Of course, tell the truth. Otherwise, you'll be accused of deceiving the Emperor, and I'll have your whole family executed," the attendant playfully and sternly remarked.
"My stepmother just gave birth to my little brother, and she finds me bothersome. The nanny for my little brother says that America is full of big, foreign demons with yellow hair, and they eat only children. If they eat me, there won't be anyone left to compete with my little brother for the family inheritance."
The attendant's face turned pale with shock.
However, Emperor Guangxu burst into laughter and said that the child was truly straightforward.
"So, you're still going to the United States despite that fear of the 'yellow-haired demons'?" He asked.
"Not afraid," Yan straightened his chest, exuding confidence. "That's just their ignorance. The first batch of young Chinese sent to the United States had Zhan Tianyou as an example. I, too, will follow his footsteps to strengthen the nation and prosper the country."
"Good!" Emperor Guangxu suddenly brightened up. "Tell me, how do you plan to strengthen the nation and prosper the country? Are you also going to build railways like Zhan Tianyou?"
"No, I want to build warships. I want to create the world's strongest navy for the Qing Dynasty," the ten-year-old Yan replied, his gaze full of determination.
Seeing Emperor Guangxu pleased, the attendant quickly approached and put on his obsequious expression, telling Emperor Guangxu that this child had a knack for martial arts and was adept at using his in-law's spear. He then tossed his own cane to Yan and asked him to demonstrate a set of moves for the Emperor's viewing pleasure.
At that time, Yan had only recently started practicing martial arts with his uncle Tao Zhihan and was a complete novice. However, he had no choice but to comply with the Emperor's request, even though he felt out of his depth.
As expected, an accident occurred.
The cane that was being used as an improvised spear slipped from Yan's hand and flew out, striking the main pillar of the grand hall. On its rebound, the cane collided with Yan's forehead, causing him to bleed profusely. Unaware of his injury, Yan continued his martial display barehanded.
Emperor Guangxu ordered his attendants to restrain Yan. By this point, blood was flowing from his head, and his face had turned pallid.
"Others rely on strong ships and powerful cannons, yet here we are with these fancy punches and kicks," a cloud of worry once again covered Emperor Guangxu's countenance. "This child is still too young, bleeding so much and not even realizing the pain. Let him stay in the palace for a few more years."
Yan continued to stay at the palace as a book boy in Emperor Guangxu's court. Every day, he went to the office to study alongside the children of the imperial family's closer branches. During that period, he lived a life that could only be described as unbearable, feeling not just alive but also utterly desolate.
After all, he was only ten years old. When faced with unfair treatment, Yan could only cry. He cried for his mother, whom he missed so much, and he even longed for his emotionally distant father, Zou Shan.
"You only know how to cry, huh? What good does crying do? If crying could solve problems, I'd cry with you, and we'd cry until the heavens crumbled and the rivers flowed backward."
Yan remembered the first time he heard that melodious voice. He forgot to cry; his mouth hung open, and he stared dumbly at the girl who seemed to have descended from the heavens.
The girl appeared to be around seven or eight years old, with rosy lips, white teeth, and a delicate appearance. Yan was especially captivated by her eyes; the descriptions he had heard before, like "charming glances" and "gentle autumn water," suddenly became vividly real.
"Who are you?" the girl asked.
Yan was still in a daze and mumbled something he himself couldn't quite hear.
The girl didn't mind and introduced herself as Second Niu. She had recently entered the palace and came along with her elder sister to accompany the Empress Dowager Cixi. Her current task was to take care of the parrot.Following Second Niu's gesture, Yan looked and saw Ling perched on a shelf.
Before Yan could become familiar with the bird, he realized that this girl named Second Niu was quite a chatterbox. Once she started talking, everyone else could only listen to what she had to say.
Second Niu repeatedly emphasized that crying was ineffective and that problems needed to be solved with creativity. For example, her elder sister often said that the bird didn't deserve to eat egg yolks, yet Ling genuinely liked yolks. So, Second Niu came up with a solution.
Second Niu paused deliberately, noticing that Yan wasn't following her line of thought. She patiently switched roles, becoming a teacher to explain her approach. Ling frequently performed in front of the Empress Dowager Cixi. Second Niu rearranged the phrases Ling could say to make them more persuasive.
"Ling, come on, show us how you ask the Empress Dowager Cixi for egg yolks."
"Ling is hungry, Ling wants to eat." And indeed, Ling's words resonated.
"Wow, that's quite a way of speaking," Yan noticed how Second Niu imitated Empress Dowager Cixi's mannerisms perfectly, "Hurry up and give my darling some egg yolks. Only when you're well-fed will you have the energy to talk, right?"
"May the Empress Dowager be blessed with auspiciousness and boundless longevity," Ling quickly flattered.
Second Niu burst into laughter, explaining to Yan that originally, as soon as Ling saw Empress Dowager Cixi, it would say, "May the Empress Dowager be blessed with auspiciousness." However, she added an extra line before it, which prompted Ling to be rewarded with egg yolks.
To be honest, Yan didn't quite grasp what was so funny about this method, but Second Niu's infectious laughter got to him. It lifted his worries, and he found himself involuntarily laughing along.
From that moment on, Second Niu became the bright spot in Yan's otherwise gloomy life. Whenever he had the chance, he would find ways to hang out with her and bask in her presence.
This is probably what they call "innocence between two children" as described in books. However, Ling had its own interpretation. One day, after enjoying egg yolks to its heart's content, Ling unexpectedly dropped its memorable line, "Little Zou and Second Niu, hand in hand wherever go."
Eleven-year-old Yan was instantly embarrassed and blushed. Eight-year-old Second Niu was still too young for romantic feelings. She corrected Ling in a serious tone, "From now on, don't call me Second Niu anymore. Master Weng said that name is too plain, not suitable for refined situations. He came up with a new name for me: Jun. Doesn't it sound nice?"