That night.
Lin Zao played with Lin Xiaobao, drawing lettuce leaves and toys, and even shared a late-night snack.
It was very late by the time Lin Xiaobao finally grew exhausted.
He sat in the baby chair, mouth agape as he let out a big yawn.
The little one was all woozy and wobbly.
“Dad, my head’s spinning… I’m gonna faint! Catch me quick…”
“You’re not dizzy. You’re just sleepy.”
Only then did Lin Zao reach out and scoop him up, heading toward the bedroom.
“Come on, Dad will take you to bed.”
“Mmm…”
But as soon as Lin Zao laid Lin Xiaobao on the bed without even pulling up the covers, the boy popped open his big eyes.
He blinked them innocently, full of surprise.
“Dad, it’s magic! I’m not dizzy anymore.”
“Huh?” Lin Zao blinked in astonishment.
He took a deep breath, leaned down, and flopped forward, gently resting his head on Lin Xiaobao’s soft belly.
“There, Dad’s dizzy now. Whoops, Dad fell over.”
“Hee hee!”
Lin Xiaobao wriggled around, stretching out his little hands to hug his dad and pat his head.
“Then Dad should sleep. I’ll sing you to sleep.”
“Sure.”
Lin Zao pulled the blanket over them both.
He wrapped an arm around Lin Xiaobao’s chubby little arm, tilting his head to rest beside him.
Lin Xiaobao lifted his other hand and patted his dad through the blanket.
Just like Dad always did for him.
“Sleep, Dad. Go to sleep quick.”
After just two lines, Lin Xiaobao rolled over and snuggled into his dad’s arms.
“I don’t like singing. I want to hear Dad sing.”
“What song do you want?” Lin Zao hugged him close. “Counting Ducks or Toss the Handkerchief?”
“No kid songs. I want a grown-up song.”
“Alright.” Lin Zao agreed, closing his eyes but not starting.
Lin Xiaobao peered at him curiously and gave a gentle nudge. “Dad?”
“Little Bao hasn’t turned on the Dad-brand radio yet.”
Lin Xiaobao poked Lin Zao’s shoulder with one finger. “Beep! Activated!”
“Bzzz—radio powering up—vroom vroom—”
Lin Zao mimicked the sound of a machine starting, and he nailed it.
Though it sounded less like a radio and more like Fu Cheng’s motorcycle.
“Now bringing Little Bao a song Dad loves. Music starting.”
“Start!” Lin Xiaobao raised his little hand high.
Lin Zao caught it and tucked it back under the blanket.
He cleared his throat, patting Lin Xiaobao gently as he began to hum softly.
“Stories of the small town are plentiful, full of joy and happiness.
If you come to this small town, you’ll gain so much more.
It looks like a painting, sounds like a song…”
Lin Xiaobao lay nestled in his dad’s arms, feeling the faint vibrations from his dad’s chest, the steady rhythm of his pats, and the tender melody of his voice.
Before he knew it, the bed and blankets beneath him seemed to turn into a gently flowing little river.
And he himself became a plump little goldfish.
He swished his tail, following his dad along the current, drifting slowly, slowly downstream.
Finally, guided by his dad, he slipped into dreamland.
What was dreamland? Dreamland was a sweet, honeyed little river.
If only… if only Big Daddy were in the river too, it would be perfect.
The night passed quietly.
Lin Zao and Lin Xiaobao slept straight through till morning.
The sun hung high in the sky, its bright rays filtering through the curtains from outside.
Lin Xiaobao sprawled on the pillow, snorting like a little piglet.
“Mmm… Dad…”
Lin Zao heard him and rolled over, bundling him up snugly in his arms.
“Dad’s too sleepy. Let’s sleep a bit more.”
He wasn’t in a rush to get up and make breakfast.
The night before bed, he’d loaded rice and water into the rice cooker and set the timer.
At eight in the morning, it would start cooking on its own.
Half an hour later, a pot of steaming congee would be ready.
He just needed to prep some sides, and they could eat.
Lin Zao held Lin Xiaobao tight, not moving a muscle.
Lin Xiaobao burrowed into his dad’s embrace, obediently keeping his eyes shut.
Soon, Lin Zao stirred groggily, lifted his head to check the clock on the wall, and mumbled to himself.
“What time is it? Just eight thirty. Congee’s not ready yet. Back to sleep.”
Lin Zao flopped forward onto the bed.
Not long after, he lifted his head again.
“What time? Eight forty-two. Congee’s still too hot. Five more minutes.”
The same motion, the same routine.
“What time? Fifty-eight. Still early.”
Lin Zao dropped his head, smashing it into the pillow and knocking himself out cold.
Tick tock—
The clock hands ticked forward, notch by notch.
Lin Zao and Lin Xiaobao slept like the dead, oblivious to the world.
They slept so soundly that…
“What time is it?!”
Some time later, Lin Zao jolted awake from a dream and shot upright.
Nine… ten…
“Eleven!”
Just a moment ago when he closed his eyes, it had been a little past eight. How had it jumped to eleven when he opened them?
Who? Who stole his time?
Lin Zao counted the ticks twice in disbelief, then scooped up Lin Xiaobao and shook him gently.
“Little Bao, get up! It’s eleven! Big Daddy’s starving to death!”
“Mmm… Dad…”
Lin Xiaobao struggled to pry open his eyes, crusted with sleep.
Lin Zao asked anxiously, “Little Bao, how do you feel? Did you fall asleep, or faint from hunger?”
Lin Xiaobao yawned, bursting with energy. “Dad, I’m not hungry. I’m sleepy…”
“We’ll nap after lunch. Time for breakfast… lunch… food now.”
