Chapter 44: Anomalous Time 10

The edge of the dining table wasn’t all that low—it wouldn’t have hit his head anyway. Besides, the little boy didn’t even try to clutch at it.

Yet the glimmer of tears in his dark, bright eyes was unmistakable.

Zhang Yunjiang bent down to peer at him, utterly baffled. With a somewhat dazed nod, he replied, “Oh… alright. You’re not crying, and you’re not a little kid, so what should I call you?”

His question came out casually, but Yuan Yuxing turned his face away, his expression complicated. He murmured under his breath, “Didn’t I already tell you my name?”

“Right, right.” Zhang Yunjiang hurried to agree. “Yu Hang, wasn’t it?”

In that completely oblivious tone of his, the little boy hesitated, words catching in his throat. In the end, he could only let out a quiet sigh. “…Yeah. It’s a good name, right?”

“Of course it’s a good name.”

The interrupted conversation circled back to names, and the line Zhang Yunjiang had thought of earlier spilled right out. “There’s a poem that goes, ‘The mighty river yearns to cross, entrusting itself at last to boat and oar.'”

“It’s from an ancient emperor. The characters aren’t the exact same ‘Yu,’ but it’s still a poem with a wonderful meaning. Little… Little Hang, do you know what it means?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know.” Yuan Yuxing, who used to get a headache every time he heard poetry recited, grumbled almost on reflex. “We’re eating here—what’s with reciting poems? So annoying!”

The sudden burst of gruffness left Zhang Yunjiang momentarily stunned. Without thinking, he blurted, “You… you really remind me of an old friend of mine.”

The little boy’s heart went into overdrive with alarm bells. He scrambled to cover, stuttering as he shot a pleading glance at Yu Bai for rescue. “Ah, what? That’s not what I meant! Great poem, great poem! Right? Little—”

Mid-sentence, he suddenly remembered his current identity. He couldn’t call the other boy “Little Bai” anymore—not when he was nominally Yu Bai’s nephew.

In this moment of crisis, the little boy set aside his old man’s pride and muttered, feeling a twinge of humiliation, “…Un-Uncle!”

Yu Bai, who had tensed up alongside him, couldn’t help but burst into amusement at the sound.

It was the first time the old man had ever called him “Uncle.”

What a novel experience.

Smiling, Yu Bai felt a quiet wave of bittersweet emotion rise in his chest. He smoothly shifted the topic. “Uncle Zhang, I completely forgot to invite you to sit down—my bad. Is this spot okay?”

“Ah, no problem at all.” The puzzled old man was successfully distracted. “Anywhere’s fine.”

Once the old man had settled into the seat across from the little boy, Yu Bai and Xie Wufang took their places side by side.

The restaurant buzzed with chatter as diners tucked into their meals. Servers bustled about, ferrying plates of food to tables.

Terrified of giving himself away again, Yuan Yuxing kept his head down the whole time, shoveling food into his mouth. He didn’t dare look at his old friend directly—only stealing glances when the man wasn’t paying attention. Yan Jing, for once, held his tongue instead of bickering, quietly serving dishes to the two little ones.

Yu Bai chatted idly with Zhang Yunjiang, occasionally explaining the dishes as they arrived for Xie Wufang’s benefit.

He Xi ate quietly from her bowl, listening to the adults’ conversation with half-understood fascination.

The room thrummed with lively noise. Every time a server carried a plate of candied sweet potatoes past, her eyes would lock onto it with wide-eyed curiosity—until finally, one arrived at their table.

Because the dish looked utterly extravagant.

Atop a massive silver platter sat a candlestick-like stand, with four little bowls jutting out at staggered heights. Fluffy white strands of pulled sugar cascaded from the topmost bowl like silken cocoons, draping layer upon layer all the way down to the golden chunks of sweet potato at the base.

The chef and server had pulled the sugar right there at the table. Once finished, they bowed politely. “Candied sweet potatoes. Enjoy.”

…But they’d pulled way too much sugar.

It wasn’t just the wide-eyed little girl staring. Everyone at the table looked stunned.

Zhang Yunjiang chuckled in disbelief. “They really went all out with the presentation.”

