Strongest Among the Heavens
Chapter 237: Chen Yixi I

Chapter 237: Chen Yixi I

Allow me to introduce myself. I am Chen Yixi. I drive trucks all day.

And I have wasted my life.

"No, no. The doctor would kill me," Chen Yixi muttered to himself. He sighed and ran a hand through his thinning hair. He erased everything and began again.

Except he could not find it in himself to start with something. His hands had grown wrinkly and he hadn’t written or read in ages. "This is what I get for not living."

Not making friends. Not making hobbies. Simply living for the sake of it. Living because there was nothing else to be afraid of.

His world was devoid of meaning. His future was devoid of hope. How could he write if he was an empty husk? He talked to no one. He heard no one.

Chen Yixi’s existence was no one. A hollow slave to the company he worked for. Travelling across the country and finding nothing in it or himself.

Until this evening. Until he heard a knock from his door.

No one ever came to visit him. He closed the journal and went to open the door. He found a young boy standing on his doorstep. The boy had a perfectly circular head, his dark eyes wide and unblinking.

"Hello."

If it wasn’t for his weary bones, he would kneeled. This boy spoke perfect Mandarin. "Hello there, boy."

"Sorry, sir. My ball went into your backyard," the boy said.

Chen Yixi recognized him as the boy from next door. He vaguely recollected him sitting on the front lawn during the evenings when he returned from work. "Ah. Ah, I see," Chen replied, forcing a smile. "Come on. Let us go get it."

The boy nodded and followed Chen around to the backyard. Chen retrieved the soccer ball and handed it to the boy. The boy didn’t speak. He was too quiet. So was Chen until he realized he had to say something.

"What is your name?" Chen asked.

"Dasha Pang," the boy replied.

Chen noticed the lack of a smile and the intense curiosity in his eyes.

’Must be scared. Poor boy.’

"Don’t worry about kicking the ball here." Chen wore a smile. "You can ask anytime. I won’t bite."

"You won’t?"

"Promise."

Dasha stared. Then, he nodded and walked back to his house. Chen watched him go.

***

Days turned into weeks, and Chen Yixi’s routine remained as monotonous as ever. He drove his truck for days and spent his evenings alone, drowning his sorrows in cheap whiskey and junk food.

"Ugh..."

Currently, he was at a red light. Waiting, waiting, waiting. Sitting, sitting, and never moving. He dipped his hand into the chip bag beside him and shoved it into his mouth. The red light turned green. He got going.

Going home was exhausting. He just wanted to sleep. Sleep, eat bad food, and then wake back up again.

There was nothing to write in his journal. The only reason he even visited his psychologist was because of a crash he was involved in a couple months ago. As a part of an initiative, his insurance forced him to go visit the psychologist.

It was...satisfactory. Certainly better than what he thought it would be. However, he held back. He didn’t want to express the totality of his despair. He felt pathetic doing so, especially in front of a woman.

So the only highlight of his day was the occasional encounter with Dasha. Ever since he fetched his ball, he saw Dasha more and more. Mostly, they greeted and waved at each other. Chen came home late and always half-expected Dasha not to be outside, but he was. He was always there.

One afternoon, Chen was able to come back home early. He saw Dasha sitting alone on his front lawn, a book in his hands. He was reading it upside down. Chen walked over and sat down beside him.

"Hey, boy."

"Hello, sir."

He was polite—and fluent in their mother tongue. Given that they were in Canada, Chen thought he would be a banana. Dasha was the opposite of that; he felt like a well-educated boy that knew his roots and heritage. He spoke the language, he was polite, and he was never clingy or obnoxious. The perfect child. Maybe that was why he enjoyed him so much. He was what Chen wished his own son had been like.

"Why are you alone here? Don’t you have friends to play with?" Chen asked.

Dasha didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on the book. "I do. They are having a sleepover and my parents said no."

"Ah." Chen tried again. "What are you reading? Oh, want me to read this to you?"

Dasha turned. He appeared surprised by his offer. "Really?"

"Does no one read to you?"

"They do," Dasha said, "but just not the books I like."

"Then let me." Chen smiled, a hand extended. Dasha thought about it for a few seconds and handed the book over. It was a short story novel written in Mandarin.

Chen was happy to read it.

***

From that day on, Chen and Dasha began spending more time together. Chen would read to him, and they would talk about life, although Dasha rarely shared much about himself.

’Seems like the boy’s parents are busy with work. I get it.’

Latchkey kids were getting more and more common. There was no one really to blame other than the economic state of the world. If it was up to Chen, then only men would be the ones working and the women would stay at home to take care of the kids. But reality was not so easy. In this day and age, it was necessary for both to work and to leave the child behind.

It was wrong. It felt wrong. But the world was a terrible place and Chen was too old to change it.

Chen never wrote these thoughts in his journal. ’Knowing the doctor, she would throw a fit.’

He smiled anyway. Despite his quiet nature, Dasha had a way of making Chen feel less alone. Sitting at his desk, he wrote down that he had begun to eat less junk food. Dasha often shared his meals with him and often woke up early to give it to him. It was cute. Sometimes, he would make it and other times he would be late.