Half an hour later, Xing Wu was lying on a recliner in the back room of Shun Yi, with Quanya sitting across from him. Huabi tossed each of them a cigarette.

Xing Wu took him and lit it while lowering his head. Quanya placed the cigarette behind his ear and got straight to the point: “What are you thinking?”

Xing Wu took a mild drag from his cigarette and asked back: “What do you mean, what am I thinking?”

Quanya’s mouth curved into a crooked smile: “I heard from that blonde kid at your school. She’s got good grades and plans to study abroad?”

“Mm.” Xing Wu flicked his ash, expressionless.

Quanya leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees: “I’m not saying this for my sister’s sake. You’re not a fool – even if it’s for her good, you shouldn’t get involved with her.”

“I haven’t touched her,” Xing Wu raised his eyes to stare at him.

Quanya’s gaze swept across Xing Wu’s face: “Then what’s your plan? Have a pure romance? Or keep her here in Zhazha Ting?”

Xing Wu’s brows furrowed tightly: “I never planned to keep her here. She wouldn’t stay for anyone anyway.”

Huabi, standing nearby, grew more confused as he listened and interjected: “Then Brother Wu, are you saying you’ll go abroad with her?”

“I won’t leave,” Xing Wu extinguished his cigarette viciously.

Quanya shook his head and sighed deeply, saying nothing more. As brothers for so many years, he understood Xing Wu’s situation better than anyone.

Xing Wu didn’t go home that night. The next day, Qing went to school as usual. Xing Wu didn’t show up all day. During breaks, she drafted several messages asking where he was or if something unpleasant had happened with Quanya and the others last night, but she deleted them all.

Qing had thought Xing Wu wouldn’t come to school today, but surprisingly, during the third afternoon period, just before school ended, he sauntered in through the back door. As soon as he sat down, Qing turned around and asked: “Why even bother coming at this hour?”

Xing Wu smiled and mouthed two words without making a sound: “Pick you.”

Qing’s face flushed with a suspicious blush, and she quickly turned back to focus on her exercises.

After school, Qing rode her self-balancing scooter, sometimes passing in front of Xing Wu, sometimes sliding back to ride beside him, and asked: “Why can’t you just attend classes properly?”

Xing Wu kept his head down, his profile clear and bright in the sunset glow, carrying an inexplicable air of casualness: “Attend classes and then what? There’s no university here.”

The wheels of the self-balancing scooter glided silently across the ground. Qing said nothing more, but she understood. There was no university here – to attend university meant leaving for another city. But if he had been able to leave Zhazha Ting back then, perhaps he wouldn’t need to prove himself through college entrance exams today.

So the words “attend classes” were deeply paradoxical for him. This wasn’t Xing Wu’s way out; he was different from her. He couldn’t escape his current life through education.

Qing suddenly accelerated ahead of Xing Wu because she didn’t want him to see the loss and confusion in her eyes.

Xing Wu continued to follow slowly behind her, watching her back. The sunset had set the evening clouds ablaze, reflecting in his eyes like a raging fire, intense and burning, yet his expression remained extremely grave.

Qing would occasionally look back at him, and he would smile at her, but once she turned away, his smile would vanish again.

When they reached Xuan Island, Qing was startled – before they even reached the entrance, a bag suddenly flew down from the second floor, followed by a washbasin, slippers, and surprisingly, even a man’s wig.

What was going on? Qing stood at the entrance clutching her bag, not daring to go in for a long while, thinking Xing Wu’s house had been robbed. Then she heard Li Lanfang’s pig-slaughter-like crying coming from upstairs.

Qing saw Liu Nian and Du Qiyan standing ramrod straight inside the store, looking confused. She rushed in to ask them what was happening, and Liu Nian said with a constipated expression: “Boss Li’s husband is back, he’s upstairs right now.”

Qing suddenly understood – Xing Wu’s father had returned home, that legendary man who barely came back twice a year.

She turned around, and Xing Wu had just stepped in, his expression dark.

Previously, Qing had imagined what Xing Wu’s father might look like. Given Xing Wu’s height, build, and looks, his father should have been a handsome, tough middle-aged man, perhaps like Zhang Hanyu or Duan Yihong, or at least someone like Sun Honglei. Who could have imagined that Xing Wu’s father looked like Ben Shan’s long-lost brother?

