The young girl held the umbrella for him. The heavy rain poured down, and she held it for so long she could barely keep it steady.

Pei Chuan raised his hand several times, then silently lowered it back down.

This year Bei Yao was eleven years old. The little girl hadn’t fully matured yet, her hair tied in a small ponytail. She wore clothes and pants from her cousin Xiao Cang, her face somewhat bedraggled.

Everyone said she wasn’t as refined and pretty as Minmin from the neighborhood, but Pei Chuan occasionally lifted his gaze. Her cheeks still had baby fat, soft and plump. She didn’t care at all as she wiped the rainwater from her face. Her eyes were clear and bright, as if the rain had washed clean the world in her pupils. The contours of her face vaguely showed hints of her remarkable future beauty—lovely and gentle.

Pei Chuan gritted his teeth and pushed his wheelchair himself. He didn’t refuse her kindness, but he also didn’t say a single word to her.

Because the wheelchair’s speed varied, Bei Yao struggled to hold the umbrella for him. Holding the umbrella forward for too long made her arms ache. She could only accommodate Pei Chuan’s pace, stopping and starting in the heavy rain.

In the end, only the two of them remained under the entire curtain of rain.

For a moment, Pei Chuan hated her.

He listened to the footsteps following closely behind him. He hated that she pitied him. He hated that even though he was already so cold and unlikeable, she still hadn’t stubbornly run home alone.

They weren’t close, were they?

That annual pitiful, formulaic greeting—how was it any better than strangers?

Pei Chuan seemed to have never hated anyone this much. He hated Bei Yao’s innocent ignorance, stumbling and creating tiny glimmers of light in his world full of darkness. Even that greedy, ignorant Xu Feifei wasn’t this annoying!

It would be better if she disappeared from his life—then he wouldn’t be this vexed.

When the two half-grown children arrived home, it was already very late. When Zhao Zhilan got off work and discovered her daughter hadn’t returned yet, she was extremely anxious, pacing at the neighborhood entrance.

She had been about to follow the school route to search when she saw her daughter holding an umbrella for Pei Chuan, walking back together.

Zhao Zhilan froze, looking at the half-wet Pei Chuan and the soaked Yao Yao, not knowing what to say.

After all, she was a mature adult. Looking at the young boy’s thin but straight back, she frowned with concern.

Pei Chuan also saw Zhao Zhilan’s expression. Without a word, he “rudely” pushed his wheelchair away.

Zhao Zhilan turned to look at Bei Yao. The little girl explained: “I ran into Pei Chuan on my way home from school, so we came back together. I’m sorry, Mom. I got my clothes and shoes wet.”

Zhao Zhilan sighed, thinking she’d been overthinking things. Her daughter didn’t understand anything yet.

“Let’s go home. Go change your clothes.”

—

After that day, nothing was particularly different. Sometimes Pei Chuan would quietly wait by the sofa at his doorway, waiting for when Jiang Wenjuan might come back to see him, to say she couldn’t bear to leave this son, to say she regretted leaving this home.

If so, he could forgive her.

Considering she had once been a decent mother.

However, from summer to winter, Jiang Wenjuan ultimately disappeared from Pei Chuan’s life.

Pei Chuan knew she would never come back in this lifetime.

His other “wish,” however, came true with growth—after entering middle school, Bei Yao disappeared from his life.

Now only Pei Haobin was the adult at home. Pei Haobin had to work, sometimes with emergency assignments. Pei Chuan sat in a wheelchair, and going home wasn’t convenient. Starting from seventh grade, he began boarding at school.

The teacher looked at Pei Chuan with difficulty. They wouldn’t need other students to take care of him, would they? Like for using the bathroom and such.

Pei Chuan said calmly: “Teacher, I’ll live alone.”

The most remote vacant dormitory was ultimately left to Pei Chuan. Every day he got up on time to wash up, propped himself up with his arms to sit in his wheelchair, then went to the classroom for classes.

Many times, male students living in the same dorm building would curiously look at that first-floor room that was “isolated,” but everyone knew Pei Chuan’s withdrawn personality and didn’t go up to talk to him.

Spring came and autumn went. Pei Chuan felt current life wasn’t much different from before. The first lesson growth brought him was learning to get used to loneliness.

