Metaphysics’ Public Enemy 92

Chapter 92 (Extra):

Once Upon a Time

“What’s this…do you want to wear a diaper?” Zhou Xianzhi’s voice wasn’t loud. He had just swept the old house, dust still clinging to his clothes, making him look like a tortoise that had rolled around in the dirt. Standing in this brightly colored children’s section, surrounded by racks of clothes, he felt out of place.

He looked down and saw the little boy staring at him.

He didn’t understand the boy’s intense gaze. “Do you wet the bed? I heard little kids wear these. Do you want one?” he asked, holding up a diaper.

“You wear it,” Chen Henian said, pointing at the sign that read “Ages 1-4.” “I’m six years old.”

“You look four, at most,” Zhou Xianzhi said, pointing at him.

Chen Henian continued to stare, his lips pressed together, his small stature forcing him to tilt his head back to meet Zhou Xianzhi’s gaze, his attempt at anger thwarted by his thin face, his cheeks refusing to puff out, Zhou Xianzhi unable to pinch them, his voice a gentle tease. “You’re so skinny, like a bamboo pole. People will think I’m abusing you. You need to eat more, at least two bowls of rice.”

“No diapers, then no milk powder either, I suppose?” Zhou Xianzhi’s eyes scanned the baby section. “Those clothes are cute, with lace, so fashionable!”

“Those are for babies,” Chen Henian said.

“Too small indeed,” Zhou Xianzhi sighed dramatically, feigning disappointment. “Then let’s get you some new clothes. I’ve never raised a child before, you’ll have to bear with me.”

Zhou Xianzhi didn’t own a house, never settling in one place, now even less so with a child in tow. He had just secured a place to stay, the furniture and household items all new, piled into a large, woven sack slung over his shoulder. He held Chen Henian’s hand, a cheerful smile on his face, as they walked to another store.

Chen Henian had been following him for three days, walking silently, his head lowered, the tall buildings and bright lights of the city a strange and unfamiliar world, knowing only Zhou Xianzhi.

He was a good person.

Chen Henian held his hand tightly, despite his strange ways and occasional mischief, his grip a lifeline.

Zhou Xianzhi led him to a clothing store, pushing him towards a rack of clothes. “Pick two, I’ll haggle with the saleswoman.”

The saleswoman smiled at them. “The child’s hand is clean, don’t worry, he won’t get anything dirty. Go ahead, choose whatever you like.”

Chen Henian picked two of the smallest sizes, and Zhou Xianzhi, turning to the saleswoman, said, “We’ll take these, in a larger size.”

“These fit perfectly, sir, a larger size won’t fit him,” she said.

“He’ll grow, he’ll grow taller and stronger soon,” Zhou Xianzhi insisted.

Seeing his determination, she fetched the next size up.

Zhou Xianzhi paid, then, looking at her hair, asked, “Do you have any extra hair ties?”

“Yes,” she replied.

“Can I have two?”

She paused, then walked to the counter. “Sure, here you go.”

“Thank you, we’ll be back,” Zhou Xianzhi smiled.

Back at the apartment, Zhou Xianzhi filled a basin with water, washing Chen Henian’s face. “Your hair is long, it’s getting hot, you should tie it back,” he said.

Chen Henian, dressed in his new clothes, his hair tied in two small buns, ate his meal, the rice mixed with meat, his brow furrowed with worry, watching Zhou Xianzhi spend their money, wondering if they would be begging on the streets soon. He had seen people kneeling on the sidewalks, their bowls outstretched, their heads bowed.

Fortunately, he was wrong. The next day, they went to a crowded park.

“Go play, I’ll pick you up later,” Zhou Xianzhi said, crouching down. “Don’t worry about anything you see, I’ll handle it. I’ll teach you how to write tonight.”

“Call me Master.”

“Master,” Chen Henian said.

“Good, go on, make some friends, it’s not a bad thing.”

Chen Henian walked away, the afternoon sun warm on his face, his short jeans and white shirt, the shirt too large, reaching his knees, like a dress.

He sat down, watching the other children playing, their parents nearby, his gaze distant, Zhou Xianzhi gone, his return time unspecified.

He sat there alone, until a shadow fell upon him.

“No one wants to play with you? Then let’s play together,” a girl stood before him, her round face and sturdy frame larger than his. “Do you want to play house? I have two dolls.”

Chen Henian looked at her, not understanding.

She opened a notebook. “They’re very cute.” She flipped through the pages, each page decorated with two paper dolls.

She waited for his response, and he pointed at the smaller doll.

He didn’t really like either of them, he didn’t want to play, but he saw something else. A dark aura clinging to the girl, like a face behind her, an ominous sign, like the monsters in his village.

He wanted to keep her here, until Zhou Xianzhi returned, he was good at dealing with these things.

“Okay!” the girl smiled. “You’ll be the younger sister, I’ll be the older sister.”

Chen Henian frowned. “I’m not a girl.”