So when the family gathered around the table for dinner that evening, Qing couldn’t take her eyes off Xing Wu’s father’s weathered face. The key point was that he was wearing a wig – the same one Li Lanfang had thrown downstairs earlier. The style of the wig was identical to their school principal Principal Zhong’s – if you didn’t know better, you’d think they’d bought them together in a group purchase.

However, Xing Wu showed no warmth toward his father. More surprisingly, although Li Lanfang and Xing Wu’s father had been fighting like crazy in the evening, with such house-destroying intensity that Qing hadn’t dared to go upstairs, now they were acting as if nothing had happened. Li Lanfang was even serving rice to Xing Wu’s father, which left Qing bewildered.

Even more puzzling was Xing Wu’s grandmother. Since his father’s return, she wouldn’t even let Xing Wu feed her anymore, just staring eagerly at her son. You’d think she was brain-damaged, yet somehow she seemed to recognize people, and when Xing Wu’s father fed her, she ate.

Even Xing Wu found it amazing. In all the time Qing had lived here, the old lady had always been incomprehensible to her. For instance, despite being brain-damaged, she always wanted to watch TV. Speaking of watching, Xing Wu had set up an old TV in her room, and though she didn’t focus on the screen if anyone turned off the TV, the old lady would make an inhuman sound that made one’s hair stand on end. So the TV in Xing Wu’s grandmother’s room was practically on year-round.

Although Xing Wu’s father had returned for the Mid-Autumn Festival, the meal didn’t have any taste of a family reunion. Instead, Xing Wu was the first to slam his bowl down and go upstairs.

Meeting Qing for the first time, Xing Wu’s father had a few drinks and chatted with her briefly, opening with: “When did your mother die?”

“…” Qing had never met someone so terrible at conversation.

Since his father’s return, Xing Wu hadn’t left his room, just lying on his bed wearing headphones and watching game livestreams. After Qing finished her exercises, it was already late, so she turned off the lights and went to bed.

After lying down, Qing couldn’t help but ask: “Why do you have such an attitude toward your father?”

Xing Wu didn’t respond. Qing simply pulled open the curtain between them. She thought Xing Wu was still gaming, but actually, he wasn’t in any game – he was just staring blankly at his darkened phone screen.

Qing called out to him softly again: “Hey.”

Moonlight crept silently through the window, illuminating his absent-minded profile with stark clarity. He glanced at her sideways: “You want to know?”

Qing blinked, and then… he suddenly started removing his pants.

This startled Qing, who sat up abruptly and asked: “What are you doing?”

Xing Wu looked at her tense expression with exasperation, simply pulling down his track pants to reveal his hip bone, showing a long scar that was shocking to behold.

Qing immediately got off her bed and went closer to look. In the moonlight, she could vaguely see what appeared to be a knife wound, quite long, seemingly extending down to his thigh. She couldn’t help but poke it and ask: “How did this happen? Does it hurt?”

Xing Wu’s breath hitched – he hadn’t expected Qing to not only look but touch him. Just a fist’s width away from sensitive areas, his expression suddenly tensed up.

Seeing his silence, Qing looked up at him and noticed his awkward demeanor. The scene from moments ago suddenly replayed in her mind – the clear V-line beneath the scar. Her face instantly turned red, and she quickly dove back under her covers, hiding half her face.

Xing Wu’s voice came calmly from beside her: “When I first started middle school, I was tall and stood out too much. Some third-year students tried to cause trouble. Several guys cornered me in an alley to beat me up. I had to fight back to protect myself. One of them missed his punch, lost his balance, fell, and got his eye pierced by a thumbtack.”

“What?” Qing stuck her head out in surprise.

Xing Wu twirled his phone, a hint of bitterness curling his lips: “After I ran home, his family caused a huge scene at school, saying I blinded their son, demanding compensation and my expulsion. I said a hundred fucking times they were the ones who came after me, that he fell on his own – what the hell did it have to do with me? But no one listened. They all said I was lying. My father, Comrade Xing Guodong, the nation’s pillar of talent, to force a confession from his son, locked me in the bathroom and gave me a loving beating, demanding I tell the truth and personally apologize to that family. I’m tough-skinned, and wouldn’t bow my head. When he saw the belt wasn’t working on me, don’t know what got into him, he ran to get a knife from the kitchen next door.