Pei Chuan’s “wish” came true—he wouldn’t see that innocent little face downstairs anymore, or those round almond-shaped eyes.

In August, he also missed the cake she delivered for her birthday.

For two final exams, Pei Chuan came in first in his grade.

Pei Chuan’s deskmate, that boy called Sun Yuan, began actively talking to him. Before summer vacation even started, he gave Pei Chuan a yo-yo.

Pei Chuan accepted it indifferently.

When he returned to the neighborhood, he spotted Bei Yao almost immediately.

Her slightly longer hair hung loose as she picked scallions in her family’s flower bed, together with Fang Mingjun.

The two little girls squatted in the sunlight. Bei Yao held a seed pod of “whistling grass” between her delicate lips.

She blew gently, the crisp sound traveling far.

Then she turned her head and saw Pei Chuan sitting in his wheelchair. Bei Yao immediately removed it, looking at Pei Chuan with some embarrassment.

She greeted him hesitantly: “Are you on vacation?”

Pei Chuan shouldn’t have responded, but the little girl’s greeting carried such an unfamiliar tone that he gripped that yo-yo tighter. He replied: “Mm.”

She smiled shyly, as if unsure what else to say.

Well, they weren’t close to begin with. When she was little, she’d still brazenly call him gege. But even the slowest person, once grown, would know not to call people that carelessly.

Relatively speechless, Pei Chuan pushed his wheelchair toward home.

After he’d gone quite far, Pei Chuan heard them chatting. Unlike the restraint she showed toward him, her laughter was clear and bright, carefree and delighted.

His “wish” had clearly come true, yet he “hated” her even more.

Pei Chuan didn’t even know himself what kind of outcome he wanted.

This year he was fourteen, about to enter eighth grade.

Before summer vacation ended, there was a sunny day when the neighborhood girls were playing jump rope in the courtyard.

Cicadas chirped crisply, with delicate cheers from below.

Pei Chuan frowned and pushed open the window, just in time to see Bei Yao doing somersaults.

She was extremely clumsy at somersaults, not at all like the lively boys. The little girl first braced her hands on the ground, then used force to swing one leg over the high elastic rope. Though clumsy, under the sunlight she was full of vitality, completely youthful.

When she flipped over, the girls laughed together.

Because she was upside down, her clothes revealed a section of tender, slender waist.

The baby fat hadn’t yet faded from her face, yet that slender waist curved gracefully, the indented arc exquisitely beautiful.

Pei Chuan’s expression was blank as he pulled the curtain shut with a swish.

—

When Pei Chuan was in eighth grade, Bei Yao had also just entered middle school. This year, for convenience, children attended nearby schools rather than testing into the city. So Pei Chuan and Bei Yao were at the same school again, except he was always one grade ahead of her.

That yo-yo—Pei Chuan could casually toss it, his fingers nimble, playing different tricks with it.

Occasionally his deskmate Sun Yuan would actively talk to Pei Chuan. Though Pei Chuan was cold and indifferent, Sun Yuan was naturally a chatterbox and didn’t mind his coldness. Over time, Pei Chuan would sometimes respond to him.

Some eighth-grade boys were going through voice changes and began enthusiastically discussing different kinds of gossip.

“Did you hear? Zeng Ziwen and Cao Fangfang from Class 3 are dating.”

“Really? They’re so bold.”

“Right? I heard someone say after school they kiss on the playground.”

Sun Yuan overheard and laughed with a coarse, unpleasant sound, muttering about going to watch after school.

Sun Yuan glanced sideways at his deskmate. While those around him heatedly discussed these budding romances, his deskmate was like a monk in meditation, working on physics problems that shouldn’t be studied until ninth grade.

Cold and expressionless.

Sometimes Sun Yuan wondered how someone’s curiosity could be so low.

But that night, Pei Chuan had a dream.

In the dream was their school’s playground. The sky had darkened. The wind was blowing but it wasn’t cold. There wasn’t a single person around. His legs seemed healed—he could stand. The surroundings were quiet, only him and the girl beneath him.

Her cheeks were flushed, those water-clear almond eyes smiling yet not smiling, not as innocent and pure as before. The young girl lightly stroked his chin with her finger, tilting her head to look at him.

His Adam’s apple moved. He couldn’t help but press down on her.

Tossing and turning, it was never enough.

