My dad's name is Jiujiu (джен)

Jiang Cheng was intimately familiar with death; not only had he had the chance of knowing it well, he also had toyed with it multiple times, during the days after his sister and brother in law’s passing. The only one who had prevented him from taking one too many sleep pills, from cutting one too many times, had been Jin Ling.
One month old Jin Ling, still small enough Jiang Cheng couldn’t lift him without supporting his head, too young to realize what was happening but missing his mother’s warmth anyway.
That very same baby had just now turned sixteen, and was asleep in the car right next to him, oxygen cannula going up his nose and so weak he could barely move around without help.