Li Wu had no memories from before he was five years old.
That’s not entirely accurate – he did have some, but they were faint and hazy, just like his name suggests – shrouded in thick fog. Even his parents’ faces were shadowy and indistinct. He stood on the shore while they remained at the bottom of the lake, always rippling with an air of unreality.
Perhaps it was because it was too painful, or too long ago. After losing both parents, his brain had selectively weakened during this period and these two people.
He only remembered that day when his grandfather instructed him to watch the house well before heading to the county town.
His grandfather’s expression was grave, his heart heavy, like the sky piled with dark clouds before a storm.
After his grandfather left, Li Wu squatted by the fish pond, watching a school of silver fish fry darting back and forth. He would reach in to catch them, startle them, and they would scatter away rapidly.
Later it started to rain, making the reed leaves rustle loudly. He ran home quickly, his shoes splattered with mud, his hair soaked through.
The shoes were brought back by his parents during New Year’s – blue sneakers, a bit big and stiff, rubbing his feet when worn, but he treasured them dearly. Usually, he carefully stored them under his bed, only daring to run and jump in them on dry paths when the weather was good.
Seeing that it was a clear sky that day, Li Wu had taken them out.
Who could have expected such unpredictable, treacherous weather?
He was extremely regretful and heartbroken, afraid his grandfather would scold him. As soon as the rain stopped, he laboriously brought half a bucket of mountain spring water, crouching at the doorway fighting back tears while scrubbing the shoes with loofah pulp.
Fortunately, the shoes were washed clean again, restored to their original appearance. He breathed a sigh of relief and hung them high by the window to dry.
The sky gradually darkened.
Li Wu cooked a corn meal and kept it warm in the pot, wanting to wait for their grandfather to return and eat together.
He lit a candle lamp and dared not close the door, afraid his grandfather’s aging eyes wouldn’t be able to recognize home.
He sat on the doorstep, watching the distant dark mountains that looked like a floating night sea.
Shortly after, several human figures suddenly hurried over from not far away, calling his name loudly.
The thin little boy quickly stood up, eyes wide open, not knowing what to do.
They came closer – they were several men from the village, with only Uncle Chen being familiar.
They were pushing a wooden cart, their steps agitated, with what seemed to be a person lying on top.
Li Wu hurried over. By the light of their flashlights, he saw clearly who was on the cart – it was his grandfather.
The old man’s eyes were tightly closed, like a withered old tree at the end of its years, showing no signs of life.
Li Wu was shocked and scared, tears suddenly welling up as he clutched at the cart and stammered: “What happened to my grandfather…”
Uncle Chen looked at him, his expression ugly, wanting to speak but stopping himself.
Another young man said impatiently: “He’s not dead, just fainted — where’s the bed!”
Li Wu hurriedly wiped the wetness from his face and led them inside.
They carried his grandfather together, one supporting the shoulders, one lifting the legs, and placed him on the bed at home.
After covering grandfather with a thin blanket, Uncle Chen crouched down and handed Li Wu a plastic bag with the health clinic’s logo, containing several medicine boxes and bottles: “Remember to give your grandfather his medicine.”
He took them out one by one to tell him how to take them. Li Wu clenched his jaw, nodding hard, committing everything to memory.
Uncle Chen wiped the remaining tears from the corner of his eye, staring at his young face, but ultimately said nothing.
That night, his aunt and uncle also rushed over.
His aunt wailed and cried all night in front of the house as if she could tear bloody holes in the wind.
It was from them that Li Wu learned that his parents, who were working away from home, had met with a major traffic accident. Their bus had overturned into a mountain ravine, leaving both of them unrecognizable. His grandfather had gone to the county to identify them and had fainted from extreme grief.
At five years old, Li Wu didn’t have a clear concept of death.
All night long, he was in a daze, blank and wooden, curled up into a small ball, sitting guard by his grandfather’s bedside, as if clinging to the only remaining warmth in the world.
His aunt wailed to him over and over: “Li Wu, nephew, what are we going to do… you have no parents anymore… you’ll never have parents again…”
He never saw them one last time.
Of course, since he could remember, he had rarely seen them anyway. Only during New Year’s would his parents come home, and stay for two days before leaving, leaving behind some rice and flour, some new and old clothes, and toys. He had a red plastic toy car that he had played with for several years, given to him by his parents. He treasured it by his pillow like a precious possession, racing against time.
A week later, his parents were buried in the most economical way possible, even their tombstone was wooden, their names written side by side, the writing soon to be weathered away by the wind.
As for the compensation money, it vanished without a trace.
His aunt’s family built a new house and had children, always saying they were too busy to handle anything else, ignoring the grandfather and grandson.
His grandfather, however, never recovered from the grief. His health deteriorated steadily. Initially, he could still tremblingly walk with a wooden stick that his grandson had selected from the forest and polished for him, but after an accidental fall, grandfather became completely bedridden, unable to care for himself.
Li Wu, who had just started first grade, had to temporarily drop out of school. With his small frame, he replaced that wooden cane, becoming his grandfather’s support.
Every night after his grandfather fell asleep, he would light a short, fat candle and sit on a small stool to read books, learn characters, and do arithmetic.
This was one of his few joys in those dark days.
After carefully looking after his grandfather for several days, the old man sensed something was wrong and asked why he wasn’t going to class.
Li Wu paused, then said: “I can study at home too.”
Grandfather broke down crying: “It’s all my fault, making you unable to go to school.”
Li Wu’s lips turned deathly white as he held back his tears from spilling out.
From that time on, Li Wu became silent, resilient, and learned to swallow broken teeth. His grandfather only had him to rely on for the rest of his life – he couldn’t collapse or run away first.