Mistaken Canary Chapter 66
Chapter 66
Unaccomplished and with a leg near the end of its career, how could Zhuo Shu not wet his sleeves with tear on tear?
(TLN: parody of the verse ‘Died before he accomplished his career, how could heroes not wet their sleeves with tear on tear?(出师未捷身先死，长使英雄泪满襟)’ from ‘Prime Minister of Shu’ written by the Chinese poet, Du Fu (杜甫).)
While Zhuo Shu was still drowning in deep waters, Zhen Mingxin gallantly walked out of his tent.
Zhuo Shu glanced enviously at his brother from another mother—Looks like he managed to calm his partner down.
Woe is me.
Just as Zhuo Shu was lost in his own thoughts, Zhen Mingxin quickly pulled out a washboard from behind and placed it in front of himself.
Faster than words could be said, Zhen Mingxin dropped his knees onto the gridded board with a thud, sniffling, “Meng Meng, I was wrong~ I was really wrong~ I never should’ve come here in the first place… All the blame is on that heartless rat Zhuo Shu! How could he hug me at such a dangerous moment! Boohoohoo, he should’ve just let me fall and break my leg! But as long as you’re happy, I’d gladly lose my hair or fingernails—whatever it takes—”
Truly a tearjerker, even Tong Xiangyu* would agree this was a pro move.
(TLN: Tong Xiangyu is a character from the 2006 period sitcom ‘My Own Swordsman’, and is known for her stingy, vain, and face-saving nature.)
“Enough.” Meng Gong said, “Come back inside and eat.”
“Okay!” Zhen Mingxin quickly got up, tucked away the washboard, and even flashed a triumphant smile at his fellow sufferer as he stepped into the tent.
Zhuo Shu: “......”
A master, truly a master.
After peeling the fruit, Ying Tongchen asked, “Where are the oranges you picked?”
“Oh, they’re in his... oh no!”
After that tumble just now, the oranges had already spilled all over the ground.
“Stay here, don’t move. I’ll go get some oranges for you,” Zhuo Shu said hurriedly as he ran off to find Zhen Mingxin. “Mingxin, Zhen Mingxin, come out quickly.”
“What’s up?” Zhen Mingxin popped his head out the tent and asked.
“We didn’t bring the oranges back.”
“Aiya!” Zhen Mingxin hurriedly grabbed his bag, gave Meng Gong a quick goodbye kiss, then stepped out of the tent holding a flashlight.
Zhuo Shu: “......” I saw that! Shameless! Boohoohoo, my eyes are burning with jealousy!
While the two collected the fallen oranges, Zhuo Shu suddenly asked, “Is that how you usually get along with Meng Gong?”
“What do you mean?” Zhen Mingxin picked up an orange, peeled it, and taste-tested a segment—it was quite sweet. “Oh, you mean kneeling on the washboard? I did that voluntarily. My Meng Meng’s got a soft heart. Every time I do it, he loses his anger. Works like a charm every time.”
Zhuo Shu nodded thoughtfully, then asked, “But what if the person has a hard heart? What then?”
“Wow, you’re saying Ying ge’s got a hard heart?” Zhen Mingxin asked.
“N–No, not at all. Just asking casually,” Zhuo Shu looked up at the sky. “Tongchen’s heart is super soft too, hahaha.”
As if struck with a memory, his smile gradually stiffened.
“If you ask me, the self-inflicted injury trick works on anyone,” Zhen Mingxin said, handing him half the orange. “Think about it—if they truly care, they can’t help but feel for you. If it backfires, it means you didn’t use it right or they saw through it.”
Zhuo Shu thought it over carefully and realized it made sense. Plus, Zhen Mingxin was an actor by trade—crying on cue was effortless for him.
The reason why it didn’t work out for him is probably that his dark history was just too heavy.
“Of course, relying solely on the self-inflicted injury trick won’t do,” Zhen Mingxin said with a knowing look. “Love is no different from The Thirty-Six Stratagems*. I usually combine the self-inflicted injury trick with the beauty trap—that works even better.”
(TLN: The Thirty-Six Stratagems is a Chinese essay used to illustrate a series of stratagems used in politics, war, and civil interaction. Also this should also be a reference to Jolin Tsai’s song ‘Thirty-Six Stratagems of Love (愛情三十六計)’ - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9cEpgttgjx4)
Zhuo Shu: “Beauty trap?”
“Mhm,” Zhen Mingxin whispered, “Even when you’re in a relationship, you have to maintain your looks. Never let yourself go and turn into a bald guy with a beer belly. Also, sweet talk is a must. And the most important thing—coy men live the best lives!”
Zhuo Shu half-doubted, “Is that really reliable?”
Zhen Mingxin nodded. “I personally tested it and can attest to its effectiveness, everyone who’s tried it says it works.”