Yu Bai paused for a moment before murmuring to Xie Wufang beside him, “Normal candied sweet potatoes don’t look like this… This place is over the top.”

Xie Wufang had already caught the rich, sweet aroma wafting through the air. “It looks delicious.”

Perhaps because of the elaborate process, it was the last dish to arrive.

Yu Bai was already full, but Xie Wufang’s comment suddenly made him crave it too. Staring at the artwork-like monstrosity of a candied sweet potato dish, though, he had no idea where to start.

His gaze fixed on the enormous sugar cocoon and the comparatively puny lump of sweet potato beneath it. He turned to Xie Wufang. “Do you want to start with the sweet potato or the sugar strands?”

“What the heck is this? All show and no substance.”

At the same moment, the little boy—still gaping in shock—couldn’t resist glancing at the old man. Old habits kicked in as he grumbled, “Looks like a sugar cocoon explosion! What a waste!”

His young eyes suddenly met the old man’s aged gaze, sparking a jolt of mutual shock.

Yu Bai’s heart sank at the familiar irritable tone.

Oh no—not the body’s instincts striking again!

Before Xie Wufang could respond, he jumped in. “—The sweet potato! Little Hang, you have some too. If we finish it all, no waste.”

Xie Wufang, who had been seriously pondering which to try first, blinked at the golden chunk that suddenly appeared in his bowl. “Okay.”

With Yu Bai’s quick save, the little boy yanked his eyes away, pretending nothing had happened. “Yeah, yeah—thanks, Uncle! I love sweet potatoes. One more for me!”

Yu Bai gave him a wry smile and clipped another piece. “…You’re welcome, nephew.”

The golden, tempting sweet potato landed once more in the bowl at the far corner of the table.

Yu Bai was about to set down the serving chopsticks when his gaze inadvertently swept over the person beside him. He noticed Xie Wufang seemed to be looking at the little boy sitting diagonally across…

And the bowl in front of him?

The little boy, who had been burying himself in food to cover his slip-up, jolted upright. He began muttering rapidly. “Whoa, I’m feeling kinda chilly. Hope I’m not catching a cold. Nights are cooler, and I didn’t dress warm enough. Maybe we should head home early!”

Huh.

Before his brain could catch up, Yu Bai had already snagged another piece of sweet potato. He twirled it through the towering white sugar strands, wrapping it like cotton candy.

“Here—sweet potato with sugar strands.” He smiled as he offered it.

Only then did those gray-blue eyes shift their focus, landing on the smiling face right in front of him.

On the other side, Yan Jing—who had been holding back from speaking for fear of saying the wrong thing—finally couldn’t take it anymore. He said glumly, “The sweet potato’s almost gone… Can you leave me some sugar strands at least?”

Who makes candied sweet potatoes where the strands are the star? Put more potato in it!

The table’s sole elderly diner, his hair a shock of silver, shifted his gaze from the suddenly chilly little boy. It skimmed over the massive sugar cocoon on the platter before he smiled at the young man nearby. “Little Doctor Yu, it is getting cool tonight. You all should head home after eating so the little ones don’t catch cold.”

The table was a mess of empty plates and bowls; the meal was drawing to a close. The old man’s words carried a note of farewell.

By the unspoken rules of human social cues, Yu Bai—now addressed directly—should chat a bit more, then let the gathering wrap up naturally, with everyone going their separate ways.

Everyone present knew as much.

Yu Bai knew it too. But looking at the little boy, who had suddenly gone quiet beside him, he found he couldn’t bring himself to voice those parting words.

In the real world, they had already bid this old man a permanent goodbye.

Zhang Yunjiang keenly noticed his hesitation and probed gently. “Something wrong? Little Doctor Yu, is there something you want to say?”

Under that innocently curious gaze, Yu Bai wavered for a moment before whispering, “It’s nothing… I just suddenly remembered my grandpa again.”

…Sorry for the third blunder, Grandpa!

He just wanted to buy a little more time for the old man who now seemed like a child.

Zhang Yunjiang looked startled at first, then broke into a warm laugh, the nighttime lights catching in the wrinkles at his eyes.

