An Yao’S Observation Diary Chapter 6
byWednesday, March 26th, Light Rain
Too much happened yesterday, and I didn’t have time to record the rest, so I’ll have to slowly catch up today.
It’s been raining continuously these past two days. Although it’s only a drizzle, it keeps starting and stopping, which is quite annoying. To prevent An Yao from catching a cold, I specifically dug out a coat from the closet and draped it over him before we left.
“I bought this a couple of years ago, so the style might be a bit outdated,” I straightened his collar. “Wear this for now; I’ll take you to pick out a new one in a couple of days.”
An Yao is a full head shorter than me. The wide collar almost hid half his face, leaving only a pair of bright, sparkling eyes visible.
“You don’t need to bother…” His voice was muffled by the coat. “This one is great, very warm.”
An Yao smiled shyly. “I really like it.”
He is a child who is easily satisfied.
I didn’t say anything more, just lowered my head and smiled, leaning down to put a medical mask on him, gently tucking a few strands of loose hair behind his ear.
“The flu is frequent lately, be careful not to get sick,” I softened my voice. “Colds are miserable.”
An Yao nodded obediently, his earlobes having quietly turned crimson at some point, giving his face a faint pink flush. He buried his head deeper and averted his gaze. “Doctor Lin, when are we leaving?”
The child is still young and easily embarrassed.
I suppressed a laugh, not exposing his flustered thoughts. “We’re leaving now.”
An Yao nodded, causing some loose strands of hair to fall down again—at some point, he had quietly removed the hair tie. With his fluffy, medium-length hair, he trailed slowly behind me, like a clumsy little penguin.
I led the little penguin slowly downstairs and walked toward the parking shed.
Surprisingly, the rain gear I had prepared was completely unnecessary. The rain had stopped at some point, the sky was clear blue, and many of the clouds had dispersed. A slight cool breeze brushed against my face, and the air was filled with the dampness of the earth.
My mood suddenly improved significantly. I actually quite like this kind of weather; it’s neither hot nor cold, and my mind feels much clearer.
An Yao clearly enjoyed the weather too. He squinted slightly, a smile playing on his lips, unaware that a strand of his messy hair was sticking up, ruffled by the wind.
I secretly helped him smooth down that stubbornly sticking-up strand and handed him a helmet. “Put this on properly.”
An Yao took it and obediently fastened it onto his head. “Doctor Lin, what about you?”
“Only one person needs to wear a helmet on the E-bike,” I said. “I want to feel the wind today.”
I need to buy another helmet soon, I thought.
An Yao didn’t doubt the clumsy excuse at all. He climbed onto the back seat of the E-bike and sat properly, leaning against the storage box.
“Are you seated securely?” I looked back to confirm.
Through the helmet, An Yao’s voice sounded muffled. “I’m secure.”
“Good.” I twisted the handlebar. “Let’s go—”
The E-bike emitted a low hum, then lightly trembled and slid forward. It was a bit sluggish at first, but after a few seconds, it accelerated steadily, carrying us onto the damp road.
The small county town has countless messy little roads. The concrete roads have been repaired repeatedly, looking much the same as they did ten or twenty years ago. We drove along the river, past a dilapidated kindergarten whose wall was still painted with Mickey Mouse, and the crooked red characters for “Health” and “Exercise.”
Broken-down houses were stacked with reddish-brown bricks, marked with blue characters for “Demolition” and warning signs. Mold crept upward. Some walls were cracked, revealing a broken-legged school desk inside. Further ahead was a small convenience store where a few children were playing outside, and you could faintly see rows of vegetables planted in the corner of the wall.
I inexplicably started talking to An Yao about this river.
“This river used to be extremely dirty. Both industrial and domestic sewage were dumped into it; you couldn’t find any live fish in there,” I slowly fell into memory. “Later, the government funded environmental improvements, and fish gradually returned, attracting more and more people to fish here.”
But that was all when I was in elementary school. Now I hear they are starting to build an overpass and re-delineating the area. Muddy water is accumulating and spreading again, submerging the river’s clarity.
And the buildings along the road were there when I was very young… no, perhaps they were there when I was born. They were like housing units distributed by workplaces, so dilapidated that the bricks were exposed. I once thought these buildings would last forever, but now they are also scheduled for demolition.
“Is it because they are building an overpass?” An Yao asked softly.
“Perhaps,” I said. “I don’t know either.”
