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Глава 9

His face... well, it shouldn't be considered ugly.

If I had to nitpick, his eyebrows were a little pale; if I were to nitpick further, his nose was too straight; and if I were to nitpick again, his lips were thin and unfeeling.

His eyes were closed, and his sleeping face resembled that of a well-behaved child, but his brow was constantly furrowed.

This is the first time that the wild man reminds me of a child. Without his beard, the wild man looks ten years younger and about my age, though his sickly appearance makes him look somewhat颓废 (颓废 is a difficult word to translate directly, but it implies a state of being listless, dispirited, or decadent).

Now, his chin is clean and smooth, too thin, so it is pointed and slightly upturned, and the corners of his lips are also slightly upturned, even when he is not smiling at all—his lip color is close to the color of his face, with more light purple, white to the point of being purplish.

He suddenly coughed, and I was startled and stepped back, only to see him slowly open his eyes.

Now the image of the savage is completely fixed, with double eyelids gradually appearing. There is no longer any doubt in my mind about the savage's face.

It turns out that he wasn't ugly, profound, glamorous, alluring, or depressed... this is just how he looked.

"You're awake?" I smiled at him, but the smile felt forced.

After all, the wild man at this moment was somewhat unfamiliar, having been unseen for a long time. In addition, without his beard, he was becoming less and less like a wild man.

The savage stared at me expressionlessly, and I wondered where to put my hands.

"Are you hungry?" I took out a bag of biscuits to feed him. He looked at my hand and the biscuits in my hand, but he didn't open his mouth for a long time.

“This is edible,” I explained to him. “It’s like dry rations. You’re weak right now, so you need to eat more, otherwise you won’t have enough resistance.”

He remained silent and closed his eyes again.

But I knew he wasn't asleep; he just didn't want to see me anymore.

Psychological Analysis

In the following period of time, their relationship suddenly changed to this state.

The savage fell seriously ill and was unable to speak, so naturally I couldn't blame him for ignoring me.

Even though I'm usually quite careless, I could still sense that the atmosphere had changed.

Like when I told him about shaving him and even took out a mirror to show him his reflection, did people in ancient times ever see mirrors made of glass? I think not. But even if he had seen them and didn't care, wouldn't he be a little shocked or surprised if his appearance suddenly changed drastically and he lost his beard?

But the savages didn't see him. He merely glanced at the face of the person in the mirror and then turned his gaze away, seemingly uninterested.

He was weak, and I couldn't bear to make him work, so I took on all the responsibilities of gathering firewood, starting fires, fetching water, and feeding him these past few days.

He did nothing and said nothing.

I feed him porridge, and he eats a bite after I feed him. He doesn't complain of being hungry when I don't feed him.

Sometimes when we were bathing in the hot spring, I would deliberately pull down a strap to expose half of my chest, and he wouldn't even look. Although the Wild Man himself was a fairly self-disciplined gentleman, he wasn't like this before I left.

I showed him all the clothes and gifts I had bought for him, but when I turned around, I found him still holding the half-eaten cookie I had given him earlier, neither eating nor moving it, just staring blankly into space.

My image is like that of a woman who eloped but ended up with nowhere to go and shamelessly returned, showing off all the things she bought for him, but in reality, she took his money, used his supplementary credit card, and shamelessly presented them to him as a treasure. Of course, this is just a metaphor.

Fortunately, the savage's gaze was not icy or extremely indifferent, otherwise my heart would have turned cold too.

The wild man is probably just having trouble adapting right now; I think he'll get better gradually.

At least I helped his injuries heal slowly. He could change his clothes seven times in seven days. I combed his hair neatly and loosely tied it back with a cell phone strap. I didn't want to braid his hair with a hair tie, as that would make him look more feminine.

But the savage appeared as a madman, and a madman doesn't suddenly become healthy for no reason; I seem to have gradually forgotten that.

I guess I'm a bit crazy by nature; even the wild man described me that way.

That day, I leaned against him, raised my hand, and sprayed insecticide into the air twice.

Do you think I'm a particularly annoying person?

There was no sound from behind me, and I knew I probably wouldn't get an answer, so I asked again, "Don't you want to see me anymore? Do you find me annoying?"

Looking back at the savage, I saw that he had his eyes half-closed and wasn't looking at me.

"I understand. If I leave next time, I won't come back!"

He still did not respond.

"You..." I was speechless with anger, "Playing the autistic card, acting melancholic, you savage, let's see how you die!"

She got up, ignored him, and walked out of the cave.

It walked around the cave entrance once, then happily scurried back again.

"Savage..." I shook the savage's arm hard, "You don't play with me, I'm so bored... Savage brother, please don't do this... I won't, I won't... Savage brother... Savage brother..."

Hearing my own voice sent a chill down my spine. I admired the savage's composure as he sat upright. Just as I was about to continue to disgust him, he grabbed my hand and pulled me into his arms.