“You’re so young, Little Doctor Yu, yet here you are, just like this old fogey—always thinking of those who’ve passed.”

He glanced at the little boy with his head bowed across the table and sighed. “For some reason tonight, I’ve been thinking of an old friend nonstop. I know he’s not here—God knows where he ran off to—but it feels like he’s right here with us.”

With that, Zhang Yunjiang fished the note from his coat pocket—the one he’d been staring at the whole way. His tone grew earnest as he thanked Yu Bai once more. “Speaking of which, if it weren’t for you, Little Doctor Yu, I’d probably still be out there wandering, looking for him. I really owe you one—you went to so much trouble!”

Yu Bai shook his head quickly. “It’s nothing… At first, I had no idea what was going on. It was only after Uncle Zhang called that I learned Uncle Yuan had gone missing.”

Earlier, to keep up the cover story—and after discussing with Yuan Yuxing, who knew Zhang Yunjiang better—Yu Bai had told him this version: Uncle Yuan had indeed escaped the hospital and come looking for them. He’d begged shamelessly to learn chess from Xie Wufang. After chatting a bit, Uncle Yuan had suddenly gotten all excited and left. Before going, he’d torn off a scrap of paper, scribbled something, and casually told Old Zhang he’d hand it over if the chance came up.

At the time, Yu Bai had been surprised but hadn’t taken it seriously.

This reasonably explained the series of reactions he’d had after receiving Zhang Yunjiang’s call.

Before actually meeting the old man who was burning with anxiety over his missing friend, Yu Bai had worried that such a flimsy slip of paper might fail to reassure him. Instead, it could spark unfortunate associations, like a suicide note.

What he hadn’t anticipated was Zhang Yunjiang’s reaction. After staring at the message for a long moment, the man suddenly relaxed. He even thanked them with a quick smile.

Now, under the bright lights, a gentle breeze lifted one corner of the neatly folded note.

The words scrawled across it read:

I’ve had an epiphany! Just wait two days—I’ll be back to wipe the floor with you!

The handwriting was bold and vigorous, carrying a spirited flair, though the obvious haste meant even the signature had been skipped.

Yet this single abrupt line had convinced Zhang Yunjiang of the story Yu Bai had spun. Relieved, the old man had even joined them for dinner.

His gaze swept complexly over the words. His hands crossed unconsciously over his chest as he sighed. “Old Yuan’s always been headstrong, ever since he was a boy. Who’d have thought after all these years, he’s still the same—bolts off at the drop of a hat.”

“Since he was a boy?” Yu Bai’s face registered surprise. He couldn’t help glancing at Yuan Yuxing, who currently looked like a child, and asked tensely, “Did you two know each other back then?”

Uncle Yuan’s got some nerve. He still came over even if they knew each other as kids?!

“Yeah, fifty or sixty years now.” Zhang Yunjiang smiled, sinking into memories. “Let me think—he must’ve been fourteen or fifteen. I was three years older, so he called me Senior Brother.”

…That was better.

There was a big difference between a fourteen- or fifteen-year-old boy and a six- or seven-year-old child.

No wonder he’d dared to come.

Yu Bai let out a silent breath of relief. He couldn’t resist asking, “Senior Brother?”

Up until now, he’d assumed they were just park buddies who played Go together.

Zhang Yunjiang explained in even tones, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepening with his smile. “When we were young, we both studied Go under the same teacher. Fellow disciples, you could say.”

“Of course, neither of us made much of it. So when we ran into each other again in our old age, all we could do was play in the park—and we can’t even beat the young newbies just starting out!”

As he spoke, his gaze settled on the silent Xie Wufang. The old man’s eyes brimmed with wistfulness and quiet admiration.

“Youth is grand. You’ve got your whole futures ahead.” He paused. “Old Yuan’s up in years, but somehow he’s got that same reckless fire from his young days. I never saw it coming when I spotted that note today.”

“But it’s good this way… really good.”

Zhang Yunjiang smiled with a sigh, turning to Xie Wufang beside Yu Bai. “All thanks to you beating him today. Otherwise, he might never have mustered this spirit. Thank you.”

“You’ve got real talent for Go. You should keep at it.”

