Momo's Gradual Change - VOL. 1

C178. His Uniqueness.

Chapter 178: His Uniqueness

Miao Zhiruo and Wu Ting left every bit of their spare change with the children, though they hadn’t brought much in small bills. Just as they were about to find a place to exchange more, Song Yimo pulled her backpack to her chest, unzipped the front pocket, and started handing out two-yuan bills, one by one, to each child, starting from the one at the front, making sure not to miss a single one.

The children, quick to understand, took their cue, bowed in thanks, and moved on in search of new donors.

Zhai Muyang, knowing Yimo’s soft heart, had prepared for this. He’d exchanged several hundred yuan into small bills for her, so there was still plenty left in her bag. Song Yimo hesitated a moment, then took out a few more notes and approached one of the boys.

“For your little sister, so she can buy some candy.”

The boy looked up in surprise, but he didn’t hesitate long before taking the money and thanking her politely.

This boy wasn’t like other children from struggling families, Song Yimo thought. Lowering her gaze, she saw the little girl in his arms, fast asleep. She was thin, her face pale and tinged with a bluish hue, her lips purplish—a textbook case of congenital heart disease.

Cases like hers were all too common in Tibet. In this high-altitude city, children had a significantly higher risk of congenital heart conditions than elsewhere.

“Yimo, let’s go.”

She answered, casting a final glance at the boy and his sister before walking away with her friends.

Her country was vast, its population immense, and with such disparity in wealth, stories like this were everywhere. How many could she possibly help?

This wasn’t like the simple gestures she’d made before, giving some money to treat a minor injury. If she extended her hand here, driven by a moment of sympathy, she might find herself supporting them for years.

Did she have enough money, enough love, to bear the burden of those who, in the end, had no connection to her life?

For now, she felt a pang of compassion, but she would think of herself first, selfishly.

Perhaps she really should travel during every university holiday, broaden her view of the world. Only then would she not be so easily swayed by these passing emotions.

According to plan, they visited the palace filled with blooming Gesang flowers, then the Jokhang Temple, Barkhor Street, tasted authentic Tibetan cuisine, and joined the locals in devoutly circling prayer wheels. With all these experiences, the day felt deeply fulfilling and passed quickly.

The destinations were nearby, and they moved at a relaxed pace, resting and grabbing snacks whenever they felt tired. By evening, no one felt exhausted.

As they were heading back to the hotel, they unexpectedly encountered the same group of children asking for money. But this time, the children didn’t approach them, instead smiling kindly as they moved on to others.

“They seem disciplined—do they only ask once?” Song Yimo’s eyes scanned the crowd, but the boy carrying the little girl wasn’t among them.

Miao Zhiruo nudged her, “Lost in thought? Let’s go, it’s already eight.”

Sometimes, fate is strange like that. Two people can be parallel lines, never intersecting, until they meet—and from then on, their paths begin to overlap.

The next morning at breakfast, Song Yimo said casually, “I’d like to visit Potala Palace again. Are you coming?”

Wu Ting and Zuo Chun both raised their hands in surrender. “I’m out. My legs feel like noodles; I’m not up for all those stairs again. Miao Miao, go with Yimo.”

Having both undergone major surgeries, Wu and Zuo’s stamina was understandably limited. Song Yimo didn’t push them and turned to Miao Miao.

“I was planning to go again too. You two are hopeless; even Yimo has more energy than you both! So, you’ll stay at the hotel?”

“Yes, we’ll rest here. When you’re back, we’ll go shop for souvenirs together. By the way, Yimo, what time’s the flight tomorrow?”

“Eleven-thirty, on the dot.”

“That’s perfect. You’ll get home nice and early.”

Song Yimo focused on her food. Her older brother had booked her ticket, as he always looked out for her. Naturally, he wouldn’t save money at the expense of comfort.

Not far from the hotel, Song Yimo spotted that boy again, the one leading a group of children trailing behind. He was now carrying the little girl in his arms, running silently in a particular direction.

She watched until they disappeared from view, only then realizing she’d paused. Miao Miao hadn’t rushed her.

“Yimo, you noticed him yesterday too. What’s different about him?”

“I can’t quite explain,” Song Yimo reflected. “There’s something about him. He’s asking for money, yet there’s a certain dignity in him. Did you notice his hands? They’re very clean, and his nails are neatly trimmed. His clothes are ill-fitting, but the fabric and cut are quite decent…”

“You’re saying he must’ve once lived well, maybe even received a good education?”

Song Yimo nodded.

Miao Zhiruo frowned slightly. “Yimo, we’re just tourists. We don’t know anyone here, and we can’t afford to meddle.”

Song Yimo understood, so she had no plans to intervene. “Let’s go.”

But once a matter weighs on your mind, it’s not so easy to let go.

Miao Zhiruo noticed a large group of Tibetans praying near the lake by Potala Palace, while tourists mostly took pictures nearby. She guided Song Yimo towards them, hoping to find someone who could take a photo of them together.

Just then, Song Yimo accidentally bumped into someone in front of her—a young man in a hiking jacket. His initial irritation faded when he turned to see the lovely young woman who’d bumped into him.

Song Yimo covered her nose, mumbling an apology. “Sorry.”

“No worries, no worries. I was in the way.”

Zhou Qing, who had been trailing them at a polite distance, stepped closer. Song Yimo waved him off, and he stopped but didn’t retreat.

Miao Zhiruo sighed, resigning herself, and tugged Song Yimo back onto their route. “Fine, let’s go find out what’s going on.”

Suppressing her smile, Song Yimo’s steps became noticeably lighter.

Miao Zhiruo had her own suspicions. With so many nearby landmarks, who could tell if the boy was actually headed somewhere special or just switching spots to ask for money?

But she hadn’t anticipated what happened next. After a short walk, they arrived at the Tibetan Municipal Hospital, and there, beneath a tree, was the boy they’d noticed before. He wore a Red Army cap and a red scarf, and was crouched with two companions, their heads close together as if in a serious discussion.

Miao Zhiruo pulled Song Yimo closer, feigning casualness as they passed. She noticed that the trio had a pile of cash spread out between them, mostly one-yuan bills, with a few tens and twenties. The boys were carefully smoothing and stacking the bills.

They didn’t disrupt the boys, instead continuing toward the hospital entrance.

“Let’s check the cardiology department,” Song Yimo suggested. “I suspect the child he was carrying had a medical emergency.”

The hospital’s buildings weren’t tall, and the cardiology department was just on the second floor. It didn’t take long for them to spot the boy talking to a doctor. This time, however, he was no longer carrying the little girl in his arms.

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TN:
格桑花遍布的喇嘛行宫: The lama's palace where Gesang flowers were everywhere (Gesang flowers are often associated with Tibetan culture and symbolize beauty and happiness.)

大昭寺: Jokhang Temple (a major religious site for Tibetan Buddhists)

八角街: Barkhor Street (a circumambulation street around the Jokhang Temple)