Chapter 14

So she counted as the Zhizhi in the task too.

Liu Zhiyi thought.

And after the task was marked complete, a line surfaced in the task bar.

[A mama will always answer your call.]

Liu Zhiyi found the line almost funny at a glance, but seeing Zhi-Zhi and her mama hand in hand on the watch, she only felt hollow inside.

—Boom.

This crash came with a huffing wind, and the watch on Liu Zhiyi's wrist suddenly went black.

Liu Zhiyi jumped, thinking the watch had broken, and checked it at once.

But the moment she raised her arm the screen came back to normal.

And the force that had been dragging at her leg all this time suddenly vanished.

—Bang.

Liu Zhiyi paused.

She'd heard that kind of bang many times today, but this one was only the beginning.

—Bang, bang, bang.

Several more.

Liu Zhiyi thought a moment, then stood the watch up and turned it toward where the sound had come from.

She saw it raining "people."

The "people" were flying up, then dropping to the floor one after another like raindrops.

And the culprit sending them flying was standing right at the market entrance.

After one look Liu Zhiyi lowered her arm — she didn't need the watch to see this one.

It was "mama."

Strange — the other "people" needed the watch to be seen, but this "mama" didn't.

"Mama" had changed into her grocery-shopping clothes, a cloth bag with a black dog's-head print slung on her back — the freebie Liu Zhiyi had gotten when she bought yoga pants online.

She was always so thrifty — even the knife in her hand now was the buy-one-get-one from Pinduoduo, its tip still missing a chip, snapped off when she smashed garlic with it.

A moment like this was clearly no time to get sentimental over the sight.

But Liu Zhiyi let herself think it anyway, unrepentant, to pull her attention away.

She'd sooner look at this fierce "mama" in the market than at the mama holding Zhi-Zhi just now.

Because she was afraid she'd be jealous.

"Mama": "Zhizhi!"

The shrill shriek echoed through the market.

Liu Zhiyi ducked her neck on reflex, lowered her head, and set to undoing the rope on her foot, working the hook off.

Once the task was complete, her body had gone back to its normal size.

Thinking back on it now — her body shrinking, did that correspond to the word "child" in the task?

But she soon noticed "mama" swing an arm, as if flinging something up, and then came the bang, bang, bang.

Liu Zhiyi glanced at the watch: "mama" was throwing the "people" into the air, some of them chopped clean in two and flung aside.

Fearsome attack power. Liu Zhiyi hadn't meant to look much, but she saw that the cross-sections of the chopped "people" were red and white — not the gut-spilling, blood-gushing gore she'd expected, but more like a cut of evenly marbled pork belly.

What even was any of this?

Liu Zhiyi saw the "woman" who'd grabbed her leg go over, only to be flung aside at once by "mama."

She glanced at the rope-marks cinched into her ankle, then at the splits left in her nails from the "woman" dragging her, and felt an inexplicable little thrill of satisfaction.

"Mama": "Zhizhi."

The piercing cry came again; "mama" called faster and faster, like an anxious mother who can't find her child, calling its name over and over.

Can't find her child?

Liu Zhiyi suddenly realized "mama" could see the "people."

The market was crowded, full of "people," but Liu Zhiyi couldn't see them with her naked eye, so she could spot "mama" at a glance.

But not "mama" — "mama's" view was blocked by the "people" in front of her, so she couldn't see Liu Zhiyi.

Liu Zhiyi lay down and found an angle where the produce stand could hide her, but she could still see "mama's" head to fix her position.

She remembered there seemed to be another task among the novice tasks; she scrolled up — the small screen was the annoying part.

Right, help prepare the meal.

Liu Zhiyi ran her eyes quickly over the task requirements.

She remembered she'd meant to get some ribs earlier; whenever she came home from out of town, her mother would always make her sweet-and-sour ribs.

Only… she'd never get to eat those ribs again.

Bracing both hands on the floor, she rolled over, and as she crawled toward the butcher's shop she craned up to watch "mama" on the sly.

"Mama" was still swinging her arms, seemingly hitting at something.

"Mama's" hair had all frizzed out, round and puffy like a lion's mane, and apart from the wrong color of her skin, and the cleaver that came flying back after she threw it…

"Mama's" appearance hadn't changed much — neither distorted nor terrifying, even a little endearing with that cloth bag slung on her.

It was exactly how ordinary the sight was that hurt Liu Zhiyi.