Zhuo Shu said, “Then share some of your face moisturizer with me.”
“No problem.”
They spent over ten minutes gathering the scattered oranges before returning to the mountaintop, where Ying Tongchen and Meng Gong were chatting together. They quickly joined them.
“Here, have some food,” Zhen Mingxin placed the oranges in the middle, then pulled out the last remaining dry rations, putting everything in front of them. “Don’t be shy, let’s eat together.”
Ying Tongchen picked up a transparent plastic bag filled with something unidentifiable, no labels or explanations, and asked, “What is this?”
“Fried cockroaches,” Zhen Mingxin said, “From my final recording, it took us a while to catch them, and at the end the production crew deep-fried them for us.”
“...” Ying Tongchen immediately put it back.
Zhuo Shu then picked up a small bag of ‘snacks’ nearby him and asked, “What’s this?”
Zhen Mingxin: “Dried earthworms.”
Zhuo Shu: “...”
Zhen Mingxin enthusiastically recommended some fried scorpions and roasted mice, insisting, “Don’t be scared. They might be pests alive, but after death, they still have their uses. The chef specially fried their bodies until golden and crispy — great texture and high nutritional value... These days, I’ve realized how precious it is to be alive. In order to survive, I almost ate shi—well, I haven’t actually eaten it yet, haha. Anyway, as long as it doesn’t kill you, then on the grill it goes!”
Ying Tongchen took a bite of his apple and said, “You’ve outdone yourself, kid. Don’t worry, you can have my portions.”
Zhen Mingxin glanced back at Zhuo Shu: “Da ge.”
“Da ge appreciates your thoughts.” Zhuo Shu rubbed the orange, “This orange peel actually looks pretty good ha.”
Everyone continued to consume the oranges, but it was hardly enough to fill their stomachs.
Zhen Mingxin suddenly spoke up, “I have an idea! There’s a loquat tree here. We can strip some bark and boil it...”
Ying Tongchen: “...”
Meng Gong suggested, “Let’s see if there are any wild rabbits nearby?”
Zhen Mingxin exclaimed, “Bunnies are so cute, how could we eat them!”
Zhuo Shu declared righteously, “Absolutely not. Especially in times like these, we must be civilized and wear masks diligently*.”
(TLN: reference to increased attention to hygiene after a pandemic.)
“Da ge’s got the right mindset!” Zhen Mingxin praised, then sighed, “Da ge, share some orange peel with me, will you?”
The night on the mountaintop was a bit chilly. Zhuo Shu rummaged through his pack and pulled out a thick down jacket. Suddenly, a pack of dried noodles fell out of his bag.
He exclaimed joyfully, “We’ve got noodles!”
Everyone cheered and took the pack of noodles from him.
Zhen Mingxin immediately said, “Let’s split up. One pair gathers kindling, the other boils the noodles.”
“You guys have the experience, you cook,” Ying Tongchen stood up and said, “We’ll go gather kindling.”
“Alright, there’s still some firewood here. We’ll start the fire first,” Zhen Mingxin replied.
Ying Tongchen had barely taken two steps before Zhuo Shu covered him with the down jacket. He glanced back at Zhuo Shu and said, “No need, it’ll get in the way while we gather kindling.”
“True,” Zhuo Shu took the jacket back and put it away. As he stepped outside, he saw Ying Tongchen waiting ahead and couldn’t help but smile knowingly. “Let’s go.”
Ying Tongchen held the flashlight and led them back to where they had picked the oranges. “Watch your steps."
“Okay, don’t worry.”
The two gathered dry branches on the ground by the light, and soon had a large pile.
“Should we take these up to them first?” Zhuo Shu suggested.
Ying Tongchen nodded and started walking back up. Unexpectedly, he stepped on a slick stone and slipped.
Losing balance, he gasped sharply as he tumbled forward.
“Careful!” Zhuo Shu’s reflexes kicked in—he dropped the dry branches and threw himself forward, wrapping his arms around Ying Tongchen’s waist. Their backs scraped against the uneven ground as they slid down a couple of meters together.
Ying Tongchen grabbed a nearby tree for support, concern lacing his voice. “You okay? How do you feel?”
“I’m fine. What about you?” Zhuo Shu asked.
“I’m fine too.” Ying Tongchen quickly pulled him up and brushed the grass and dirt off his back. With his attention on his back, he failed to notice Zhuo Shu’s furrowed brows.
Zhuo Shu avoided the flashlight’s harsh beam and suddenly gripped his wrist. “You said you were fine, but you’re already scraped up.”
“Just a scratch,” Ying Tongchen said, checking his own wrist carefully. Seeing no serious injury, he relaxed. “Let’s head back.”
“Wait, don’t forget the branches.”
“...”
