Later, Qiu Xing embraced Lin Yiran from behind as they walked to where the car was parked, helping her get in.

The woman didn’t follow them, but remained standing in place, cursing loudly. Eventually, she sat down at the roadside, crying painfully while slapping the ground.

From beginning to end, Qiu Xing never spoke to her. Indeed, there was nothing to say. He silently endured both the hitting and the cursing.

A woman suffering in a tragic family, beneath her thoughtless verbal abuse lay years of despair and endless grief, and this suffering was inextricably linked to Qiu Xing’s father.

In the car, Qiu Xing pulled out two tissues for Lin Yiran. She took them, loosely crumpling them in her hand.

“Don’t cry anymore.” Qiu Xing raised his hand to wipe her tears from the corner of her eye. “Our little goddess even knows how to argue now.”

Lin Yiran’s tears fell again. She wiped them herself, her voice sounding aggrieved and pitiful: “I couldn’t win the argument.”

“You did win,” Qiu Xing smoothed her disheveled hair behind her shoulders, then turned back to start the car.

Lin Yiran sat there calming herself. After a while, she said, “Don’t listen to what she said.”

“I won’t,” Qiu Xing replied. “Aren’t I living quite well?”

“You will always live well,” Lin Yiran frowned, her heart still heavy, somewhat obsessively emphasizing, “That was just an accident, it has absolutely nothing to do with you.”

“Alright,” Qiu Xing said obediently.

No wonder Aunt Fang’s illness was so severe this time. With just such words, even Lin Yiran was provoked into screaming, unable to calm down for a long time. How much worse for the usually soft-spoken Aunt Fang, who didn’t know how to argue? Those vicious curses against her son were like knives stabbing into her already fragile neural pathways, stirring up her mental confusion and shock.

Crazy talk can normally be ignored, but when every word is directed at someone you love, it becomes impossible to disregard.

People always tend to seek a source for their suffering, then attach all their pain to it, thinking about it every day, speaking of it constantly, as if finding something to fixate on, then hating it day and night.

The major fire at Qiu Yangzheng’s factory had taken that woman’s husband, which was undeniable. But her son’s paralysis wasn’t because of Qiu Yangzheng; it was due to a car accident six months before the incident, causing nerve damage and permanent paralysis.

Yet in so many years of resentment, she had already placed all her family’s misfortunes on Qiu Yangzheng’s head. She had forgotten that even without Qiu Yangzheng, her son still wouldn’t be able to stand.

But if not for Qiu Yangzheng, at least she would still have a husband to rely on, not left alone to drown in a sea of bitterness, living in pain without the freedom to die.

When Lin Yiran returned to the hospital, Aunt Fang carefully examined her face, sensitively noticing that her eyes and nose were red, obviously from crying.

At first, Aunt Fang didn’t ask. After a while, she took an apple and placed it in Lin Yiran’s hand.

“What’s wrong?” Aunt Fang asked gently.

Lin Yiran had been sitting on the edge of the bed, bending down to put things in the cabinet. She stopped her movement and looked up at her.

“Did someone bully you?” Aunt Fang asked with concern.

Lin Yiran shook her head, then hugged Aunt Fang, resting her face gently against her.

“Don’t be sad, everything will pass,” Aunt Fang stroked her hair, as if comforting her aggrieved daughter, saying lovingly, “Everything can pass.”

“Yes,” Lin Yiran sniffled, looking up to ask, “Then shall we look forward, not back?”

“Of course,” Aunt Fang smiled at her. “Who wants to always look backward?”

Lin Yiran buried her face against her, her nose stinging, her heart aching.

She said these words, yet she always kept herself in the past. Letting herself live in the house of the past, loving Yangzheng, who loved her in her youth, and her son, who was in the prime of his vibrant youth.

The broken conversations from the hospital room drifted out. Qiu Xing leaned against the wall in the corridor, staring upward in a daze, his gaze empty, his expression bewildered.

While Fang Min was hospitalized, Qiu Xing found another house for her.

He asked Yu Mei if she still wanted to work for them. Yu Mei had visited Fang Min at the hospital and, seeing that she no longer screamed and vomited as she had that day, was willing to continue working. But the newly found house wasn’t in the original district; it was far away, making it inconvenient for Yu Mei to care for her son, so she declined.

Qiu Xing had no objections. He paid her salary properly, even giving her extra.

Yu Mei felt sad too, sighing sorrowfully about why such things had to happen.

The new house was in the new district of the city, far from the original place, far from their old house and the home where they lived before the incident.

He didn’t want his mother to be stimulated again, hoping to give her a new environment. Since Fang Min couldn’t accept him, she couldn’t live in the city where he worked.

Because of this, Lin Yiran and Qiu Xing had argued more than once. She wanted Aunt Fang to live in the city where she attended school, but Qiu Xing wouldn’t allow it under any circumstances.

“This isn’t convenient, Qiu Xing,” Lin Yiran tried to persuade him again.

“You know very well that changing cities would be better for her. There are too many connections to the past here. Who knows when she might encounter someone else who could trigger her.”

Qiu Xing said, “Let’s keep it this way for now. When she can recognize me, I’ll let her come to my place.”

When would she be able to recognize Qiu Xing? This was a question without a clear timeline.

