Super A-Yo · Chat

At seven in the evening, the shadows of the pagoda trees downstairs stretched long against the ground. Xiaomi leaned over the balcony rail, resting his chin on his hands as he watched the chubby kid named Ding from the neighboring unit walk past below, holding a brown Teddy dog. The dog was wearing a little red vest, its four paws click-clacking on the concrete. Ding Dong deliberately walked very slowly, glancing up at the building every few steps—he knew Xiaomi was watching him. Xiaomi buried his face in his arms. That was the fifth time today he’d brought up getting a dog. His mother’s answers had escalated from "No," to "I said no," to "Try saying that one more time." His Chinese test paper, with a 78 written on it, was still spread out on the desk. He had originally wanted to use it as bargaining leverage—he had scored better than before, right? But his mother had taken one look at the score, staring at those two digits "78" as if trying to burn holes into them. The theme song for the evening news echoed from the living room. His dad was home early for once, leaning back with his legs crossed, reading the paper. A beer can rested precariously on the edge of the coffee table. Xiaomi’s mother popped her head out from the kitchen. "Make him finish his homework before he watches TV!" Dad let out a vague "Mm," his eyes never leaving the newspaper. Xiaomi knew his dad's "mms" generally fell into three categories: "Mm" (I hear you), "Mm" (Got it), and "Mm" (Don't bother me). This one fell somewhere between the first and second, basically translating to "Do what your mother says." Looking out from the balcony, a warm yellow light shone from the third-floor window. Taosu was probably in her room—her mother made her practice piano every night, but Taosu often hid novels under her sheet music. The lights were off at Maomao's place; he had most likely gone over to his grandmother's to scrounge a meal. Gugu's house, on the other hand, was brightly lit, but the curtains were drawn, with the faint glare of a screen visible—he was probably being watched over by his dad while playing video games. Xiaomi sighed. Honestly, it didn't have to be a dog. A hamster would do, or a turtle, or if all else failed, a single fish—even the cheapest neon tetra kept in a glass jar on his desk would count as having a living creature to keep him company. But his mom had said, "Whatever you keep ends up dead," bringing up last year's lost guinea pig again. That guinea pig had never been found, but Xiaomi felt it was probably living quite well—maybe it had even befriended the neighborhood stray cats. The sky was a dirty shade of orange, the clouds hanging low. Xiaomi raised his head. For reasons he couldn't quite explain, he suddenly spoke toward that dirty orange sky—his voice so quiet he felt embarrassed just saying it: "Could someone please give me a companion? Anything will do." The wind died down for half a second. Then that star lit up. Xiaomi blinked, thinking his eyes were playing tricks on him—the star was twice as big as the others, growing brighter and brighter, so huge it looked as if it were burning a hole right through the sky. A round, blue thing tumbled out of the light and crashed onto the balcony with a loud thwack, sending the socks Xiaomi's mother had hung out to dry scattering across the floor. Xiaomi jumped back half a step, his mouth hanging open. The blue thing coughed twice, stood up, and patted the dust off its rear. It had arms and legs, and two little pigtails on top of its head bobbed up and down. Its face was as round as an undercooked steamed bun. Looking up, it glanced at Xiaomi, then back at the patch of sky it had just fallen from, and said in a slightly apologetic tone: "You just made a wish, didn't you?" Xiaomi didn't move for a long moment. In the distance, Ding Dong's Teddy barked twice before someone shouted at it to be quiet. The piano from Taosu's home began to play, staccato practice etudes floating down from the third floor. Xiaomi crouched down, staring at the little blue creature for a long time, before finally asking: "Are you... a dog?" In that instant, A-Yo's expression became exceedingly complex.