After lying down for a while, he still couldn’t fall asleep. Adam Sullivan tried hard to prop himself up with his arms, wanting to sit up and look outside, but his body felt as heavy as if it were filled with lead, and he fell back onto the hard wooden bed, the pain making him hiss and suck in cold air.

He was stubborn by nature—the less able he was to get up, the more he tried again and again. Before long, he had worked up a sweat, lying stiffly on the bed, panting heavily.

At that moment, the door was pushed open roughly. The fat woman from before appeared in front of Adam Sullivan again, followed by a thin, wiry man carrying a large trunk on his back, his head lowered as he trailed behind her.

The woman had already seen Brian Sullivan leave. She swaggered in, plopped herself down on the bench without even glancing at Adam Sullivan, and pointed at the man, ordering, “Put it in the corner, and bring those baskets up too.”

The man glanced at the sweat-soaked Adam Sullivan, and, unable to bear it, said, “This young man is sick. Maybe we shouldn’t disturb him.”

“Let the little mama’s boy die.” The fat woman shot Adam Sullivan a contemptuous look and snapped angrily, “There’s no room left in our house. If we don’t put it here, where else?”

“We could put it downstairs,” the man suggested cautiously.

“Put it my ass.” The fat woman raged, “It’s been raining for days, everything’s wet. What if my things start growing mushrooms? Are you, pauper, going to buy me new ones?” As she spoke, she turned her anger on the man, jabbing her finger at his nose and cursing him for being penniless and useless, saying she must have had terrible luck for eight lifetimes to end up with him, and that if he didn’t steal other men, it would be a miracle for his ancestors.

Adam Sullivan listened quietly from the side, thinking to himself: ‘If someone really did have an affair with you, that would be a miracle for your ancestors.’

The man, embarrassed by his wife’s scolding, quickly set the trunk down and muttered, “I’ll go get the rest,” before fleeing in a hurry.

The fat woman spat viciously at his back, still unsatisfied, and prepared to vent her anger on Adam Sullivan.

But Adam Sullivan suddenly started coughing violently, his face turning alternately pale and red. Coupled with the sweat pouring down his face, he looked every bit the seriously ill patient.

Seeing him cough nonstop, the woman tentatively asked, “What kind of illness do you have?”

Adam Sullivan panted, “Old…” and then started coughing again.

“What? Tub… tuberculosis?” The fat woman’s face instantly turned ashen, as if she were sitting on pins and needles. With a shriek, she bolted out the door, tripping over the threshold and tumbling out, crashing right into the arms of the man coming up with a bundle. The two of them rolled down the stairs like balls.

Adam Sullivan only heard a clatter and a crash, followed by the woman’s pig-like wailing: “Why didn’t you catch me…”

“I couldn’t catch you…” the man’s aggrieved voice drifted up from downstairs.

※※※

After a while, the short-coated man, his face bruised and battered from the fall, came back up. Not daring to look at Adam Sullivan, he grabbed his trunk and hurried out.

Adam Sullivan called after him, “Actually, cough cough, what I wanted to say was old…”

But the man quickened his pace and vanished in the blink of an eye, as if staying in the room a moment longer would be life-threatening.

“I’m not sick,” Adam Sullivan rolled his eyes and said, “Why does no one ever wait for me to finish?” Dealing with these fools was just too easy.

Feeling smug, Adam Sullivan soon felt a wave of drowsiness, closed his eyes, and fell into a deep sleep.

He slept in a daze for a while before being awakened by the sound of someone coming upstairs. Without opening his eyes, he coughed gloomily and said, “I really do have tuberculosis, are you satisfied now?”

But then he heard a string of melodious, bell-like laughter that instantly lifted his spirits. Adam Sullivan opened his left eye and saw a fair-skinned, smiling young girl standing at the door, one hand holding a food box, the other covering her mouth as she giggled.

The girl was petite, looking no more than thirteen or fourteen. Her hair was styled in two buns, and she wore a light green long dress with a colorful, cross-collared vest over it. Though not exactly stunning, her youthful charm and cuteness made Adam Sullivan’s eyes light up.

But it was only for a moment—his gaze quickly returned to normal. Having seen all kinds of people, Adam Sullivan knew that these little girls were the hardest to deal with, and it was best not to provoke them.

Sure enough, the girl noticed his unabashed gaze and glared at him, about to make a sarcastic remark, but then saw Adam Sullivan instantly return to normal. The words stuck in her throat, neither spoken nor unsaid, and her face flushed red before she finally recovered.

She shot him a fierce look, stepped into the room, set the food box on the table, and said angrily, “Hey…”

“My name’s not ‘hey’,” Adam Sullivan teased her on purpose.

“You!” She looked him up and down, noticing that this boy about her age was actually quite good-looking. Deciding not to argue, she glared and said, “You’re Mr. Sullivan’s son, right?”

“Yes,” Adam Sullivan nodded. “And you are?”

“I’m…” The girl’s bright black eyes spun mischievously, and she giggled, “I’m not telling you.”

“All right,” Adam Sullivan smiled. “Then I won’t ask.”

The girl immediately felt deflated, pouted, and said, “Actually, if you asked again, I’d tell you.”

“All right,” Adam Sullivan still smiled. “May I ask your name?”

“Remember, my surname is Yin, and my name is Grace.” The girl said very seriously.