Mr. Lizard Outside the Window - Chapter 41
Chapter 41: Nightmare
Banxia and Xiao Lian were on a boat tour of the Imperial Canal in Beijing.
The discounted ticket price was 59 yuan per person, with Xiao Lian riding for free, fitting Banxia's budget and preference for a relaxing activity.
Taking advantage of the smaller weekday crowds, she decided to enjoy the scenery of the ancient city.
The canal's banks were lined with willow trees, their branches swaying gently in the breeze, the water sparkling in the sunlight. The boat glided across the water, a scene straight out of a painting.
In the gently rocking boat, Xiao Lian, nestled in Banxia's palm, fell asleep.
What was he up to last night? He's so sleepy, Banxia wondered, poking him gently, but he didn't wake.
In his dream, Ling Dong felt the world swaying beneath him, everything unstable and unreal.
He was seven years old again, standing before a room with white tiled walls.
Alarm bells rang in his mind. Don't go in there, he thought. Something terrible is going to happen.
"Go on," a voice said from behind him, pushing him forward. "Go say goodbye to your parents."
Young Ling Dong stumbled forward.
Two metal beds stood in the center of the room, each covered by a white sheet, two figures lying motionless beneath them. A hand, bruised and bloodied, protruded from under one of the sheets.
That's not Mom, Ling Dong thought. It can't be. It can't be Mom and Dad.
His mother's hands were beautiful, soft and white, not like this, stained and bruised.
She would sit beside him at the piano, her gentle hands guiding his own.
"Like this, Xiao Dong. Follow me."
Her hand would cover his, their fingers dancing across the keys together, her large hand playing the high notes, his small hand the low notes, creating beautiful music, transforming the tedious practice into a moment of shared joy.
And that couldn't be his father either. His father had promised to come home early.
"Dad, I don't want to practice alone."
"Then I'll come home early today, Xiao Dong. I'll bring Mom home with me."
"You always say that, Dad. You always break your promises."
"Not this time, I promise. Draw a clock on my hand, so I won't forget the time."
Little Ling Dong stumbled forward, bumping against one of the metal beds.
It rolled slightly, the squeaking of the wheels echoing in the silent room. A pale hand, dangling from the edge of the bed, came into view.
A child's drawing of a watch was on the wrist.
In the stark white room, the little boy stood frozen, his eyes wide with terror.
The floor and walls seemed to sway and distort around him, like water.
The entire room felt like it was submerged, suffocating him.
"It's time," several figures appeared and began to push the bed.
Little Ling Dong lunged forward, grabbing the cold hand. "No! Don't take my dad!"
They tried to pull him away, their voices gentle, but firm.
"Let go, child. They're gone. It's time to let them go."
He cried out, his voice filled with anguish, but the hand with the drawing remained still, no longer reaching out to caress his head.
He clung to the hand as they began to push the other bed.
He let go and rushed to the other bed. "No! That's Mom! Don't take her too!"
But he was too late. He couldn't hold on to either of them, his small hands powerless against the inevitable.
A woman's arms wrapped around him, holding him back as he struggled.
He cried and screamed, but he could only watch helplessly as his parents, covered in white sheets, were taken away, further and further, beyond his reach.
In a world without his parents, his cries were meaningless, unheard.
Tears streamed down his face, blurring his vision.
Black vines snaked out from the corners of the white room, creeping up the walls.
The adults around him, though dressed in human clothes, had the heads of monsters.
Frogs, snakes, lizards… their cold eyes staring at him from the darkness.
They whispered among themselves.
"Poor child."
"No one wants him."
"Why isn't he crying anymore? Does he know he killed his parents?"
"Such a wicked, pathetic little thing."
Ling Dong turned, terrified, and saw that the woman holding him had the head of a green frog. Its large, bulging eyes stared at him, its wide mouth opening in a croak.
"Xiao Lian, wake up! You're having a nightmare!"
Banxia's voice echoed from somewhere far away.
Ling Dong opened his eyes. The gently swaying boat, the bright sunlight, the open sky, Banxia's familiar face looking at him with concern…
It took him a moment to focus, to realize he was awake, the tension in his body slowly easing. He crawled up Banxia's arm and onto her shoulder, resting his head against her neck, his body still trembling.
Her skin was soft and warm against his cold cheek, the steady beating of her heart a comforting rhythm.
"What's wrong?" Banxia asked softly.
"N-nothing," Xiao Lian mumbled, his voice hoarse and shaky.
Banxia, shielding him from the other passengers, gently cupped him in her hands, bringing him closer.
