Guo Tiandi stepped out of the room first, waiting for Guo Yingying to change her clothes before going back in.
The caregiver excused herself, leaving the siblings alone.
Guo Yingying stretched out her hands, groping left and right. Guo Tiandi looked down at her hands—pale and slender, marred by two ugly scars. He held her hands.
He didn’t need to speak; after all, she couldn’t hear anything. Or, he could say whatever he wanted, because she couldn’t hear him anyway.
Guo Yingying babbled non-stop about the nightmare she had, where she was chased by Liu Er and a tiger. Helpless, she ran everywhere until she came to the edge of a cliff and fell off.
Every time she spoke, Guo Tiandi felt helpless. She couldn’t see or hear, and although she could express herself, she couldn’t receive any responses, creating a breakdown in communication.
This made the listener effectively mute—whatever he said, she couldn’t hear, making speaking pointless. Wasn’t that just like being mute?
One deaf and blind, and one mute—communication was impossible.
All he could do was hold her hands tightly, signaling that he heard her, to offer his comfort.
She would smile, a happy smile.
He also smiled, a forced smile.
Guo Yingying groped for a book on the table, saying she was learning Braille and had already recognized over a hundred characters.
She grabbed Guo Tiandi’s fingers, guiding them over the raised dots. “Brother, isn’t it interesting?”
He withdrew his hand, as he had a phobia of clusters; the dense dots gave him goosebumps.
He wanted to tell her about the search for her biological parents but then realized he’d need to learn Braille to communicate effectively with her.
Oh my, what a nightmare. Spare me!
He screamed inwardly.
He called the caregiver and asked who was teaching Guo Yingying Braille.
The caregiver explained that a month ago, Guo Yingying had written on paper that she wanted to learn Braille. Jennie Yang had once ordered that any of Guo Yingying’s requests that could be fulfilled should be, so the director had hired a Braille teacher.
He asked the caregiver to bring the Braille teacher to him.
The Braille teacher, a woman in her thirties named Ms. Liu, greeted Guo Tiandi before using Braille to greet Guo Yingying.
Ms. Liu cheerfully praised Guo Yingying for being smart and diligent in her studies.
Guo Tiandi maintained a warm smile and patiently listened, even asking how Ms. Liu had initially taught Guo Yingying Braille when she didn’t understand it.
Ms. Liu, quite talkative, launched into a detailed explanation, showing the teaching aids she used.
She had crafted special molds of Chinese characters in 3D, which Guo Yingying could identify by touch. For instance, the characters for “heaven,” “earth,” and “man” were simple and easy to discern by touch. Ms. Liu would then teach the corresponding Braille. For more complex characters, Ms. Liu would trace the characters in Guo Yingying’s palm with her fingers.
Of course, simpler characters could also be traced directly, but using molds had the advantage of training Guo Yingying’s tactile sense—her eyesight would never return, and she would rely on touch for the rest of her life.
Blind and deaf, Guo Yingying’s situation was pitiful.
Despite his pity, Guo Tiandi’s resolve to escape had not wavered.
He had Ms. Liu convey to Guo Yingying his plan to find her biological parents.
Ms. Liu, unaware of the full situation, happily informed Guo Yingying.
However, Guo Yingying only smiled faintly, not as happy as expected.
“Brother, why do you suddenly want to find my biological parents?” Guo Yingying asked, her voice casual but strained.
Guo Tiandi sat back on the couch, replying with a smile, “Aren’t you curious about who your parents are? Maybe they’re looking for you too. There’s no harm in trying, and if we don’t find them, it’s no big deal. Don’t worry; I’ll handle it. You won’t be disappointed.”
His tone was confident, as if he was sure they would find them.
Ms. Liu translated his words into Braille for Guo Yingying.
Guo Yingying suddenly became emotional, tears streaming down her face, “Brother, for so many years it’s just been you and me. I don’t need parents. Why find them? Even if we do, they’ll be strangers to me.”
Guo Tiandi comforted her, “How can you say they’re strangers? It might be awkward at first, but you’ll grow closer over time. Blood is thicker than water, parents always love you the most.”
Ms. Liu translated each word slowly into Braille, which took several minutes due to Guo Yingying’s inexperience.
Impatient, Guo Yingying asked Guo Tiandi to write directly on her palm.
Guo Tiandi, already out of patience, refused and had Ms. Liu write for him instead.
Guo Yingying’s lips trembled, and she burst into tears, “Brother, do you despise me? Do you want to get rid of me? If that’s the case, you can just tell me directly. There’s no need to find them.”