Before he could even take my hand, I automatically held my palm out in front of him.

So he raised his hand and wrote on my palm: It's good that you're back.

"Yeah, right! You don't look happy at all!" She turned around and vigorously rubbed his face. "What's so good about you? Look at your deadpan face, you'd look better even crying. Tell me, tell me, what's so good about you? What's so good about you?"

The savage slowly pulled my hand away. His cheeks were flushed from my rubbing, and he looked desolate, almost as if he was about to cry.

He then wrote in my palm: I don't know how I... Suddenly he raised his finger and stopped writing.

“You’re not happy,” I said for him. “Even if I’m standing right in front of you… Happiness has nothing to do with who you’re with. If you relax, you’ll naturally be happy. Otherwise, even if you’re guarding something precious, you’ll still not be happy no matter how hard you try.”

He paused for a moment, then wrote on my hand: Yes.

"So you left because of me..." I didn't want to bring up this topic anymore. I paused and asked again, "Wild man, what are you really thinking? Do you know who you are, why you came here, why you don't want to leave, who is Sheng Huan, and what else do you remember besides her?"

The savage took my hand and wrote quickly, just as quickly as he did before: I don't remember, I know nothing.

“Savage…” I gripped his fingers.

He broke free, pried open my clenched fist, and slowly wrote: Why do you say you are not Sheng Huan?

"Why are you so convinced that I am Sheng Huan?"

Because, with one hand holding my fingers, he used the other hand to carefully write down, word by word, on my palm: Because, Sheng Huan is a star.

"Stars...?"

He wrote: The light in your eyes is as bright as the stars.

I laughed, "Everyone has light in their eyes! If there's no light, then they're dead!"

He wrote: You are different.

I asked, "What's different?"

He wrote: Unlike everyone else.

I continued, "Then what exactly makes you different from everyone else?"

He wrote: When you appear, there is light.

Light again! "Do you really think I'm an alien?!"

He wrote: Are aliens out of reach? Maybe so.

"You're kidding me! What do you know about aliens?"

He wrote: You taught me, like Avatar.

"Go to hell!" I was stunned, then couldn't help but laugh. "How do I look like an Avatar?"

He wrote: It doesn't look like it; I've never seen it before.

"You savage!" I turned around and glared at him, only to find that he looked perfectly normal, without the slightest hint of joking.

"So..." I concluded, "In your heart, you don't actually know who Sheng Huan is. You just think she's like a star, and my eyes and body shine, so you think I am Sheng Huan?"

Looking back at him, he nodded.

"What kind of illogical thinking is that!"

He grabbed my hand and wrote: I know you are Sun Qingshan, not Sheng Huan.

"But you can't figure out why?"

He nodded again.

How absurd! I rubbed my slightly itchy palms against my body. Are all these people with unclear minds thinking so strangely? So, all these days he's been so depressed because he's been wondering why I'm Sun Qingshan and not Sheng Huan?

“Wild Man, listen carefully—” I turned my head and looked at his still pale face, which was as delicate as an ink painting. When did his face become like this… “Wild Man, you may not understand who I am, you may mistake my name for Sheng Huan instead of Sun Qingshan, you may compare me to a luminous body, or even imagine that I am an alien, but you are not allowed to not recognize me from now on. No matter what my name is, you must remember me from now on. You must tell me what you think, tell me if you are unhappy, and tell me if you are happy. From now on, I am the Wild Man’s only Sheng Huan—no, no, I am Sun Qingshan!”

The wild man stared at me. He was wearing the plaid shirt I had bought for him. His wispy hair slipped from his ears and fell onto his shoulders. He smelled faintly of a mixture of shower gel and soap. He was so fresh and clean, like a peeled cucumber, tempting me to pounce on him and take a bite.

But his eyes were extremely calm, just like his appearance, the kind that makes you look slowly, slowly... like the gentle fragrance of tea emanating from a cup of clear water.

The savage nodded and mouthed: I agree.

After that, we went back and forth, asking each other a lot of stupid questions.

Or you could say they poured out their hearts to each other.

I asked him, "How long did I walk this time?"

He wrote: A few years.

I didn't believe him, so he asked: How long do you think it will take?

I guessed: "A few days?"

He wrote: "As if I were three years old."

"screw you!"

I then asked, "Do you prefer to have a beard or not?"

He wrote: He has a beard.

I asked, "Why?"

He wrote: vicissitudes.

Then he started asking me: How old are you?

"Twenty-four."

He wrote: So big?

I got angry, "So what if she's twenty-four? A twenty-four-year-old girl is a flower, and if too many people try to take her away!"

He wrote: You are not yet married?

I slapped him across the face. "Nonsense! Who in the Cheng family would associate with you here?! You pretty boy from the Cheng family, how dare you lay your hands on me?!"