The little gecko, clearly shaken by his nightmare, wrapped his tail around himself and tried to sit up straight.
"What happened, Xiao Lian? Did you have a bad dream?"
"Yes," he whispered. "I dreamt of… when I was little. I saw… fog, monsters, and… my parents… dead."
"You must have been so scared," she murmured sympathetically.
Xiao Lian was silent for a long time, then looked up at her. "Banxia, I used to be so… weak. I was afraid of the monsters in my dreams. They were in my dreams, and they were in my heart. I couldn't face them, couldn't even bear to remember. I just wanted to… hide."
He sat up straight in her hand, his small head raised, his beautiful eyes fixed on hers. "But not anymore. I will face those monsters, I will dispel the fog, for… myself. And for you. So I can truly be… with you."
Despite the tremor in his tiny claws, his voice was firm, his gaze unwavering, like a solemn vow.
He had clearly been terrified by his dream, his little body still trembling, yet he was determined to face his fears.
Banxia had always seen Xiao Lian as sweet, gentle, and endearing. Today, she saw a different side of him, a strength and resilience that made her heart ache.
He's so brave, she thought.
The boat glided across the lake, the sunlight sparkling on the water.
Against the shimmering backdrop of the lake, Xiao Lian, small and brave in her hand, looked both handsome and vulnerable.
"Is there anything I can do for you, Xiao Lian?" she asked softly.
"I want to hear you play. Now."
When the boat docked, Banxia sat under a willow tree by the lakeshore and began to play the Tchaikovsky concerto.
The music flowed, tender and heartfelt.
Xiao Lian curled up on her lap, his eyes closed, the sunlight filtering through the leaves, like golden dust motes settling on his dark scales.
This music was for him.
Her love for him, her concern for him, poured out through the melody.
The nervousness of their first encounter, the joy of their first kiss, the thrill of touching his tail, the pleasure of their shared intimacy… it was all there, in the music, unspoken, yet clearly expressed.
A tour boat approached, and a group of young men sat by the window.
"Ayun, are you sure we should be doing this? I know we're all likely to pass the preliminaries, but the others are already practicing for the semi-finals!"
"Relax! There's no one particularly strong this year. Even Shang Xiaoyue isn't here. Ayun is practically guaranteed the gold medal! A little break won't hurt!"
Zhang Qinyun, sitting between them, chuckled. "It's not just about practicing with your hands. It's about practicing with your mind."
"What? You can practice without your hands? What kind of crazy theory is that?"
"A musician I admire once said that he doesn't actually spend that much time physically practicing. He spends most of his time walking by lakes and in forests, thinking about the music, developing his interpretation," Zhang Qinyun said, leaning against the window, watching the willow trees on the shore glide past. "Practicing intensely a day or two before the competition won't make much difference. It's better to relax, find inspiration in the world around you."
"That's true. We practice all year round, without a break. It's good to relax, clear our minds before the semi-finals. And it's a good opportunity for us to hang out together."
Zhang Qinyun, the top student from the Central Conservatory of Music, was one of the favorites to win the competition.
The other young men were also top students from prestigious music academies. They had known each other since childhood, having competed together many times, their shared passion for music forging a strong bond between them.
As the boat rounded a bend, the familiar melody of a violin drifted from the shore.
"Someone's playing the violin."
"It's a girl."
"It's not even the weekend. And she's playing the Tchaikovsky concerto… Could she be a contestant?"
"Let's see how good she is. Playing Tchaikovsky in front of Ayun, though… that's pretty bold."
The boat approached the shore, revealing a slender figure under the willow tree, the music flowing around her like a gentle breeze.
Her long hair obscured her face, only her long legs, casually crossed, visible.
A small, black lizard dozed peacefully on her knee.
The young men on the boat, listening to the music, gradually fell silent, exchanging surprised glances.
Even Zhang Qinyun sat up straight, his eyes closed, his expression turning serious.
"I know who she is!" someone exclaimed.
"I heard someone say yesterday that a girl brought a lizard to the competition."
"Yes! The one who replaced Shang Xiaoyue! The one who said the Collegiate Cup would be easy!"
The top students, their competitive spirit piqued, began to criticize her playing.
"So arrogant! She's probably never even competed before!"
"Her playing is… weak. Lacking in power. Too gentle."
"She's playing so freely, so… unorthodox. A strict judge would stop her mid-performance."
Only Zhang Qinyun, his eyes open, stared intently at the figure under the willow tree, silent.
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