At first, Jiang Xiaoya was very pleased with herself, very satisfied. But when she realized that Daya had been nagging for more than ten minutes and was still kissing her, she gradually felt that it was getting tricky. She had thought that nagging was something exclusive to moms; she had absolutely never expected that Daya had already been marinated through and through by as her mother, turning into the likeness of a human repeater.
Ai, although it really loves her, it is truly too naggy.
This New Year, they returned to their hometown. Because they needed to go back and clean up the house in the swamp—otherwise, if no one lived there for too long, mushrooms would grow.
Haisha City had only one railway, and the newly established alliance didn’t have many trains either. During the Spring Festival travel rush, it was especially crowded, completely impossible to get tickets. So Jiang Ze decided to revert to its original form and take Xiaoya home. After all, it was tall enough; walking for a day would almost get them there. Fortunately, this winter was not cold, so they happily set off, treating it as this year’s trip.
Jiang Xiaoya liked to sit on its shoulder on rainy days, and in its palm on sunny days; the luggage could also be placed in Daya’s palm. On sunny days, it didn’t like to walk, so they would find a place to squat and wait for the sun to pass. At first she would also lie prone on the top of its head, but the altitude was too high and it was really too cold, so she would crawl along its hair into its palm.
But she still wasn’t used to sitting in the palm of a colossal being. Every few minutes she would uneasily poke her head out, telling Daya not to pinch her to death. It lowered its head to look at her, feeling that she shouldn’t dislike its nagging—
That little dog’s fear-of-death manner was truly much more verbose than it was.
On the night when heavy snow fell, they returned to the swamp home. Both of them were extremely glad that they had arrived before the heavy snow. Tidying the house, cleaning away the dust, pasting paper-cut window decorations, setting out a bouquet of snow roses—this was their New Year tradition.
───♡───
Jiang Ze was learning, slowly changing from the position of a caregiver into a very good lover. What was reassuring was that, whether as a mother or as a partner, it devoted itself wholeheartedly to doing the job well.
So much so that Jiang Xiaoya suspected it had evolved the ability to read minds.
But what she felt was unfair was that she couldn’t guess at all what Jiang Ze was thinking.
On New Year’s Day, the Spring Festival Gala on television was still a pre-apocalypse rebroadcast—Jiang Xiaoya had already watched it twenty times. Outside the window, goose-feather snow was drifting down; all her attention was on a novel in her hands with very intense plot developments.
It was forceful-possession literature shared by Xiao Chan. It made the little dog’s cheeks warm; from time to time she would lift her head and sneak a furtive glance at Jiang Ze. However, as soon as the twelve o’clock chime passed, Jiang Ze suddenly raised its head from across from her and asked whether she wanted to play a forceful-possession game to help her sleep.
It knew exactly what the novel she was reading was about. It knew everything.
It didn’t even need to leave her any room to refuse. It knew her embarrassment far too well; she would surely be ashamed to admit that she liked this kind of trope. But it caught her slightly curled toes, and more importantly, it saw that instant flash of light in her eyes—the light of a thought being exposed.
There was no space for any verbal refusal.
Its palm had already, steadily yet with restrained force, grasped her ankle. The movement was very slow, like measuring a fragile treasure, carrying an intention of unquestionable control. It did not crudely plunder her as written in the stories. On the contrary, it lowered its head, approaching her in a posture close to submission, while carefully encircling and lifting her up.
Then, gently placing her upon its own waist and abdomen.
That was another form of forceful possession, one that belonged to Jiang Ze—gentle and slow, yet forceful.
───♡───
On the steps leading to the lakeside, she saw its back from afar. The Jiang Ze of last night, with that unquestionable controlling force, had disappeared. The one sitting on the cold stone steps now had a shadow that was lonely and forlorn.
A few days earlier, while tidying things up, Jiang Xiaoya had found, from the bottom of the cabinet, the diary she wrote at eighteen after a failed confession. Inside it was all about hating Jiang Daya, hating, hating. Eighteen-year-old Xiaoya did not understand its worries.
But twenty-year-old Xiaoya found that she was more and more able to understand it from its standpoint. She remembered once asking Daya: she only knew that it liked flowers and liked her—besides that, what else? But Jiang Ze froze for a moment and said, none. It didn’t have tastes it clearly liked; whatever Xiaoya ate, it would eat. It didn’t have its own hobbies; if Xiaoya needed a sweater, then it would like knitting sweaters.
At that moment, Jiang Xiaoya suddenly realized that although it was not a mother, on the road of raising her, the youth—like many mothers—had given up a great deal of a vivid, unrestrained life in order to raise a child. And the child became the entirety of life.
So making every decision became unimaginably difficult.
She possessed the courage to charge forward without hesitation, yet at the age of twenty, she understood the heavy love that belonged to Jiang Ze. Within her love for Jiang Ze, there was a very large part that was pity and tenderness.
