Chapter 82 Mom

Chapter 82: Mama

The next morning, Zhu Shinian woke up very early.

Jiang Huaiyan handed him the car keys without being asked, picked up the child himself, and opened the passenger door.

“Do you have to hold him the whole time?” Zhu Shinian asked in surprise. “Can’t he... sit in the back seat?”

“He gets carsick,” Jiang Huaiyan replied. “He gets really uncomfortable if he’s not held. On the way back, the secretary held him.”

Zhu Shinian was taken aback, not expecting children to be such a handful. Worried Jiang Huaiyan’s arms would get tired, he took the child himself and said he wasn’t familiar with the route, asking Jiang Huaiyan to drive instead.

“Kids can be quite a handful,” Jiang Huaiyan said, glancing at the child in his arms. After a brief pause, he added, “Maybe it’s because... this is his first time riding in a car.”

Fearing they might get lost, orphanage children rarely got to leave the premises. Their first time going far from the orphanage was often when they were being adopted.

Perhaps because he was being held by Zhu Shinian, the child slept soundly and didn’t cry or fuss as Jiang Huaiyan had worried.

The whole way, he stayed snugly in Zhu Shinian’s arms, completely unaware that he was being sent back to the orphanage.

Would he be sad about this? Zhu Shinian looked down at him, wondering.

...He probably would.

And when he grew up, would he forget?

Zhu Shinian didn’t know.

The child behaved well throughout the journey. The early morning streets were empty, with only early-rising sanitation workers sweeping fallen leaves.

But just as the car was about to reach the orphanage, the child just then woke up.

Whether he recognized the road back or not, his breathing suddenly quickened, his face turned red, and tears started pouring down, as if he had a fever.

Zhu Shinian had never taken care of a child before and didn’t know that children could cry for many different reasons. He quickly sat the child up, letting him rest on his shoulder, and gently patted his back.

“What’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?”

Maybe because Zhu Shinian was a stranger, the child cried even harder, his breath coming in short, choked sobs.

“I’m not a bad person. I’m taking you back to the orphanage, to see the teachers there, okay?”

Zhu Shinian's comfort didn't help. Instead, he seemed afraid to cry out loud, his whole body trembling.

Jiang Huaiyan, being a little more experienced with crying children, suggested Zhu Shinian gently rock the child in his arms to calm him down.

“Maybe it’s carsickness,” Jiang Huaiyan thought for a moment, pulled the car over to the side of the road, and gestured for Zhu Shinian to get out. “Let’s get out for now.”

Zhu Shinian also thought the child might be feeling sick from the car. Jiang Huaiyan came around and opened the door for him.

Outside, the fresh, crisp morning breeze greeted them.

“Ma, Mama...”

As Zhu Shinian was about to step out, his sleeve was gently tugged.

The child had suddenly grabbed his sleeve.

His little hand was clenched into a fist, no bigger than a small fruit, his face red from crying, as if he was afraid to get out of the car.

Zhu Shinian froze, feeling as if he had done something unforgivable. His heart ached painfully.

Zhu Shinian tried to remember how adults comforted kids. He carefully rocked the child in his arms, swaying gently.

Tears streamed down the child’s face, as if he might cry himself unconscious.

“Mama.”

“Hey, are you not feeling well?” Zhu Shinian lowered his head and asked the child in his arms. When there was no response, he looked at Jiang Huaiyan helplessly. “It doesn’t seem like carsickness. Is he... uncomfortable somewhere? Should we take him to the hospital first?”

“Probably not,” Jiang Huaiyan said, shaking his head. “He just... doesn’t want to go back to the orphanage.”

A two-year-old already has preferences and cries to express his feelings.

As for why he didn’t dare to cry out loud, it was probably because he had been told that smiling more would make him more likely to be adopted, and that lesson had been overcorrected.

Zhu Shinian let the child rest his head on his shoulder, gently swaying and pacing back and forth.

Slowly, perhaps dizzy from the rocking, the child stopped crying.

“Do the people at the orphanage... treat these children badly?”

“It’s not that they’re bad,” Jiang Huaiyan thought for a moment before answering. “It’s just... one teacher has to watch over many kids. They can only make sure the kids are fed and clothed, but it’s hard to provide the kind of care a normal family would...”

The orphanage staff are limited. They can only make sure the children have enough to eat, stay warm, prevent bullying and fights, and attend school when they’re old enough.

Expecting orphanage teachers to give each child the same care as a parent would is nearly impossible.

Visitors are even advised not to hug these children.

Because hugs are just too warm and comforting, and these children... might struggle to let go, which would burden the staff.

Jiang Huaiyan didn’t continue. Those days when he was locked in the Jiang family attic for misbehaving were too awful. When he was finally let out to enjoy the sun, he felt the same way—so afraid of going back to confinement that he didn’t even want to go outside.

