A Day Out

"Lin Sangyu, time to take your medicine."

Jiang Wenzhe carried the cooled herbal medicine into the room.

But the moment Lin Sangyu saw him, she bolted, her ink-black hair drifting softly behind her as she ran.

Jiang Wenzhe caught up in a few long strides and pulled her back. "What are you running for? Think a quick sprint will get you out of this?"

Lin Sangyu covered her face in agony and flopped onto the bean bag sofa, letting out a few disgruntled whines. "I'm just a tiny sugar glider. Why do I have to face such a horrible invention of humankind—dark, smelly, bitter medicine?"

"And whose fault is that? Who ran away on a hot day, went straight to the air conditioning while her whole body was burning up, and then chugged two bowls of iced sugar water?" Jiang Wenzhe's jaw tightened slightly as he spoke.

"Why bring that up again?" Lin Sangyu reluctantly took the medicine, and like a warrior downing a toast, gulped it all in one go. A moment later, her face twisted in misery, and she stuck out a bit of her tongue. "It's so bitter, ahhhh."

Jiang Wenzhe took out a strawberry-filled candy, unwrapped it, and fed it to her. "That was the last dose. Don't get sick again from now on."

Lin Sangyu muttered, "Getting sick is also my own will. If I'm going to get sick, I can't stop it."

"But this time, you could have avoided it," Jiang Wenzhe said flatly.

"Fine, fine," Lin Sangyu covered her ears and dashed forward. "Let's go, let's go. It's almost time. Let's hurry to the farm."

Her ankle socks were bunched around her ankles, and her slippers clattered quickly across the floor with crisp, sharp sounds. Her pale legs looked almost translucent under the sunlight, so delicate they seemed to glow. Jiang Wenzhe watched her retreating figure and smiled helplessly.

The drive was neither too short nor too long—about two hours.

Through the window, the city's cold, harsh steel forest gradually gave way to endless green from the outskirts. Every scene looked like words written on paper that were smudged before they could dry, leaving behind only a blur of fleeting shadows.

Lin Sangyu was full of energy, sometimes pressing against the window with excitement at the unfolding scenery, sometimes digging into her bag for the snacks she'd packed, munching happily. The rustle of the plastic bag being crumpled and twisted echoed loudly in the quiet car.

About halfway through her snacks, she remembered the ever-dutiful driver beside her. "Want some?" she asked.

Jiang Wenzhe shot her a quick glance before returning his eyes to the road. "Driving requires focus. Respect life," he lectured.

"Oh." Lin Sangyu withdrew her hand, ready to offer a piece.

By the time she finished her snacks, they had arrived. As the car came to a stop, Lin Sangyu hopped out and took in the vast open ground, occupied by a large complex of white factory buildings laid out in neat rows.

Jiang Wenzhe held an umbrella in his right hand and reached out with his left to take hers, but Lin Sangyu tucked her hands behind her back. "It's too hot. Don't want to hold hands."

"Then why not just say you don't want to share the umbrella and go sunbathe?" Jiang Wenzhe said.

Seeing that he was a bit upset, Lin Sangyu said in a small voice, "Fine, then let's link arms."

As they reached the entrance of the factory area, a shuttle cart pulled up, and a young worker in overalls waved at them. "Mr. Jiang, Miss Lin, hop on!"

After boarding, Lin Sangyu asked, "Are we going to see the animals?"

Jiang Wenzhe bit his tongue against his molars, a subtle bulge forming on his cheek, and a shadow of gloom had settled under his dark lashes at some point. He replied in a flat tone, "Yeah, we're going to the public viewing area."

"Jiang Wenzhe, you seem upset again." Lin Sangyu had always been sharp at reading people's moods.

Was it because they weren't holding hands?

But that didn't seem right either.

Jiang Wenzhe blinked rapidly twice, his expression returning to normal. "I'm not upset. Don't run off later. It's the weekend, so there might be quite a few tourists."

And as he'd said, the spacious, brightly lit, mechanized public factory area was crowded with people, shoulder to shoulder. Lin Sangyu had no choice but to obediently cling to Jiang Wenzhe's arm as they walked.

They stopped at the piglet confinement housing. The fully transparent glass allowed a clear view inside—two rows of iron-barred stalls stretched straight ahead, with an automatic feeding pipeline running down the middle. Each piglet was secured in its own clean, tidy compartment.

Newborn piglets were tiny, and under the stall lights, the short white fuzz on their pink skin stood out distinctly.

Lin Sangyu tugged excitedly at Jiang Wenzhe's sleeve. "Jiang Wenzhe, the piglets are so cute! I want to raise one."

"Do you know what pigs look like when they grow up?" Jiang Wenzhe's gaze stayed fixed on the piglets scurrying around their stalls, a faint trace of sorrow flashing in his eyes as fragments of past memories surfaced unbidden.

Helplessness. Pain. Despair.

"No," she admitted, aware of her limited knowledge—she'd eaten pork but never seen a live pig.

Jiang Wenzhe turned his head away slightly, almost imperceptibly, to hide part of his emotion. "Look it up yourself."

