Chapter Four: The Joyful Grandfather

The next day, after completing a series of medical examinations arranged by the hospital, Xiao Yao was brought by his grandfather, Xiao Chengru, to his father Xiao Siqi’s hospital room.

Seeing the man lying on the hospital bed, his left hand and right leg in casts, his head wrapped in bandages, and his face haggard, Xiao Yao felt a pang of sorrow. Yet he composed himself, smiled, and approached the weary man. “How did you end up like this? You look like you’ve aged by ten years. At this rate, maybe I should just call you ‘old man’ from now on.”

He gently stroked the cast encasing Xiao Siqi’s left hand and sighed. “Dad, you really shouldn’t blame yourself so much. I know this isn’t your fault. You don’t have to feel guilty. Mom is watching over you from above. Do you really think she wants to see you looking so pitiful, barely hanging on? You were the man she admired and looked up to.”

Xiao Yao’s words not only made Xiao Chengru, who had been following behind, widen his eyes in surprise, but also caused the ashamed Xiao Siqi, who had been looking down to avoid facing his son, to lift his head in astonishment.

This approach was the result of Xiao Yao’s deep reflection the night before. He wasn’t skilled at comforting others and had no idea how to use words to help his father overcome guilt and sorrow. So he decided to be bold, hoping to shift his father’s focus away from guilt and sadness towards something unique about himself. Besides, Xiao Yao himself needed to show a maturity beyond his years to gain more say and autonomy in his future life.

Xiao Siqi was indeed taken aback. In his mind, his son should still be a child who could barely say “mom” and “dad” properly, yet now he seemed to have grown up overnight, understanding so much. He glanced at his own father in confusion. Xiao Chengru’s expression had since recovered. He shrugged and said to Xiao Siqi, “After Ba Yi woke up yesterday, I felt the same way you do now. I even consulted his attending physician and the hospital’s neurology expert. The doctors said Ba Yi’s behavior is likely related to the head trauma he suffered. As for why he’s changed this way, they can’t explain it. They said the human brain is a mysterious thing, and our understanding of it is still very limited. But this is ultimately a good thing. Maybe it’s what the ancients called a sudden enlightenment or an opening of the mind. Looks like we’ll have to get used to this new Ba Yi.”

Hearing his father’s words, Xiao Siqi agreed. The child becoming smarter was the only silver lining in this disaster. Perhaps, as the saying goes, blessings and misfortunes are intertwined.

“Ba Yi, do you really not blame your dad?” Xiao Siqi asked, returning to his troubled thoughts now that he had come to terms with some things.

Xiao Yao was a bit speechless but recognized this showed how deeply his father loved his wife and child, hence the inner struggle.

“I already said it’s not your fault,” Xiao Yao rolled his eyes and quickly changed the subject to distract his father. He glanced around the hospital room and then asked Xiao Chengru, “Grandpa, do you have a pen on you?”

“What do you need a pen for?” Xiao Chengru asked, curious.

“I remember Mom saying that signing your name on a cast is a way to express wishes for the patient’s speedy recovery. I want to sign on Dad’s cast,” Xiao Yao explained.

“You know how to write your name?” Xiao Chengru asked, surprised. Could this child be so clever?

“I can’t write the ‘Yao’ in my full name yet, but Mom did teach me how to write my nickname, Ba Yi,” Xiao Yao said, sensing Xiao Chengru’s surprise and suddenly feeling he might be overdoing it, so he switched from his formal name to the simpler nickname.

Perhaps thinking the pen he had might not write smoothly on the cast and that Xiao Yao might not handle it well, Xiao Chengru went to the nurse’s station and borrowed a marker. The marker was about the size of a child’s watercolor brush, which would be easier for Xiao Yao to use.

Taking the marker, Xiao Yao imitated a child’s handwriting and wrote the three characters "Xiao Ba Yi" as crookedly as possible. Then he handed the pen to Xiao Chengru. “Grandpa, you should sign too.”

Xiao Chengru laughed and took the pen, signing his name on the cast of Xiao Siqi’s left hand. His calligraphy was quite skilled; his characters were bold and firm. Placed beside the crooked “Xiao Ba Yi,” the contrast was striking and rather amusing.

Looking at the elegant characters of “Xiao Chengru,” Xiao Yao thought, “Grandpa, your handwriting is beautiful—just like the printed characters in books. Will you teach me how to write?”

“Of course, if you want, I can even teach you brush calligraphy. Characters written with a brush look even more beautiful,” Xiao Chengru said with a smile. Though his calligraphy was professionally recognized, hearing praise from his three-year-old grandson brought him great joy.

Seeing the two of them happily chatting, Xiao Siqi’s mood seemed to lift. He looked at Xiao Yao and said, “Ba Yi, you better learn well from Grandpa. Absorb all his skills. Don’t end up like your old man.”

Xiao Yao looked at his father curiously. “What’s wrong with you?”

Xiao Siqi laughed. “When I was a kid, I also learned calligraphy and painting from your grandpa, but I was too playful and restless. I never really mastered it, just halfway through. It frustrated your grandpa for quite a while.”

