Healing His Paranoia

chapter 02 : A Disheveled Young Man

Ating, from a long distance away, made eye contact with the disheveled young man.

He was very thin.

Like a dying wild beast lying on the ground, his outstretched limbs were full of scars, dripping with fresh blood.

His hair was short, like the back of a hedgehog, and you could vaguely see a long, crooked cut across his forehead.

He remained motionless, his eyes narrowing slightly, revealing a fierce light.

In that instant, Ating recalled the abused cat he had encountered on the street corner.

He remembered its clearly defined ribs, sharp claws and golden vertical pupils; he remembered his bitten wrist and the neighbor sister's band-aid; and his grandfather's anxious jumping and cursing at the ignorant behavior of the stray cat.

He thought of the deep sea, the trapped king of all animals in the zoo.

Countless bizarre and colorful images from past lives flashed through Ating's mind, and he gently pursed his lips.

The warmth in his eyes dimmed, tinged with a hint of sourness.

“The little monster is awake?

!”

The intruder's voice came too suddenly, causing Ating to stumble on his tiptoes, nearly falling.

Carefully stabilizing her balance, she saw the short-haired girl from earlier again.

With heavy eyebrows and eyes, she exuded a rare aura of elegance.

As Ating looked at Wang Jun, Wang Jun was also sizing her up.

The June sunlight polished the girl's rounded shoulder line, making her appear crystal clear and almost transparent.

Ating tied her dark and silky hair into a low ponytail.

As she turned her face, the three thousand strands of hair gently spun in the air, exuding an indescribable sense of liveliness.

A unfamiliar Ating!

Wang Jun stared blankly for a while, then turned and ran.

Ating watched her figure, her fingertips resting on the rough and uneven ventilation grille.

Confusedly looking back, she tried to find her again, but no matter how hard she looked, she couldn't find those beautiful and formidable amber eyes.

He seems to be sleeping, lying on his side, with his back curled up.

The sunlight outside is so bright that it stirs up a cloud of fine dust, but it can't illuminate him.

“Hello.”

He ignores her, not even sparing a glance.

Atin thinks for a moment and softly says, “I am Atin.”

Still no response.

Atin opens her two bright eyes, with no sign of disappointment on her face.

She just looks at that cold silhouette, watching quietly, as if waiting for eternity.

“Meow.”

A pitch-black long-haired cat with identical eye color leaped down from the high platform and walked lightly to the person's side.

Half of its body lay down, with its head resting on its front paws, and its fluffy tail hung down.

The black cat gave Attin a supremely proud look, then snuggled up to the young boy and fell into a deep sleep.

Light and darkness, humans and cats, all the scenery and images intertwined, creating a peaceful yet eerie afternoon in the summer.

It was a scene that did not allow outsiders to disturb.

Attin turned around and left them, returning to the well to fetch water.

Their house was an old tiled house with a hasty coat of paint on the outside.

Inside, there was a Eight Immortals table and an octagonal chair, with a clay stove on the left and wood chips and lime scattered on the floor.

There was an empty plank bed inside, piled with various items on and under the bed.

The house appears to have two stories, connected by wooden stairs without a handrail.

However, the ceiling of the second floor is very low, not exceeding 1.

6 meters, more like an attic.

The small and low attic has been divided into two rooms.

There is a thick cloth curtain hanging outside, with only a bed, a chair, a wardrobe, and a small cabinet inside.

This is the room of Lin Xuechun and Song Yuqiu.

The inner room naturally belongs to Ating.

There is a small window at the head of the bed, with good light transmission and ventilation.

The space is also spacious, with wooden tables and chairs in addition to the necessary furniture.

Ating twisted a cloth, wiped along the head and foot of the bed, the windowsill, and the table and chairs, removing all the small dirt, hair strands, and nail chips in the crevices one by one.

The heavy smell dissipated, and the house became tidy and clean.

She sat at the door and opened her book, diligently reviewing the subjects of language, math, science, and history from the 1980s.

Unconsciously, evening arrived, and a layered orange-red color appeared on the horizon.

Adin lifted her head and saw smoke rising from every household, suddenly remembering one thing:

What about dinner?

