The Fortunate Lady and Her Mountain Man

Chapter 31: Chapter 31: Poor Sister Wan

The water in the crock was almost gone, so Ji Huan took the noodle bowl to feed him.

The noodle sheets were rolled very thin, perfect for someone weak from prolonged hunger. And they were even made from white flour.

Ji Huan didn’t know what to make of Widow Xie. She’d grumbled for days when her own children had one meal of white flour, yet she didn’t seem to mind at all giving it to a boy who was practically a stranger.

But Widow Xie couldn’t be bothered with things like white or dark flour right now!

"You’re going to raise him? Ji Huan, I’m telling you, don’t be a fool!" Widow Xie said, her voice filled with urgency.

"Look at your own situation! Do you think raising a child is easy? There are so many people in this village, so why has no one else gotten involved? If you take this on, they won’t say a single word of praise. But if something goes wrong, oh, they’ll have plenty to say then. You’ll be doing all the work for none of the credit!"

"I’m not doing this for anyone’s approval."

The child ate eagerly at first, even trying to snatch the chopsticks from Ji Huan’s hand. When he couldn’t, he tried to grab the noodles with his hands. This time, Ji Huan didn’t let him. She held the bowl up high, and after a few attempts, the boy stopped reaching, which made feeding him much easier.

"Then why bother?" It wasn’t just Widow Xie; Hu Liang and Hu Dacheng couldn’t understand it either. They wondered if she’d gone mad.

Widow Xie continued her earnest appeal, "If you feel sorry for him, just bring him some food when you have a spare moment. You live so close, you can check on him now and then. There’s no need to go so far as to take him in..."

"Aunt Xie, you have a point. And I know you mean well. But..." Ji Huan said casually, "Just say I’m looking for some company."

Her words left Widow Xie speechless for a moment.

’This girl...’ she thought. ’She’s lost her father and mother, and she was driven out of the home she grew up in. She must be so lonely and scared, but she never says a word to anyone. How did we not notice any of this until now?’

Hu Dacheng piped up, "Sister Wan, we can all keep you company!"

Ji Huan nodded. "Mhm. You’re all my companions, but the more the merrier."

Hu Dacheng still didn’t understand, but no one else spoke.

Worried there wouldn’t be enough, Widow Xie had cooked two more bowls of noodles. Ji Huan fed the child just one. The worst thing you could do after prolonged starvation was to binge-eat.

Ji Huan took the child’s hand, ready to return to her shack.

Perhaps because she had just given him food and water, the boy didn’t struggle, letting her lead him by the hand. But he was a little stiff, as if he wasn’t used to physical contact.

The three members of the Hu Family escorted them back to the shack with an oil lamp. Widow Xie looked like she wanted to say something more but held her tongue.

Knowing that nothing could change Ji Huan’s mind, she stopped trying to dissuade her. She just reminded Ji Huan to bolt the door and to let them know if she needed anything. Then she left the oil lamp and led her two sons home.

The shack’s roof had been patched. Hu Liang had also mixed some mud and re-plastered the parts of the wall that let in drafts. After all this time, it was mostly dry.

Ji Huan surveyed her "home", which was now as good as new, with satisfaction. That Hu Liang was a little domestic genius. Not only had he neatly organized all the rice and flour, but he had even made the bed.

She walked to the edge of the bed and sat down, her gaze falling upon the child.

From the moment they had entered until now, he had maintained a single posture: head bowed, not moving or making a sound.

Even when Ji Huan stared right at him, he didn’t react.

Based on his behavior, Ji Huan could tell the child wasn’t unintelligent. His condition seemed a bit like what was called autistic disorder, or more commonly, autism.

Ji Huan hadn’t brought him back just on a sudden whim of kindness.

The night she was carried to the dilapidated shack, she had developed a high fever. She was desperately thirsty, and just when she thought her pleas to heaven and earth would go unanswered, someone gave her a bowl of water.

At the time, she couldn’t open her eyes no matter how she tried, but she was still conscious and aware.

She had heard the footsteps of two people, one old and one young. And the person who gave her the water had only half a thumb.

She had checked just earlier; the dead old man’s right thumb was indeed missing its top half.

