Chapter 61 - Hit and miss

Chapter 61: Chapter 61 - Hit and miss

Ying Rui’s video call arrived while Mao Mao was trying to convince Jua to play another round of cards.

The boy abandoned the scattered deck the instant his father’s face appeared on the screen. He pressed against Jua’s side, leaning so close that all Ying Rui could see at first was his forehead.

"Move back a little," Jua murmured, adjusting the phone.

Behind Ying Rui stretched a wide window overlooking blue water. His tie hung loose, and a meal sat untouched beside him.

Mao Mao immediately wanted to know where he was.

"Fiji. I have some time tomorrow before my next meeting, so I thought I’d pick up a few things. Is there anything you want?"

"Anything!"

The answer came so brightly that Ying Rui smiled. He asked whether Mao Mao was eating properly, whether he was taking his medicine, and listened while the boy gave a rather generous account of his own behaviour. Jua let most of it pass, though he raised an eyebrow when Mao Mao claimed he hadn’t been troublesome at all.

Then Ying Rui turned to him.

"How is your preparation for the college entrance exams going?"

Jua froze.

Beside him, Mao Mao tipped his head back to look at his face.

The silence stretched just long enough to become embarrassing.

Jua had been feeling better lately — sleeping properly, eating again, no longer exhausted by a walk across the room. Unfortunately, he had spent every ounce of that recovered energy on everything except studying.

Ying Rui looked at him through the screen.

"You haven’t started."

It wasn’t a question.

Jua glanced toward the cards on the table, which suddenly looked like evidence that ought to have been hidden.

"I was going to get the books."

Ying Rui sighed. He didn’t sound angry, which somehow made it worse.

He told him to fetch something to write on, then listed several revision guides and practice papers. Jua wrote them down obediently while Mao Mao rested his chin on his shoulder, watching the list grow longer and longer.

Ying Di was called over too.

"You both need to take this seriously," Ying Rui said. "When I get back, I’m checking what you’ve done. I don’t expect everything finished. I do expect you to have started."

Jua nodded.

Beside him, Ying Di did the same a beat later.

Mao Mao watched them both with open delight. For once, he wasn’t the one being told to behave, and he clearly intended to savour it.

By the following morning, Jua had arranged a trip to the bookshop.

A maid accompanied them, and the driver brought the car around after breakfast. Mao Mao took his place beside Jua in the back seat, Ying Di on the other side.

Jua checked the list on his phone during the drive. It had looked manageable when he wrote it. In daylight, he began to suspect Ying Rui had overestimated his ability to become a diligent student overnight.

Still, he had to start somewhere.

The examination section occupied several shelves near the back. Jua stood in front of them with his phone in hand, matching titles and checking editions while the maid carried the basket.

Mao Mao stayed close, leaning against him whenever he stopped too long. Ying Di followed quietly, taking a book whenever Jua needed both hands.

Within twenty minutes, the basket was heavy.

Jua opened one of the practice books and read the first question. He recognised the subject, which was encouraging. Recognising how to answer it took far longer.

He shut it and dropped it in the basket. That one was definitely necessary.

Before leaving, he let Mao Mao choose something to read. The boy took the task seriously, bringing over two books and studying Jua’s face before setting both on top of the revision guides. Jua didn’t have the heart to make him put one back.

At the counter, the maid paid while Jua gathered the bags. Through the glass entrance, he could see their driver walking toward the car, parked farther down the street.

They stepped outside, and Jua shifted a bag into his left hand so Mao Mao could hold his right.

The maid was tucking away the receipt when she stopped. Her bank card was missing.

She checked her purse once more, then looked through the window toward the counter. The card was still sitting beside the payment terminal.

Ying Di, nearest the door, turned back inside. The maid followed, asking Jua to wait while they collected it.

Jua stepped aside with Mao Mao, clearing the entrance.

The pavement widened in front of the shop, giving them space away from the road. Jua set a bag beside his shoe and glanced through the window. Ying Di had reached the cashier, who was already holding up the forgotten card.

Beside him, Mao Mao tugged at his hand.

"Can we read mine first when we get home?"

Jua looked down at the bag of books.

"If I don’t start studying, your father will know."

Mao Mao considered that, then pressed closer. "Just one Chapter."

Jua was about to agree when an engine roared.

He lifted his head.

A car was coming at them from the left, fast enough that he instinctively tightened his grip on Mao Mao. There were pedestrians farther along and cars waiting near the junction. For a moment, he expected the driver to brake.

Instead, the car turned toward the shop.

Its front wheels struck the sloping edge of the pavement.

Jua saw Mo Yuxin behind the windscreen.

She was looking straight at them.

His stomach dropped. He pulled Mao Mao toward the entrance, but the boy hadn’t seen the car and stumbled at the sudden tug. No time to explain. No time to drag him the rest of the way.

The bonnet was already too close.