There was only one egg and half a block of tofu on the stove, a small bowl of porridge, and a few sweet potatoes on top.

No need to ask, the egg was definitely meant for her nutrition, and her parents intended to eat the sweet potatoes and tofu.

This was not right.

Adin thought that the egg and rice should be saved for the adults, but she also knew that they would definitely not agree.

What should she do?

My gaze casually fell on the small vegetable garden by the door.

The well-constructed wooden frame was entwined with lush branches and leaves, and exactly seven fuzzy gourds were hanging in the air, resembling the brothers from the animated film “Huluwa”.

Before leaving, Lin Xuechun said that if there weren't enough eggs to eat, she would go and pick two bottle gourds.

There were also two potatoes under the stove.

Boiling them in water and adding a little salt could also be eaten as a meal.

Ating didn't have a big appetite, so she ate breakfast in two meals, and didn't touch the vegetable garden at noon.

Instead, in the evening, she reached out her hands, carefully held the stalk of the gourd, and pulled it slightly.

Suddenly, there were two ripe and plump bottle gourds in her arms.

Before cooking, she started the fire.

The earthen stove was like a hollowed-out cube, with wooden blocks laid at the bottom of the hollow area, and two pieces of coal stuffed in the gaps.

A bunch of rice straw was spread on top, and half a matchbox was placed next to a small stool.

Ating had never eaten pork or seen a pig running, but relied on intuition to strike a match and carefully throw it in.

Five seconds, ten seconds, no movement.

Another match was struck, the flame burning brightly.

This time, it was carefully placed within the rice straw, but Ating watched as it suddenly extinguished.

The third match was taken out of the box, and the person peeping by the door couldn't bear it any longer.

Wang Jun rushed over, pushing past the skinny Ating with his butt, snatching the matchstick and striking it, expertly picking up the coal tongs and muttering in disdain, “What else can you do besides being vain?

You're so clumsy, even my two-year-old brother can start a fire!”

The vibrant flame flickered and danced, casting a red glow.

Ating watched in amazement, then turned to smile at her, “Thank you.”

Her eyes and eyebrows curved, truly strange.

Wang Jun felt her eyelid twitching uncontrollably, immediately tightening her butt and shifting, afraid of being pushed to the ground by her.

However, Ating stood up and walked to the stove.

She had ten fingers like fresh green onions, with round and pink fingertips, without a single callus, resembling the hands of a young lady from a well-to-do family.

But they were incredibly nimble.

She poured hot water into the boiling pot, along with shredded potatoes and diced chili, and stirred it all together.

Ating lifted the half-cooked ingredients with both hands and poured out the excess water from the iron pot, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand.

Wang Jun followed suit, wiping his forehead and then his lips.

The people of Rimo Village had been farming for generations, even three-year-old children knew how to feed chickens and chase ducks.

Regardless of age or gender, everyone carried the burden of so much land, so many lives, and so many responsibilities that they were too busy to take the time to cook a proper meal.

It was such a hassle to start a fire and wash and cut everything.

How many weeds can be pulled from the field in this amount of time?

Ask yourself, ask others, who still wants something delicious?

If you finish your work, you can do whatever you want at home.

Can't figure it out?

Then you are a lazy bug, only thinking about eating, drinking, and having fun.

Under this kind of influence, unless your own mother is in a good mood.

Otherwise, except for the big days of the harvest festival, the whole village eats almost the same - green vegetables, tofu, roasted sweet potatoes, bean sprouts, eggplant, tomatoes.

Eat raw if possible, otherwise cut them into pieces and boil them in water.

The village chief's son shouts at them every day:

Hard work and endurance are the traditional virtues that have been passed down in our village for hundreds of years.

Little brats, remember that, okay?

Virtue?

I went to another place and bought a mute wife who can cook delicious dishes.

The fragrant aroma fills the courtyard three times a day.

How can I have the face to talk about virtue in front of the children?

Hmph.

These little brats don't buy it, especially Wang Jun, the rebellious heroine.

And as for the outcome of her rebellion...

of course, she was pressed against the stove by her mother, peeling potatoes and slicing vegetables all day long.

The next day, she confidently proclaimed to her friends:

Virtue is good, virtue is wonderful, virtue is so great that it's amazing!!

