Li Zhuiyuan sat on the stone bench for a long time.
Long enough that even Runsheng, who never liked to think much, couldn’t help but bow his head and whisper, “Xiaoyuan, are we going back?”
There didn’t seem to be anything more to look at here.
Ah Li was still waiting up above, and most importantly, Runsheng felt that Xiaoyuan’s state right now was a little off.
People spacing out or acting dazed didn’t mean much when it happened to others — Ayou did that all the time, for example.
But Xiaoyuan had always been very clear-headed.
He had always known what he was doing and what he needed to do.
Li Zhuiyuan blinked, coming a little back to himself, and nodded.
Runsheng waited a little longer.
Seeing Xiaoyuan still sitting on the stone bench, Runsheng had no choice but to reach out, lift the boy, and put him on his back.
They walked out of the main seat.
Looking up, the flowing sand above them was still moving; maybe by dawn the little space underfoot would be completely filled.
One hand on the boy’s back, the other grabbing the wall, Runsheng’s feet left the ground — one grab, one push, one stop, as if hopping — and they were soon up above.
After putting the boy back on the tricycle, Ah Li watched him closely.
Li Zhuiyuan’s gaze fell first on Ah Li’s face, then very quickly drifted away.
Runsheng mounted the tricycle.