Even though the peak of summer had nearly passed, the heat remained visible, surging toward the world the moment the sun crested the horizon. In such weather, most people could not imagine life without air conditioning. Once one had tasted the artificial chill of a machine, the loss of it became unbearable.
At least, that was how it was for Si Jiang.
Back in his old home, the temperature had been a constant twenty-four degrees Celsius year-round. He had enjoyed underfloor heating and hot springs in the winter, and spent his summers idling in swimming pools and air-conditioned rooms. Back then, he had viewed such a life as nothing more than a given.
Now, Si Jiang lay with his eyes closed on a bamboo mat atop the floor. His pillow was a bundle of old clothes. His chest rose and fell slightly, his breathing light and rhythmic. A floor fan creaked and groaned, doing its best to circulate a cool breeze between the sofa and the coffee table. Despite this, a thin layer of sweat covered his face and body, and the collar of his loose T-shirt had been pulled down low.
At six in the morning, Zong Yan opened her eyes. She didn't need an alarm; her biological clock had been set long ago. Checking the time on her phone, she sat up from the sofa and pressed her temples wearily.
The pet had been fussy again last night.
Zong Yan had taken on part-time work. During the day, she was usually out working odd jobs; with the city currently in a state of post-disaster reconstruction, many places were desperate for manual labor. Because there were too few people and too much to do, she had accidentally stayed late.
Under Zong Yan’s silent gaze, the boss had paid her extra for the overtime and handed her a large watermelon. "Little girl, you worked hard today. Go on home and rest. Your family must be waiting for you for dinner."
Carrying the watermelon, Zong Yan passed a gas station to buy a bottle of diesel before hurrying home on her bicycle.
In the summer, the sun set late, but by the time Zong Yan passed through the nearby residential areas, the lights of ten thousand homes were already glowing. Every household had its own brand of liveliness—innocent children watching television, parents grumbling as they supervised homework. The aroma of cooking drifted into Zong Yan’s lungs, a pungent and scorching scent.
She cast a distant glance at it all, then lowered her head and continued on her way. What should they eat tonight?
Zong Yan rarely gave serious thought to such questions. For her, as long as she could fill her stomach, she considered the daily task complete. But things were different now; she had a pet to raise.
The pet had lived too well in the past. Even if he was submissive now and didn't dare complain, his physical reactions couldn't lie. After following her and eating haphazardly for a while, his appetite had dwindled with every meal, and he had gradually thinned until his chin was pointed.
Zong Yan stared at Si Jiang’s jawline and collarbone, engaging in a small moment of self-reflection: perhaps she needed to raise him with more care? After all, she didn't want a short-lived pet. Most importantly, Si Jiang had been behaving quite well lately.
She circled in through the back gate of the complex. The security guard didn't even look up, immersed in short videos; the exaggerated laughter from his phone masked the sound of Zong Yan’s arrival.
Zong Yan walked deeper into the complex. Aside from the outermost building, which had been successfully completed and handed over, the inner buildings showed almost no signs of life. Along the way, weeds grew in profusion. The pits dug by the construction crews had been left idle, forming natural pools of stagnant water and piles of trash. If a stranger walked this path at night, they would likely be terrified, thinking they had stumbled into some desolate wilderness.
Finally arriving at the base of her own building, Zong Yan looked up and immediately frowned.
No lights were on.
What happened?
She jogged upstairs. The unlit stairwell didn't hinder her pace in the slightest; she had walked this path for many years and knew the shape of every step even with her eyes closed. She pulled out her key and inserted it into the lock, then paused.
If Si Jiang had run away, what should she do?
She didn't really want to face that question.
Ever since Si Jiang became her pet, Zong Yan’s life had undergone a subtle change. She had rarely experienced anything like it. Whether she was studying or drawing diagrams on her computer, there was another person in the room.
Sometimes, Si Jiang was sleeping. He generally didn't sleep well at night. Sometimes, he was awake, sitting on his "bed" and staring into space, quiet and still, his thoughts unknown. He had never been like this before; he used to crave excitement and company, preferring to be surrounded by laughter and chatter at every moment.
Seeing that he was truly bored, Zong Yan had taken a book from the shelf and tossed it to him. At first, Si Jiang couldn't focus on it at all. He didn't like reading, but with nothing else to do, he forced himself to look through the incomprehensible old book. After a few seconds, his eyes would close and his breathing would grow heavy.
Zong Yan would feel a weight on her foot as a head came to rest beside her. She didn't pay him any mind, focusing instead on the work at hand. Her recent drawings were selling quickly, and at higher prices than before. Perhaps it was because demand had spiked after the earthquake. She had to take advantage of this time to earn as much as possible.