When I saw him with that knife, I thought, might as well fight him to the death, goddammit.”

Qing turned her head to look at him. His expression was half casual, half cold as if recounting someone else’s story. But having gone through adolescence herself, she understood clearly how extreme middle school children’s emotions could be – desperate to be understood by the whole world, yet afraid of being seen through. She could almost imagine Xing Wu’s despair and anger when he saw his father with the knife, and perhaps fear too – he was so young, only 13.

Xing Wu turned to look at Qing and said: “I’m going to smoke,” seemingly asking for her permission.

Qing leaned against the headboard, watching him: “Go ahead.”

Xing Wu got up and opened the window. His figure sat at the desk, his face hidden in darkness, making it difficult for Qing to see clearly.

She heard him sigh: “Guess I was stubborn, refused to admit it no matter what. Comrade Guodong got enraged, said he’d cripple me, and swung at my family jewels. I don’t know what he was thinking then. Lucky I dodged quickly, or I’d have become a eunuch.”

Though Xing Wu recounted the incident jokingly, Qing didn’t find it funny at all. She suddenly remembered how Xing Wu had spoken of his father when installing the air conditioner – “dead,” he’d said. Perhaps at the moment, his father swung that knife at him, his father had already died in his heart.

Qing remained silent, sliding completely under her covers, suddenly feeling a suffocating discomfort. She couldn’t describe this feeling; she’d never experienced anything like it before – this feeling of utter helplessness.

Qing didn’t hate being cursed at, envied, or even ostracized, but what she hated most was being wrongly accused. Fortunately, while her father might not have been the best husband, he was at least a good father. No matter what happened, he would always patiently listen to her thoughts, understand the whole situation, then rationally analyze it, give advice, and help her solve problems. He never blamed or scolded her without understanding the full picture. Because of this, though young, Qing lived with more confidence and self-assurance than many of her peers.

But Xing Wu was different. She couldn’t imagine how helpless he must have felt at just 13, facing accusations and interrogations from school leaders and parents, being framed. In the end, even his parents, who should have protected him, cast their doubts upon him. She felt that if this had happened to her, she probably would have torn that blind kid’s mouth apart and gone down with him. It was a miracle Xing Wu had survived to this age.

She couldn’t help but ask: “How was it resolved in the end?”

Xing Wu took a drag from his cigarette, gazing out the window as he spoke flatly: “Scraped together five thousand yuan in compensation. I was put on probation at school.”

Qing figured five thousand yuan must have been a significant amount for their family back then. She’d heard Li Lanfang say Xing Wu’s grandmother had become brain-damaged four or five years ago – calculating the timing, it was around when Xing Wu had just started middle school.

While this incident wasn’t completely catastrophic, for a kid it was earth-shattering. And at that time, his grandmother, who had been kindest to him, fell ill – for Xing Wu, that must have meant true isolation.

In Xing Wu’s life trajectory, this incident was both his making and his undoing.

After this incident, Xing Wu’s reputation at school soared. Everyone knew about him – the first-year student who blinded a third-year’s eye. Nobody dared to mess with Xing Wu. He was already tall, and his gaze carried a hint of danger. Even the troublemakers would take detours to avoid him.

But because of these things, more and more trouble found its way to him. That’s when he understood a principle.

In this place, no one would listen to what you said; they only cared if your fists were strong enough. As long as he was powerful enough that no one dared to mess with him, no one would throw dirt on him anymore. Therefore, studying became increasingly irrelevant to him, because survival came first.

Neither spoke anymore. Qing didn’t know what Xing Wu was thinking – perhaps after so many years, he’d become numb to it. But having just heard this story, she was still quite shocked. She couldn’t help but recall Yellow Hair’s words about how Xing Wu’s grades had been decent in middle school before he stopped learning. If Xing Wu hadn’t grown up in such an environment, if his parents had given him some support, even just a little confidence, he might not have become what he is today. With Xing Wu’s intelligence, he might not have been worse than her – think about it, he barely attended school yet still scored 72 points.

While Qing was lost in thought, suddenly the entire building began to shake. It shook, accompanied by strange “creaking” sounds.

Qing immediately stuck her head out from under the covers. At first, she wondered if it was an earthquake – did this place even have earthquakes?

However, when she suddenly heard an indescribable sound, she froze completely.