Jua let go of his hand, caught him by the upper arms, and shoved him toward the doorway.

Mao Mao’s shoes skidded across the paving. He fell sideways, hands striking the ground near the window.

Jua tried to follow.

The bumper hit him before he could take another step.

The impact drove through his legs and swept his feet out from under him. Pain burst up into his hip, so violent his mouth opened without a sound. His body folded against the bonnet, one shoulder slamming into the metal as the shopping bag tore from his hand.

For an instant, he was close enough to see Mo Yuxin clearly through the glass.

Then the car braked.

His weight kept moving.

Jua’s palm dragged across the bonnet, hunting for something to catch, but the smooth surface gave him nothing. He slid toward the side, sleeve scraping over metal, and felt himself falling without the time to turn or guard his head.

His shoulder struck first.

The rest of him followed with a force that jolted through his ribs and emptied what little air he had left. His head hit before he could tuck it.

Everything blurred.

He lay still, stunned by the sheer scale of the pain.

There was no single place to put his hand, no movement that might ease it. His legs burned. His side burned. Something deep in his chest caught sharply every time he tried to breathe. His body had always been too sensitive, turning small injuries into unbearable ones. Now he couldn’t separate one sensation from another long enough to understand what had happened to him.

He tried to pull his knees closer.

Nothing moved the way it should.

The attempt dragged a raw sound from his throat, and he stopped.

His cheek rested against the pavement. He could feel the roughness beneath it, one tiny piece of grit pressing into his skin with absurd clarity. Beyond that small patch of ground, the street kept sliding in and out of focus.

Someone was screaming.

Jua blinked, trying to look toward the shop.

Mao Mao.

He had pushed him toward the door. Had he gone far enough?

That thought frightened him more than the pain. He tried to lift his head, and the effort sent a sickening throb through his skull. His vision dimmed. He had to wait for it to clear before trying again.

A book lay open a short distance away.

He recognised the cover. One of the revision guides. Several pages had folded beneath it, and a shoe came down near the edge before stepping back.

People were gathering.

He wanted them to move so he could see the doorway.

"Gege!"

Mao Mao’s voice reached him before the boy did.

He came running from the shop, stumbled, and dropped down beside Jua. Both knees struck the ground, but he didn’t seem to feel it. His hands hovered over Jua’s shoulder and chest, terrified to touch him and equally terrified to do nothing.

"Brother Jua..."

His face crumpled.

Jua looked at him as carefully as he could. A scrape on his palm. Dust across his trousers. His mouth moving, his chest rising fast beneath his shirt.

He was alive.

Jua tried to hold onto that.

Mao Mao touched his shoulder, then froze when his fingers came away wet.

The boy stared at the blood.

Only then did Jua feel the warmth beneath his side. It had soaked through his shirt and was creeping over the ground, reaching the cheek pressed to the paving. He could feel it pooling there, warm against his skin while the rest of him began to shiver.

He wanted to turn his face out of it.

His body wouldn’t cooperate.

Mao Mao bent close, tears already sliding down his cheeks.

"Gege, I’m here."

Jua tried to reach for him.

His arm shifted a few centimetres before pain seized his shoulder. His fingers dragged over the pavement and stopped well short of the boy’s hand.

He stared at them, willing them to move.

Mao Mao saw.

He caught Jua’s hand with both of his and pulled it into his lap, holding it so carefully that the effort showed in his trembling arms.

Jua wanted to squeeze back.

He couldn’t manage it.

The boy began sobbing properly then, struggling for breath as he bent over their hands. Jua could feel the tears landing on his fingers. Each one made him try again, and each time his hand stayed limp between Mao Mao’s palms.

The maid knelt nearby, speaking urgently into her phone. Jua heard the shop’s address repeated, then a plea for them to hurry. Someone else was steering people away. Through the shifting legs around him, he caught sight of Ying Di standing near the entrance, motionless.

Mao Mao leaned closer.

"I’m fine," he said, the words breaking as he tried to make Jua look at him. "You pushed me away. I didn’t get hit."

Relief loosened something inside Jua’s chest.

He wanted to tell him that was good. That he should let the maid check his hands and stop kneeling so close to the road.

His lips moved, but all that came out was a shallow, uneven breath.

Mao Mao wiped his face against his sleeve and pressed Jua’s hand against his chest.

Jua kept watching him. It was getting harder to focus, and he was afraid that if he looked away, he wouldn’t be able to find him again.

The warmth beneath his cheek spread into his hair.

He felt horribly cold now, though he could see sunlight on the boy’s shoulder. His breathing sounded wrong to his own ears — too thin, too broken — and every attempt to fill his lungs brought another stab beneath his ribs.

Mao Mao was still crying. He kept rubbing his thumb over Jua’s fingers, waiting for them to tighten around his.

Jua tried once more.

When he couldn’t, he watched the boy’s face instead, fighting to keep his eyes open while Mao Mao begged him to stay.