Dreaming of a dragon and snake giving birth to a noble son? I couldn't help but laugh out loud. Oh, Duke Zhou, it seems even your dreams are a budget version; I'm not even married, so how could I possibly "give birth to a noble son"? Right now, I'm more likely to have heat rash than a noble child!

As I stood there, caught between laughter and tears, I felt another prick on my waist. I froze, confirming I wasn't dreaming. Pulling out my phone, I saw the familiar Guangzhou number again, and my temper flared. I barked into the receiver, "Hello? Who is this?"

"Is that Man Yingying? It's Niao Niao! Why haven't you been picking up my calls?" As soon as the phone touched my ear, a thunderous roar erupted from the receiver. Not only that, but this distinctly Xidou dialect was delivered with a Mandarin cadence, giving it a particularly strange flavor.

The last shred of patience I possessed vanished instantly. "If you're Niao Niao, then I'm Que Que!" I retorted irritably into the mouthpiece.

"You are Man Yingying, right? I'm Man Niao Niao. Haven't you forgotten me? After all, we played together when we were both still in diapers. You're too much of a li ji la ba—heartless!" The voice in the receiver sounded equally explosive.

Hearing those four highly distinctive characters, li ji la ba, immediately brought back memories of my childhood playmate, Man Niao Niao.

"You son of a tortoise, why aren't you saying anything?" While I was still stunned, Man Niao Niao’s broken-gong-like voice boomed from the receiver again, making my ears ring violently.

I was furious. I hated being called "son of a tortoise" most of all. Just as I was about to launch into a greeting to his dear mother through the phone, I remembered he was still my elder in seniority. To curse his mother would be to curse my own great-grandmother! I had to choke back the words and patiently ask, "Why are you calling me now? What are you doing in Guangzhou?"

I sensed he clearly paused on the other end, then immediately asked, "How did you know I was in Guangzhou?" Without waiting for my reply, he continued shouting, "Forget it. It must be my old man bragging again. Never mind him. You're about to start summer vacation, right? I’m planning to come back for a visit. I’m bringing you a huge surprise. I’ll call you when I arrive so you can pick me up at the station. That’s it, o kai?"

Before I could respond, he hung up directly. I sighed inwardly. This Man Niao Niao was still as restless as a flea on a hot pan, just like his old nickname, "Lord of Fire," suggested.

After ending the call, I suddenly remembered that the first time Man Niao Niao called me was precisely when that girl in my dream had poked me in the waist with something. Coincidentally, it had snapped me out of sleep paralysis. I felt puzzled—this timing... was too coincidental, wasn't it?

Here I must talk about Man Niao Niao.

In fact, "Man Niao Niao" was his nickname; his real name was Man Ming. By seniority, he was my distant uncle, but by age, I was a few months older than him. Uncle and nephew, we grew up like brothers, inseparable until I entered junior high.

As for looks, Man Niao Niao was built sturdily. Though young, he had great strength, a dark complexion, and well-developed limbs. I, however, was slight, with fair skin and thin arms and legs. In terms of intellect, Man Niao Niao was what teachers called a typical "mud-brain"—his thoughts never took a sharp turn, his thinking often "short-circuited," and his handwriting looked like chicken scratches. Teachers said his homework was too sloppy even to wipe dung with. I, on the other hand, was the teachers' favorite student, with good grades and neat handwriting, serving as class monitor and enjoying their favor. As for personality, Man Niao Niao’s earliest nickname was "Lord of Fire," while mine was "The Good Samaritan."

The origin of the nickname "Man Niao Niao" came from his unique writing style: his characters were enormous, yet structurally loose. Once, a new female teacher held up his notebook and mistakenly read "Man Ming" as "Man Kou Niao" (Man with a Mouth Full of Birds). The children burst into laughter. The teacher realized her mistake and her face flushed crimson with embarrassment. Though we were just ignorant youngsters then, we knew that "Man Kou Niao" was an incredibly awkward phrase, yet we loved to tease him, calling him "Man Kou Niao" daily. Later, under pressure from his father's wei (authority), it was changed to "Man Niao Niao." Over time, everyone just started calling him "Man Niao Niao."

