2. Dark-Butt

Perhaps Zhang Tan had been standing too long outside Little Red Horse Academy, for the security guard, Uncle Li, approached him cautiously and asked if he needed anything.

Zhang Tan smiled. “Old Li, don’t you recognize me? It’s me, Zhang Tan.”

The man paused, scanning him up and down, initially confused but then suddenly enlightened.

“Oh! It’s Young Master Zhang! You cut your hair—I didn’t recognize you. Are you on summer break?”

Zhang Tan replied, “I’ve graduated from university and returned to Pujiang.”

“Graduated already? Good, you’ll be staying in Pujiang then?”

As they chatted casually, a sudden commotion arose from within the academy. A group of people emerged, led by a man and a woman dressed as police officers. The woman cradled a small girl, while behind them a crowd of children cried loudly.

A little girl in red dashed out of the classroom building, clutching a water gun, and caught up to the officers, grabbing one by the arm to stop them from leaving. “Or I’ll shoot!” she declared, aiming the water gun.

“You rotten little brats! Stealing my doll! If you’ve got guts, don’t run away!”

Her fierce tone, spoken in the Sichuan dialect, made it clear she was ready for a fight.

Teachers hurried over to calm the situation, urging everyone to resolve things peacefully.

“What’s going on here?” Zhang Tan asked, puzzled.

Uncle Li straightened his security uniform and explained, “Those are police officers from the local precinct. The principal called them.”

“There’s a little girl here, four years old, who was left in our care two days ago. No one has come to pick her up, and we can’t contact her family. It seems she was abandoned.”

“All we can do is call the police to take her and see if they can find her relatives.”

“And now?” Zhang Tan inquired.

Old Li looked toward the children in red surrounding the two officers, blocking their path and filling the air with cries. He shook his head with an amused yet helpless expression.

“The kids don’t want her to go. That girl in red is called Xiao Bai—you probably haven’t seen her before. She only arrived three months ago.”

“She’s only known Xiao Mi for about a month.”

Little Red Horse Academy has been around for over a decade, but Zhang Tan had never taken an interest before. He never cared to inquire about the academy’s operations, focusing instead on bars, clubs, luxury goods, and beautiful women.

“From what you’re saying, it sounds like quite a few kids have been abandoned here?” Zhang Tan asked, noting Uncle Li’s tone suggested familiarity with such incidents.

Indeed, Uncle Li nodded, “There have been a few times before. You know, families who send their kids here usually aren’t well-off.”

The academy covers over 900 square meters and was once a fully accredited kindergarten attended by children from the urban village. Three years ago, Zhang Tan’s grandparents transformed it into the “Night Academy,” operating from 5:30 p.m. until 1 a.m. It serves night workers in the big city—like the delivery drivers Zhang Tan saw earlier—whose jobs require nighttime hours and who have no one to watch their children. The kids are cared for here until their parents finish work and pick them up.

Pujiang is a city that never sleeps. The Little Red Horse Academy sits in a bustling downtown area, adjacent to Chang’an Street, which during the day is filled with suited executives and white-collar workers. By night, it glows with neon lights and lively crowds; bars brim with fashionable patrons coming and going, shops remain open around the clock. Behind this glittering facade is a population of tireless workers—like ants in the mud—largely unseen by the public eye.

The Night Academy is there to serve them.

The children entrusted to the Night Academy mostly come from working-class families struggling to get by in Pujiang’s sleepless cityscape.

In a cosmopolitan metropolis like Pujiang, the pressure to survive is immense. Some parents, overwhelmed, abandon their children at the academy. Such cases are rare but not unheard of; Uncle Li has witnessed some, so he’s hardly surprised by today’s scene.

The little girl held by the female officer cried bitterly, trying desperately to break free.

---

A group of children chased after them, shouting angrily in their high-pitched voices, surrounding the officers despite the teachers’ attempts to calm them.

The female officer holding the girl sighed. “Kids, Auntie isn’t a bad person. We’re police officers, here to take Xiao Mi to find her mother.”

“Principal Huang, it looks like we can’t leave.”

Principal Huang, a woman in her fifties from the urban village who had known Zhang Tan’s grandparents for decades, managed the academy.

“I’ll try to persuade them.”

“Xiao Bai, Xiao Bai—let go, okay? The police lady is a good person. She’s taking Xiao Mi to see her mother.”

The little girl in red paused but kept gripping the officer’s clothes tightly, fiercely insisting Xiao Mi was her good friend and mustn’t be taken away. She wasn’t a bad kid.