All that abstinence, disinterest, coldness and indifference—none of it had anything to do with him. He prostrated himself over her, tightly gripping those small hands, madly and uncontrollably expressing his desire.

At dawn, the school’s wake-up bell woke him.

Pei Chuan sat up from the narrow bed, looking at his pants wet in a large patch, then silently lay back down.

Pei Chuan smiled bitterly.

Outside, the sky was dim. The school’s walls weren’t soundproof. Students gradually got up, clanging things around. The surrounding chaotic sounds couldn’t compare to his chaotic state of mind. This dream shattered his long-term self-deception—he really liked her.

His first budding romance was her.

There was no such thing as “hate.” The uncontrollable turbulence of youth was just the beginning of humans recognizing their feelings.

Pei Chuan lay motionless, like a dying person gasping for breath.

Boarding students all had to go out for morning runs. He didn’t, so he had an extra ten or so minutes compared to others.

He was thinking about the Bei Yao in his dream.

That was her, yet not her. That proactive and alluring little girl was perhaps what he’d always longed for her to do with him. He’d fantasized a little girl who liked him, the way females like males, admiring him. Not pity—the kind of admiration that was seductive and made hormones surge.

How laughable. She thought he hated her, but in the dream, with one crook of her finger, he couldn’t help but pounce.

Pei Chuan no longer “hated” her. What he should detest had always been himself.

—

During Pei Chuan’s eighth grade year, thanks to a deskmate who loved gossip, he’d heard of Shang Mengxian.

On the path of growing up, sometimes one becomes curious about hazy emotions and sexual instincts.

Pretty girls would also become topics of quiet discussion among males in class, just as boys comparing sizes out of boredom was commonplace.

Sun Yuan said: “You know the ninth-grade senior Shang Mengxian, right? I heard she plays around a lot, sometimes even dating people from outside school. She’s the boldest, but she’s very pretty and knows how to do makeup. Her makeup looks good, not like Chen Lian’an in our class, whose face looks awful with makeup.”

Pei Chuan had always paid no attention to people and matters unrelated to himself, so hearing this, he had no reaction.

Until Shang Mengxian sought him out.

Sometimes she would wear a short skirt and trot along with him on the path back to the dorm.

Sometimes she would deliberately say flattering things, like praising his grades or looks.

This half-grown girl was very clever. She’d been involved with enough males to know that men’s self-esteem and vanity liked hearing words tinged with admiration.

However, this tactic didn’t work on Pei Chuan. He looked at her coldly, as if watching a clown.

What vanity—it had died when he was very young, leaving nothing behind.

Shang Mengxian’s attitude was very ambiguous, seemingly certain that boys this age were easy to tease and seduce. Sometimes she’d give chocolates, sometimes poetry collections of love words.

However, Pei Chuan’s attitude from the start was refusal. It was just that legs were on Shang Mengxian’s body—if she wanted to follow, no one could stop her.

Shang Mengxian was a bit angry, and felt she’d lost face.

Her friend said: “Hey, you still haven’t won over that guy in the wheelchair? It’s been so long. Didn’t you say that once you showed him you were interested, he’d cling to you?”

Shang Mengyao said through gritted teeth: “Maybe he’s just shy.”

She was determined to quickly “conquer” this person who didn’t understand romance.

In her youth, Shang Mengxian treated other people’s disabilities as an interesting, novel game—cruel without realizing it.

This evening, when Shang Mengxian followed Pei Chuan toward the dorm, she deliberately sucked on a lollipop, then blocked Pei Chuan. She wore makeup. Girls this age didn’t have much money, and the cosmetics carried an inferior air.

The youth sat in his wheelchair, coldly watching what trick she wanted to play.

Shang Mengxian took the lollipop from her mouth and quickly touched it to the youth’s pale lips: “Sweet?”

Regardless of where she’d learned this flirting technique, Pei Chuan gripped his wheelchair tightly, his gaze suddenly turning cold.

His stomach churned. He suddenly reached out and grabbed Shang Mengxian’s chin in a death grip.

The youth’s slender, burning hand was like iron tongs. Shang Mengxian screamed in pain on the spot. Only then did she see this youth’s gaze was very cold, like January ice and snow, without a shred of emotion. Unlike what she’d imagined—that he’d blush and be moved—his eyes were full of violent fury, wanting to burn her alive.