I suddenly remembered that a high school classmate of mine used to live there. A family of six squeezed into a tiny unit apartment: an abusive father, a grandmother who favored boys, a spoiled older brother, a perpetually weeping mother, and her, who couldn’t escape. I often saw that girl secretly wiping tears in the stairwell. Her grades were poor, and the homeroom teacher often called her out for talks. Later, later…
I can’t quite recall that girl’s face.
The E-bike continued forward, carrying the river water downstream, but it was blocked by cement bags. Muddy water accumulated at the riverbed, stagnant.
I drove past the elementary school I attended, past the intersection. Construction facilities were everywhere along the road. Everything seemed unchanged yet changed so much.
It’s strange. The city I remember was far from as clean as it is now. It should have been the damp, muddy lanes of the Spring Dampness decades ago, the roads jammed with people outside the school gates. It seemed everywhere were parents picking up their children, someone’s umbrella was knocked off, a child seemed to be crying, and vendors were shouting—definitely not the neat and clean streets of today.
My hometown, which I disliked yet couldn’t abandon; the city I’ve lived in for decades yet feel utterly unfamiliar with.
“Doctor Lin,” An Yao’s voice sounded. “There used to be trees on this street.”
His voice was very light and soft, seeming to fly away with the slightest breeze, yet his breath was so close, clearly transmitted through the fabric of the coat to my mind.
“Yes,” I silently curved my eyebrows into a smile. “Now they’ve all been replaced with ordinary green belts.”
This city has changed, and I have changed too.
Nothing remains constant.
The E-bike turned right, and after one more small road, a two-story building facing the street appeared before us. Cream-colored walls, a simple sign, and several blue construction hoardings lying horizontally beside it.
I glanced at my phone—1:55 PM, perfect timing.
“I’ll go open the door first,” I instructed An Yao. “Wait for me nearby, don’t wander off.”
An Yao nodded and immediately looked at the tree next to the Clinic. It was an old tree, rumored to have been there before the road was built. Its branches hung low, the leaves covered in dew.
He was watching intently, unaware that the wind was messing up his hair.
I smiled, withdrew my gaze, and pulled the keys from my pocket. I raised the roller shutter, opened the glass door, and took out the numbered queue cards, placing them on the small table by the door.
“An Yao!” I called out. “You can come in now!”
An Yao quickly turned around and jogged into the Clinic.
“Doctor Lin…” He quietly looked around. “Is this where you usually work?”
“That’s right,” I took a medical mask from the drawer and put it on. “Is it smaller than you imagined?”
An Yao looked around seriously. “No, I think… it’s very nice.”
I laughed. “Thank you for the compliment.”
An Yao’s face immediately turned red. “N-no, I was just telling the truth…”
“That’s still great,” I curved my eyes. “That’s also a compliment.”
“I like it very much.”
An Yao covered his face, whimpering pleadingly. “Doctor Lin…”
I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. The child looked so adorable that I wanted to tease him a bit more, but the glass door was suddenly pushed open, and two young women rushed in, clocking in right on time.
“Exactly two o’clock! Just right!” Chen Xuanyi cheered. “Oh my god, we really weren’t late this time! I’m a genius!”
Liang Yue clapped in support. “Me too!”
The two inexplicably high-fived, though I had no idea what they were celebrating.
“You two are impossible,” I said, shaking my head with a wry smile. “Why do you celebrate every time you clock in right on time?”
“Brother Lin, you don’t understand,” Liang Yue said, talking nonsense with a serious face. “Life needs a sense of ritual; that’s how we find motivation for work!”
“Besides—” Their eyes simultaneously landed on An Yao. “Who is this…?”
“A child I brought out for a walk,” I smiled. “Isn’t he handsome?”
“He’s so handsome!” Chen Xuanyi exclaimed. “Where did you meet him? How did you run into someone who looks like a celestial being?”
Liang Yue was also incredibly curious. “How long have you known each other? Are you planning to get married? How many kids are you planning to have?”
An Yao couldn’t handle the barrage of questions. He stammered for a long time, only able to helplessly cover his flushed face. “I, I…”
“Alright, alright, stop teasing him.” I interrupted them. “Hurry up and prepare; patients will be arriving soon.”
The two girls exchanged glances and burst into teasing laughter. “Stop~ teasing~ him~. I think someone here doesn’t want us teasing the child, right?”