Lin Zao grabbed a handkerchief and wiped Lin Xiaobao’s eyes. He tried to lift him off the bed but found his arms aching, too weak to manage.
Probably from swinging that chainsaw everywhere the night before, overdoing it.
Lin Zao could only help Lin Xiaobao sit up on the bed.
“Hurry, Big Daddy’s waiting for us to bring him food. He must be famished.”
He’d promised yesterday to take good care of Brother Cheng, to stew him some soup and turn him into a one-of-a-kind zombie.
But…
Lin Xiaobao tilted sideways and flopped right back onto the bed.
Lin Zao sighed and tucked the blanket over him again.
“Little Bao, sleep a bit more then. Dad’s getting up first.”
He scrambled out of bed in a rush, brushed his teeth, washed his face, changed clothes, and dashed downstairs to the kitchen.
Sure enough, the congee in the rice cooker was long done.
It had been on keep-warm so long that much of the moisture had evaporated, leaving it thick and sticky.
Lin Zao switched off the cooker and set the congee aside to cool.
Then he fired up the wok with oil, ready to refry the pork oil slag.
It had sat in the fridge for days—cold, fishy, and greasy if eaten as is.
Frying it again made it crispy, hot, and perfect with plain congee.
No need to overdo it, or it’d burn. Just a quick pass through the oil for a few dozen seconds.
By the time Lin Zao scooped the pork oil slag out with a strainer, Lin Xiaobao had gotten dressed and come downstairs, yawning.
“Dad, I’m here.”
“Come eat.”
Lin Zao held Lin Xiaobao’s special plastic small bowl in one hand and an iron ladle in the other. He scraped along the edge of the pot, skimming off a spoonful from the cooled surface.
Perfect temperature for Little Bao.
He served the congee, added a small dish of pork oil slag and meat floss, and set it all before him.
“Dig in.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
The aroma of congee and fried slag made Lin Zao ravenous too.
He wolfed down a bowl first, then packed a lunchbox for Fu Cheng.
“Little Bao, Dad’s heading down to feed Big Daddy. You staying up here to eat, or…?”
“I wanna go too!”
Lin Xiaobao swallowed his mouthful—spoon still in hand—and shot his little arm up high.
His mouth was so small that Dad had finished a whole bowl while he was only halfway done.
But the congee wasn’t going anywhere. He wanted to see Big Daddy downstairs!
“Alright.”
Lin Zao carried him down, and Lin Xiaobao trailed obediently at his dad’s side.
Father and son headed together to deliver Big Daddy’s meal.
Hoping Big Daddy wasn’t too hungry.
Downstairs, Lin Xiaobao toddled ahead on his short legs, positioning the long bench under the serving window.
“Dad, hurry! I’ll hold it steady!”
But Lin Zao paused at the utility room’s iron door. “No need.”
“Big Daddy said before not to open the door carelessly.”
“That was before. Things are different now. Dad knows Big Daddy won’t hurt us.”
Lin Zao hadn’t even locked it. He gripped the handle, pressed down, and pushed inward. The door swung open easily.
He wasn’t afraid! Not one bit!
He refused to believe that Fu Cheng—who had gotten himself covered in wounds to save him—would lunge and bite.
Climbing to the window every time to pass food was such a hassle. Better to just open the door.
“Little Bao, come here.”
“Coming!”
Lin Zao called, and Lin Xiaobao scurried over.
He hugged his dad’s leg, peeking out from behind with wide eyes, staring intently at the scene inside the utility room.
Big Daddy lay on the bed, back turned to them.
Lin Zao pushed the door open, and it banged against the wall with a moderate thud.
Big Daddy heard and turned his head, opening his eyes groggily to look at them.
—What is it? Little Zao, and little… what was it again? Forgot. That kid with all the strokes in his name.
Lin Zao stood in the doorway, lunchbox in one hand, the other on his hip. He straightened up, chin high.
Utterly fearless.
—So? Brother Cheng, I’m in! You gonna come bite me?
Fu Cheng let out a “hrrumph,” rubbed his face, and sat up on the bed.
—Bite Little Zao? He didn’t have the guts. Scared Little Zao might slap him.
Last night, he’d tried practicing speech, specifically Little Zao’s name.
He’d worked till midnight without getting it, got so frustrated he headbutted the wall and knocked himself out.
Fu Cheng shuffled forward like a male ghost, drifting slowly toward his wife and kid.
Lin Zao smiled and handed over the lunchbox. “Brother Cheng, eat up slow. Little Bao and I are heading out.”
Lin Xiaobao peeked from behind his dad, eyes wide in surprise at the sight.
Wow, Big Daddy didn’t look like a monster. Big Daddy looked like…
He couldn’t say what. Just like Big Daddy.
Fu Cheng took the lunchbox, gazing longingly at Lin Zao.
Lin Zao reached up and ruffled his hair.
Buzz cut, a bit prickly.
“Little Bao and I haven’t eaten yet. We’ll head up, have our meal, then stew you some soup. Good dinner tonight.”
Fu Cheng stared fixedly at him and grunted twice, who knew if he understood.
But he knew Little Zao would come back that evening.
He wasn’t worried at all.
Lin Zao took Lin Xiaobao’s hand and left the utility room, pulling the door shut behind them.
Still just latched, no lock.
“Little Bao, let’s head up…”
Before he finished, a sharp “clang clang” rang out behind them.
Lin Zao turned to see a shadow flicker behind the cardboard-covered window.
Then another “clang clang.”
Now Lin Zao was sure: someone was knocking on their window glass.
Lin Zao let go of Lin Xiaobao’s hand. “Little Bao, Dad’s going to check. Wait here.”