He spoke with genuine sincerity, then paused and backtracked. “Though you pick up new things so fast, you’re probably killer at everything else too… No sense wasting time on something useless like this.”

The old man murmured at last, “I really wonder what epiphany Old Yuan had after chatting with you. I’m waiting for him to come back and crush me completely. Just don’t know how many days.”

The black-haired young man with blue eyes listened quietly, offering no reply.

Zhang Yunjiang snapped out of his distant reverie, his expression dazed. He hurried to say, “Sorry, I rambled on all by myself. Getting old, I guess—”

As he apologized, he noticed two glistening droplets falling silently onto the table across from him.

The little boy—who’d acted oddly from the moment they met—now hung his head low. His trembling shoulders gave him away: he was crying. Tears poured down like a breached dam, while he mumbled something under his breath.

He seemed to be saying, “…still got a few days to wait.”

Zhang Yunjiang hadn’t caught it clearly. Bewildered, he looked to the others. “What’s up with Little Hang? Crying again for no reason?”

Yuan Yuxing replied in a choked, stubborn voice. “I’m not crying. Got something spicy in my eyes.”

The scary-looking muscular man diagonally across from him surprisingly had red eyes too. He was furtively wiping them and chimed in, “Same here. Spicy.”

The little girl nearby quietly fetched the box of tissues from the table. She pulled them out one by one and handed them considerately to the two grown men “spiced” to tears by thin air, then asked softly, “Want some water?”

Zhang Yunjiang grew even more perplexed. He glanced instinctively at the nearly cleared plates on the table.

Sweet and Sour Pork, Braised Pork, Chicken Mushroom Stew… A table full of colorful, tasty dishes. But which one was spicy?!

Separated by golden, crispy sweet potato strips and fluffy wisps of sugar like clouds, the baffled old man fell speechless. Yu Bai said nothing either. A rare depth swirled in his usually clear, limpid light-brown eyes—emotions hard to read.

The only gray-blue eyes untouched by the ripple surveyed the scene. They finally lingered on that patch of warm brown, which seemed deeply saddened.

The rich sweetness still hung thick in the air.

Suddenly, a cool magnetic voice shattered the frozen hush.

“Earlier this afternoon, you said you wanted me to teach you Go.”

Everyone at the table turned in surprise.

It was Xie Wufang, who had scarcely ever spoken up to them first.

He was looking straight at the silver-haired old man.

Zhang Yunjiang blinked. “Right, I did ask.”

Xie Wufang replied, “I’ve learned the rules now, but I’m not sure how much.”

Zhang Yunjiang took a beat to process, then his eyes brightened. He ventured, “So you want practice? …You gonna teach the two of us?”

“I want to play Go with you for practice,” Xie Wufang said plainly. “But I don’t want to teach you.”

Caught off guard but delighted, Zhang Yunjiang agreed. “That’s plenty! You only played one game with Old Yuan this afternoon. Sure, it was special—like playing me through him—but either way, I’ve wanted a real match with you ever since. Even plain games would teach me loads.”

“When do we play?” Excitement colored his voice. He checked his watch eagerly. “Past eight now… Too late for you kids? Tomorrow instead? You free?”

In the midst of this unexpected exchange, the heavy sorrow in the air quietly lifted. That warm light-brown seemed to brighten once more.

“Not too late. Tonight,” Xie Wufang pressed on, noting the shift. “No time tomorrow.”

Zhang Yunjiang beamed, asking no further questions. He pondered aloud, “Perfect, tonight! Let me figure out a spot…”

While the old man mulled locations, Yu Bai peered over curiously. “What’ve you got tomorrow?”

It was the first time he’d heard Xie Wufang schedule something for a day not yet come.

To be safe—fearing it might be a flimsy excuse unlikely for a non-human—Yu Bai leaned in close and whispered the question.

If Xie Wufang admitted it was nothing and Zhang Yunjiang overheard right then, it’d be awkward.

Yu Bai’s curiosity floated out as a soft query. The response came back rock-solid.

Beneath the dim yellow light, those gray-blue depths tilted toward him like a lake. The voice at his ear landed calm and steady.

“Tomorrow, I’m teaching you.”