I said, "Repay. The key isn't the money — it's who repays whom. Since I'm now my grandpa, what's missing is my grandma."
As I spoke, I pulled out a stack of old paper bills from my pocket, found inside Grandpa's erhu at home.
Three jiao and five fen — a month's worth of food money in that era of scarcity.
Mia was still working on her popsicle. The tree shade covered her head, casting dappled light across her hair.
She said, "Who's going to play your grandma?"
I cleared my throat.
She paused, looked up in surprise, and said, "Wait, me?"
I nodded.
She hesitated, squirming. "That's very generous of you... This is the first time anyone's asked me to be their grandchild... Why don't you tell me what it's like being a granddaughter first."
I rolled my eyes and reminded her that if she couldn't act like my grandma, she wouldn't fool the version of Grandpa living inside my head.
That day, I gave her the diary and asked her to study the scene from back then. Success or failure hung on this moment. I also promised that once it was done, she could name any condition and I'd agree.
She took the diary and lowered her head.
She said, "Leo, let me ask you something."
I said, "Hmm?"
She said, "My brother came to find you, didn't he?"
I hesitated, then admitted it.
I said, "How did you know?"
She said, "My brother has a habit — every time he threatens someone with a knife, he writes down their name to repent."
I said, "Your brother is destined for great things..."
She said, "Is that why you broke up with me?"
I went silent.
We didn't speak for a long time. Finally, Mia stood up. As she passed me, she said, "After you recover, don't come looking for me again."
The popsicle I'd given her sat melting in the shade.
8
In the diary, the place where Grandpa and Grandma met was the old market.
That market, through decades of changing times, had become a school.
Our high school.
Mia and I followed the diary's directions and found the location — the school's dance studio. Monday afternoon, the studio was empty. I pushed the door, but it was locked.
Mia said, "Why don't we just return the money at the door?"
I told her to wait and went around testing the windows. Finally, I found one that wasn't latched.
Out of habit, I was about to climb in, but my foot stopped midair, as if filled with lead. My subconscious was reminding me again — I was a frail old man.
Just then, Mia vaulted over the windowsill beside me.
She crouched on the ledge, looking down at me.
She said, "You okay?"
I said, "Yeah, I'm fine."
My voice sounded old, like it wasn't even mine.
She dropped into the dance studio with a soft thud.
She unlocked the door for me. I turned on the light. The fluorescent tubes flickered twice, then came on.
Mia looked around and said, "So many mirrors."
The dance studio had floor-to-ceiling mirrors on all four sides. We walked to the center.
I clutched my stomach. I hadn't eaten anything all day, specifically to recreate the scene from back then. In the diary, Grandpa had been so hungry he nearly fainted, collapsing in the market. Then Grandma appeared, reached out her hand, and gave him that money.
Grandpa hadn't specifically described how the repayment should work. But reenacting the same circumstances would make it more convincing.
I slowly relaxed, leaned against a mirror, and sank to my knees.
The moment my knees hit the floor, I felt my body dissolve like mud. Grandpa's memories came flooding out. I looked around — there was no dance studio. I was lying helplessly in the market, surrounded by the noise of haggling, with a puddle of stagnant, foul-smelling water at my feet. I tried to grab some vegetable scraps for food, but a stray dog snatched them away.
My vision went black. I gasped for breath.
Then, Mia walked through the bustling market toward me.
She crouched down and said, "Are you very hungry?"
She pulled out a white steamed bun and fed it to me. I gobbled it down, choking and coughing, while she patted my back.
She said, "Wait, I'll give you some money. No need to rush to pay it back."
She said, "If you're ever starving, come find me at the commune."
The noisy market vanished.
Through Mia's back, I saw that behind her, in the three mirrors, there were three reflections of the two of us.
In those reflections, I wore coarse, filthy clothes, hair disheveled. She wore her hair in a clasppin, dressed in a clean white performance uniform from the cultural troupe.
My hand seemed guided by an invisible force, slowly reaching toward her. I opened her palm and placed the money in it.
I said, "I raised the child well."
Mia said, "You've worked hard."
I said, "Don't ever leave without saying goodbye again."
She nodded and said, "I won't."
9
I lay sprawled out on the dance studio floor, drenched in sweat.
Mia walked over, kicked me in the waist, and said, "Old man, feeling better?"
I took a deep breath and flexed my muscles. The old stiffness was gone, the familiar tightness returning.
I said, "Your grandpa's got a second wind."
Mia tucked her hair behind her ear and said, "Alright, I'm heading out first."
I called after her. "What about your condition?"
She turned around and said, "Go threaten my brother to study harder. Dare you?"
She didn't wait for my answer, just waved and left.
I had to admit, there was something gnawing at me. Fulfilling Grandpa's dying wish had restored me, but it also felt like I'd driven Grandpa away.
He'd finally come into my head, and I hadn't even gotten to talk to him.
That night, my dad stood outside my room, watching me frantically lift dumbbells, looking worried.
He said, "Son, just say whatever you need to say. You don't have to do this. Look, it's terrible for family harmony."
I said, "Dad, was it really hard for Grandpa to raise you?"
My dad seemed surprised by the question. He said, "I was sick a lot back then. Couldn't join the production brigade. One person's work points for two people — things were tight... Why?"
