Little Octopus - Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Early the next morning.
His bed was empty. The sheets had been restored to their original state, without a single wrinkle, as if no one had ever stayed there.
Was he already gone?
I stared blankly for a long while, feeling a mix of morning grogginess and a touch of gloom.
Whatever. Did I really expect some romantic encounter on a road trip?
I shook my head, tossing those stray thoughts out of my mind.
I grabbed my things and headed to the bathroom.
I sat on the toilet, scrolling through my phone.
The bathroom was located near the entrance of the room.
When he walked in carrying breakfast, I heard the sound and turned my head, locking eyes with him in a daze…
My first thought wasn’t to scream, but rather… *Thank God I’m not doing a number two…*
By the time I fully reacted, my face had flushed a deep crimson.
He calmly closed the door for me. “You really don’t treat me like a stranger, do you?”
“…”
I emerged from the bathroom, face still burning. “I thought you’d left.”
“Do I look like the type of man who abandons someone after a night together?”
“…”
He handed me a portion of the breakfast he’d brought back. It was beef rice noodles. I took a slurp; it was piping hot, savory, and delicious.
“How do you write the characters for your name, Zhang Xiao?”
“‘Zhang’ as in the Zhangtai Willows, and ‘Xiao’ as in Spring Dawn.”
“Oh. ‘Zhang’ as in octopus, and ‘Xiao’ as in ‘got it.'”
“Hey!” I punched him in the chest, but my hand was the only thing that ended up hurting.
“My name is Yu Chenghuai.”
“…Oh.”
“You can call me Dayu.”
“…Then if you put our names together, doesn’t that literally make us an ‘Octopus’?”
A low chuckle vibrated from his chest. “Are we a ‘couple’ already?”
“…”
His family arrived to pick him up.
They were right downstairs.
We exchanged WeChat contacts and I packed my things to head down. His parents, his eldest uncle, and a younger sister were standing next to a Jeep Grand Cherokee.
I finally understood why my ex-boyfriend had chickened out the moment he heard about Yu Chenghuai’s uncle.
Though the man was smiling at me, an aura of martial sternness radiated from him like a physical barrier, making one feel an instinctive chill.
“Your uncle is a soldier too, isn’t he?” I whispered to him.
“Sharp eyes, Little Octopus.”
“Another classified identity?”
“Are you sure you’re not a spy?”
I gave him another punch.
He introduced me to his family, simply saying my name was Zhang Xiao and that I was also from Rong City.
His family nodded without asking too many questions.
However, the way his mother and sister looked at me was particularly eager.
He cut off their curiosity and ushered them back into their car. “I’m taking Zhang Xiao’s car. You guys go ahead.”
And just like that, I inexplicably joined their family trip.
My Wrangler followed behind the Grand Cherokee like a little duckling following Mother Duck.
He took over the driving today, while I focused on taking photos of the scenery from the passenger seat.
Sometimes I’d catch him in my selfies. I asked if I could post the photos on my Moments, and he said it was probably best not to.
So, I covered him with a thick layer of mosaic.
But the more I tried to hide him, the more it piqued the curiosity of my circle of friends.
They all left comments saying I was hiding a ‘wild man.’
That night, I shared a room with his sister.
“Sister, my name is Yu Pingjin. You can just call me by my nickname, Jinjin.”
One sibling was Huaihai and the other was Pingjin. “Does your family have someone named Yu Liaoshen too?”
“Sister, how did you know my eldest uncle’s name?!”
“…” Liaoshen, Huaihai, and Pingjin were the Three Great Campaigns of the Liberation War. Every Chinese person knew that…
“Sister, how long have you and my brother been dating?”
“We just met yesterday.”
“Ah… I see… Sister, even though liking my brother is hard work, you must never give up!”
“???”
We arrived at Luding.
He told me that on May 29, 1935, the Red Army marched 120 kilometers in a single day and night. The Commander of the Second Company and the Twenty-Two Assault Warriors braved a hail of bullets, crossing glowing-red iron chains to seize the bridgehead.
…
When we reached Hongyuan, he said that 82 years ago, a ragged and battered army had crossed this marshy, snow-swept grassland. This was the place where the Red Army suffered the most casualties during the Long March.
It was the army that marched out of here that, with unyielding hearts, fought the Japanese and established the New China. This was the only grassland named after the Red Army.
…
At the Long March Monument in Songpan Chuanzhu Temple, he said there were 609 steps from the base to the summit, symbolizing the 609 battles the Red Army fought during the Long March.
…
His voice possessed a certain magic. I felt as if I had been pulled back to that era of war. At the Chinese nation’s moment of greatest peril, I witnessed our ancestors facing cannon fire with their own flesh and blood.
Lines from some TV drama echoed in my mind: “Who will remember my sacrifice? Four hundred million compatriots will remember!”
My eyes blurred with tears, and my heart hammered in my chest.
“If you keep talking, I’m going to develop the Suspension Bridge Effect for you,” I said.
(Note: The Suspension Bridge Effect refers to when a person’s heart rate increases due to external stimuli, making them likely to mistake the feeling for romantic attraction to someone nearby.)
He looked at me, a soft light reflecting in his obsidian eyes as he gave a hearty laugh.
In that moment, I fell into the depths of his gaze.
I hadn’t intended to fall in love with someone again so soon.
But just like my unplanned trip, he had barged into my world without any rhyme or reason.
When we returned to Wenchuan, he received a phone call. He said his leave was over and he had to return to his unit immediately.
He left that very night.
Before leaving, he looked like he wanted to say something.
I encouraged him with my eyes, but he only let out a sigh with a smile. “I’ll tell you when I’m back on my next leave.”
He took two steps, then turned back to me. “Don’t forget me.”