Man Niao Niao had another critical weakness: he was terrified of ghosts. It was rumored that this was a lingering effect from crawling into a cave back home called "Anle Cave." He often woke up crying and ranting in the middle of the night, spewing nonsense that invariably revolved around, "The white-bearded old man is coming to hit me! The white-bearded old man is coming to catch me!" This left his parents bewildered and terribly anxious. They invited a local "master" to perform rituals several times before he showed any improvement.

He, however, was unfazed by venomous insects or wild beasts visible in the real world. In his own words, no matter how ugly or fierce the animal, he had a way to either leave its seed inside it or leave its flesh inside him.

My relationship with Man Niao Niao in childhood, according to his father, Man Wenshu, was like "a starving dog can’t leave a stinking latrine." My mother put it as: "So close they could eat feces together." My father, having attended some schooling, spoke more elegantly, using a very apt idiom: "The wolf and the weasel conspire." Who was the "wolf"? Man Niao Niao. And who was the "weasel"? Me, of course. We went to school together, herded cattle and gathered firewood together, ate at whichever house had food ready, and slept wherever we happened to be when it got dark. In local terms, these two lads were inseparable when dragging ash. Another more evocative saying went: "Break the bone and the sinew remains attached; find Niao Niao to find Yingying."

Though my bond with Man Niao Niao was ironclad, we constantly sparred, frequently trading sharp barbs and sarcasm (ri jue).

After I entered junior high, I maintained close contact with him for a while. Later, when I enrolled in high school as a boarder, time spent with him gradually decreased, and by the time I left for schooling elsewhere, we completely lost touch. Later, I learned from my mother that Man Niao Niao had spent several years working odd jobs—"mending the earth"—and was reaching the age to find a wife. Yet, his family remained as poor as ever. His miserly old man, capable of squeezing oil from a chicken's foot, held firm to the idea that "plant the seedling early to harvest grain early; have a son early to enjoy happiness early," and constantly pushed Man Niao Niao to find a wife. But in those days, what village girl didn't want to jump out of the rice husk basket and into the rice bin? He employed countless matchmakers, and he even shouted a few tunes at the "Tujia Daughters' Fair," hoping to use song as a medium, but in the end, he remained a bachelor, like a flagpole in front of a temple. Frustrated and resentful that his father had insisted he not go to school, Man Niao Niao had a huge argument with the old man, followed by daily smaller squabbles. In a fit of anger, Man Niao Niao rolled up a ragged quilt, boarded a bus, and left for distant lands, joining the ranks of the "southern drifters" to work.

I hadn't seen him for over a decade, and I never expected to receive his call today. What kind of massive surprise was this fellow planning to bring me?

I received Man Niao Niao's next call three days after our university break began.

That day, I was perfectly relaxed. I slept until I woke naturally, stripped to the waist, wearing only a pair of suit shorts, with the fly "unzipped." I prepared my cigarettes and corn liquor, stretched out on a recliner, sipping alcohol, smoking, and watching TV dramas whose endings I could guess within a glance.

This blissful feeling didn't last long. My right eyelid started twitching violently, the muscles in my arm jumped involuntarily, and an inexplicable sense of panic welled up inside me. My heart did a little flip. "Left twitch for fortune, right twitch for disaster"—was this some ominous sign?

Remembering my grandfather’s advice, I quickly tore off a tiny piece of paper, wet it with saliva, and stuck it onto my right eyelid. I took a deep breath, trying to calm the sudden turmoil in my chest. Just as I was silently cursing the strange eyelid twitch, Man Niao Niao’s call came through.

It was the same broken-gong voice, the same colorful Mandarin accent. "Yingying? Hurry up and pick me up! I'm already at the Xidou Station!"

I was both annoyed and amused. The Xidou Bus Terminal was huge—you could piss from one end to the other. Did he really need me to pick him up? I scorned him silently, wondering if this guy was trying to "show off" (xi ke—Tujia dialect for showing off) now that he was returning home successful?

