Chapter 38: An Entrustment

This was the border region between two provinces. Though located in C Province, it was just over a hundred kilometers from J City—a drive of a little more than an hour.

Yan Tuo’s maternal grandfather, Yu Jianguo, was nearly eighty years old. He had two children under him: his younger daughter was Yan Tuo’s late mother, Yu Chengshu, and his older son, Yu Lixiang, who was sixty-two this year. Yu Lixiang had spent his life as a police officer and had only retired a couple of years ago. He had raised an only daughter, Yan Tuo’s cousin Yu Lian.

After retiring from the military, Grandfather had joined the police force. His mother, Old Uncle, and even Yan Tuo himself had all become cops. Only his cousin had gone into the matchmaker business, yet she had still ended up marrying a police officer and becoming a police wife.

All told, the family truly deserved to be called a police dynasty.

Both grandfather and grandson were straightforward men. Yan Tuo explained the reason for his visit, and though Yu Jianguo usually had little time for small animals, he agreed readily enough for the sake of his grandson.

He had not expected his grandson to act so awkwardly today, chattering on endlessly and reluctantly to the little pet for ages. What on earth could one even say to a bird? Could it understand?

Before leaving, Yan Tuo repeatedly went over the bird’s care instructions, again and again. The ex-soldier Yu Jianguo finally lost patience.

“Why are you dragging your feet like this? It’s just a little pet. Anyone who didn’t know better might think you were entrusting your little wife to my care.”

Yan Tuo choked, then turned and stalked off. His retreating back somehow looked utterly dejected.

Bai Yiyi had successfully infiltrated the enemy’s ranks. In just two or three days, he had gotten a clear grasp of the old man’s daily routine.

Of course, that was also because Yu Jianguo’s schedule was so regular.

Though nearly eighty years old, the old man had a resolute personality and was exceptionally disciplined. He rose promptly at five every morning for exercise, prepared himself a simple breakfast, tended to the vegetables in his yard during the morning, played a few rounds of low-stakes mahjong with his old friends in the afternoon, and prepared for bed at ten sharp after washing up.

Thanks to this routine, his complexion remained robust and full of vigor, his face ruddy as though he were only around sixty. If his owner had not mentioned it right before leaving, no one would have guessed that this was a man who had suffered from heart disease for more than thirty years and could suffer a heart attack at any moment.

In their few days together, Bai Yiyi had not only come to understand the old man better, but Yu Jianguo had also gradually warmed to the white dumpling.

The reason he had always disliked small animals was simple—they were troublesome. Their behavior was too unpredictable to fit into his precisely calibrated life, which could tolerate no disruptions.

This crested canary that his grandson had sent over was indeed as self-sufficient as promised. One only needed to refresh its drinking water each day, and as for food, whatever was on hand would do; it was extremely low-maintenance.

It could even mimic human speech in simple ways, providing some amusement for idle moments. It was truly clever and endearing.

The sight brought to mind his old comrade from the service, whose greatest hobby after retirement had been raising birds. He had kept dozens of them in his yard, and every visit had meant being nearly deafened by the cacophony of birdsong. The man took them to the local park every day, endlessly boasting about their virtues—how this breed was the rarest in the world, how that coloration was on the verge of extinction.

Heh. In his eyes, not one of them could hold a candle to Tangyuan’s beauty.

And when it came to perceptiveness? They were not even close.

This particular afternoon, Yu Jianguo had no mahjong game lined up. It was his old comrade’s regular day for walking his birds in the park.

He planned to bring along the white dumpling to give Old Zhang an eyeful and wipe that smug look off the man’s face—the one that always proclaimed his own birds the finest under heaven.

Recalling his grandson’s instructions, he broached the matter directly with the dumpling. “Today you and I, old man to fledgling, will take a stroll through the park and meet some of your fellow birds. You have to behave now—no flying off.”

Bai Yiyi didn’t dare act too intelligent. He chirped “Grandpa,” then landed lightly on the old man’s shoulder—a subtle signal that he would defer to his host and go wherever the man wished.

With the white dumpling perched on his shoulder, Yu Jianguo ambled out the door. In just a few steps, they had reached the park.

It was just past noon, and the sun still beat down mercilessly. True to form, Old Zhang would surely have moved all the cages into the ginkgo grove, where the tree shade offered some relief.

They circled halfway around the artificial lake and arrived at the spot. Sure enough, there they were.

In the ginkgo grove, heavy with fruit in the summer heat, more than a dozen birdcages hung at various heights.

Some held solitary birds, others pairs, their feathers a riot of colors. Chirps rang out now and then. Meanwhile, Old Zhang sat in a nearby pavilion, brewing tea in a purple clay pot over an alcohol stove and chatting idly with a few fellow enthusiasts.

Spotting Yu Jianguo on the path from afar, the man hollered out. “Old Yu! Out for a constitutional?”

He called out, then peered more closely and asked in surprise, “You’ve actually taken up bird-raising too?”

Yu Jianguo entered the pavilion with calm dignity and took a seat. Old Zhang couldn’t help leaning in for a close look and critique.

“That’s a crested canary, right? Pretty common breed—just an unusual color, snow-white all over. Cute enough. But what’s this? You brought it out bare-shouldered, no cage or leash? The world’s a big place out here. If it flies off, good luck finding it.”

Yu Jianguo remained utterly composed. “It won’t. This is my grandson’s bird—smart as they come. Understands human speech, so no need to worry about it flying off.”

