Translator: 549690339
The one-kilometer journey took Bo Yan half an hour, three times slower than average walking speed. Since he was carrying Xia Siyu, a considerable weight, the rest of the directorial team found nothing unusual about his pace and even praised his hard work.
Back at the hotel, they finally had separate rooms to sleep in. Bo Yan carried her to her room, set her down on the edge of the bed. He took off her shoes, covered her with a blanket, and even made sure to turn off the microphone and camera.
Having arranged everything, he closed the door behind him as he left, but not before looking back at her one last time.
Xia Siyu indeed slept peacefully.
Perhaps knowing that she was back in Taormina, she relaxed completely. Although she couldn’t visit the Chinese District, she could still glimpse her former home from the mountaintop. The air smelled of old days; the buildings were strange yet familiar, as if she had suddenly returned to the past.
Her mother was not very sociable and often kept to herself. She had strict demands for Siyu, training her daily in dance and piano. If she didn’t practice well, her mother wouldn’t scold her but would simply send her out the door and close it behind her.
Taormina was a safe place, with no fears of abduction. The entire Chinese District was like one big community where neighbors knew each other well, akin to the large compounds in China during the ’80s and ’90s. It was common for kids to visit each other’s homes, playing games like drop the handkerchief, and so on.
For instance, she would often dream that the grandmother of Pietro, the boy next door, had a dog that loved to lick her face…
If she fell asleep from exhaustion in someone’s house, the parents would call her mother. Then her mother would bring a small gift, usually a piece of cake or some baked cookies, to pick her up from the neighbors’ home.
Sometimes she was genuinely tired from playing with her friends, her eyelids fighting against each other until she would fall asleep as soon as they closed. Other times, she wasn’t actually that weary and would just pretend in hopes of her mother carrying her back home.
The small tricks of a child were transparent to her mother. With just a glance Wen Qunxiao could tell whether her daughter was truly asleep or just pretending, yet she always acted as if Siyu was sleeping and would carry her home.
Once home, there were sweet treats waiting for her, like the almond tofu and tiramisu she loved. Sometimes, her mother would join her in building Legos or playing with toy guns.
So, when Bo Yan was carrying her, she comfortably rested her head on his shoulder, her body automatically adjusting to his carry. Even if she sometimes slipped, and he hoisted her back up, she wouldn’t find it uncomfortable. Instead, she would instinctively cling tighter, fearing he’d let go and she’d fall to the ground, waking from her dream.
She was indeed asleep, but not deeply. She even knew she was dreaming, but she didn’t want to wake up. Life as a celebrity, though glamorous, involved more criticism than praise. Sasaeng fans and hackers would tirelessly pursue her. Her rare visit to Sicily allowed her to escape the throngs of fans, but with the crew constantly around, perhaps only in dreams could she find such relaxation.
Wait, wait a minute, why did she feel like she was with Bo Yan? So the dream where she was being carried might not have been her mother after all, but… Bo Yan? And the one licking her face, could it really be… also Bo Yan?