Despite Principal Huang and the others’ efforts to soothe the crying children, progress was minimal, and the situation became increasingly uncontrollable. Finally, the teachers had no choice but to restrain the kids and allow the police to take Xiao Mi away.

This only made the cries louder, as if it were a heartbreaking farewell.

All the children wept—except Xiao Bai.

That little girl didn’t cry but grew even more fiercely adorable, like a stray puppy growling in a tiny voice.

While the other children were held back, Xiao Bai broke free and chased after the police car, shouting to retrieve her friend.

Just as she was about to catch up, a hand unexpectedly reached out and grabbed her.

It was Zhang Tan.

The two officers glanced gratefully at him as they hurried away with Xiao Mi.

“Xiao Mi!” Xiao Bai shouted loudly, biting Zhang Tan’s hand.

“Ah!” Zhang Tan winced, instinctively pulling his hand away. Xiao Bai darted off like a little rabbit, chasing the police car until she stumbled and fell, dropping her water gun. She watched helplessly as the vehicle disappeared from sight and then burst into tears.

“You rotten little brats!” she wailed.

Her tears flowed freely, joining those of the other children.

---

Half an hour later, Zhang Tan sat in a clinic, receiving a tetanus shot and having his wound dressed.

“I’m really sorry, Zhang Tan. You just got back, and this happens. I’ll make sure to educate Xiao Bai properly,” said Principal Huang, who had come with him to the clinic.

Thinking of the little girl who cried the hardest, Zhang Tan couldn’t bring himself to blame her. He shook his head helplessly. “It’s alright. Kids don’t mean harm. She was genuinely worried. Maybe we should have let them say proper goodbyes.”

“They already said goodbye a long time ago. The longer the time, the harder it is to let go.”

“...”

“You haven’t eaten dinner yet, right? Come to my place.”

“No, I’m not hungry now.”

“Don’t be polite. I knew you’d come today, so I prepared something special.”

---

At Aunt Huang’s home, her husband was also there, and a table full of dishes awaited Zhang Tan.

“Zhang Tan’s here? What happened to your hand?”

He explained briefly.

“Oh, it was Xiao Bai, huh?”

It seemed Uncle Huang knew her well too.

“What about Afang and Amei?” Zhang Tan asked.

Aunt Huang helped him sit and set the table. “Afang got married. He bought a house in Minhang and has a family now. Amei went on a business trip to Yuezhou and won’t be back for a few days.”

“Time flies.”

“It does. Have some wine.”

“No, thanks. I had a hangover all day yesterday and just recovered. I’m not drinking anymore.”

“That’s good. Drinking is bad for your health. Eat more vegetables instead.”

“Aunt Huang, you’re a great cook.”

After dinner, Uncle Huang cleaned up while Zhang Tan and Aunt Huang returned to the academy.

“I’ll take you to your room first. It’s ready on the third floor,” she said, reaching to help with his suitcase, but Zhang Tan took it himself.

There were four rooms on the third floor. Aunt Huang had cleared out the largest one at the end of the corridor—over ninety square meters.

“This used to be the kids’ dormitory. We had someone renovate it. It’s quite spacious, though the furniture is a bit old. If it’s no good, I’ll get more tomorrow.”

There was a living room, bedroom, balcony, and bathroom, all furnished. As Aunt Huang mentioned, the furniture was somewhat worn but cozy, all moved here from the ancestral home.

Zhang Tan’s return to Pujiang had been a sudden decision, finalized just that day, and he arrived immediately. The house had been under renovation since after the Lunar New Year because the Zhang family’s old house was in poor condition. Since Zhang Tan had no place to live, Aunt Huang transformed this space into his residence, so he wouldn’t return to Pujiang homeless.

“It’s very clean, and the furniture is good enough. No need to buy new stuff. Thank you, Aunt Huang, for your hard work,” Zhang Tan said gratefully.

Aunt Huang glanced at him several times, recalling the Lunar New Year when Zhang Tan had sported yellow-purple braids, returned home to honor his deceased grandparents, and then spent nights drinking and partying with friends. Once, drunk and disorderly, he barged into the academy, frightening the children. She had chased him away, only to be threatened that he was in charge now and would kick her out.

She had dismissed it as drunken nonsense, but her impression of him was terrible, even preparing for the worst. Being expelled wouldn’t have mattered, but she felt she was betraying the old couple’s wishes.

Today, Zhang Tan’s return surprised her. Without his outrageous hairstyle, he looked clean, composed, mature, sincere, and respectful—thankful, even. He seemed like a different person.

Perhaps the loss of his grandparents had suddenly matured him. Aunt Huang felt relieved but hoped this was no mere passing phase.