While Ma Xingnuo finished his milk, Xu Yizhou took the bottle away to wash it, and Shen Yuyi got busy.
Shen Yuyi dragged a little stool over and set it between the sofa and the coffee table, slightly to the right. He nudged the laptop to the left.
Shen Yuyi patted the stool. “Little brother, sit here.”
Xu Yizhou returned just then, and Shen Yuyi patted the floor beside him. “Big Dad, you sit here.”
Xu Yizhou, bemused, went over and sat.
When Ma Xingnuo didn’t react, Shen Yuyi patted the stool again. “Sit.”
Xingxing walked over and patted the stool too.
“No, no.” Shen Yuyi pulled Ma Xingnuo down to sit. “Like this. Sit.”
Sit? He thought he understood that one.
Shen Yuyi circled to the other side of the coffee table and cleared his throat. “Little friends, sit nicely. Class is starting.”
Xu Yizhou pointed at himself. “I’m in class too?”
“Ahem, Little friend Big Dad, put your hands nicely.”
Xu Yizhou couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright.”
“Now, roll call. When I call your name, you say ‘Here!’ Got it?”
Ma Xingnuo couldn’t answer, so Xu Yizhou replied for him. “Got it.”
Xingxing clutched his pants, straining to parse the sounds, but he understood almost nothing. He had no idea what to do.
“Ma Xingnuo!”
What now?
“Ma Xingnuo!”
What was the Young Master saying?
“Yuyi, he might not understand that name. Maybe call him Xingxing?” Xu Yizhou had read that many autistic children didn’t respond to their full names. But his nickname was used often at home—surely he recognized it?
Shen Yuyi rallied. “Xingxing!”
That sound was familiar. He’d heard it a lot these past few days, though it was usually followed by a long string of words he didn’t catch. He still didn’t know what those two syllables meant.
“Xingxing?”
When there was no reaction after a while, Shen Yuyi was puzzled. “Big Dad, he doesn’t understand ‘Xingxing’ either?”
“Maybe not.” Xu Yizhou swallowed the sigh and forced a smile. “It’s okay. Say it a lot, and he’ll learn eventually.”
Shen Yuyi tilted his head, thinking. He tried again: “Nuonuo?”
Even his usual name got no response. Shen Yuyi gave up, but Xu Yizhou didn’t want to spoil the kid’s fun, so he said nothing.
That “Nuonuo” made his heart jolt. His body trembled slightly.
A sour ache rose in his chest.
The hunter’s family in the village kept a fierce big dog. Whenever the hunter called “Big Dog!”—it sounded exactly like that.
The hunter was the most impressive man in the village after the village head. He could go up the mountain and take down wild beasts, and his family never ran out of meat.
When the village children played, they liked to pretend they were hunters fighting beasts.
Everyone fought to be the hunter. Occasionally, some child would agree to be the big dog, but most of the time, no one wanted to.
Whenever that happened, his little brother would drag him over, saying he’d “let him join the fun.” In truth, it meant being the dog.
He’d have to get down on all fours and bark, playing along to the end of the game—otherwise, he’d be beaten when he got home.
There was no little brother here. No Big Dad, no Little Dad. Here, he ate his fill every day, and no one hit him.
It was a good life he’d never even dared to dream of. So why did his chest ache so much right now? Did the Young Master want him to be a little dog too?
“Nuonuo!” Shen Yuyi tried once more.
The Young Master was very good to him. He had to listen. He couldn’t make the Young Master angry.
There was no space on the floor to lie down. The Young Master had told him to sit on the stool, and he wasn’t sure he could get up. So he opened his mouth and, very softly, let out a sound. “Ao.”
“Did little brother just speak?”
“I think so.” Xu Yizhou wasn’t sure either.
Shen Yuyi was a little excited. He rounded the coffee table and came up to Ma Xingnuo. “Nuonuo?”
Xingxing’s lips trembled. He let out another “Ao.”