Lin Sangyu pulled out her phone, searched, and shut it off after a single glance. Her expression turned so serious it looked like she was about to enlist. "Jiang Wenzhe, I've decided that this species should not be allowed anywhere near our home."

Jiang Wenzhe snorted, ignored her, and continued leading her forward.

"Jiang Wenzhe, look! There are a bunch of white four-legged animals over there, and it looks like you can pet them."

Following Lin Sangyu's gaze, Jiang Wenzhe saw a wooden house where over a dozen fluffy white lambs huddled together, small bells around their necks tinkling with every step. Several tourists were holding them and taking photos.

"Those are lambs," Jiang Wenzhe said.

"Oh, so that's what lambs are. I've never seen one before," Lin Sangyu said, as if a light bulb had gone off.

Seeing her hopeful look, Jiang Wenzhe asked, "Do you want to hold one? We could go over."

"Sure, sure! If you really want to, then let's go." As usual, she answered without really listening.

Lin Sangyu found a quiet corner where a lamb was pressed against the wooden wall, quietly nibbling on scattered grass on the ground.

She tentatively reached out and stroked its soft back. When the lamb didn't react much, she relaxed and began petting it with abandon. "Jiang Wenzhe, the lamb's fur feels a bit like mine—both are soft."

Humans grow fur? Interesting.

A few girls nearby overheard this, turned to stare, then silently looked away, leaving Lin Sangyu alone in her embarrassment.

"Jiang Wenzhe, take a few photos of me."

After the photos, it was time to leave this awkward place.

Jiang Wenzhe had long since honed his photography skills; for casual shots like this, it was a piece of cake. Click, click, click—every shot was frame-worthy.

Lin Sangyu reviewed them and nodded with satisfaction. "Not bad. Let's keep going."

The two walked through the crowded farming area and reached the snack sales section. A big sign advertised "all-natural, no additives," and under warm lighting, various foods were displayed, glistening with an enticing sheen.

Lin Sangyu swallowed hard, grabbed a sample of pork jerky with a toothpick, and popped it in her mouth. The meat was chewy, with a perfect balance of sweet and savory. "This is really good."

Jiang Wenzhe picked up a chicken cube and handed it to her. "Try a few more kinds. See which ones you think could work as animal snacks. Human snacks and animal snacks actually have a lot in common."

And so, Jiang Wenzhe fed Lin Sangyu all the way down the aisle. Each sample was small, but they added up—especially since she'd already eaten a round in the car—and now she was completely stuffed.

Jiang Wenzhe adjusted his pace and led her on a few more laps to help her digest.

By the time they left the viewing area, it was dusk, and the fiery clouds on the horizon cast a warm glow over the cold, sterile complex.

They boarded the shuttle again, enjoying the cool breeze, and rode to Xie Weiting's countryside courtyard nestled at the outermost edge of the complex.

"You're here, Wenzhe, little Lin!" Xie Weiting was already standing at the courtyard gate, calling out enthusiastically from over ten meters away as the shuttle approached.

"Yeah, we're here, Uncle Xie."

"Hello, Uncle Xie." Lin Sangyu smiled with her eyes.

The three of them settled in the clean, tidy living room. Old people couldn't stand air conditioning, so they had the fan on, and the breeze whipped Lin Sangyu's long hair around, plastering it all over her face.

Jiang Wenzhe took off the hair tie from his wrist, stood behind her, and neatly gathered the tangled hair, tying it into a standard ponytail.

Xie Weiting took a sip of his fragrant green tea and watched silently with a kindly expression.

"Can you braid it?" Lin Sangyu touched the ponytail and turned to ask.

"Why didn't you say so earlier? You only mention it after I tied it."

Lin Sangyu laughed it off. "I only just thought of it."

Jiang Wenzhe closed his eyes briefly, then undid the ponytail and, with a mischievous streak, braided her hair into two pigtails.

It wasn't until he was done that Lin Sangyu noticed. "Hey? Why are there two?"

She was wearing a light blue floral dress, her cheeks flushed, the two braids framing her face, with the simple, happy courtyard garden behind her and a big yellow dog lying on the ground, tongue out. Jiang Wenzhe glanced at her a couple more times and said, "It suits the scene."

Lin Sangyu pouted but didn't argue.

She loved this countryside vibe and hit it off with Xie Weiting right away. Soon they were deep in conversation, covering everything from Xie Weiting's early military days to the love story with his late wife, leaving the silent Jiang Wenzhe completely out of the loop.

Unable to get a word in, and tired himself, Jiang Wenzhe said, "I'm going to bed in my room. You two keep chatting."

"Alright, go ahead." Neither of them tried to stop him, didn't even turn their heads; they just waved dismissively.

An old ingrate and a young ingrate.

Jiang Wenzhe thought to himself.

The room was the same one he'd used during summer and winter breaks as a child—nothing had changed. A bed, an old wooden desk and chairs, and curtains faded from too many washes.

Jiang Wenzhe splashed cold water on his face and feet, changed into his pajamas, and got into bed.

But even with his body at rest, his taut nerves wouldn't ease. Hazy yet vivid memories came flooding back.