Only when the sky was nearly dark would she close her laptop. Si Jiang would still be sleeping by her legs, curled up like a normal house dog. Only then would Zong Yan pick up the book that had fallen to the side. When she flipped it over, the corners of her mouth curled slightly.
No wonder he fell asleep the moment he looked at it. Out of the old books she had bought in a bundle, she had pulled out the only foreign language one. Si Jiang’s English was likely decent—wealthy families might be mediocre in academic subjects, but their foreign languages were never too bad, as most "second-generation" children chose to go abroad to polish their resumes.
However, this book was a German fairy tale book, written entirely in German.
When Zong Yan started the stove to cook, Si Jiang would silently sit to the side and begin staring into space again. The collar around his neck was fastened with just the right amount of tension, and a square block of wax hung from the ring. It had been rubbed smooth and was free of impurities.
If Si Jiang dared to run... she would definitely hunt him down.
Zong Yan owned very few things, so she would never let go easily. Once she caught him, she would study even harder until she had trained her pet into a qualified and loyal house dog—a piece of private property that would never again harbor the thought of leaving.
As for the specific methods she would use, Zong Yan suppressed those dark thoughts.
*Click.*
The lock opened.
The room was filled with darkness, yet Zong Yan no longer found it familiar. This was because on the night she had released Si Jiang from the dark room, she had brought back a generator left behind by a neighbor and found a way to connect the circuits. The home had electricity again. Since then, it had never been dark.
On the first night, Zong Yan had tried to turn off the lights to sleep, only to be woken by Si Jiang’s cries. Covered in cold sweat, he had huddled next to her, repeatedly shouting about the darkness. Even when Zong Yan turned on the lights, he didn't improve much. It wasn't until she lit another candle for him and he stared at the flame that he slowly returned to normal.
Candles couldn't be used indefinitely. From then on, before going to sleep at night, Zong Yan would dim the desk lamp and leave it on the coffee table, keeping a sliver of light for the night.
Initially, Si Jiang still couldn't adjust, but he didn't dare wake Zong Yan again. He spent night after night clutching his glass jar to endure. The dark circles under his eyes nearly reached the middle of his cheeks. Zong Yan did not soften her heart. When night fell, she would still ignore his pleading eyes, turn on the desk lamp, and shut off the main light.
Si Jiang had gritted his teeth and stared at Zong Yan, saying aggrievedly, "I'm your pet, and I don't even get candles anymore. I'm afraid of the dark, I can't sleep! If this keeps up, I'm going to go crazy!"
But all that answered him was Zong Yan’s back. The "Master" slept on a comfortable sofa bed. He, the "Pet," slept on the floor between the coffee table and the sofa. What "superior" living conditions.
Si Jiang gnashed his teeth, cursing this cold-hearted woman in his mind. Why even keep a pet if she was going to be like this? At least the people he knew who kept dogs and cats pampered them, terrified of letting them suffer the slightest grievance. But he, Si Jiang, didn't look like a pet—he looked like a slave!
This life was simply unbearable. He had to revolt, to fight for his rights. He couldn't do without candles!
No matter how much resentment filled his heart, as the darkness thickened, his body still froze uncontrollably. That familiar terror crawled into his mind. Si Jiang didn't dare look into any dark corner; it felt as if countless restless hands were hidden there, waiting for him to lapse. The moment he let his guard down, they would drag him into the abyss.
The only thing he could look at was Zong Yan’s back. Though that back was cold and uninteresting, and might not move once the entire night, it was the only real presence in the empty house.
Si Jiang controlled his ragged breathing, painfully biting his lip. He seemed to hear something rustling, a crawling sound getting closer and closer, so close that it felt like a breath against his ear, whispering his name... "Si Jiang..."
He didn't dare move. The sound of his heartbeat grew louder, nearly bursting through his throat. On a summer night, he felt as if he had fallen into an ice cellar.
Suddenly, a weight settled on his neck. A slight tugging sensation pulled him back to reality.
Zong Yan had sat up at some point, watching him in the dim light. In her hand, she held a long leash, the end of which was attached to the collar around his neck.
Si Jiang: "...What is this?"
Zong Yan: "You have eyes."
Si Jiang: "You really think I'm a dog!?"
Zong Yan: "As long as I'm holding the leash, no one can take you away."
Si Jiang: "..."
He had fallen asleep that night.
The next day.
When Si Jiang woke up, Zong Yan had long since left. The leash on his neck was gone. In its place was a newly molded block of wax.
Si Jiang pulled his glass jar out from under the coffee table. It was half empty.
"Touching my things without asking," he grumbled, shaking the jar.
Yet, he made no attempt to take the collar off.
***
