Peking Opera Cat: I Became A Zi's Brother

"What's that sound?"

Mo Yun's fingertips were still on the gong surface. When the light green light completely disappeared, the gong body suddenly made a very light "hum", as if someone was humming in his ear.

There was a childish tone in the humming sound, which was not the sound of metal. It was more like the tremor in the ending tone of a young boy shouting "Go!" at the top of his lungs.

"!"

He looked up suddenly, and in the darkness deep in the attic, a white shadow seemed to flash by.

It's not an illusion.

The shadow was furry, with its tail raised high. When it ran, it created a gust of wind, which made the dead leaves on the ground swirl and fly - just like when Bai Tang stole Wusong's dried fish and ran away in the opera troupe's yard.

"Sugar?"

Mo Yun called out subconsciously, and her Adam's apple moved, only to find that the two words had been rolling on the tip of her tongue for too long, with a bit of a rough sound.

He subconsciously touched the storage space on his chest. It was cold and quiet without a sound, forming a sharp contrast with the emotions surging in his chest at the moment.

The wind came in through the broken window, shaking the spider web, but the white shadow did not reappear.

But the throbbing sensation from that moment was still there, like a candy ball slowly melting in the heart, the sweetness spreading along the blood vessels to the limbs, but before it reached the fingertips, it was frozen by the silent weight coming from the storage space.

He lowered his head to look at the gong surface. In the spiral pattern that had just been illuminated by the rhythmic force, a vague claw mark appeared at some point.

It was very small, with only a shallow mark on the pad and a bit of dust on the edge, as if it had just been pressed on.

This is definitely not his.

Mo Yun's fingertips are longer than this, and the outline of her paw pads is more distinct.

Whose is that?

The gong vibrated gently again, this time with a faster rhythm, as if nodding, or urging.

Mo Yun suddenly remembered the soft, sweet-smelling thing next to her hand when she woke up for the second time.

My consciousness was hazy at the time, and I just thought it was a piece of crushed candy, but now thinking about it, the touch was clearly more like... the tip of someone's tail brushing against the soft palm of my hand.

Is it white sugar?

He took two steps deeper into the attic, and the vibration of the bluestone slabs became clearer, as if someone was jumping in front of him and leading the way.

With every step I took, I could hear a light "tapping" sound, which overlapped with the sound of Bai Tang stepping on the wooden stairs in my memory.

"Brother Mo! Look what I brought you?"

Suddenly, that childish voice sounded again, with a hint of pride in seeking credit.

Mo Yun could even imagine the scene: Bai Tang ran over holding a piece of sesame candy, his tail wagging like a small flag, with sugar residue stuck to the corners of his mouth, sparkling in the sunlight.

He looked in the direction of the sound and saw a tattered curtain at the end of the darkness, a corner of which was lifted by the wind.

There was a faint light behind the curtain. It was not the brightness of the sky, but a warm light, like candlelight or charcoal fire.

Mo Yun's heartbeat quickened.

He recognized the light.

On winter nights in Dongqiang Town, the troupe's mother-in-law always likes to burn a few pieces of brown sugar in the brazier, and the whole troupe is filled with the sweet fragrance.

Bai Tang always liked to squat by the brazier, with his paws stretched out, warmed by the roasting, his eyes narrowed into slits, like a cat that had stolen honey.

He reached out and lifted the curtain, and the moment the warmth hit his face, he paused.

There was no brazier or sugar behind the curtain.

There was only a low stone platform, on which stood a coarse porcelain bowl with a chipped top, and some brown sugar residue on the bottom of the bowl.

There was a red rope pressed against the edge of the bowl, with a dry ginkgo leaf tied to the rope - it was last autumn, Bai Tang picked up the roundest leaf and insisted on hanging it on his lapel, saying "this way Brother Mo Yun won't get lost."

In the dust on the stone platform, there were several rows of small paw prints, circling the bottom of the bowl and finally stopping at the edge of the bowl. It was as if someone was squatting there, dipping his paws into the sugar residue at the bottom of the bowl and eating it with a very satisfied look on his face.

The humming sound of the gong became long at this time, like a sigh or a chuckle.

Mo Yun bent down and picked up the ginkgo leaf, gently stroking the dry leaves between her fingertips.

The storage space in his chest seemed to sense something at this moment, and emitted an extremely faint, almost imperceptible resonance, like the uneasy mumbling of a sleeping person.

He suddenly understood something.

When he woke up the second time, he was not alone in the attic.

It was Bai Tang who found him.

This child might have come here following some trail, or might have gotten in through some inexplicable bond.

He stayed here, feeding him with his own candy, rubbing his hand with the tip of his tail, and passing his warmth to him bit by bit when he was confused.

Just like back in Dongqiang Town, he always gave him the best sesame candy, and always rubbed his arm with his furry head when he frowned.

"You idiot..."

