Here’s your cleaned-up chapter with only grammar and spelling corrections. I left everything else as is.

Little Fish – Chapter 1

PerPEX Institution

“Little fish. Little fish. Where can your home be?”

Resting his head against his arm, Wei Zangchen watched the village children from the window. The only thing he understood was that the fish in the game they played was a stick, and no one wanted to receive the “fish.” Sighing to himself, moving from the windowsill seemed like too much effort. If not for the game in front of him, things would have been as perfect as they could be. The chill of the last winter had left, the blanket across his shoulders was soft and warm, and the porridge on the stove would be topped with sugar and spice for dinner.

Watching the child who failed to run fast enough, the boy threw the offensive stick away with all his might. Wei Zangchen couldn’t help the flinch he gave. The action was completely unrelated to him, yet so very painful. He was once a fish who had ascended to the heavens. A “little fish” who had touched the stars. Since his ascension, he had fallen twice—first from the heavens to the seas, then from the seas to humanity.

Sighing again, Wei Zangchen closed his eyes, envious of the children. Now he found himself trapped on land with legs that twisted, a broken wheelchair, and pain that never left. Every day hurt, his legs forced to bear his weight under the guise of therapy. For someone who had once been a god, his fall from grace had been cruel.

“M-m-m… A-… Professor?”

Keeping his eyes closed, Wei Zangchen turned his attention to the voice. If he could have kept lying against the windowsill without interruption, he’d have been happy. His tired tone reflected that.

“You should stop calling me that. Is it time for the children to go home?”

“Yes, sir. Dusk will arrive in half an hour.”

“Pick the two that need it the most and send them to me. I’ll see to their lessons personally.”

“Sir, it’s the third Saturday of the month.”

“Not tonight. I’ll see the children tonight.”

“Sir…”

“I said not tonight. Have the big ones help with the food, and send the other two into the classroom.”

“Very good, sir. I’ll wait for their return, then activate the generators.”

“No. Wait an extra hour tonight. The generators can’t hold the way they used to.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you. That’ll be all.”

Wei Zangchen listened, knowing that Gun Wen hadn’t left yet. It was the same performance each night—Gun Wen worrying excessively and Wei Zangchen pretending not to listen. After a few moments, the man finally left. Reaching over, Wei Zangchen drew the blanket from his shoulders to his lap as he opened his eyes.

For three years, this institution had been his home. A small bubble in the chaos of the world, filled with forgotten people. Perfect for a forgotten god like him. With the blanket in his lap, he wheeled his chair back, the tires cracking the sad linoleum squares further.

No matter where he hid, Gun Wen always managed to find him. After some time, the abandoned classroom he was in became his space alone. The children knew not to come into the room, and Gun Wen knew he was particularly fond of the window there—where the sun warmed his perpetually chilled body and his eyes could watch over the safety of the children. Shaking his head, Wei Zangchen scolded himself. His moods were his business alone. His job to protect the children had never changed. He had to prepare for the coming night—help the children, check the premises, feed Xiao Li—and remaining in the classroom wouldn’t accomplish anything.

With a soft, repetitive crunch, Wei Zangchen turned his wheelchair, heading towards the door to replay the same routine for the sake of the children.

***

The Personal Private Educational anneX, or PerPEX Institution, had once been a pinnacle of research within County Z. It was home to nearly 100 abandoned children when Wei Zangchen had been taken in, the building in a sad state—overcrowded and infested with fear. The village that sat at the bottom of the hill had once been agricultural until severe weather forced the residents to accept that their future no longer lay there.

Unfortunately, like many places slapped with a military label, it was only convenient for the military to take responsibility when the returned dividend proved worth the investment. For a little while, the village rallied, then fell all over again. Once public opinion had finally swayed, and once humans accepted guides and sentinels as their own people, places like PerPEX were left behind. Staff wages were cut, visits stopped, and no one cared about the loss of income. Without the visitations, unsavory developments occurred away from prying eyes, where a body could go missing, and no one would ever find out the truth. The village became collateral damage in it all.

Initially, Wei Zangchen had been blind to all of that. His condition was awful, his temper worse, and his mania couldn’t be suppressed through normal means. With a broken body, Gun Wen had tied all the pieces of him together and forced life back into his corpse by bestowing purpose.

He didn’t want purpose. He didn’t want to live and breathe. He had fallen so fast, so far, and kept falling. He was a god forced lower than a man.

Wheeling his chair into the classroom for the night, the right wheel caught on the bend in the frame, frustration on the tip of his tongue. It would have boiled over if it hadn’t been for Xiao Li.

Xiao Li. The purpose given to him by Gun Wen. There were many simple humans that Wei Zangchen loathed. Many he wanted to destroy himself. Yet the simple child who couldn’t speak always spoke volumes in his heart and forced him to acknowledge the human love left in his crippled heart.

Curled on his teaching chair, the toddler had his blanket. Unlike other children, Xiao Li didn’t love to run and play. Gun Wen repeatedly took the little boy outside, but he always knew that dusk would come and seemed to have an innate ability to appear whenever Wei Zangchen made himself ready to teach.

Carefully, he unstuck the wheel, the clicking of the spokes rousing the little boy. With a sleepy smile, he slid from the chair, making a dash for Wei Zangchen as quick as he could, blanket dragged along behind him.

With a click of his tongue, Wei Zangchen caught him, bringing him up into his lap and rubbing his small back, the child smelling of milk biscuits and honey.

He loved this little boy.

That he couldn’t speak was no worry. Xiao Li was smart in other ways.

Pulling back, the little boy gazed into his eyes. His long lashes and double eyelids would charm anyone once he grew old enough to use them. Anyone with a sliver of a heart would fall to Xiao Li’s innocent charms. Smiling, Wei Zangchen kissed his forehead.

“Did Gun Wen bathe you already?”

Xiao Li nodded, lips pouting at the memory of bath time. He wasn’t keen on water. Trying to wean him from milk bottles to water had led to many tears. The little boy would have been cursing all of Wei Zangchen’s ancestors if he could have.

“Good boy. I hope you were kind to your uncle. Uncle loves you very much.”

The toddler sucked his lip in, his whole body in a huff.

Chuckling lightly, Wei Zangchen shook his head, teasing the small child helplessly.

“You know you have to bathe every day. Let’s check the drawers—Uncle Gun might have left us a snack.”

A tight frown formed on his lips, not liking what he was hearing in the man’s racing heart. It’d be just his luck for something to happen, and sure enough, it had.

Knowing he could be heard, Gun Wen stuttered out.

“P… P… P… Professor! Infected! Coming!”

Infected.

Of course, there’d be infected.

On a day his mood was so low, the past had to sneak back up.

Withdrawing his tendrils, Wei Zangchen kissed the top of Xiao Li’s head.

“Uncle Wen is coming to hold you. I have to go do some very important work, but I’ll be back in time for your story tonight.”