Why couldn't it be more frightening? Why couldn't it be gorier?

If "mama" looked more like a ghost, she wouldn't ache so much.

"Mama," who had been shrieking, suddenly stopped; as if she'd realized something, she turned her head to one side and called out, softly.

"Zhizhi!"

Liu Zhiyi pressed a hand to her chest, closed her eyes, and steadied her heartbeat. More than being treated viciously, she feared this gentle, soft calling — afraid she wouldn't be able to hold out against it.

Liu Zhiyi forced down the feelings churning in her; she'd been caught out once already by grief spiking her heartbeat, and she wouldn't be again.

She crawled beneath the butcher's counter, put her back against it, and reached back to hook the ribs off the top.

The "woman" had tossed the ribs onto the chopping block earlier.

"Mama" lowered her voice and called several more times, gently, tipping her head up to sniff and turning an ear to listen as she did.

The task progress on the watch updated again.

[A mama is always especially keen when it comes to her child — the child's voice, a mama knows it the instant she hears it.]

Liu Zhiyi clapped a hand over her mouth.

Her fingertips caught the ribs; the surface was still slick with a film of grease, and the moment she grabbed, they slid in her palm.

She hadn't reckoned on the "woman" having chopped it a few times before leaving; with the slip, the cut rib slid off under the block and landed with a clack.

"Mama" straightened up.

Liu Zhiyi quickly gathered the ribs to her chest and lay down.

She lay waiting a while; the market was frighteningly quiet.

Her heart hammering, Liu Zhiyi raised her arm and used the watch, lifting the face up over the produce stand to sneak a look toward the market entrance.

Scattered at the entrance was a heap of meat — all evenly colored, fat and lean marbled through, pork belly.

But "mama," who'd been standing there, was nowhere to be seen.

Liu Zhiyi rose, crawled slowly onto the produce stand, looked left and right, then lowered her head to scan the floor.

She couldn't help it — that "woman" crouching to look up at her had left her with a lasting dread; now she looked down at everything without thinking.

Where had she gone?

Nerves taut, Liu Zhiyi turned her gaze and the watch together toward the butcher's shops.

Near the butcher's shops was lively enough, at least — the "people" there were still standing, while the ones at the entrance were either toppled or turned to meat.

Liu Zhiyi's eyes fell on Zhi-Zhi and her mama in their embrace: Zhi-Zhi had been picked up, face buried in the mama's shoulder, shoulders hitching — crying, probably.

Zhi-Zhi's mama kept soothing her, patting Zhi-Zhi's back gently.

Maybe her temper flared — Zhi-Zhi knocked the mama's hand away, pushed at her neck with both hands, and arched her back, looking about ready to get down off her.

Liu Zhiyi heard Zhi-Zhi's mama speaking softly.

"Zhi-Zhi, don't throw a tantrum now."

"It was mama's fault, mama didn't hold on to Zhi-Zhi's hand."

"It's dangerous right now — do you see the uncles and aunties at the market entrance? Save the tantrum for home, all right?"

But Zhi-Zhi kept flailing, jabbering something garbled, and even slapped a hand across the mama's face.

And still Zhi-Zhi's mama soothed on, patient.

Too gentle. Her own mother wasn't like this either.

The thought sprang up in Liu Zhiyi's mind all at once.

Her mother in life had been neither soft nor stern — she'd speak gently and comfort Liu Zhiyi when she was sad, and criticize her plainly when she did wrong.

Liu Zhiyi realized that neither the vicious "mama" with the cleaver nor this mama endlessly soothing Zhi-Zhi was her mother.

Somehow she let out a breath, the stone that had been pressing on her heart easing a little.

Just then, Zhi-Zhi jumped down off her mama.

The instant Liu Zhiyi's eyes met Zhi-Zhi's, she knew it was bad.

She didn't know Zhi-Zhi well, but she knew her own face.

She watched Zhi-Zhi's eyes go wide, watched her raise the watch on her wrist to her mouth.

A voice message popped up in Liu Zhiyi's kids' watch.

Zhi-Zhi: "Big sister!"

"…Zhizhi."

A soft calling, one after another, came from far to near, from behind her, and at last sounded right over her head.

"Why won't you answer me, not even a word?"

Liu Zhiyi looked up.

A figure was plastered to the ceiling, staring straight down at her.

"Mama": "Found you… at last."