The Young Master seemed delighted. That was fine too—it wasn’t the first time he’d been a dog. As long as the Young Master was happy.
“But why ‘ao’?”
“His pronunciation isn’t clear. Little brother doesn’t eat meat, so his oral development might be poor. That’s why he can’t speak properly.”
Shen Yuyi nodded. So that was it.
“Now, Brother Teacher will teach Little Friend Little Brother how to talk!”
Xu Yizhou snorted. “Why are you ‘Brother Teacher’? Why not ‘Teacher Shen’?”
“Little friend Big Dad, class is in session. You have to be quiet. If you’re not obedient, I’ll go tell Mom Teacher!”
Xu Yizhou zipped his lips. The kid must have learned this from his mom. Cute.
“Little Friend Little Brother, learn from Teacher. Curl your tongue. D—Dao—” (T/N: Dao here means “Here”)
What was this? What did the Young Master want? Was he saying it wrong?
“Dao”? Was that how a puppy barked? No—that’s wrong. When they looked at the book this morning, it said puppies barked “ao ao.”
Why wasn’t little brother talking again? Shen Yuyi pointed at his own mouth, then at Ma Xingnuo’s. “Little brother, say it with me. D—Dao—”
Did he want him to speak?
Xu Yizhou suddenly remembered the night before, when he’d tried to get Ma Xingnuo to practice speaking and the child had seized up, gasping and trembling.
Xu Yizhou was about to stop them, afraid the child would have another episode, when he saw Ma Xingnuo open his mouth.
“Dao…”(Here)
Shen Yuyi burst into cheers and clapped passionately. “You said it right!”
The Young Master was so happy. Why? Just because of that one word?
What did “dao” mean? It wasn’t a puppy bark. Which meant “nuonuo” wasn’t calling a dog either.
He urgently wanted to know: what did “nuonuo” mean? What did “dao” mean? Why was the Young Master this happy?
Shen Yuyi returned to the other side of the coffee table, then froze. “Big Dad, what class am I supposed to teach little brother?”
“You’re the teacher. You decide.”
Shen Yuyi scratched his head. “But everything Mom taught me is too hard. I’m afraid little brother can’t learn it.”
Xu Yizhou was stumped too. Teaching an autistic, nonspeaking kid—he’d never seen the real thing, let alone done it.
“Didn’t you teach him animals this morning? Teach him again?”
“No, we did that this morning. It’ll be boring. I have to teach something new.”
“How about teaching him to talk?” It had just worked, after all. Maybe a miracle would happen.
Shen Yuyi thought it over and got an idea.
Talking from across the coffee table was inconvenient. Shen Yuyi paced back and forth twice, surveying the terrain, and made what he considered a brilliant decision.
Xingxing watched the Young Master walk around a few times, then come back to pull him up and move his little stool away.
He wanted to help, following behind, but the Young Master just moved the stool a little way off and set it down.
Shen Yuyi was very satisfied with the position. He brought another little stool and set it directly opposite.
“Alright, little friend. Sit.”
Xingxing promptly sat on the little stool. The Young Master had taught him that earlier; he remembered.
It was such a simple thing, and yet again, the Young Master lifted his thumb.
It seemed that no matter what he did—however small—the Young Master would be happy.
The Young Master sat on the stool across from him and pointed at his mouth, speaking one or two syllables at a time.
Xingxing guessed that the Young Master wanted him to learn to talk. Afraid of getting it wrong, he watched the Young Master’s mouth intently and tried to repeat.
Some of the words he’d heard before; some he hadn’t. He mostly didn’t know what they meant—he just copied the sounds.
But even so, the Young Master seemed to get more and more excited. When Xingxing got a word wrong, the Young Master simply repeated it, his face showing not a trace of annoyance.
“Big Dad, what are you filming?”
Xu Yizhou lowered his phone. “Filming you teaching little brother. I’m sending it to his mom.”
“I want that too! Don’t forget to send it to my mom!”