I hesitated, then said, "Dad, I saw Grandpa."
My dad went quiet.
I turned around and found him holding the phone.
He said, "Hello, doctor? My son seems to have gone feebleminded. Is there still hope?"
I rolled my eyes.
10
After rejecting my dad's suggestion of sending me for psychiatric treatment, I collapsed onto my bed.
That night, I lay there, half-asleep, and my hand found the diary. I flipped through it randomly. The pages were yellowed, and in my blurry vision, they seemed to fall like leaves.
I suddenly felt my body grow heavy.
Then Grandpa's memories surged up like a great wave and swallowed me whole.
I saw Grandpa's farmland burning, saw him following the silent crowds, dodging bullets that came from nowhere, heading south all the while.
I saw him walking across that silent land. People fell around him and never rose again. He didn't dare look back.
I saw him finally settle in a small southern town. Dynasties changed, and he became an ordinary citizen. He fell in love with the girl who'd lent him money. But her family disapproved, so they were torn apart, and he fell into despair. Then one night, the girl came to his door.
She said her family had agreed.
She had paid a price for it. From then on, her legs never fully recovered.
They married and had a child. But it didn't last long. One night, she fell asleep and never woke up.
I couldn't understand — if the dying wish had already been fulfilled, why was Grandpa showing me all this?
The memories stopped churning, and I saw an old man standing in a field, holding a water buffalo, silent.
I walked over and said, "Grandpa?"
He trembled and fished some fruit candies from his pocket.
I ate the candy. He patted my head and said, "Has Zai been treating you well?"
I thought about it. He must have meant my dad.
I said, "Everything's fine, except he keeps hitting me."
He laughed and said, "I'll go scold him."
I said, "Was Dad really sickly as a child?"
He said, "Yes. People in the village looked down on him. But he was determined — got into college."
The water buffalo let out a long call. Birds rose from the fields, flying from the distant horizon.
Grandpa said, "There's something I need your help with."
I looked at him.
He said, "Find the twenty-five-year-old me."
It seemed like Grandpa wanted to pass on a message to his younger self.
I knew that the old Grandpa and the young Grandpa were both just images in memory. No matter what happened, reality wouldn't change.
But I couldn't refuse his request.
I patted my head and turned around. On the same field, a young man in coarse cloth appeared, leading a young, strong water buffalo.
As if blocked by an invisible barrier, the young man couldn't cross over.
Grandpa stood on this side and shouted in his weathered voice: "Don't be afraid!"
Grandpa shouted: "She wants to spend her life with you, so don't be afraid! When she fought with her family, you should have gone to help her. Don't let them beat her!"
Grandpa shouted: "You're young — you can take a beating. It's nothing!"
Grandpa shouted: "If you can't do any of that, you must stay by her side!"
Grandpa's voice was nearly hoarse. He bellowed: "You have to take good care of her!"
The young man nodded, turned with his water buffalo, and walked away until his figure faded.
I turned around. Behind me, Grandpa was gone too.
The wind flowed backward.
The fields retreated. The sky receded.
I slowly opened my eyes. Ceiling. Chandelier.
I slowly raised my hand. An IV needle was stuck in my arm.
My dad was sitting beside me, peeling an apple.
He said, "You had a high fever."
I said, "I thought you actually thought I was feebleminded — rushing me to the neurologist in the middle of the night."
He snorted and set the apple on my nightstand. "Eat it or don't."
Thinking about it now, when did my relationship with my dad go downhill? There wasn't really a reason. We just started disliking each other after I entered high school.
I looked at the ceiling and said, "You saw Grandpa's diary, right?"
He said, "Yeah. It was under your pillow."
I said, "I really did see Grandpa."
He said, "What did Grandpa say?"
I said, "He said you were impressive, and that he's proud of you."
Dad didn't say anything.
I turned and saw him covering his face.
This time, he didn't call me feebleminded.
11
I took Grandpa's diary back from my dad.
I hesitated for a while, then flipped to the last page and, imitating Grandpa's handwriting, wrote a line:
June 29, 2009.
The money has been returned to her.
12
Mia heard that I'd been hospitalized with a fever.
She texted me a get-well message, asking how I hadn't burned to death yet.
I ignored her, shoved my hands in my pockets, and sat down next to her of my own accord.
I said, "Grandma, are you free tonight?"
She said, "For what?"
I said, "Going to threaten your brother."
She patted my lower back and said, "Forget it. What would you even threaten him with?"
I instinctively rubbed my waist, then remembered that I wasn't an old man anymore.
I took her hand and said, "If he doesn't study hard, I'll get together with you. That's the only thing he's afraid of."
Mia pulled her hand away.
She said, "My brother will beat you up."
I said, "I can take a beating. It's nothing."
She was quiet for a moment, then asked, "What if he actually agrees?"
I said, "He's a senior. He'll graduate in a year. This year, we'll both study hard too. It just means you'll have to live like a monk for a while."
She started chattering again, about to launch into the four ways to write "scram." But I reached out, laced my fingers through hers, and held her hand.
She didn't pull away.
Then she raised her index finger and slowly traced the character "scram" on the back of my hand.
I looked at her, puzzled. She burst out laughing.