After resigning to their misfortune and picking up the kindling again, Zhuo Shu and Ying Tongchen went back, placing the twigs and branches beside Meng Gong and Zhen Mingxin.
Zhuo Shu briefed the two on their situation and then took Ying Tongchen back to their tent. He fetched out a small first aid kit. “Good thing I didn’t drop this.”
With his wrist held out, Ying Tongchen thought it wasn’t worth the fuss and was about to decline when suddenly a cool sensation brushed his skin.
Zhuo Shu blew softly on the wound and looked up, asking gently, “Does it hurt?” The softness in his voice surprised even himself.
Ying Tongchen swallowed the words he was about to say and whispered, “No.”
“But we should still disinfect it, just to avoid infection.” Zhuo Shu poured some bottled water on the wound then carefully cleaned the wound and began to apply iodine with delicate care.
The tent was very quiet. Ying Tongchen watched silently as Zhuo Shu worked, the only sound in his ears was the soft breathing beside him.
Though almost inaudible, it felt so clear to him.
“Oh, there’s a tear in your pants.” After finishing, Zhuo Shu glanced down and noticed a rip on Ying Tongchen’s thigh, revealing the fair skin beneath.
Only after Zhuo Shu pointed to the tear did Ying Tongchen notice. He remarked, “It’s nothing major.”
“The breeze will get in and you’ll be cold. If we don’t fix it up, this tear might just get bigger.” Zhuo Shu put the iodine back in the bag and rummaged around for a while. “Got it.”
The next moment, Ying Tongchen saw him pull out a sewing kit.
“...”
“Take your pants off.” Zhuo Shu said while quickly zipping the tent closed. “Hurry, don’t let them see.”
…
A little later, Ying Tongchen sat inside his sleeping bag, watching Zhuo Shu thread the needle. Somehow, the scene felt surreal.
Squinting, Zhuo Shu struggled with threading through the needle hole for a while before handing them over. “I can’t get it through, you try.”
Ying Tongchen: “...” As expected, I overestimated you!
They took turns to thread the needle, and after five or six minutes of fumbling, the needle was finally threaded.
Ying Tongchen watched him hold the threaded needle at the edge of the pants hole with a worried look. “Do you even know how to do this?”
“Nope, but how hard can it be?" Zhuo Shu replied confidently.
Ying Tongchen: “...” I can only fear for the worst!
Zhuo Shu pulled the thread taut after pushing the needle through, stretching it as far as his arm would reach.
It looked downright alarming.
Ying Tongchen just gave up watching and flopped back.
After some time, Zhuo Shu finally finished sewing up the tear. Just as he was about to show off, he noticed Ying Tongchen had fallen asleep.
He laid the pants aside, gently kissed his forehead, then quietly slipped out of the tent.
“Still haven’t cooked the noodles?” Zhuo Shu asked.
Zhen Mingxin and Meng Gong were taking turns coughing. “Not yet,” they said.
“What are you two doing?” Zhuo Shu stepped forward, watching them each rotating a wooden rod*. “Don’t tell me…”
(TLN: A fire drill, sometimes called fire-stick, is a device to start a fire by friction between a rapidly rotating wooden rod (the spindle or shaft) and a cavity on a stationary wood piece (the hearth or fireboard).)
“Starting a fire by friction,” Zhen Mingxin replied.
Zhuo Shu squatted down nearby, watching the smoke curl up, smiling at this novel experience.
“Where’s Tongchen?” Meng Gong asked.
“He’s asleep.”
Meng Gong said, “Good, if he’s asleep then he doesn’t need to eat.”
“...” Zhuo Shu suddenly turned to look at him. “You’ve known Tongchen for a long time, right?”
“Yeah, why?” Meng Gong asked. “Want to know more about him?”
Zhuo Shu didn’t deny it and pressed, “How did you two meet?”
At this, Meng Gong grew solemn and said, “Those days were a wild mix of chaos, turbulence, and glory. We were so innocent, full of hope, longing for—"
Zhuo Shu cut him off, "Get to the point."
Meng Gong promptly replied, “We met through a blind date."
Zhuo Shu: “?”
Zhuo Shu: “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely serious.”
“Ah! Meng Meng, get ready, the fire’s about to catch!” Zhen Mingxin exclaimed excitedly.
“Got it!” Meng Gong quickly grabbed some dry leaves to kindle the flames.
As the first sparks caught fire, the two couldn’t help but smile happily—then—
whoosh!—a petty air blew past, taking their happiness with it.
The couple stared at the extinguished flames, glancing at Zhuo Shu with a mix of confusion, disbelief, and a hint of murderous intent.
Zhuo Shu shot Meng Gong a sidelong glance, then stood up and walked away.
With a flick of his sleeve, he left not a trace of smoke or fire behind.