“Fine.” Xu Yizhou stood and stretched. “You two tired? Want to watch TV for a bit? Big Dad’s going to cook. Look after little brother.”
They really had been at it for a long time. Shen Yuyi officially announced, “Alright, little friends, class dismissed!”
“Big Dad, where’s little brother’s water cup? He needs some water.”
“Wait, Big Dad will pour it.”
The Old Master handed over another strange bottle. It wasn’t quite like the milk bottle, but it had to be for drinking water too.
A few days ago, the woman had handed him something like this and then taken it away without noticing he hadn’t drunk from it. He’d been thirsty, but she’d never realized he hadn’t had any water.
After he drank, the Old Master turned on the big black block. Opera again!
He didn’t notice the quiet flutter of joy in his chest. He just couldn’t tear his eyes away from that clever, adorable little mouse.
“Little brother, sit on the sofa.”
Sit? He blinked at the little stool he was already sitting on.
The Young Master patted the long, soft seat. “Sit here.”
He climbed up onto it and sat. The Young Master sat beside him. “Okay, now we watch.”
Shen Yuyi said nothing more. The two children sat side by side, watching TV in perfect stillness.
That cat was so stupid. It never caught the mouse. And every time the mouse outsmarted it, sending the cat chasing its own tail, Xingxing watched with delight.
Suddenly, his pants felt wet and sticky. He looked down… and realized what had happened.
Shen Yuyi felt something damp at his side. There was water all over the sofa.
“Big Dad! Little brother wet his pants!”
Xu Yizhou heard the shout, turned off the stove, and rushed out of the kitchen. “What’s wrong?”
“Little brother wet his pants.”
This… Xu Yizhou hadn’t expected that either. Why would a child not know to go to the bathroom?
Ma Xingnuo was so obedient that Xu Yizhou had forgotten. But the articles he’d read had said that autistic children might struggle with basic self-care.
Changing the kid’s pants and cleaning up—that was nothing to Xu Yizhou.
But to Xingxing, this was monumental. He’d dirtied his pants and the chair, and two men had seen it.
This shouldn’t have happened. He wasn’t really a little kid. He couldn’t stop thinking: would the Old Master and the Young Master think he was filthy?
The Young Master had already called the Old Master, but he couldn’t calm down enough to face his judgment.
His hands trembled, and tears spilled from his eyes.
But no one scolded him. The Old Master carried him to change his pants, murmuring softly.
The Young Master stood beside him, repeating something—”don’t cry”—over and over. He didn’t know what it meant, but at least the Young Master wasn’t angry.
He shouldn’t be crying. He hadn’t even cried when he was beaten before. Why was he crying now?
Yet the softer the Old Master and the Young Master spoke, the more his chest ached. It was unbearable.
He didn’t understand why he couldn’t stop. No one was hitting him. No one was yelling at him.
His pants were changed. The sofa cover was taken off. Everything was cleaned up. But the gentler they were, the harder he cried.
“Big Dad, what do we do? Why is little brother still crying?” Shen Yuyi was at his wit’s end. The little kids in the family compound all cheered up after a little coaxing.
Xu Yizhou suddenly thought of Shen Ancheng. Shen Ancheng had been like this once too. The strong never cry—until all their grievances pile up inside, and then, when someone finally comforts them, the tears won’t stop.
Xu Yizhou didn’t understand how a three-year-old could have so much on his mind. But he knew one thing: this child must have endured far too much wrong.
His sister and brother-in-law were divorcing. His mother and father had suddenly abandoned him. And now he was in the home of a stranger. Of course he felt insecure.
“It’s fine. Let him cry. He’ll feel better once he’s done. He’s just… too wronged.”
Shen Yuyi didn’t understand. He’d never known what “wronged” felt like. His parents loved him. All the adults in the family compound loved him. He was a child raised on love.
But since Big Dad had said so, Shen Yuyi gently wrapped his arms around Ma Xingnuo and kept murmuring sweet words, staying with his little brother while he cried it all out.
