Chapter Thirteen: Swirling Rain

Rawn Street, in the town's northern district, was the most secluded place in the area, an old haunt favored by the elderly. Even though the central plaza had already been modernized, they still preferred to gather here, in this nearly deserted part of town where restaurants and shops were rare. Since returning home, I'd only been here once.

Most of the buildings in Rawn still kept their original look: wooden attics, tiled rooftops, and roads paved with rough, uneven flagstones. After days of heavy rain, the paintwork once carefully drawn across the walls had turned into a runny blur. Blue pigment streamed down in rivulets with the rain, as if the white walls themselves were weeping.

The alleyways were too narrow for cars, so we had to continue on foot. The ground was already slippery with moss, and now with the rain still falling, it was near impossible not to slip. I couldn't help but worry about the older folks living here. What should've been a 200–300 meter walk took me nearly ten minutes—and even then, I only made it thanks to Sam dragging me along.

The house we arrived at felt completely out of place.

Just from its size, you could tell it didn't belong. Back in the day, in a town like this where most people had only one small front door to call their own, owning a mansion with four or five stories, its own courtyard, and a tall stone wall… that was landlord-level living.

Looking closer, I noticed even the roof tiles were different from the rest.

I didn't know the technicalities, but the patterns painted on the perimeter wall hadn't faded at all despite the relentless rain. Maybe the tiles were exceptionally weatherproof or something.

Still, even though the house was built so grandly, the location wasn't ideal.

It was surrounded on all sides by other houses, with only a maze of tight alleys leading in or out. No wonder I'd never known this place even existed.

At the front gate was a fancy video doorbell system, and above the wrought-iron doors, I even spotted a surveillance camera. I'd never seen anything like that anywhere else in town—and suddenly I found myself feeling a strange kind of reverence for whoever lived here.

Sam, on the other hand, didn't even glance at the doorbell. He just marched right up and pulled the gate open like he owned the place.

My nerves spiked and I broke into a cold sweat, but the very next second, he proved I had absolutely nothing to worry about.

In the courtyard, a few tables of elderly folks were seated under the veranda, playing mahjong. The cadence of their conversations, the sound of tea being sipped—it was all deeply familiar to me. I remembered scenes just like this from childhood, back when I stayed at my grandmother's place. You could see this kind of thing every single day.

"Big Chow! What brings you here today?"An old man looked up from his mahjong hand. Hearing his voice, the others also turned their heads, all calling out "Big Chow! Big Chow!"

Sam clearly knew them all well. He addressed each of them by name, weaving through the tables with a big smile, offering card advice to one old man, then rubbing a grandma's shoulders the next.

I hadn't expected we'd be visiting a place like this today, so I'd come empty-handed, totally unprepared. Just then, a man in a caregiver's uniform stepped out of the house and waved us over.

"Professor is ready for you."

The interior of the house retained its countryside décor, but it was also equipped with modern tech. There were air conditioners on either side of the entrance, motion-sensor lights along the beams, and what shocked me most: an elevator. Not just a regular one, either. It was the kind you find in big hospitals: doors on both sides and wide enough to fit a full-sized hospital bed.

I quietly studied the man leading us through the halls. This wasn't just someone's private home.

The elevator stopped on the second floor, and the front doors opened. The whole floor was filled with people dressed like our guide, in caregiver uniforms. Where there are caregivers, there must be those needing care. Even though I only caught a few glimpses, I noticed several people reclining in lounge chairs, receiving IV fluids.

Our guide stepped out of the elevator, signaling his part was done.

"Professor is waiting upstairs."

This "professor" was, no doubt, the owner of this house. Once the elevator doors closed again, I finally turned to Sam and asked, "Is this place… like a clinic? Or maybe a care facility?"

"Who plays mahjong in a clinic?" he shot back, rolling his eyes.

But if it's a care home, why isn't there any signage out front?

Ding— The elevator reached the fifth floor, and this time the back doors opened.

A woman with hair coiffed into a tight bouffant stood at the threshold, arms crossed, smiling brightly at us. I knew immediately! This must be the mysterious professor the guide had referred to.

At least in this little town, I'd never seen anyone who fits the title more perfectly.

I had assumed that someone living on the top floor and called "the Professor" would greet us with some show of status, but to my surprise, she seemed very approachable.She stood tall, back straight, feet slightly apart, clearly someone who cared about posture and poise. I couldn't help but be drawn to her presence. Unlike the kind of petty authority exuded by school principals, her composure came from experience and refinement.