I raised a Prescription Slip, pretending to strike them. “Are you going or not? If you don’t, I’ll hit you.”
“The boss is being unreasonable and hitting his employees!” They laughed and ran off. “We’re doomed, we’re doomed, someone is feeling protective!”
Watching them run off, I shook my head helplessly, then turned and pulled a chair, gently placing it next to An Yao. “Those girls are used to being rowdy; they’re very outspoken. You sit here first. I’ll talk to them properly later.”
The redness hadn’t faded from An Yao’s face. With his fluffy, light-gray hair, he looked like a soft, fuzzy ball.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “They didn’t mean anything by it.”
I rubbed his head resignedly. “An Yao, you’re too easy to bully if you’re like this.”
“You can’t have too good a temper,” I said seriously. “You need to be a little fierce.”
“Like this,” I deliberately made a fierce, snarling expression. “Come on, try it?”
An Yao blinked, his face full of confusion. But he still honestly complied, wrinkling his nose and baring his teeth. He wasn’t fierce at all; he looked more like a kitten trying to hiss.
I didn’t want to crush his confidence, so I stifled my laughter and nodded seriously. “Not bad. Practice more in the future. If anyone is mean to you, you be mean right back like that.”
An Yao nodded. “I understand.”
I suddenly felt a little guilty.
I didn’t corrupt the child, did I? I touched the bridge of my nose. But An Yao is too honest; being a little fierce can’t be a bad thing.
Although, seeing him like that just made me want to rub his head more.
I thought about various random things, but as more patients arrived, these scattered thoughts were quickly thrown to the back of my mind.
An Yao sat quietly in the corner, watching me consult, occasionally helping to collect money and hand out medicine. He was very serious about his tasks, and when he was busy, his eyes were bright and sparkling, always tempting me to rub his head.
“Doctor Lin, how much did you pay to hire such a sensible assistant?” A familiar patient teased. “He’s good-looking and works quickly.”
“I didn’t pay anything,” I laughed. “I tricked him into it.”
I looked at An Yao. “Isn’t that right?”
An Yao’s ears immediately turned bright red. “…I don’t want money.”
The others laughed at the sight. “Doctor Lin, you’re so lucky.”
People came and went in the Clinic until after seven o’clock when it gradually quieted down. An Yao had been busy all afternoon. His light-gray hair was damp with sweat, sticking softly to his temples.
I handed him a tissue. “An Yao, how do you feel today? Was it very tiring?”
“It wasn’t tiring,” An Yao took the tissue. His light-gray eyes were bright and clear under the light. “I’m happy to be able to help.”
“It’s good that you’re happy, but you can’t overexert yourself.” I said. “Tomorrow, the stitches on your back can be removed, but you still need to pay attention to rest afterward.”
An Yao nodded, but I suspected he probably didn’t take it to heart.
However, seeing how happy he looked, I ultimately didn’t say anything more. I just took him out for dinner, constantly putting food into his bowl.
“Doctor Lin…” he said. “You should eat too. I can’t finish all this.”
“You’re too thin right now,” I lied. “You need to eat more, or the wind might blow you away and I’ll have to carry you in my pocket.”
An Yao looked down at himself, silently puffed out his cheeks, and tried to stuff two more bites in.
“But don’t force yourself,” I smiled. “Take your time.”
We stayed at the Clinic until 9:30 PM. I locked up, got on the E-bike, and rode An Yao into the night.
The secluded streets were already quiet. The evening breeze brushed past our ears, leaving a subtle whooshing sound. Streetlights cast a warm yellow glow on the road, coating passing pedestrians with a soft, gentle edge.
“Doctor Lin,” An Yao’s soft voice came from the back seat. “Can I… can I come again tomorrow?”
“Of course you can,” I said.
“Feel free to ask me if you don’t understand anything.” I lowered my voice. “Chen Xuanyi and Liang Yue are both very cheerful and close to your age. You can chat with them more when you have time.”
“You are all young people; you should have plenty of topics to talk about.”
An Yao was silent for a moment. “…Doctor Lin isn’t old either.”
“I’m 32,” I laughed wryly. “I’m almost a full cycle older than you.”
“That’s still not old,” An Yao insisted stubbornly. “Very young.”
I paused, then suddenly burst out laughing.
“An Yao,” I slowed the E-bike. “Thank you.”
Thank you for thinking I’m still young.