I hopped on my motorcycle and sped toward the station. On the way, I noticed my right eyelid had stopped twitching, and that "heart-stopping" feeling had completely vanished. Though I found it strange, the anticipation of seeing Man Niao Niao made me excited and expectant, and I dismissed the need to ponder why.

There weren't many people at the station. I watched a sleeper coach covered in mud, returning from Fengcheng to Xidou, disgorge a group of exhausted passengers from the front door. One by one, they retrieved their belongings from the luggage compartment and hailed an tuo'er che (an Autoz taxi), driving away without a backward glance.

As I scanned the crowd for Man Niao Niao, a burly man suddenly punched my shoulder, grumbling crudely, "Son of a tortoise! You’ve got four eyes, bulging like coins, and you still didn’t see me?"

I turned my head—Good heavens! Was this the Man Niao Niao who was my childhood best friend?

I could only say—if I had to use a modern term—that the Man Niao Niao before me was dressed too "shockingly" (lei ren). He wore a shirt that was faintly white, but after sitting on a bus for over ten hours, it was as wrinkled as an eighty-year-old man's face. Streaks of sweat made the shirt gaudy, especially the collar, which encircled his thick neck like a black necklace. I thought, it’s fine if you wear a shirt, it’s fine if your shirt is filthy like this, but the key is you shouldn’t be wearing a bright red necktie around your neck! The tie looked like it hadn't been washed in ages, black bleeding into the red. Looking down, the man was actually wearing bright red, small-flowered suit shorts, paired with a pair of Liberation shoes on his feet. In his hand, he dragged a half-broken suitcase, bulging with God knows what assortment of goods.

His face hadn't changed much. Besides a beard like coarse grass around his mouth, his whole face was dark red, just like when he was a kid. A few strands of hair, obviously "richly nourished" upon a quick glance, stubbornly clung to his forehead. His messy hair resembled a bird's nest. His half-lidded eyes held a mischievous glint. However, his physique was definitely more robust than mine, the bookish scholar who commanded vast influence.

I punched Man Niao Niao back with a chuckle and said, "Yo-ho! You've grown taller, haven't you, Elder?"

Man Niao Niao’s face stiffened, putting on his elder airs toward me: "How do you talk? Got a smoke?"

I pulled out a cigarette and handed it to him. He swiftly tucked it into his mouth, leaned over to my lighter to ignite it, took a greedy drag, and sighed toward the sky: "Your old man was suffocating! They don’t allow smoking on the bus, made me feel as flustered as a groom whose bride ran off on their wedding night!" I hadn't realized he’d learned to use allegorical sayings (xie hou yu), even if it was one I had never heard before.

Watching him smoke, I thought, Is this appearance the grand surprise he mentioned bringing me? If so, this surprise is truly earth-shattering and ghost-wailing.

After satisfying his nicotine craving, Man Niao Niao turned toward a girl squatting nearby, dry-heaving, and said, "Little sister, come meet your nephew!"

I had been focused solely on Man Niao Niao and hadn't noticed the girl beside him until now. Only then did I see the girl slowly stand up and walk toward us.

If seeing Man Niao Niao for the first time was a shock, then seeing the girl clearly rooted me to the spot like a wooden stake—this girl was stunningly beautiful!

Her beauty wasn't ordinary; it was vastly different from the beauties I had previously encountered. She didn't look entirely like a Chinese person. Her shoulder-length hair was dark and glossy, but her eyes were blue. Her eyelashes were long, and her nose was high and prominent, like the Western beauties I'd seen on television. Her lips were small and rosy, and her skin was fair and delicate, looking so tender you could break it with a breath. She was about 1.65 meters tall, neither fat nor thin, with an alluring, slender silhouette defined by a slightly messy but perfectly tailored skirt suit... However, she looked utterly exhausted, her complexion pale, her expression pained.

When the girl saw me, her eyes suddenly lit up, and a look of delight spread across her face. She stared straight at me. Seeing her expression, a faint, strange feeling inexplicably rose within me!

Man Niao Niao coughed heavily. The girl blushed and awkwardly averted her gaze.

I snapped back to attention. Hearing Man Niao Niao refer to the girl as "your nephew’s," I figured she must be his girlfriend. I inwardly marveled at Man Niao Niao keeping up with the times, occasionally peppering his speech with English words, yet feeling a pang of sourness.