Shang Mengxian was finally scared. The candy fell to the ground as she desperately slapped his hand.

Her friend, seeing things going badly, came over to rescue Shang Mengxian.

Looking at the three finger marks on Shang Mengxian’s face that had turned into bruises—

The two only dared curse Pei Chuan from afar, then ran off in panicked flight.

Pei Chuan returned to his dorm and washed his face many times.

He looked at himself in the mirror, then slowly revealed a mocking, disgusted expression.

However, this matter wasn’t over. For Shang Mengxian, she’d enjoyed the worship of boys and being held high—that earlier scene was like being slapped in the face in front of a good friend.

The next day, rumors that Pei Chuan was shamelessly and desperately pursuing Shang Mengxian spread throughout the entire campus.

Wherever he went, he could hear whispers and mocking laughter.

Sun Yuan looked at Pei Chuan with complex eyes, saying nothing.

After that day, Pei Chuan began to be retaliated against by Shang Mengxian’s “pursuers.” Shang Mengxian spread word that Pei Chuan was pestering her and disgusted her. Immature, impulsive boys, to prove their loyalty and bravery to the girl they liked, not long after quietly beat Pei Chuan up. Pei Chuan curled on the ground, protecting his head, not making a sound, but his eyes were as silent as eternal night.

Sometimes these people would throw garbage in Pei Chuan’s desk. Pei Chuan would clean out the garbage and say nothing.

One time they even put in a rat snake. Pei Chuan pulled the rat snake from his drawer, grabbed it at the vital seven-inch point, and with a hard squeeze, the snake twisted and went still.

The whole class witnessed it and burst into startled screams.

Pei Chuan looked around in a circle, his gaze cold.

The two boys in the back who met his gaze both nonchalantly looked away. After that day, no one came to trouble him anymore. Bullying the weak and fearing the strong was many people’s instinct. However, Sun Yuan also kept far from him and stopped talking to him.

Pei Chuan laughed coldly.

Before advancing to ninth grade, he contacted his old “acquaintances.”

The “acquaintances” thanked him for helping provide information about Ding Wenxiang, allowing Ding Wenxiang to be taught a lesson. This time Pei Chuan tapped his wheelchair, asking indifferently: “Interested in ninth-grader Shang Mengxian?”

The other end said something. Pei Chuan said sinisterly: “No, wait until she graduates to make a move. Don’t force her—seduction is enough.”

Later, ninth-grader Shang Mengxian after graduation supposedly ran off with someone.

Many years later, someone saw her at an entertainment club, living in dissipation and willing to do anything.

This year Pei Chuan prepared for the high school entrance exam. Sometimes gazing at the brilliant sunshine in the sky, he covered his eyes. What had felt infinitely warm in childhood now felt dazzling.

Once, carrying a lunch box and pushing his wheelchair from the cafeteria to the dorm, a clean, brand-new shuttlecock landed right in his lap.

The shuttlecock bounced once on the lunch box, then was caught in his palm.

Pei Chuan looked up and saw a group of embarrassed, at-a-loss girls.

He also saw Bei Yao.

From playing badminton in autumn, she’d worked up a light sweat. Her pant legs were lightly rolled up, her calves slender. She looked back at her companions, then steeled herself and walked toward Pei Chuan.

He didn’t throw it back. Gripping that shuttlecock, he waited for Bei Yao to come over.

It had been so, so long since he’d spoken a word to her.

The little girl asked timidly: “Did it hit you? I’m sorry. Can you return the ball to us?”

Up close, he smelled the fragrance on her—not the faint milk scent of childhood, but a light lilac.

The young girl’s voice also wasn’t as milky as in childhood, but instead had the gentleness of a March spring breeze brushing the face.

The South—a girl’s soft Wu dialect.

He extended his hand and opened it. The white shuttlecock lay in his palm.

Pei Chuan said nothing, just quietly looked at her. Bei Yao was a bit nervous. She took the shuttlecock from his palm. Her fingertips were soft, inadvertently touching his palm. Pei Chuan’s fingers trembled as he said softly: “It’s fine.”

After all, they were neighbors. Bei Yao smiled at him: “Thank you.”

She ran back and continued playing badminton with her companions.