Ji Huan didn’t know why they had happened to pass by that night, or what their motive was for saving her. But the kindness of a bowl of water had, after all, given her a chance to live.

Ji Huan looked at the child and gave a soft whistle. "Hey kid, what’s your name?"

The child’s eyelids twitched, but he still wouldn’t look at her.

"You need a name. I’ll call you Dabao. You don’t object, right? ... Silence is consent, so it’s settled. From now on, you’re Dabao."

Unconcerned with how randomly she’d picked the name, Ji Huan continued talking to herself. "Anyway, one of us is a walking disaster and the other is a little monster. Neither of us is very popular, so we might as well stick together. No objections? ... None? Great. I only have one requirement for you—don’t wet the bed..."

The night grew deep, and the chirping of insects echoed from outside.

The sound of talking from within the dilapidated shack continued for a long time. Ji Huan didn’t even realize that she was, in fact, a closet chatterbox.

Early the next morning, Hu Dacheng and Hu Ximei came over with a meal.

Widow Xie had figured that Ji Huan must not have slept well and likely wouldn’t be up in time to cook breakfast.

And as it turned out, Widow Xie was spot on.

The previous evening had started harmoniously enough, with one person talking and the other listening. But when it was time to sleep, some switch had flipped in the child, and he adamantly refused to get into bed. When Ji Huan tried to pull him, he shrank into a corner. Finally, as if terrified, he let out a hoarse, inhuman cry.

Ji Huan had no choice but to back off.

And so they remained, one sitting on the bed, the other huddled in the corner. They were locked in an invisible stalemate for a long time, and she didn’t even know how they eventually fell asleep.

When Ji Huan woke up, she found the child still asleep, curled up in the corner. She couldn’t help but scratch her head. ’Looks like I’m really not cut out for taking care of a creature like a child. What if he gets sick from the cold on his very first day here...’

The child woke up, too. Seeing that his mood was relatively stable, Ji Huan led him to the kitchen area.

When Hu Liang repaired the shack, he had brought over a large water vat that the Hu Family had to spare. Knowing Ji Huan would be living there, he had filled it to the brim with buckets of water the day before.

Ji Huan took out a simple toothbrush with a wooden handle, dabbed it with tooth powder, and after quickly brushing her own teeth and washing her face, she began to help the child wash up.

There was only one toothbrush, and Ji Huan wasn’t in the habit of sharing. Besides, the child was clearly resistant to the idea of having a small wooden stick poked around in his mouth.

It wasn’t just him; most of the villagers hadn’t adopted the habit of using toothbrushes. They typically just dipped a willow twig in green salt, scrubbed a bit, and rinsed to get it over with.

Ji Huan had no choice but to mix some green salt with water. Afraid the child would swallow it, she verbally reminded him several times and even gave him a demonstration.

She followed his gaze, making sure she was in his line of sight so he could hear and see her. Only then did she bring the saltwater to his lips.

His little lips were pressed tightly together at first, but he eventually gave in and took a mouthful.

Ji Huan stared at him intently. For a long moment, nothing happened. Just as she thought he had swallowed it, he opened his mouth and spat it out.

Ji Huan let out a long sigh of relief. She wiped his face with a towel and then placed the meal in front of him.

A five-year-old boy should normally be able to use chopsticks correctly. But not only could he not use them, he couldn’t even hold them properly. And to think he’d tried to snatch them from her last night when he was starving.

Ji Huan wondered how his grandfather had raised him. Seeing him push the rice everywhere, she could only resign herself to her fate, take the bowl, and feed him herself.

He, on the other hand, was surprisingly compliant. He lowered his eyelids, opened his little mouth, and ate every spoonful she fed him, looking completely used to being waited on.

Ji Huan was speechless.

Hu Ximei leaned close to her ear and whispered with a giggle, "He’s so clumsy! Even Xiao’an and Hua know how to use chopsticks!"

Hu Dacheng nodded in solemn agreement. "Sister Wan, you poor thing!"

Now that he mentioned it, Ji Huan started to feel a little sorry for herself too.

She had spent the whole morning waiting on him like he was a little prince—a whirlwind of worry and work that had her running off her feet.

’If this keeps up,’ she thought, ’I’m really going to get gray hairs before my time...’

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