Little Bao reached out and felt Dad’s forehead.
Good—no more fever. Dad’s cold was almost gone.
He pulled back and patted his own tummy.
Good there too—not super hungry yet. He could hold out a little longer.
He wanted Dad to sleep more, so…
Little Bao squirmed into a comfy spot in Dad’s arms.
He stretched for the little duck doll by the pillow and waved it in the air, entertaining himself.
The duck swam across the blanket, paddling this way and that.
Quack quack quack!
No! You can’t quack! You’ll wake Dad!
Little Bao shoved the doll under the pillow and played with his fingers instead.
He could count on them or make shadow puppets.
Big Daddy had taught him.
Like this for the little dog, like this for the bunny, like this for…
“Hmm?”
Just then, Lin Zao stirred with a mumble. “Little Bao, you awake?”
“Y-… No!” Little Bao caught himself and clapped a hand over Dad’s eyes, stroking downward to close them while trying to hypnotize him.
“I’m not awake. Little Bao’s not awake. Dad can sleep more. Go back to sleep, Dad.”
Lin Zao lay flat, blinking up at him, and chuckled. “Little Bao, what are you doing…?”
Before he finished, Little Bao covered his mouth, stroking downward just like with the eyes.
“Dad’s talking in his sleep. Go back to sleep, Dad—”
He even broke into a lullaby.
“Alright already.” Lin Zao caught his small hand. “Dad’s slept enough. No need for your song.”
Little Bao pouted. “Fine.”
Lin Zao had only gotten two or three hours, but it would do. Nothing too strenuous at home anyway.
Yawning, Lin Zao stretched, scooped up Little Bao, and sat up.
He rallied his energy. “Come on, let’s go brush our teeth and wash up.”
“Okay.”
The father and son filed into the master bathroom.
They stood side by side at the vanity, facing a large European-style mirror.
Lin Xiaobao gargled vigorously as he brushed his teeth. He lifted his head and caught sight of his dad’s face in the mirror.
“Dad, you have…”
“Spit out the foam first before you talk. Don’t swallow that gunk.”
“Oh.”
Lin Xiaobao spat out the bubbles with a few puffs. He continued, “Dad, you have dark circles under your eyes.”
“Really?” Lin Zao looked up and glanced at himself. “This is smoky eye makeup. It’s all the rage right now.”
“Really?” Lin Xiaobao looked skeptical.
“Yeah.” Lin Zao yawned again. “Does it look good?”
“Not good!” Lin Xiaobao said earnestly. “I like it better when Dad’s all pale and fair-skinned.”
“Is that so? Then Dad will put on some nice-smelling lotion later.”
Luckily, Lin Zao had thought ahead the night before and made an extra half-pot of steamed rice to save himself some work.
This morning, he didn’t have to make breakfast from scratch.
He scooped out the rice, tossed it into a pan with a quick stir-fry to heat it up, and turned it into fried rice that was ready to eat.
Lin Xiaobao wolfed down two bowls, but Lin Zao still felt a heaviness in his chest and only managed one.
He packed all the leftovers into a lunchbox and sent it down to Fu Cheng.
Today, it was Lin Xiaobao who was delivering the meal.
Lin Zao stood on a bench and hoisted Lin Xiaobao up. “Heave-ho!”
Lin Xiaobao clutched the heart-shaped lunchbox and carefully placed it into the basket. “All set.”
“Now gently pull on the rope and lower the basket.”
“I’m scared I might drop it.” Lin Xiaobao hesitated.
“It’s okay.” Lin Zao adjusted his hold, cradling his son while freeing up one hand to grasp the boy’s small one. “Dad’s got you.”
“Okay.”
Together, Lin Zao and Lin Xiaobao slowly lowered the rope bit by bit.
Meanwhile, Fu Cheng lounged with his legs propped up against the wall, sitting in the darkness and watching them quietly.
He remembered that the handsome young man he liked was called “Little Zao.”
It was the name he’d carved into the wall countless times, the one he’d whispered to himself in his mind over and over.
That name was etched deep into his heart now—he couldn’t forget it even if he tried.
As for the kid in the young man’s arms…
That kid…
Fu Cheng turned his head and ran his fingers over the more complex character on the wall, the one with all the strokes.
That character…
Damn, he couldn’t remember it.
What was that character? Why had it suddenly slipped his mind?
Fu Cheng frowned, straining to recall it.
Just as the familiar word was on the tip of his tongue—
Clang! Lin Zao and Lin Xiaobao lost their grip on the rope, and the plastic basket with the lunchbox crashed straight to the ground.
The impact jolted the memory loose—Lin Xiaobao’s name came rushing back.
Fu Cheng’s eyes lit up as realization dawned.
Bao! Little Bao!
That was the kid’s name—”Little Bao”!
As a zombie, he was perpetually starving.
He didn’t understand what “Bao” meant—he’d just mechanically repeated the word and committed it to memory, nothing more.
Outside the window, his Little Zao and Little Bao were talking to him.
“Big Daddy, we didn’t scare you, did we? It was my fault this time. I’ll get the hang of it soon.”
“Brother Cheng, it’s Little Bao’s first time delivering your meal, so don’t mind the mess. We’ll make you something tasty for lunch.”
Fu Cheng sat on the ground, gazing up at them. Suddenly, he wanted desperately to speak like they did.
But all that came from his throat was a low, raspy growl.
He couldn’t form words. He refused to be limited to mere roars.
“Big Daddy didn’t say anything. He must be asleep. Let’s go.”
“Okay, but Big Daddy didn’t even see me delivering his food.”
“No big deal. Better that he missed this mess.”
“Makes sense.”
Lin Zao scooped up Lin Xiaobao and turned to leave.
Fu Cheng remained in the corner, his palm pressed against the carved letters on the wall, tracing the ridges of the strokes.
