Chapter 13

This time it wasn’t quite so chaotic.
At first Jing Miao still cried and fussed, but Xi Siyan lifted him onto the bed and coaxed him with a “temptation”:
“If Miaomiao won’t be good and go to the hospital for one checkup, then gege won’t believe you’re a big kid. Tonight I won’t kiss you. I’ll marry another big kid and kiss them instead.”
Jing Miao was frightened out of his mind. He cried as he hurried to get dressed, saying Xi Siyan wasn’t allowed to marry anyone else—like he’d made some tremendous sacrifice.
Xi Siyan laughed, held him, and kissed him for a long time before finally bringing him to the hospital.
After the full-body checkup, Jing Miao stayed with the psychologist for a full two hours.
When he came out, he seemed to be in a much better mood. Bright-eyed, he said he wanted steamed egg custard for dinner. Xi Siyan pinched his nose and promised yes, then told him to stay with the doctor’s assistant for a bit—Xi Siyan needed to speak with the doctor alone.
“So… his perception is thirteen or fourteen now?” Xi Siyan wasn’t fully certain, trying to describe what he felt. “But a lot of the time, I still don’t feel like he’s a teenager.”
Lin Song smiled and explained, “Jing Miao is a bit special. With you and with other people, he switches into two different modes.”
Xi Siyan didn’t quite understand.
“When he and I communicate, he already has full independent communication ability,” Lin Song said. “His speech isn’t perfectly fluent, but his logic and behavior are completely reasonable.”
Lin Song played him an audio recording.
“Outside is raining. Gege… morning leaving… backpack is flat. Umbrella backpack… will puff up. So gege… didn’t bring umbrella. Returning home… will get wet. So… go pick up gege.”
It was explaining why Jing Miao had gone out to meet him on defense day. It made Xi Siyan remember many things at once.
He didn’t often take Jing Miao out. Jing Miao also preferred staying home.
But occasionally he followed Xi Siyan to see childhood friends. When those friends spoke to him, he would answer, but with strange pauses, and little emotion.
Wang Song had even reminded Xi Siyan at first, worried it might develop into stuttering.
Xi Siyan had never worried about that.
With Xi Siyan, Jing Miao could speak long, fluent sentences. He had tones and moods—he could act spoiled, feel wronged, feel happy, complain.
“His subconscious, because he completely trusts you, keeps a childlike form,” Lin Song said. “That’s how Jing Miao divides closeness from distance. Of course, it’s also because the life environment you’ve built for him is a bit too ‘Eden-like.’”
“When facing others, he tries hard to fit in. Maybe because in his understanding there are no peers—only adults. A child forced to live among adults will learn adult communication patterns.”
Lin Song paused, then added, almost amused:
“You can understand those odd pauses as… him trying to look profound?”
Xi Siyan was completely stunned.
“My diagnosis is this, Mr. Xi: based on the neurologist’s objective records, because of the small clot, it’s unlikely Jing Miao will fully return to his pre-accident mental state.”
“But because he has broken through the emotional barrier of a seven-year-old, he has already entered a stage of fully autonomous growth.”
“In short: because he has emotional needs, he wants to grow up by himself.”
Lin Song looked at the handsome young man in front of him.
“My suggestion is: let him take on a little responsibility. For example, raising a small pet and playing a caregiver role. Considering his pre-accident life experience, he’s still not suitable for big groups and society.”
“But you can try letting him contact a small group environment first. That will help speed up his perception of the world. His daily model and what he’s exposed to can be replaced with things a middle-schooler can handle.”
Xi Siyan recorded everything seriously, nodding without hesitation. In his mind he was already planning: install a game console, buy figures, replace all the cartoons; no more *Detective Conan* comics every day—switch to classics, even original-language editions.
Lin Song coughed lightly. “Ahem. Mr. Xi, there’s one more thing.”
“What is it?”
“About what I just said—about how Jing Miao’s emotional needs have led to his autonomous growth.”
Xi Siyan took Jing Miao to a large cat-and-dog adoption house.
“Gege is taking me to see kittens and puppies?” Jing Miao grabbed his arm excitedly.
“Mm.” Xi Siyan patted his head. “Does Miaomiao want to raise a kitten or a puppy?”
Jing Miao didn’t react at first. It took him a long time to ask blankly, “I can raise one?”
Xi Siyan smiled. “Of course. Want to raise one together?”
“Yes! Yes!” Jing Miao hugged him. “I want a puppy, okay gege?”
“Okay. Why do you like puppies? Kittens are a little easier to raise. If you raise a puppy, you’ll have to walk it every day.”
Jing Miao thought seriously, then said, “Because every time gege pats my head, I’m very happy. Puppies are happy when you pat their heads too—they wag their tails. I think I’m kind of like that.”
He smiled, dimple appearing.
“If I had a tail, I’d wag it for gege too.”
—Jing Miao’s emotional needs have led to his autonomous growth.
—Mr. Xi, he likes you. His sleeping nerves tell him that if he stays a seven-year-old child, he can’t be with you, so he has to grow up.
—I rarely see cases like this. The limited consciousness he has isn’t pure taking. The moment he realized he desired something, he thought not of receiving, but of giving. If you map Jing Miao’s worldview—living entirely around you—into adult love, it could be called a kind of offering.
Lin Song kept his tone academic, careful, logical. He didn’t know how Xi Siyan viewed the fact that his “child” had fallen in love with him, so he needed to phrase it indirectly.
He lowered his eyes to a card Jing Miao had left behind in the drawer.
He had told Jing Miao: “If you have something you want to say to gege but can’t say directly, you can write it to the doctor. I’ll keep it confidential.”
Jing Miao thought, then held the pen and wrote in neat running script on the white card:
“When gege sleeps with me, can you not let go of my hand?”