She crossed the snowy ground, followed the stone-paved path she loved to walk on as a child, and came to Jiang Ze’s side. She rested her head on its knee and sat beside it.
Sensing her closeness, it lowered its head and asked her a question: Xiaoya, what is it that you like about Jiang Ze?
After returning home, it searched for traces of “Jiang Ze” in the old house where it had lived for more than twenty years. But it discovered that this question continued to trouble it. It believed there was nothing about “Jiang Ze” worth liking. It had no particular interests or hobbies, and it was not witty or humorous enough. It was even faceless and indistinct—if one did not examine it carefully, that “Jiang Ze” simply did not exist.
A Jiang Ze that even it itself felt unfamiliar with—why would she like it?
It confessed to Jiang Xiaoya this story that had been forgotten in a corner—about the Ferris wheel when it was seven years old.
But Jiang Xiaoya said, “Eh? Daya, I gave you a Ferris wheel. Don’t you remember?”
It turned out that that lost story had a second half.
When she was little, Xiaoya always felt that Daya might not be as mature as imagined, somewhat different from the mother figure she had envisioned—mothers probably wouldn’t deliberately scare her into crying loudly, or take her to the lake to play wildly. That day, she followed behind Daya and saw its dejected appearance, then turned to look at the abandoned Ferris wheel and scratched her head.
Did Mom also want to ride the Ferris wheel?
So Xiaoya painstakingly put together a Ferris wheel to give it, clumsily twisting branches, winding grass stems together, and even specially running off to pick many of the most brightly colored little wildflowers, inserting them one by one, carefully, into those several layered circles that represented the cabins.
It was just because it was too ugly that it had never known those few circles were a Ferris wheel.
That ring was still hanging on the living room balcony.
Jiang Xiaoya pulled it over to look.
It really was.
When it thought that Jiang Ze had been forgotten by itself, she had seen it, and then excitedly picked up the Jiang Ze it had thrown away, treasuring it and storing it in her memories.
It felt unfamiliar with Jiang Ze. They still had a long lifetime ahead, to retrieve that lost self, bit by bit.
As for the matter of why she liked Jiang Ze—when it felt itself to be as dull and gray as dust, in Xiaoya’s eyes, it was her broad harbor, the gentlest big monster in the world.
Her answer was to tiptoe, pull its head down, and kiss it.
During the time Jiang Xiaoya was in college, the situation at the Tiandong Base improved a lot. That abandoned amusement park from years ago was renovated and reopened. To make up for those regrets missed in childhood, they really did go to the amusement park together.
They curled up inside the Ferris wheel cabin. Jiang Ze’s enormous body completely enveloped Jiang Xiaoya in its arms; the two of them were like one big and one small koala, faces pressed against the cold little window as they looked down.
Ai, it wasn’t fun at all—might as well follow Daya to jump off a building.
The wind was also very gentle, not exciting at all.
But they were still completely satisfied.
It held Jiang Xiaoya’s hand and walked forward, as if seeing, beneath the Ferris wheel not far ahead, a smaller, seven-year-old Jiang Ze appear. That one walked ahead, lost and dejected—but it couldn’t stay dejected for long.
Because behind it followed a lively little tagalong.
The little tagalong said: Mom, let’s go step on puddles.
The little tagalong said: Mom, I want to step on ten.
Seven-year-old Jiang Ze was no longer dejected; it grabbed the little brat by the back of the collar.
Daya’s childhood had no elders or relatives, but it had a little cotton-padded jacket that leaked wind.
Childhood became the whooshing Ferris wheels and windmills, receding behind them.
───♡───
To my dear Daya:
When you open this letter, I hope you are well.
Daya, I still signed up for the rescue team internship. I know you told me that I don’t need to rush to prove anything to you. But this time, I still want to tell you clearly:
Xiaoya has grown up. Being able to stand steadily on the ground is already enough to put Daya at ease.
It’s not just to tell you to look at me properly anymore, but also to tell you that I am no longer your little burden.
Daya, you also have to learn to love yourself.
Because I hope that in this world, besides me, there is still someone who loves Daya.
You can fly far away like a kite. As long as that string is still held in both of our hands.
Just like you always taught me, there are countless possibilities in life. Things that couldn’t be done before because of Xiaoya can be tried again after Xiaoya grows up. You can go look for “Jiang Ze” with peace of mind.
If you find it on the road, remember to help me tell it: Xiaoya will always love you.
x year x month x day,
your Xiaoya.
───♡───
To my dear Xiaoya:
When you open this letter, I hope you are well.
Xiaoya, after you left, I left home and went to look for Jiang Ze as you said. I followed the railway northward and saw snow mountains and some yaks, but those cows weren’t as cute as Ah Hua and would even butt people.