Her deepest fears voiced, Guo Tiandi awkwardly glanced at Ms. Liu and put on an act of being wrongly accused, swearing he had no such intentions.
Guo Yingying, like a doll broken by a child, threw herself on the bed and cried. She asked Ms. Liu to leave.
Guo Tiandi, at a loss and annoyed by her crying, asked Ms. Liu to stay and comfort her sister while he left on the pretext of having urgent business.
The door closed heavily, and Ms. Liu’s body shivered slightly, but Guo Yingying, completely deaf, continued to sob on the bed, seemingly waiting for her brother’s comfort.
Ms. Liu gently patted her back. Guo Yingying slowly lifted her head, her eyes overwhelmed with tears.
“Brother.”
She tried to feel for him in the air, grabbing Ms. Liu’s arm, realizing from its girth that it wasn’t Guo Tiandi.
“Brother,” she called again.
Ms. Liu, heartbroken but compelled to be honest, said, “Your brother had to leave for an emergency.” She added, “He said it was urgent,” hoping to offer some comfort.
Guo Yingying was stunned, unable to believe Ms. Liu’s words. She shook her head as if looking around, forgetting for a moment she was blind, before the harsh reality dawned on her again.
Tears fell silently.
Large teardrops soaked the sheets in small patches.
Then, as if a faucet had been turned off, her tears suddenly stopped. Her expression became vacant, like a deflated balloon, her small frame seeming to shrink further.
She asked for silence, wanting Ms. Liu to leave.
In that moment, Ms. Liu understood what it meant to have a heart utterly broken. She felt that Guo Yingying’s heart had died then.
Guo Yingying realized she had been abandoned by her brother.
She understood, a burden both deaf and blind, everyone would want to throw it away. She had thought her brother, who had always been with her, might be an exception. Alas, she had overestimated him.
Reportedly, that year she was only five years old, and Guo Tiandi was fifteen.
Back then, he wasn’t called Guo Tiandi; he was nameless, known only by the nickname “Stinky Dog.” The other street kids at the train station called him that.
After getting to know him, she had asked why his name was so unflattering.
He had replied with a grin, because he had no parents and no home, nowhere to go when it rained or the wind blew, getting soaked to the bone. Once, he found a large doghouse belonging to a wealthy family, spacious and even equipped with a roof and windows. He had crawled into it one rainy night and slept wonderfully.
From then on, the station’s street kids nicknamed him “Stinky Dog.”
He spoke of these harsh experiences with a tone of jest and bravado, as if suffering were a badge of honor.
He said that one day, while selling cigarettes in the square, he heard a little girl crying pitifully. Annoyed by her cries, he approached and learned she had gotten separated from her parents.
He bought her a piece of candy and took her to the broadcast room, where they announced a search for her parents dozens of times, but no one came.
He reported it to the police and handed the girl over to them. The sight of the police terrified her, and she couldn’t stay calm. He knew the station police well, and they let him take her home temporarily.
At that time, he was renting a shabby room behind the train station with only a single bed. He laid cardboard on the floor for himself and let the little girl sleep on the bed.
Day by day, her parents didn’t come, and thus, they became siblings met by chance.
The little girl remembered her name was Guo Yingying.
She didn’t want a brother called “Stinky Dog” and to be laughed at by other kids. So “Stinky Dog” decided to change his name. After much thought, none of the common names suited him—Xiao Jun, Da Shan, Xiao Jian, Xiao Kang—none matched his temperament.
Guo Yingying asked, “Brother, what is your temperament?”
He replied, “Free-spirited, roaming the world.”
He had learned these phrases from TV dramas, often sneaking peeks at a small shop’s television.
Then, inspired, a striking name popped into his head. “I have no parents; heaven and earth are my parents. I’ll be called Guo Tiandi.”
Later, Guo Yingying recalled that her parents had once taken her to see the flag-raising ceremony, which she believed was in Beijing.
Guo Tiandi decided to take her to Beijing to look for her parents. It took half a year to save enough for train tickets, and the siblings set off northward.
Train food was expensive, so Guo Tiandi bought only one meal for Guo Yingying and a bottle of orange juice for himself.
A bottle of orange juice cost a bit more than a meal.
This wasn’t his first time drinking orange juice. Many years ago, an aunt had taken him on a train and bought him a bottle of orange juice.
That was his first taste of orange juice, an unforgettable flavor, sweet and tangy, better than any soup.
He couldn’t remember how old he was then, nor could he recall the aunt’s face, only that she was beautiful, more so than any woman he had ever seen.
