Whendinnertime,hisheartbecamewarmer.Hismealwasbroughtintotheroom.Hewasnottooilltoeatbyhimself,butwasorderedtositstillinbed.Atthebedside,anotheryoungmansatby,blowinghotporridgewithaspooninonehand,andspillingsoupandriceunderthespoonwiththeother.
Chaninlookedattheposeandhisfacebecameverystrange.
He'sshy...Reallyshy.I'veneverseensuchagentleLane.
It'sgoodtobeuncomfortable...
"Openyourmouth,"saysRun,asyoublowporridgeintoaspoonuntilit'sreadytoeat.
Chaninopenedhismouthtoreceivethefood,buthewasnodifferentfromthechildwhosemotherfedhim.Althoughhewasveryhappy,hewasamusedbyRan'sclumsyappearanceandhadtosayhello.
"IthinkIcaneatitmyself,sothatyoucanmakesomethingelse."
"Youareill,don'tmove."Bescolded.
Beingsickdoesn'tmeanbeingalittlelame...
Iwanttosaythesamething,butdoingsowilllosetheatmosphereandletRundowhateverhewants,solongasthereisrhythm,hecanask.
"Whydoyoutakecareofme?"
Whenpeoplewereasked,thegardengaveasteady"askwhy".