He watched her lively, cute figure, seriously contemplating for the first time—when did she start distancing herself from him too? If it was in sixth grade when he’d accepted that umbrella, would things have been very different?

However, the past was always the past. There was no point in regret.

He rubbed his palm and pushed his wheelchair away.

—

After graduating ninth grade, Pei Chuan thought his life would have no more intersection with Bei Yao. Those dreams of desperate entanglement every midnight—no one would ever know about them in this lifetime anyway.

In ninth grade, the school’s gossip became about Bei Yao.

She’d grown up. The beauty glimpsed in that heavy rain had become reality at fourteen or fifteen.

Pei Chuan was glad he’d graduated, could hide for another year, wouldn’t have to constantly think about her. Something else happened this year—his father remarried, to a widow named Chen Xiu.

Later Pei Haobin was injured on assignment and lay in bed unconscious.

Chen Xiu thought it extremely unlucky. She was also afraid others would say she brought bad luck to her husband, so she stubbornly didn’t come see Pei Haobin. Every day Pei Chuan listened to his aunt and uncle argue—a weak woman wanting to raise him, while that man bluntly said he was a cripple.

They could even fight in the hospital room. It was really too laughable.

After everyone left—

Pei Chuan looked at Pei Haobin lying in bed, face bloodless: “If you never wake up in this lifetime, that would be pretty good too. After all, dying like a hero—how great.”

He laughed quietly: “It’s just that your eye for picking women is really terrible.”

Later, ultimately failing to fulfill “his wish,” Pei Haobin woke up.

That woman called Chen Xiu came back as if nothing had happened, wiped away two handfuls of tears—the hospital room was like a theatrical performance.

Pei Chuan sat at the door, his mocking expression retracting after seeing Bei Yao and Zhao Zhilan in the distance.

For most of ninth grade, he’d heard Bei Yao’s name from others’ mouths.

Now she came over holding a bouquet of carnations, wearing a light blue dress. He looked from afar, his heartbeat uncontrollably accelerating, then in the next moment lowered his gaze.

That gorgeous figure, like light that had broken through since her youth, began to ache densely and continuously.

Even though she hadn’t come to see him, but only as a neighbor, kindly visiting Uncle Pei.

He sat by the door, facing July’s warm sun, watching her slender figure, narrowing his eyes.

Actually, Pei Chuan understood too—this vivid, lovely light was destined to have no relationship with him in this lifetime. How could a person grasp light?

Once he entered high school, it would be fine. Once he’d seen more women, seen prettier and better ones, he could forget these unspeakable things, forget the constant yearning that no one knew about, year after year.

—

In high school, Pei Chuan met Gao Jun, Yu Yinfan, and that group.

When he was admitted, he chose First High School.

After high school, Pei Chuan never went home again.

He’d also heard of Jin Ziyang and his friends from the neighboring Third High School, but Gao Jun’s type was completely different.

They mixed in society, got tattoos. Unlike Jin Ziyang’s group of ordinary rich second-generation kids, this group didn’t have that much money, but they were ruthless enough.

They appreciated Pei Chuan. Everyone hung together in mutual benefit. Though they didn’t know where Pei Chuan’s funding came from, Gao Jun and his group would also help Pei Chuan solve some thorny matters.

Over time, Pei Chuan began forgetting what he used to be like.

He learned to smoke and drink.

Also learned to forget Bei Yao.

After all, she wasn’t a girl he could have anyway. Why constantly think about her?

Of course, later he also saw pretty girls.

Gao Jun’s group knew how to play with women, frequenting various clubs. Unlike Jin Ziyang’s group going to “Qingshi,” Gao Jun’s group went to a place called “Little Imperial Court,” mockingly called men’s paradise.

They played with women indiscriminately, getting quite wild.

Pei Chuan lazily narrowed his eyes, unmoved by the live show.

A woman climbed onto his shoulder, her breath fragrant.

Pei Chuan smiled slightly, his heart immersed in some year’s dark mud, feeling nothing.

Just like when someone suddenly touched candy with saliva to his lips in his youth—besides disgust in his heart, he surprisingly couldn’t generate any emotion of desire.

He pushed that woman away. Utterly boring.

Gao Jun and the others teased: “Brother Chuan can’t perform?”

Pei Chuan’s gaze swept over coldly.

Gao Jun bit on a cigarette: “Alright, alright, I know you don’t fancy them.”