It was only natural for an owner to praise his own pet’s intelligence, but to claim it understood words and wouldn’t stray? Old Zhang wasn’t buying it for a second—not after decades of bird-keeping. He shot back immediately.

“Keep dreaming. Even talking parrots and mynahs just mimic sounds. No bird actually communicates with people. That’s a fringilla—you’re lucky if it can talk at all.”

Yu Jianguo rolled his eyes and fired right back. “That’s because you’ve got no experience… Tangyuan, say ‘Grandpa’ for him.”

A clear little birdsong immediately rang out: “…Grandpa.” Perfectly enunciated.

At once, the other men seated nearby crowded in with curiosity, chattering among themselves.

Old Zhang felt a pang of envy, along with a twinge at losing face. To save his pride, he said, “If it’s well-trained, it can pick up a few words… that’s normal enough. My oriole can even sing nursery rhymes.”

No sooner had he spoken than, before Yu Jianguo could even think how to respond, the white dumpling launched into its performance. “Spring sleep not aware of dawn… how many claps?”

What was there left to say?

Yu Jianguo tilted his chin upward and shot Old Zhang a sidelong glance, looking for all the world like a fighting cock that had just won a brawl—though he made a show of restraint by critiquing, “Not bad, but that last line was a bit garbled. Tangyuan, work on it next time.”

Old Zhang scratched his head and looked around, utterly captivated despite himself. Forgetting his rivalry with the old codger, he lowered his voice and wheedled, “You don’t even like keeping birds anyway. Just talk to your grandson about transferring it to me. Name your price!”

Having tasted the thrill of victory, Yu Jianguo flashed a teasing smile. “Fat chance. He dotes on it like a little wife. He’s out of the country right now and left it in my care—nagged on forever before he left, terrified I’d mistreat the little thing.”

Twice now the old man had likened it to Yan Tuo’s little wife. Bai Yiyi was delighted deep down. He promptly declared his loyalty: “Tangyuan… likes… Grandpa.”

The onlookers clucked in admiration, and even Yu Jianguo chuckled, reaching out for once to give the fluffy topknot a rare fond ruffle.

They sat a while longer, but Yu Jianguo couldn’t withstand his old comrade’s persistent lobbying. Having shown off sufficiently, he rose to head home.

They had walked some way along the path when perhaps the midday heat proved too much. Yu Jianguo suddenly felt unwell and paused to catch his breath, but it did no good. A fierce wave of angina hit him, bringing a suffocating sense of impending death.

Sweat beaded instantly on his forehead, and his face drained visibly of color. His trembling hands fumbled for the medicine in his pocket, but his spasming fingers refused to obey.

Bai Yiyi panicked. He flew a quick circuit, desperate to help retrieve the pills, but his claws made such delicate work impossible.

No time for anything else. He shot back to the pavilion at top speed and cried out at the top of his lungs: “Help! Help!”

Old Zhang and his friends, startled and uncomprehending though they were, hurried after the dumpling, jogging along until they spotted Yu Jianguo slumped against a large tree.

Old Zhang rushed forward, fished out the medicine, administered the lifesaving pills under his tongue, and helped him ease down slowly. In just a few minutes, the old man began to recover.

Everyone heaved a huge sigh of relief. Old Zhang’s desire for the white dumpling only burned hotter. It was… unnaturally clever. It had even called for help?

In the animal kingdom, that was like the world’s finest guide dog crossed with a smart speaker—putting real urgency into those cries for “help.”

He told his comrades all about Tangyuan’s heroics, and his pleas to buy it now carried real pleading.

Since the bird had just saved his life, Yu Jianguo could hardly refuse outright. He agreed to ask his grandson, though the final say would be up to Yan Tuo.

Old Zhang promised gladly with a beaming face and even escorted him all the way home.

The little crisis had turned into a blessing. Yu Jianguo now held the white dumpling in even higher regard. What had started as a mere pet entrusted by his grandson had become, in his eyes, an obedient child.

He chatted idly with it at every turn and, when cooking, paid close attention to Tangyuan’s preferences, making sure to prepare things it enjoyed.

Bai Yiyi’s days passed in perfect comfort. Yet he grew ever more anxious about his owner. It had been days since Yan Tuo left. Was work going smoothly? Had everything gone well after arriving abroad? And most importantly, how much longer until he returned?

Yan Tuo’s trip abroad on official business went far more smoothly than he had expected.

None of the contingency plans he had prepared in advance ever came into play. Throughout the journey, Basong proved remarkably obedient and considerate, stirring up no trouble whatsoever. He didn’t act like a man facing an interrogation rack; instead, he seemed as relaxed and carefree as if he were heading home.

On the eve of the handover, Basong—his right eye wrapped in gauze—asked in halting English, “That bird that pecked my eye blind… is it yours?”

“Yes.”

Basong cracked a grin, his white teeth flashing starkly against his dark skin. “You and your bird had better wait up for me. When I get out, we’ll meet again.”

For some inexplicable reason, Yan Tuo detected an ill omen in this childish threat—a profound sense of assurance, as if everything were firmly under Basong’s control.

But once the man was handed over, the matter would be entirely beyond Yan Tuo’s reach. He resolved to give the Russian handover personnel a discreet warning afterward, fulfilling his duty in full.

His reply was offhand yet ironclad: “If you actually make it out, you had better pray you never cross paths with me again. Catch you once, and I can catch you a hundred times.”