“But you’re smaller than me,” she said. “Mama said the smaller one is the younger sister.”

“I’m not,” he insisted.

“Then you can be the older sister,” she said. “I’ll be the younger sister.”

He didn’t reply, annoyed, not entirely blaming Zhou Xianzhi for the hair buns, his small stature and delicate features misleading.

“Sisters need to eat. What do you want to eat?” She peeled the smaller doll from the page, sticking it to his finger, not giving him a chance to refuse, the notebook filled with colorful pictures and stickers.

“I can make you a cake, a chicken leg, a hamburger…”

“Chicken leg,” Chen Henian said.

“Okay.” She nodded, touching the picture of a chicken leg with the paper doll, then smacked her lips. “Alright, we’re full now, time for bed.”

“How do we sleep?”

She giggled, turning to another page, a square drawn beneath a piece of tape, labeled “bed.”

She placed the “younger sister” on the bed, then looked at him expectantly.

He placed the “older sister” beside it.

She closed the notebook, her lips curved into a smile. “Alright, let’s wait for them to wake up.”

“Then we can have breakfast and buy new dresses.”

Someone called her name, and she stood up. “Mama is calling me for dinner. Let’s play again next time, okay?”

Chen Henian nodded.

She walked away, the dark aura around her gone, and he watched her leave, his gaze distant.

Zhou Xianzhi didn’t come back for him. Night fell, the other parents taking their children home.

Zhou Xianzhi had said he should always come home before dark, so he stood up, following his memory, his footsteps echoing on the pavement, his destination certain.

He didn’t question Zhou Xianzhi’s absence, his only thought to return home.

Cars rumbled past, their horns blaring, the smell of cooking wafting from the lit windows of nearby houses, families gathered around dinner tables, children chattering, a scene he glanced at briefly, his gaze unfocused.

He reached the apartment, or what he thought was the apartment, he wasn’t sure.

The door was unlocked, Zhou Xianzhi not there, his belongings still inside. They must have missed each other.

He didn’t turn on the lights, electricity cost money, and he sat down, his fingers tracing the red string on his wrist, waiting.

Zhou Xianzhi might not come back, but he would wait.

He felt a sudden chill, his arm cold, a weight on his shoulder, his heart skipping a beat, and he turned to see a face, a ghostly face, its features indistinct.

He gasped, his voice silenced by fear, the dark aura, still clinging to him, its presence a menacing shadow.

Then he lost consciousness, his vision blurring, the black mist swirling around his feet, the wind howling, its sound unheard.

“You and your disciple are quite close,” Zhou Xianzhi said, opening the door, the ghost, as expected, appearing, its form filling the room, the light unable to penetrate the darkness, Chen Henian cradled in its arms, his face flushed, his breathing even, asleep.

“But you can’t always protect him,” Zhou Xianzhi said to the ghost. “At least not until he’s an adult. He has to face these things alone.”

The ghost didn’t respond, its silence a simmering anger, its restraint evident, its power capable of destroying the room, of tearing them apart.

“What if you can’t always be there for him?” Zhou Xianzhi continued. “What if, when he’s older, his Tai Yin constitution revealed, you become his weakness, a target for his enemies?”

“Or what if he hates you?”

The ghost looked up, its form shifting, its aura fluctuating.

“If he can’t overcome his fear, you’ll only be a source of terror to him,” Zhou Xianzhi extended his hand. “Sleep, like a human. Time no longer matters to you.”

The ghost’s head lowered, its gaze lingering on Chen Henian’s face, a soft, mournful sound escaping its form, then it released him, its presence fading, dissolving into the air, like grains of sand, no wind needed to scatter it.

Chen Henian woke up, the smell of food filling his nostrils.

“You’re awake? Go wash your face.”

He was disoriented, Zhou Xianzhi calling his name again before he moved.

Zhou Xianzhi piled food onto his plate, and he ate it all, his appetite returning.

“Did you see something scary?”

Chen Henian nodded silently.

“Don’t be afraid, you’ll see many more. I’ll teach you how to deal with them,” Zhou Xianzhi smiled. “Are you wondering why I didn’t come for you?”

Chen Henian’s hand paused, his chopsticks hovering over his plate.

“Today, I want you to know that no matter where you go, whether I’m with you or not, you have to find your own way home. Even if I send you away, you have to stay by my side, you have to live, you have to fight to survive, understand?”

“Yes,” Chen Henian’s voice was hoarse, his tears falling into his bowl, his brow furrowed, his eyes overflowing, unable to stop them.

He clenched his teeth, silencing his sobs.

“Cry, why are you holding back?” Zhou Xianzhi placed his hand on his head. “When will you cry if not now?”

“But you still have to eat. Eat more, so you can grow big and strong, understand?”

“I understand,” he said, his voice choked with tears, his breath coming in ragged gasps, but his words clear.

“Master.”

Later, Chen Henian would do just that.

-END-