CH 70.2

Soon enough, they’re home. Mu Mu’er goes to open the door with a spring in his steps, his mind already drifting to the remaining half a watermelon from yesterday. He wants to eat it with a spoon.

Before he enters the front yard, though, Bai Yao stops him, “Mu’er, this way. Come take a walk with me by the sea.”

Mu Mu’er tilts his head, and looks back at the restaurant. It’s almost time for Bai Yao to be doing his regular prep work. He is always too busy to play with Mu Mu’er if he asks this late in the day.

He’s happy to be with him, though, of course.

“Ok,” he hops back towards Bai Yao’s extended arm, and drags him towards the stairs leading down to the beach.

Mu Mu’er is glad to be with Bai Yao whatever they might do. He doesn’t care where they might be going, only that it is his favourite Yaoyao by his side.

Down on the beach, Bai Yao has Mu Mu’er take his shoes off so that he doesn’t get grains inside. The sunbaked sand is quite warm and comfortable. It’s relaxing.

Bai Yao is holding both his and Mu Mu’er’s pair of shoes, so that the boy can continue eating his unfinished egg tarts and dried fish. He also rolled up the boy’s pants a little, just enough to avoid getting wet even if Mu’er walks on the water.

Further on to the left of the beach appears to be some sort of film crew. There are several cameramen around some backdrop of a large fabric as background. There are several spotlights set up among the sands, while two of the staff are standing to the side with some large deflectors. The sunlight happens to occasionally reflect in the couple’s direction, and it’s quite blinding.

Still, there aren’t a lot of them around, or anyone who appears to be actors. It’s probably some simple production or microfilm.

Qiaohai sees the occasional visit from TV crews or movie directors, thanks to the beautiful autumn scenery there is by the sea.

Bai Yao looks away after a few curious glances, and takes Mu Mu’er towards the right side of the beach to walk where there are fewer people around.

There are very few tourists around now, and there is no one else to be seen. The temperature has been dropping steadily in anticipation of winter. During this dry spell in tourism, the twice-daily ferry heading off to the island offshore barely sees any passengers.

The sea smells salty as always, as unchanging as the waves that lash onto the sands.

It’s rather windy today, and Mu Mu’er’s eyes are narrowed. He moves behind Bai Yao a little, using him as his shelter by instinct.

They soon arrive at the place where Bai Yao first met Mu Mu’er.

In hindsight, he’s really relieved he was peeling potatoes outside that day, and proud of himself for deciding to help out that soft and pitiful little sea otter, allowing him to stay in his restaurant.

Mu Mu’er, ever the observant soul, also notices and then looks at where Bai Yao is blanking out. Then he also recalls the day he saw Bai Yao.

He looks up, scrutinising Bai Yao’s expression, smacking his lips, and then tells him with a whisper, “Mu’er does not come to shore a lot.”

“On the shore, Mu’er gets bitten. So Mu’er stays in the sea until they leave, and sunbathe afterwards,” he starts divulging more and more as he goes on, “the other sea otters, they are stingy. They eat more than Mu’er. A lot more. They also take all of Mu’er’s scallops.”

He doesn’t really mean anything by these recollections, but wants to share them with Bai Yao regardless. They are things that happened before Bai Yao came into his life, so Mu’er wants to tell them to him as stories.

“Mu’er was confused. The Sun is everywhere. Why did they not let Mu’er have some?”

Why not let him sunbathe? Mu Mu’er always thought the Sun is something everyone can enjoy, but he still has to be sneaky and careful when enjoying it.

“That day, Mu’er was very hungry. Mu’er’s scallops were taken away again, and could not find food very, very far away in the waters,” he sounds quite sorrowful, “there were no seaweeds, either. So, so Mu’er just wanted to lie on the sands a little.”

Mu Mu’er spoke quite slowly, and each sentence carried a pause, as he organised the story in his head before speaking.

It makes his tone sound even softer to the ears. Bai Yao always thought Mu Mu’er’s voice had a hidden liveliness to it. It’s crisp.

It feels like time is also yawning and slowing down. All of his attention is drawn solely to the good boy standing in front of him. He says nothing; he is even unwilling to blink, in case he should miss the tiniest of gestures from him. He patiently listens to Mu Mu’er’s recount.

He will be glad to listen to him as much as he is willing to speak, from dusk ’til dawn, even if he were his only audience.

“Mu Mu’er needed to rest. Too hungry to swim. Mu’er rested on the sands,” by now, Mu Mu’er’s hand is subconsciously seeking, gripping onto Bai Yao’s hand. The boy walking in front did not seem to doubt for a second that Bai Yao will take hold of it, not even looking back.

Bai Yao has moved all their shoes to his left hand, so that he can hold Mu Mu’er’s hand with his right. He gives him a firm, reassuring grip.

Mu Mu’er looks at their held hands with a mellow look. He is happy that his hand is surrounded by Bai Yao’s larger palm.

The happiness easily chases away the sadness he was feeling as he tells his story.

His hand feels a little itchy, thanks to the layer of calluses on Bai Yao’s joints and fingertips that come from his years of hard work.

Mu Mu’er sneakily brushes his hand against the calluses a little, but not a lot, so that Bai Yao wouldn’t notice.

The big hand is really pretty, Mu Mu’er thinks. Pretty, and safe to him. Like a sturdy wooden hut inside a torrential downpour. He moves inside, discovering to his surprise, that there is even a flame in the fireplace, just enough to warm him up.

Bai Yao’s brows are a little furrowed. Mu Mu’er sees, and then, after some thinking, he tells him, “Yaoyao, don’t be sad.”

“Mu’er came to the shore, and then Mu’er met Yaoyao.”

Bai Yao looks at the boy, and lets go of his hand in order to wrap his arm reassuringly around his neck, and bring him in closer, “Yaoyao is not sad.”

Mu Mu’er just stays with his guardian there for a little, before starting to tell more stories. Little stories. A collection of stories. All of them about a little sea otter, a little sea otter who has various adventures.

The first little sea otter met a cantankerous seagull. They had an argument.

The second little sea otter faced off with a shark in the deep oceans. It had a hard time escaping; its right paw had a deep, deep wound that bled a lot.

The third little sea otter found a big, fresh scallop, but before it could hide the delicacy, an evil sea otter stole it away from him. The little sea otter starved that night.

…

Though the stories are not all sad ones. The sixth little sea otter met a really, really nice person, who took it home, and gave it scallops.

Since the first night it met that person, the wandering little sea otter has found a permanent home.