“What’s halfway through?” Xiao Yao asked teasingly.

“Uh, just a little better than average, barely passable,” Xiao Siqi said, patting Xiao Yao’s head.

Though it was his own father, Xiao Yao felt a little awkward being patted on the head. Discreetly, he tilted his head away, took the marker from Xiao Chengru, and walked to the foot of the bed, saying, “Don’t worry, I’ll fill the bucket completely. You won’t have to see me write such ugly handwriting anymore. Now, I have to sign your cast on your leg too, so you can see it more often.”

Xiao Chengru and Xiao Siqi chuckled at Xiao Yao’s promise to “fill the bucket,” realizing after a moment that he was cleverly responding to Xiao Siqi’s “half a bucket” comment, and they laughed heartily.

“Dad, there’s something I want to discuss with you,” Xiao Siqi said, glancing at Xiao Yao busily signing the cast on his foot, then turning to his father.

“What is it? Tell me,” Xiao Chengru replied.

“There’s a saying that injuries to the muscles and bones take a hundred days to heal. Even if I’m discharged now, I’ll probably need two or three months to fully recover. During this time, I won’t be able to take good care of Ba Yi. So I want him to stay with you for a few months. You can help look after him. At first, I thought about hiring a nanny to take care of him since you’re older and he’s still so young. I was worried he’d be too much trouble. But now that Ba Yi is so sensible—almost like a little adult—and he says he wants to learn calligraphy from you, I think it’s better for him to stay with you,” Xiao Siqi said earnestly.

“That’s no problem. I’d love to have my grandson closer to me,” Xiao Chengru said matter-of-factly. “You just focus on healing. Whenever you miss your son, call me, and I’ll bring him to see you. When you’re fully recovered, you can come get him.”

Xiao Siqi nodded and said to Xiao Yao, “Ba Yi, why don’t you stay with Grandpa for a few months? Once Dad’s healed, he’ll come to pick you up.”

“Okay,” Xiao Yao agreed immediately. Calling the man “Dad, Dad” felt a bit awkward for now, so he felt more comfortable staying with his grandfather, who was closer to his own mental age.

After observing Xiao Yao at the hospital for two more days and receiving reports that his body was completely fine, Xiao Chengru handled the discharge procedures. After reminding Xiao Siqi to rest and recover, the grandfather and grandson returned to Xiao Chengru’s residence.

In the old district of Yanjing, the capital city, Xiao Yao was amazed by the small, somewhat aged courtyard house nestled in an alleyway. Just like in a past life, having such a residence implied either substantial heritage, considerable wealth, or both. And Xiao Chengru clearly represented the former.

“Grandpa, this place is amazing! The whole courtyard is yours alone?” Xiao Yao asked in astonishment.

“This has been passed down in our family for generations, but it’s not just mine,” Xiao Chengru smiled.

“Eh? The courtyard belongs to others too?” Xiao Yao sounded disappointed.

“Yes, your dad and you have a share too. You’re all part of the Xiao family,” Xiao Chengru laughed at Xiao Yao’s disappointed look. “But your dad finds this place too old-fashioned and doesn’t like living here. Otherwise, the three of us could all live here together.”

“That’s just like Dad. He wouldn’t get used to living here. The alley’s entrance is too narrow for cars, and he hates the inconvenience. And then there’s his habit of playing instruments and composing songs late at night—neighbors would be banging on your door in no time,” Xiao Yao nodded, then added, “But when Dad gets to your age, living here for retirement would be great.”

“Heh, let’s see if this courtyard is still around then,” Xiao Chengru chuckled. He wasn’t just amused by his conversations with Xiao Yao, which he had gotten used to over the past few days, but also by the boy’s sudden grasp of the old Yanjing dialect. A few days ago at the hospital, Xiao Yao’s speech still carried traces of Hong Kong and Taiwan accents, ending sentences with words like “la” and “ne,” likely influenced by his mother’s social circle. But after wandering through the old alleys of Yanjing with his grandfather and chatting casually with the locals—true natives of the city—Xiao Yao quickly picked up distinctive local expressions, speaking with a genuine Beijing flavor. This was an impressive linguistic talent.

The elder Xiao noticed his grandson’s keen interest in the old Yanjing alleys. Since Xiao Siqi lived in a modern, upscale neighborhood near the CBD, Xiao Yao had never experienced the old alleys. Eager to share this cultural heritage, Xiao Chengru took his grandson for a long walk after dinner. Since most neighbors had lived there for decades, nearly everyone they met stopped to chat. With Xiao Yao’s sweetness and quick wit, and his use of age-appropriate terms of address for the elders, the old man earned many admiring compliments, making him even happier.

That night, Xiao Chengru had planned for his grandson to share his room, but Xiao Yao insisted on staying in a separate room. Reluctantly, he arranged for Xiao Yao to stay in the east wing. Watching Xiao Yao use the toiletries prepared for him to clean up by himself and then slip into bed with remarkable independence—more so than some seven or eight-year-olds—Xiao Chengru felt confident that caring for his grandson over the coming months would be an easy task.