Bringing a pet to visit the sick is hardly appropriate; in daily life, we often see signs declaring "No Pets Allowed" outside grocery stores or hospitals, and sometimes even in parks. Should the day ever arrive when cats and dogs possessed human intellect and adhered strictly to social etiquette, such prohibitions could certainly be abolished. However, by then, people would likely worry about different issues, such as whether these evolved, sentient beings might instigate wars and usurp human dominance.

Thus, despite his reluctance, Xiaoyu felt Old Man Ou’s request was not unreasonable. He proactively handed the black cat to Ali, instructing her to hold it carefully.

Following this instruction, Ali clutched the little black cat and hurried into the villa, seemingly eager to catch up with Xiao Shu and Hua Gu, leaving Xiaoyu trailing behind.

Old Man Ou returned the sickle to Xiaoyu, then took the bolenggu and tugged at Xiaoyu’s other hand, leading him in the opposite direction from Ali and into the villa. Xiaoyu started to call out for them to wait, but before the words left his lips, Ali had rounded a corner and vanished from sight. He thought that since Ali knew his predicament, she would certainly tell Xiao Shu and Hua Gu, and they would naturally wait for him in the garden. Reassured, he followed Old Man Ou along the corridor to the doorway of a room.

“Knock, knock, knock…” Old Man Ou gently tapped the door three times. After a long pause, a reedy, aged voice called out from within, “Come in!” The old man turned, smiled faintly at Xiaoyu, twisted the knob, opened the door, and ushered Xiaoyu inside, but did not enter himself.

It was a room shrouded in dim light. Heavy, thick floor-to-ceiling drapes covered the wall directly opposite the door, hanging down until they hovered three inches above the floor, effectively barricading the light outside. Xiaoyu placed the sickle beside the door, turned to take the bolenggu, and the door quietly swung shut.

“Who are you?”

The gloom made it impossible for Xiaoyu to see clearly. He stood by the door for a few seconds, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the room’s environment. He vaguely made out a large bed at the far end of the room, where **an elderly figure was struggling to sit up. Xiaoyu rushed forward, supporting the elder against the headboard, then picked up the two pillows that had tumbled to the floor and tucked them behind the person so she could lean back more comfortably.

Examining the elder’s face up close, she was certainly much older than the mother etched in his memory, yet every feature—the nose, eyes, lips, and cheeks—carried the same distinctive traits as his own. Xiaoyu hesitated for a moment. Seeing the elder staring fixedly at him, she lifted his face with trembling, skeletal hands, peering at it, examining it again and again. Finally, a heartbroken cry escaped her: “My child?”

At that moment, Xiaoyu could no longer contain the torrent of emotion within him. He grasped his mother’s hands—hands now so withered they were little more than bone—and sobbed uncontrollably. With great effort, he managed to choke out a single sentence: “Mom, it’s me.”

They immediately embraced, weeping in a tangle. Xiaoyu was overjoyed, yet grieved anew for the orphaned years he and his sister had endured, finding nothing but tears to say to his mother. The elder was different. She cupped Xiaoyu’s face, rubbing it with her cold hands, showering him with endless questions about his journey. Noticing he wore only a light windbreaker with no warm undergarments, she guessed he had suffered much cold along the way. She pulled the covers back and wrapped them around Xiaoyu, intent on warming him up.