Now, as Wang Jun watches a small piece of lard melting in the pot, she just wants to raise her arms and shout:

The world's greatest pleasure is delicious food, let those who care about virtue be virtuous themselves!

Sichuan peppercorns, garlic slices, dried chili peppers - the strange and wonderful things in her eyes, she puts them in the pot.

The white smoke wafted around, with coarse salt and white sugar added.

The shredded potatoes were flipped in the iron pan, as if flipping on Wang Jun's heart, which had not tasted the taste of home-cooked delicacies for eight hundred years.

She felt sad, sad that her own mother was not competent and couldn't learn how to cook even after three days of learning from a mute daughter-in-law.

What was even more strange was Ating's change.

She asked bluntly, “Hey, what did you say to the little monster this afternoon?”

Her tone was not very good, deliberately rude.

Ating only had one head, a pair of hands, and a pair of ears, so naturally he did things in an organized manner.

With his hands peeling and slicing, in the blink of an eye, he cut two bottle gourds into evenly thick and thin slices, filling a whole bowl.

He also quickly beat the eggs, making them crispy and uniform.

The water in the pot boiled, and he took the opportunity to pour in the bottle gourd and add salt.

Then he used chopsticks to stir the soup, and with the egg mixture, he added a small spoonful of lard.

The thick soup bubbled and gurgled, enveloping the delicate flavor of the sponge gourd with the aroma of eggs, making the stomach rumble.

Atin's mind returned, confused, and asked, “Who is the monster?”

Wang Jun's expression was strange.

“You don't know?”

Atin shook his head.

Wang Jun's expression became even stranger, as if he had seen a freshly baked little monster, “You and Anian used to call it the loudest, and you forgot about it?”

Pointing to the next door.

“Ah...”

A very faint sound.

Wang Jun raised an eyebrow, “Do you remember now?”

Still shaking his head.

The original Atin had a terrible temper and thought she was the most beautiful woman in the village.

She grew up wanting to marry and become the most beautiful wealthy lady in the county town.

This dirty and smelly little monster was the person she despised the most.

In fact, besides A'Nian, who shared the same ideals, there was no one in the village that she truly liked.

At least the current Wang Jun was not one of them.

But Atin had no idea.

She thought that the original Atin had a legendary conflict with the boy next door, but it was just not written in the novel.

She was curious and asked Wang Jun, “Why did I call him that way before?”

How would I know?

It's none of my business.

The three awkward words were about to blurt out, but when they touched Atin's soft, black eyes, they turned into “I don't know.”

Atin was slightly disappointed and asked again, “Do you know his name?”

Do I know?

Wang Jun scratched his head, feeling inexplicably embarrassed and unable to say the word “*” (pì).

Feeling sorry for her expectant expression because she couldn't answer her question, he felt frustrated.

“A monster is just a monster, why does it need a name?”

“My mom is calling me home for dinner, I have to go!”

Wang Jun, feeling as if facing a formidable enemy, dropped the coal tongs and forced himself to appear calm as he walked out of the gate.

Immediately, he escaped back to his own home, thinking that this Atin was really strange, staring at her as if she couldn't speak!

“Atin!”

Lin Xuechun, who had worked a long day, came home and smelled a fragrance from afar.

He thought that there must be some big celebration happening at the neighbor's house, but as he got closer, he realized that it was the aroma of his own cooking, delicate and indescribable.

Lin Xuechun stepped through the threshold with big strides and saw Ating standing quietly under the dim, yellow light.

Strands of hair fell on her face as she stared at a bowl of silk gourd egg soup, lost in deep thought.

“Why are you staring blankly?

Can't you see anything special?

If you want to eat, go ahead, but remember to save half for your dad.”

Lin Xuechun misunderstood, “Who delivered it?

Was it Aunt Wang or Grandma?”

Ating smiled mysteriously, feeling a bit embarrassed to take credit.

Just a few days ago, they were arguing non-stop, but today Ating was just smiling and spoke so little.

Lin Xuechun paused for a moment, walked closer to the family's iron pot, and flicked her finger, feeling the heat.

There were also brightly colored spicy shredded potatoes on the side.

Something was really wrong.

She suddenly looked up and stared at Ating intently.