He opened his mouth and summoned every ounce of strength to try speaking.
“Rawr—”
No!
“Awoo—”
Wrong again!
Meanwhile, Lin Zao and Lin Xiaobao headed upstairs.
Lin Xiaobao tugged at Lin Zao, full of excitement.
“Come on, Dad! Let’s change the lettuce water first, then flip the cabbage!”
“Those can wait.” Lin Zao pulled him back. “We have a more important mission to tackle first.”
“What is it?” Lin Xiaobao tilted his head in confusion.
“This—”
Lin Zao led him to the third floor.
At the top of the stairs stood a security door, separating the staircase from the rooms inside.
Father and son stood before it.
Lin Zao looked serious. “Today, Dad’s going to teach you how to lock a door.”
Lin Xiaobao rubbed his chin and cocked his little head, puzzled. “Huh?”
He stepped up to the door, rising on tiptoe and stretching both arms high.
The whole kid ended up plastered against the door, his round little belly squished flat.
Lin Xiaobao turned to look at Lin Zao, saying nothing, just blinking.
Dad, see?
My little arms are still short of the lock.
I’m too short. I can’t reach the lock.
So, who are you teaching to lock the door?
Me? The short and stubby me?
Lin Zao had clearly seen it, but he still said, “Little Bao, you got this!”
“Okay.” Lin Xiaobao obeyed his dad and gave it his all. “Hnn—yahh!”
He clung to the door, scrambling upward.
It was right there! Just a tiny bit more!
He was about to reach the lock!
Come on!
Lin Zao sighed and patted his head. “Alright, Dad will grab a little stool.”
Lin Xiaobao wouldn’t give up. “Dad, believe in me!”
“Dad does believe in you. In another six months, you’ll reach it for sure. For now, let’s use the stool.”
“Fine.”
They had plenty of stuff at home, including five or six little stools just for Lin Xiaobao.
Fu Cheng knew a bit of woodworking. During downtime at the auto repair shop, he’d whip up small things.
Handmade items Lin Zao liked, kid-sized furniture for Lin Xiaobao—little stools, little tables, you name it.
Lin Zao fetched a stool and had Lin Xiaobao climb on.
Now, Lin Xiaobao could face the lock squarely and see it crystal clear.
Lin Zao knelt on one knee behind him, pointing it out.
“See, Little Bao? The door has a handle and a switch. You push the handle down to open it. Shove the door in hard, and it closes. You know that part, right?”
“Yeah.” Lin Xiaobao nodded.
“Now, Dad’s focusing on this switch. It’s a twisty one—give it a turn.”
“Okay.” Lin Xiaobao did as told, concentrating hard.
“Good job. Now for locking it. Watch—we turn the knob this way. Listen for the click—”
Lin Zao patiently explained the whole locking process once, demonstrated it, then let Lin Xiaobao try.
Before long, Lin Xiaobao had mastered it.
“But…” Lin Xiaobao frowned, sensing something off. “Dad, why do I need to learn to lock doors?”
Lin Zao ruffled his hair. “What if some people we don’t like show up and try to barge in? If Dad’s not around or still asleep, you can lock the door yourself and keep them out.”
“Hmm…” Lin Xiaobao thought it over. “But I don’t have anyone I dislike. I like when people visit our house.”
“Dad has people he dislikes.” Lin Zao said solemnly. “Dad has some really, really awful bad guys he doesn’t want anywhere near our home.”
“If Dad hates them, then I hate them too.” Lin Xiaobao switched sides immediately. “Starting today, I have people I dislike too!”
“Deal. When those people show up and Dad gives the order—”
“‘Little Bao, lock the door!'”
“You run upstairs and lock it tight. Sound good?”
“No problem.” Lin Xiaobao thumped his little chest. “You can count on me.”
Lin Zao hooked his pinky. “Pinky promise.”
“Okay.” Lin Xiaobao linked his little finger with Dad’s.
“Pinky promise, one hundred years no take-backsies. Whoever breaks it is a little dog.”
After sealing the deal, Lin Zao took him to the second floor to practice on that security door too.
Lin Xiaobao stood on his stool in front of it.
One hand behind his back, the other twisting the knob like he was cracking a safe.
Click-click—
Piece of cake for a smart kid like him! Effortless and elegant.
Lin Zao supervised from the side.
“The second- and third-floor doors are the same. We’ll master these two today.”
“Tomorrow, Dad teaches you the back door. Day after, the front door. Then the garage roller door.”
“Once you’ve got them all down, you’ll be the world’s greatest Little Bao Bao!”
Lin Xiaobao stood tall and proud, maintaining his poise. “Got it, Dad.”
Over the next few days,
Lin Zao kept teaching Lin Xiaobao how to work the locks, making him practice over and over.
To make it easier for him, they placed a little stool behind every door in the house.
Lin Zao had considered giving him a personal weapon at first, but decided against it.
Fighting was grown-up business. A three-year-old kid, even with a weapon, didn’t have the strength for it—and it’d just get taken away.
So Lin Zao shifted to training Lin Xiaobao in hiding skills.
They played hide-and-seek together.
Lin Zao would tuck himself under the bed, in the closet, or the bathroom, waiting for Lin Xiaobao to find him.
Once caught, they’d analyze why he’d been spotted, find the optimal hiding spots, and test them with Lin Xiaobao squeezing in.
Of course, while training his son, Lin Zao kept up his own workouts.
His cold was much better—no more fever, just some lingering cough and sniffles.
No big deal. He could tough it out.
No barbells at home, so to build arm strength, Lin Zao held Lin Xiaobao in both hands—
Lift up, lower down—
Lift up, lower down—
Lin Xiaobao lay rigid, pretending to be a tiny barbell.