My gaze flickered suspiciously between Man Niao Niao and the girl, and I gained a profound understanding of that eternal saying: I finally knew what it meant for "a fresh flower to be stuck in cow dung."

Niao Niao probably guessed what I was thinking, but he didn't even blush. He waved his big hand in front of my eyes, cutting off my line of sight, and said to me with slight smugness, "What are you staring at? Come, let me introduce you. This is my friend, Tan Ping'er!" Then he pointed at me and turned his head toward the girl named Tan Ping'er, saying, "This four-eyes is the one I told you about—the universally disliked lump of cow dung who crushes the garden’s beauty, unable to restrain his lustful eyes from straying—the renowned Man Yingying, beloved by Mars and the Moon, who attracts dog-disgusting people!" I glared at Man Niao Niao, furious. After more than ten years, couldn't he refrain from insulting me right at our reunion? Though I couldn't tower over Yao Ming or outshine Pan An, I was still a respectable man of 1.75 meters, presentable. While my life of moderate prosperity in recent years might have made me look a bit... rising, overall, I was surely more presentable than that envy-inducing Man Niao Niao?

Just as I was about to retort, Tan Ping’er proactively extended her hand, offering me a gentle smile: "Hello, Man Yingying. Man Ming has mentioned your great name more than once. Please take good care of me!" I quickly extended my hand and grasped her slender one, feeling its warmth and smoothness, and replied in my quaint Xidou-accented Mandarin, "Welcome to Xidou as our guest. Please let me know if you need any help."

Tan Ping’er turned to the grinning Man Niao Niao and said, "Let's go. I'm tired and hungry. Let's find a place to fill our stomachs first, then have a good wash. Traveling this far was exhausting!" Before Man Niao Niao or I could react, Tan Ping’er added, "I want to eat the spicy hot pot Man Ming mentioned!"

Niao Niao turned to me and said, "Where’s your vehicle? Let’s go, take us to a decent spicy hot pot place for a good dai!" (dai—Tujia dialect for eating!)

I pointed to my motorcycle, indicating that this was the transport I used to pick him up. Man Niao Niao cried out dramatically, "Yo-ho! What a huge vehicle! It actually has two wheels! And these wheels are round!" Hearing him mercilessly ri jue me in front of such a beautiful girl, I could no longer contain my frustration. I leaned close to his ear and whispered, "Your family has money, they bought such a beautiful wife!"

"Buy? You try buying one for me, and I'll see!"

Just as I was about to reply, I heard Tan Ping’er suddenly cry out "Aiyo!" and she squatted down, repeatedly pounding her lower back with a small fist.

Man Niao Niao and I both jumped in alarm. Man Niao Niao reached out to help Tan Ping’er up, repeatedly asking, "What is it, what is it? Are you still dizzy?"

Tan Ping’er shook her head, continued hitting her waist a few more times, and then slowly stood up, frowning and sighing softly, murmuring, "It's nothing, maybe I’m just hungry?" Hitting her back because she was hungry? I had never heard of that.

Looking at Tan Ping’er’s expression, my heart skipped an inexplicable beat. I quickly hailed an tuo'er che and instructed the driver to take the two of them to that "Red Lantern Spicy Hot Pot" restaurant, saying I would follow on my motorcycle.

As they were getting into the car, Tan Ping’er intentionally or unintentionally glanced at me twice, her eyes full of meaning.

After they left, I realized I had completely forgotten to ask Man Niao Niao what the "huge surprise" he mentioned was. So far, I'd only had the "shock"; where was the "joy"? Also... there was that slightly sour feeling!

I recalled Tan Ping’er's look toward me and couldn't help but indulge in some wishful thinking: Heh heh! It seems even though my appearance is ordinary, I still have some charm! Looking at her expression, could it be she took a liking to me? Could this be the legendary "A thousand miles of destiny linked by a single thread"? Did my earlier eye twitch signify that I was about to complete a historical transformation? —This truly would be a huge surprise!

Stop! She’s my uncle’s wife!