“Why not let her come to my place?” Lin Yiran found Qiu Xing’s stubbornness somewhat annoying.

Qiu Xing shook his head, only saying, “It’s not right.”

“What’s not right?” Lin Yiran frowned. “I’m more suitable than you, and you know it.”

Lin Yiran didn’t like to argue and usually went along with Qiu Xing. But on this matter alone, she was quite insistent.

Qiu Xing scooped a small portion of the rice that the waiter had just brought, putting it in a bowl for her side.

“Eat,” Qiu Xing said.

Lin Yiran held her chopsticks but had little appetite. She tilted her head slightly, looking at Qiu Xing: “What about when school starts? Leaving her with a stranger, neither of us here.”

Qiu Xing ate as he spoke: “I’ll come back more often. Let Sister-in-law Lin help look after her in the meantime.”

“Sister-in-law Lin?” Lin Yiran’s eyes widened, asking with surprise, “You’d let Sister-in-law Lin help, but you won’t let her come to my place?”

Qiu Xing didn’t respond again, just keeping his eyes lowered as he ate, his expression calm.

Lin Yiran put down her chopsticks, reaching over to hold his left hand, shaking it gently: “Qiu Xing.”

Qiu Xing looked up and said to her: “Your place isn’t suitable.”

“Why not?” Lin Yiran asked with a frown.

She really couldn’t let this go. Qiu Xing didn’t answer directly, but asked, “When’s your makeup exam?”

This topic shift was rather distant. Lin Yiran said, “Next semester. Why isn’t it suitable?”

Qiu Xing asked again, “How many points will you get for the makeup exam?”

Lin Yiran pressed her lips together, not answering.

“Sixty,” Qiu Xing said. “Just enough to pass.”

She understood what Qiu Xing meant now.

“Have you ever scored a sixty before?” Qiu Xing looked at her.

Lin Yiran explained, “As long as it’s a passing grade, it won’t affect much, including my graduate school application.”

“Grade point average, average score, scholarship,” Qiu Xing said calmly. “You won’t get the highest scholarship this year, will you?”

“Not necessarily, it’s just one major course,” Lin Yiran added. “Besides, that’s not important.”

“If it’s not important, why do you study day and night?” Qiu Xing stared at her. “Won’t a sixty stand out on your transcript?”

Qiu Xing understood Lin Yiran; she had always been a girl who pursued perfection. She had high standards for herself, was competitive, and always did the best she could in everything.

In her three years of exams, she had never scored a sixty. A score in the sixties would indeed be conspicuous on her transcript, like a fly resting on that paper.

“It is important, but when there are more important things, it becomes less so.” Lin Yiran held Qiu Xing’s hand gently, insisting on explaining to him. “I don’t think it’s more important than Aunt Fang, and I don’t regret it. If there’s a good reason, even a sixty won’t look out of place.”

Her gaze was gentle yet firm. That resilient quality in her made her unwavering when facing things she believed in.

Qiu Xing looked at her for a while. Lin Yiran looked back at him steadily. Qiu Xing’s gaze was profound; Lin Yiran didn’t dodge or avoid it.

“Don’t be silly,” Qiu Xing turned his gaze away, continuing to eat, stubbornly criticizing her, “Love-brained.”

Lin Yiran felt choked by his words, unable to breathe properly. She took a deep breath and threw his hand aside.

“This isn’t being love-brained. You can’t say that about me,” Lin Yiran’s eyes brightened with anger. “This is about feelings. It’s about my feelings for Aunt Fang, not for you.”

Lin Yiran set her jaw, adding, “It’s about conscience.”

“Eat,” Qiu Xing lifted his chin, gesturing to her.

Lin Yiran picked up her chopsticks and stopped talking too.

Both ate in silence. After a while, Lin Yiran muttered to herself, “Are we even dating? Yet you call me love-brained.”

Qiu Xing glanced at her without responding.

In the end, Lin Yiran couldn’t change the situation. Qiu Xing rented a new house in a complex that wasn’t yet fully occupied, with few shops around.

Aunt Fang didn’t express any particular thoughts about this new residence.

Qiu Xing had already moved everything from the original house. She neither asked why they were living there nor questioned anything. She seemed intentionally to avoid mentioning Qiu Xing. As long as Lin Yiran lived with her in the new house, she could accept everything with equanimity.

But in her own house, she still kept a room for Qiu Xing. The bed sheets and pillows were washed clean, and in the wardrobe were several sets of Qiu Xing’s clothes and two sets of pajamas.

“Qiu Xing used to love playing soccer so much, lots and lots of soccer uniforms and cleats,” Aunt Fang said leisurely to Lin Yiran while tidying the wardrobe. “Those cleats were so hard to clean, the soles especially.”

She said “used to.”

Lin Yiran asked, “And now?”

“Now he doesn’t like to play anymore,” Aunt Fang smiled. “Playing one game of soccer requires running so many steps, always ending up drenched in sweat. But it’s good for children to love sports, they grow up strong.”

Lin Yiran made an “mm” sound, indicating she was listening.

Looking at Aunt Fang’s face, she asked softly, “Aunt Fang, how old is Qiu Xing now?”

Fang Min seemed to pause, thinking for a long time, and finally said quietly, “Eighteen years old.”