She wore a simple, light-colored suit, but had tied a brightly patterned silk scarf around her neck. Every time she moved, the scarf trembled delicately in sync with her gestures.

"Chowie," she called softly.

What?

When she smiled, she tilted her head slightly in a way that was charming, almost disarming.

"And is this your new partner?" she asked—marking the first time anyone had acknowledged me since we arrived at the house.

"No," Sam replied.

She didn't have the judgmental looks that some elder people exhibit. Most people's gazes hesitate a little when meeting strangers, but hers was steady and kind.Even though I was being observed, her look made me feel invited rather than scrutinized.

"Hello, Professor. I'm Sam's friend." Before I realized it, I had called her professor too.

"Nice to meet you," she said, extending a hand. "I'm Samuel's foster mother."

**********

Thinking back on it, I couldn't recall Sam ever talking about his parents.Family—such a common part of a person's life—is like an invisible attribute. It's rarely brought up directly in social settings, yet it's deeply rooted in the earliest parts of one's memory, shaping who we are for a lifetime.

I had always assumed that someone with Sam's personality must've grown up in a textbook-perfect household.So, hearing her call herself his foster mother; well, the shock I felt was understandable.

"Is this your first time here?"Her hands were large, surprisingly so for someone of her petite build. When I shook hands with her, I could actually feel the strength in her grip.

"Looks like Chowie didn't tell you much," she said, glancing at him with playful reproach.

Chowie... that's cute. I couldn't help but quickly cast Sam a teasing look. 

"This place is more or less a care center. We help people who can't take care of themselves, feeding, dressing, basic nursing, and therapies.""But personally, I prefer to think of it as a community. You saw the elders downstairs, didn't you? They're some of the town's oldest residents. Most of their children have moved away, so now they live here together, looking after each other."

She paused, smiling gently.

"There are many others living here too. Some with children, and even a few in their twenties and thirties."

I wondered if there had been other children like Sam who had spent their childhood here. Lost in that thought, I snuck a glance at him again, but since entering the house, he'd barely spoken a word.

"Even many kids who grew up in this town don't know about this place. By the way, Elin, did you grow up here too?" the Professor asked.

I nodded and told her that I lived with my grandmother when I was a kid. Later, my parents settled down while working out of town, and they took me with them. But even after living here for over ten years, this was still my first time discovering this place!

The Professor smiled and said, "That's not surprising. For the people living in this house, it's like a secret base, free from outside disturbance, a place where they can feel at ease. With their intentional or unintentional efforts to keep it hidden, it's no wonder others wouldn't discover it."

As she spoke, she led us into a reception room. The moment I stepped in, I felt as if I'd traveled back in time to the meditation chamber of some ancient noble.

A circle of candleholders lined the room's walls. In the candlelight, I could see fine specks of incense ash floating in the air. At one end of the room, centrally placed, was a long table. There was something about half a person's height on it, but I couldn't make out what it was due to the curtain draped over it. It vaguely resembled a nightstand.

At the other end of the room stood a carved bookshelf, most of which was blocked by a folding screen painted with the scene of Immortals. The teacher invited us to sit on floor cushions in the center and then disappeared behind the curtain.

It was very peaceful here. No wind, no rain. Even the candle flames stood perfectly still without a flicker. After staring at them for a while, I realized these were actually electronic candles, which explained why the lighting remained so steady. With nothing else to do, I began looking around the room again.

One accidental glance upward nearly made me jump.

The ceiling was densely covered in images of god-demon fights! Some of them were only frames of ragged skin and bones, some had their bellies split open, some were pierced all over like sieves, and some looked half-dead, half-crying... As for the gods, their expressions were numb. All of them stared straight down into the room. With the incense smoke curling through the air, those figures seemed even more vivid and chilling.

Sam remained completely unfazed. Sure, this was nothing new to him. He whispered to me and reminded me not to forget the reason we came.

At that moment, the Professor returned with a pot of tea. "Chowie, this is your home. A guest comes to visit, and you're not offering anything?"

Sam was surprisingly obedient. He got up to take the teapot from her and began skillfully preparing the tea using the set on the small table. Only after we finished our first cup did he finally speak:

"Professor, another child's body has turned up." Sam referred to her as "professor" like others.

She swiftly pulled a string of prayer crystal beads from her sleeve and silently counted through all three rounds of them before letting them fall. Then, she raised the teapot and refilled our cups.

The string of beads hung steadily from her slender wrist.

"What have you found out?" she asked.