I reverted to my original form and walked a very long way. People would always try to attack me when they saw me; if they couldn’t win, they would beg for mercy, as if I would eat them like in a horror story (actually, I did kind of want to eat them). But remembering your instructions, I told them that as long as they told me a good story, I would let them go.
Now I have very, very many stories, which I can tell you after I return home.
It’s snowing in the north. Sitting by the campfire, I’m still very cold.
Snowflakes fall one by one. I think I’ve found Jiang Ze.
Jiang Ze was born because of loving Xiaoya. So it cannot be separated from Xiaoya.
Perhaps you stole Jiang Ze’s soul when you were little.
Now, Jiang Ze doesn’t want to go any farther.
Jiang Ze wants to see you immediately—right now.
───♡───
Jiang Xiaoya’s rescue team was temporarily assigning several people to go deep into a pre-apocalypse research center to salvage and copy some top-secret materials. These abandoned research centers had many dangerous facilities, with extremely high risk factors. She had promised Daya not to gamble with her life, so she generally would not participate. But this time, she found in the documents that this research center had once stored top-secret materials from the Tiandong Prison of that year.
She immediately decided to sign up.
Their home in the swamp was the former site of Tiandong Prison.
Although Daya was unwilling to mention it, Jiang Xiaoya vaguely knew about its childhood experience of being imprisoned in the prison, which once made it deeply hate humans. People all want to know where they come from. They had once guessed together in front of the television: was Daya also once a water ghost before, or a prisoner in the prison before becoming a water ghost?
After all, many people were imprisoned in Tiandong Base’s prison, and after a year-long acid rain, all of them turned into water ghosts.
But water ghosts do not grow up; they only maintain their appearance from before death, becoming shriveled and pale. Yet Daya had a complete history of growing up. Everyone in the world has a desire to explore their origins—just like how, when Jiang Xiaoya was little, she also did not wish that she had truly been abandoned by others.
Perhaps she could find Daya’s past there.
More importantly, Jiang Xiaoya was no longer a naïve child. She had seen too much cold-bloodedness and darkness in the rescue team. She had to ensure that this information would not be discovered. She did not want Daya’s data to be leaked, or found by others. That was her instinctive desire to protect her family.
She volunteered herself, being airdropped from a helicopter into the depths of the ruins, into the data center.
Passing through the winding ventilation ducts downward, Jiang Xiaoya finally saw those yellowed records.
What surprised her, however, was that Tiandong Base’s prison had already established a research center before that year-long acid rain. And in the research center’s logs, it was very clearly written—
They had discovered a long-standing anomaly at the center of the lake and swamp. Until one day, all the water in the lake receded overnight, exposing the muddy riverbed and the swamp, and within the swamp was born a new, unprecedented form of life.
Daya was not a water ghost transformed from a human.
It was the child of the swamp and the lake.
She stuffed that top-secret material into her vest, wanting to bring it home to tell Daya.
However, on the way back, an explosion occurred in an abandoned warehouse of the research institute. A scorching shockwave mixed with fierce flames erupted instantly, and the buildings began to collapse—beams and abandoned walls falling one after another.
All of this was like the end of the world. Jiang Ze was now in the distant north; it was no longer like when she was little, when it would stay by her side step for step and could appear immediately. Yet for some reason, she did not feel unease or fear in her heart.
She felt that a light rain began to fall from the sky, the rain seeping through the collapsing buildings. But compared to the gasoline-mixed explosion, this rain was still small, still weak.
The buildings rapidly receded behind her.
She wanted to go home. She missed Daya, Ah Hua; she missed the boundless swamp and lake. Her thoughts returned to a very, very distant childhood. But she did not stop running for even a moment, because she wanted to live with all her strength.
In her previous life, she had been all alone. When she ran out of the fire scene, her steps were heavy and her breathing gradually weakened. She could not run anymore, so she stopped. At that time, she had rescued a pregnant woman and felt that she had laid down her mission, that she was very tired, and so she curled up amid the sky full of ashes and flames and fell asleep.
Now, she still had to see Jiang Ze and Ah Hua.
Suddenly, the sounds of collapse disappeared. The rain grew heavier and heavier, until it turned into a torrential downpour never seen before.
Panting, she stopped and saw that tall shadow at the end of the world.
As if the entire clamorous world had been pressed on the pause button by an invisible hand.
───♡───
Xiaoya, Xiaoya, when it rains, don’t worry.
Others have umbrellas; I have Daya.
Seventh-grade Xiaoya was playing hopscotch on the ground. When she jumped to the last square, it suddenly started to rain. Jiang Ze came to call her home for dinner. She was tucked into Daya’s arms and carried back. Its hair was so long; her clothes didn’t get wet at all.
She looked up and asked: Daya, with you here, will I never get rained on for my whole life?