Mo Yun pinched the ginkgo leaf tightly with her fingertips, and her eyes suddenly became moist.

He looked at the claw marks on the stone platform, the chipped rough porcelain bowl, and his own blurred shadow reflected on the gong, which was smiling but also full of sadness. He suddenly wanted to laugh and sigh.

It turns out that the vibration of this gong is never a one-sided response.

It remembers his scent and that of sugar.

Remember the child's paw prints, remember his sweet smell, remember his milky cries, remember the clumsy warmth he secretly left behind.

It waited here, not only for him to come back, but also for him to understand that some friends never left.

They are hidden in memories, in the residual warmth of old objects, in a moment that vibrates inadvertently, and even... in the cold storage space that he is willing to protect at all costs, waiting to be awakened again.

The wind passed through the attic again, and this time it brought with it a clearer sweet fragrance mixed with the crispiness of sesame seeds.

Mo Yun raised his head and looked at the skylight coming in from the attic.

A white shadow seemed to pass by in the light, accompanied by a clear voice, "Brother Mo, this way!"

He clenched the ginkgo leaf in his hand, and his other hand unconsciously pressed on the storage space on his chest. The coldness there seemed to be slightly warmed because of this resonance.

He took a step forward and chased after the sound and the warmth.

The vibration of the bluestone slabs is very similar to the rhythm of claws stepping on the ground when friends run side by side.

And in the storage space in his chest, the faint resonance seemed to merge with the rhythm and the humming of the Yuanchu gong, gradually forming a silent song.

Perhaps, this gong could truly allow him to once again...see that ever-energized white figure. Even if it was only in a different form.

Mo Yun's fingertips paused for a moment on the ginkgo leaf on the stone platform. Suddenly, as if remembering something, she raised her hand and reached into her arms.

When his fingertips touched the cold rosary, his movements paused almost imperceptibly.

That's the sugar rosary.

He held the rosary gently in his palm. The sunlight leaked through the hole in the attic and fell on the beads, refracting tiny rays of light, just like the light that always sparkled in Bai Tang's eyes.

"look."

Mo Yun lowered her head to look at the rosary beads, her voice was so soft as if she was afraid of disturbing something.

"We found this place."

As soon as he finished speaking, the rosary in his palm suddenly felt slightly hot. Then, the Yuanchu Gong vibrated again, and the warmth wrapped in the buzzing sound became stronger, and gradually became in sync with the temperature of the rosary.

On the gong surface, the spiral patterns that had just been illuminated by the rhythmic force suddenly flowed faster. In the interweaving of light and shadow, a small, furry shadow was faintly reflected - the shadow was squatting on the ground, holding a rosary in its paws, and was tilting its head towards the gong, as if sharing a treasure with someone.

Mo Yun's breathing suddenly stopped.

That's what it looked like when white sugar was still there.

He suddenly remembered that once when the Xingluo group was taking a break, Bai Tang had shown off his rosary to him:

"Brother Mo Yun, look, this bead is amazing! The owner's grandmother said it can remember the path we've taken."

At that time, the child foolishly touched the beads against the Yuanchu Gong, and Wu Song laughed at him, saying that his "brain was stuck in the door". The child was so angry that he chased Wu Song for half the street.

It turns out that at that time, the rosary was connected with the Yuanchu Luo.

Just like now, this rosary that accompanied Bai Tang on her last journey is, with the lingering sound of the gong, gradually spreading out the traces of the child.

Mo Yun clenched the rosary tightly, rubbing the marks of the bump with her fingertips, and suddenly remembered the small body lying quietly in the storage space she carried with her.

He didn't dare to look any longer, fearing that the coldness would completely extinguish the remaining warmth in his heart.

But at this moment, the warmth of the rosary came through his palm, and the vibration of the Yuanchu Luo climbed up along the soles of his feet. He suddenly felt very clearly that Bai Tang had not really left.

His warmth is hidden in the rosary, his breath remains in the ripples of the Yuanchu Gong, and his shadow is reflected in the light of memory, just like this gong, only in a different way, guarding him.

"I'll show you."

Mo Yun whispered to the rosary, as if whispering to that ever-vivid figure,

"Look, there's a Yuanchu Gong here too. It still remembers you."

The temperature of the rosary beads rose again, as if in response.

The humming of the Yuanchu gong also became lighter, and the shadows in the spiral pattern swayed, as if nodding.

Mo Yun looked at the gong and suddenly felt that the empty place in his chest was quietly filled with something.

He raised his hand and brought the rosary close to his lips, breathing gently, as if afraid that the beads would be stained with dust.

"Let's go a little further."

He stood up, holding the rosary tightly in his palm.

"Don't you always say, 'As long as you're walking, you're not lost'?"

The bluestone slabs vibrated again, this time with an especially brisk rhythm, as if in response.

In the spiral pattern of the Yuanchu gong, the small shadow jumped and ran towards the depths of the attic, with its tail raised high, as if leading the way.