Later, during Christmas of senior year, Gao Jun and his group heard about Bei Yao from Sixth High School.

How to put it—pure, great beauty. These two years she’d been incredibly low-key, so much so that when Gao Jun saw the photo, he was delighted: “This chick’s hot. Bring her over to play?”

Of course, they didn’t dare play too rough with this type of young girl. If there were casualties, it wouldn’t be good. But kissing and touching would be very satisfying.

They also didn’t tell Pei Chuan, since Pei Chuan didn’t seem too interested in this aspect.

Real scoundrels were both brazen and skilled at this kind of thing.

When Bei Yao was drugged and sent to “Little Imperial Court,” Pei Chuan’s entire body stiffened the moment he saw her.

“How is she here?”

Gao Jun said in surprise: “What’s this, Brother Chuan’s acquaintance?”

Pei Chuan gritted his teeth: “You brought her here?”

Gao Jun didn’t hear the wrongness in his tone, saying excitedly: “Yeah, beautiful, right! Tender enough to squeeze water out. Brother Chuan interested? You go first, just don’t make it too big, leave her a layer of membrane so she won’t seek death.”

The beast dormant for many years in his body suddenly bared its fangs, all his blood flowing backward.

That night, Little Imperial Court’s security all came.

Pei Chuan fought with someone for the first time, stabbing Gao Jun several times with a broken beer bottle.

He himself wasn’t much better off. Gao Jun’s fists were no joke. With Pei Chuan going crazy and Gao Jun still wanting to live, he also smashed a hole in Pei Chuan’s head with a beer bottle.

Blood flowed down from his temple.

Gao Jun was also going crazy: “Are you fucking insane? I haven’t touched her yet. At most I’ll send her back…”

Haven’t touched? What more do you want to do? Pei Chuan thought madly. Nearly eighteen years—the person whose single finger he couldn’t bear to touch, they dared drug her and bring her here.

The Pei Chuan before him was like an Asura. Even without legs, he fiercely grabbed Gao Jun’s neck, pressing his face against the broken beer bottle and grinding.

Gao Jun’s face was covered in blood. Finally, he was sent to the hospital.

They fought so fiercely, yet on the sofa to the side, Bei Yao slept peacefully and quietly, completely unaware someone had wanted to kill for her.

Later Pei Chuan’s injuries were treated.

Little Imperial Court’s service staff said awkwardly: “We don’t know where to send that young lady.”

Pei Chuan had several cuts on his face. He paused: “Send her to my room first.”

After so many years, he hadn’t expected to meet again in this way.

He wiped his face, looking at the little girl sleeping sweetly and peacefully on the bed, looking down on himself.

He’d gone bad. Without his money, Gao Jun and his group wouldn’t be this brazen. However, he hadn’t regretted before. The moment he saw her, he regretted.

Pei Chuan wheeled closer to her.

In his room at Little Imperial Court, she was the first girl to enter. He’d thought that with time, he could forget her. However, only now did he know—some people were like moles growing on the heart. Even if you gouged out that piece of flesh, the pain would last for years.

Pei Chuan lowered his gaze.

Her long lashes hung down, her small delicate lips crimson.

How old was she this year?

Almost seventeen, right?

He was a scoundrel and wouldn’t be a good person in the future either. Nothing he did was good.

Tomorrow, once she safely returned to school, she probably would never know in this lifetime that they’d met tonight.

Perhaps this was their last meeting.

He couldn’t be her man, but he truly had liked her for so many years.

His arms propped on either side of her, looking at her pink, tender lips.

Leaning down halfway, he sat back up.

He wasn’t worthy. He was too dirty.

“I’ll avenge you. The chip needs a test subject—let it be Gao Jun, okay?”

He brushed aside her hair.

Naturally the young girl couldn’t hear.

At the deepest part of the night, he laughed self-mockingly: “You’ve probably even forgotten who I am.”

Yet he could never forget what she looked like in his entire life. This really wasn’t fair.

“In this lifetime, I’ll only do this one excessive thing to you.”

Pei Chuan’s index finger lightly touched her lips.

After a long separation, he narrowed his eyes and kissed his own index finger with lingering affection, as if smelling the fragrance from her lips.

“Yao Yao, this is the first time I’ve called you this way. I’ll send you home.”