He changed the subject and asked, “Do you want to come see the director with me, or wait in the car?”

“I’ll come with you,” Zhu Shinian replied.

Jiang Huaiyan didn't say anything else. Zhu Shinian continued to gently rock the child. The child still had clear tear streaks on his face, and Jiang Huaiyan took out a handkerchief and carefully wiped them away.

“He’s two years old,” Zhu Shinian suddenly thought of something. “Shouldn’t a two-year-old... be able to talk? Why does he only keep saying ‘Mama’?”

Jiang Huaiyan wasn’t unfamiliar with this question. Yesterday, one of the officials with him had asked the orphanage director something similar.

The director said it was normal. Children in the orphanage have no one repeating words to them from birth, teaching them to call “Mom” or “Dad.” No one praises them as the world’s smartest baby when they say a word. Language requires an environment, and education requires repetition and feedback.

In such an environment, it’s perfectly normal for these kids not to have learned to speak by age two.

“Is it because he can’t talk that no one adopted him?”

Just as Jiang Huaiyan was about to answer, Zhu Shinian asked another question.

The orphanage gate was right in front of them, but it was still too early. The security guard was dozing off and hadn’t noticed their approach.

Jiang Huaiyan noticed that Zhu Shinian’s pace had slowed down.

“Maybe... yes,” Jiang Huaiyan looked away, his eyes on the distant, dusty building, and went along with Zhu Shinian. “I don’t know, either.”

Zhu Shinian seemed to have decided. The child had stopped trembling so much. He rested on Zhu Shinian’s shoulder, his little face tucked into Zhu Shinian’s neck, only letting out an occasional sob every so often.

"Don't cry," Zhu Shinian said softly. "Don't cry. We're going home."

He didn't know if the child understood, but the child's sobbing gradually eased, and after a while, even the sobbing stopped.

On the way to the registry office, the sun rose, shining through the clouds and illuminating the entire road with a golden glow.

When they got out of the car, the child had fallen into a deep sleep again. Zhu Shinian, not knowing what he was thinking, gently tapped the tip of his nose with a fingertip and immediately withdrew his finger.

The child wasn't particularly good-looking, with a flat nose—who knew if it would get better as he grew older.

It didn't matter. If no one else liked you, I would like you.

Even if your nose is flat and you started speaking later than others, I would still like you.

His skin was quite fair, and his eyelashes were long and thick, casting a small fan-shaped shadow on his cheekbones.

The child was sleeping soundly, and feeling something touch his nose, he groggily reached out and happened to catch Zhu Shinian's finger.

The corners of his mouth lifted, and then he giggled softly.

"Ma... ma," he babbled in a babyish voice, the only syllable he seemed to know.

"It's 'Baba,'" Zhu Shinian corrected earnestly. "Baba."

The child tried to mimic the shape of his mouth to say it, but after several attempts, he still failed.

"Pah... pah..."

"Baba."

He seemed a little slow to learn, struggling repeatedly without success. Perhaps worried that Zhu Shinian would dislike him saying "Mama," he stopped even that, simply holding Zhu Shinian's finger gently.

Jiang Huaiyan had already gone to get the forms to fill out, the tip of his pen scratching on the paper, "We can talk about that later. 'Mama' is a simpler syllable; just let him call you that for now."

"The orphanage has no record of his parents. They only gave him a nickname—Tingting. There's a blank for his name here. Think of one for him. I think directly calling him 'Zhu Ting' would be fine."

"Surname Zhu?" Zhu Shinian asked in surprise.

"Or would you prefer Jiang?" Jiang Huaiyan retorted.

"And his parents... left nothing behind?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Zhu Shinian realized he had asked a stupid question.

If Jiang Huaiyan knew his parents' surname, he would have told him.

With no news of either parent, such children were mostly those whose parents had died in battle.

In the past, commoners had short lifespans, and their grandparents might have long passed away. If both parents had fallen in battle and the child no longer remembered them, there was indeed nothing left.

"Then... shouldn't we not let him call me Baba? That would, like, erase the existence of his biological parents."

"That's a future matter. For now, he can only say 'Mama.' Let's first give him a name," Jiang Huaiyan replied.

"Tingting," Zhu Shinian called to him. He wasn't particularly fond of the name "Zhu Ting," feeling it was a bit hasty.

Tingting, who had been lying in his arms, immediately raised his round head and turned to look at him when he heard his nickname.

Because he was still young, a child's eyes often have lighter irises. Tingting's eyes were a lighter shade of chestnut than Zhu Shinian's.

"Can you be called Zhu Tingjia? Is that okay?"

Author's note: