Yan Lie always had tricks that caught people completely off guard.

When Fang Zhuo saw the woven grass figurine again the next day, it had been completely transformed.

The protruding, uneven edges had been neatened and trimmed flat. Copper wire, barely visible, had been wound around where the wings used to be to reshape them into the form of arms and legs. A black permanent marker had traced facial features on the head — just a few strokes, perfectly placed. The pair of thick eyebrows that slanted sharply upward were especially striking, like an indignant, hotheaded teenager.

And that wasn’t all — the figurine had been draped in a red cape and dressed in blue trousers, looking every bit like a guardian of the farmland.

Yan Lie had planted it in a succulent pot and even carefully propped up a small sign beside it. On the sign were written “Little Fierce Yan” and “Little Blazing Fang,” with arrows pointing to the straw figure and the wildly flourishing little succulent respectively.

Fang Zhuo leaned over the windowsill and studied it for a long while. Yan Lie came in from outside the classroom, carrying a small brownish-red clay pot in his hands.

Seeing that Fang Zhuo had been drawn in by his creation, he grinned with satisfaction. “Well? My skills as a flower guardian aren’t bad, are they?”

Fang Zhuo slowly straightened up and gave a noncommittal “Mm.”

She hadn’t expected that despite his questionable taste, he had the talent to make something unrecognizable look entirely different.

Yan Lie said with excitement, “I’m going to get it a proper pot with some flair, and then put it in the sunniest spot!”

Fang Zhuo thought to herself: here he goes again, making it special — he’d probably want to take this little thing with him when he graduated. Sure enough, Yan Lie immediately added to his plan: “When I graduate, I’ll steal it away with me.”

…This friend’s thoughts were really quite easy to predict.

Fang Zhuo corrected him: “I’m the one who found it. I’m the one who planted it. If I give it to you, it’s not stealing.”

And so, on the last windowsill of the classroom, in a spot that caught the sunlight, a small flower pot was set neatly in place.

Every time Fang Zhuo turned her head, she could see the straw figurine with its vivid expression — arms stretched wide, draped in its red garment, standing guard over the succulents. Half the time, sunlight would fall on it.

By the time the ink on its face began to fade and they touched it up for the second time, March had passed quickly.

For a long stretch after school resumed, the temperature in City A had refused to rise. Occasionally it would warm up slightly, only to turn bitterly cold again after a spring rain.

The sudden swings in temperature made things all the more treacherous, and many students fell ill with colds before they could prepare themselves.

This wave of flu came in fierce. The already-strained physiques of the third-year students took a hard hit. Shen Musi, who had only recently recovered from illness, relapsed and passed it on to his deskmate and the class monitor who shared his dorm room — all three were taken home by their parents to receive intravenous treatment.

This kind of situation could occur every season change. The school treated it as an emergency, having teachers take students’ temperatures once each morning before early reading, and canceling the morning exercise routine during the extended break.

The chilblains on Fang Zhuo’s hands had flared up again too. Her fingers were red, swollen, and burning, so much so that she could barely grip a pen properly.

It was an old ailment she’d had for years — all it took was washing clothes in cold water and it could come back. This year it had actually improved quite a bit, but then unexpectedly worsened again as spring arrived.

She wasn’t sure why, but Fang Zhuo had a faint sense of foreboding. Her intuition about these things was always uncannily accurate — and this time, unfortunately, it proved true once more.

Just before this, she had spoken to Ye Yuncheng on the phone. She had told him not to go out too early in the morning to set up his stall, to wear an extra pair of socks when he went out, or to pick up some of the heat packs that Yan Lie had recommended.

Ye Yuncheng’s tone at the time suggested he hadn’t really taken it to heart. He sounded exhausted too — his voice lacked its usual energy. They’d barely exchanged a few words before he hung up.

So Fang Zhuo decided she would go over to check on him that weekend, make sure he rested for a day, and help look after the stall herself —

It must have been around six in the morning. A weekday — Wednesday. Light rain, turning to overcast clouds.

Xiao Mu was dressed and ready, his new yellow bag on his back, waiting by the door for Ye Yuncheng to come out.

Ye Yuncheng was unusually slow today. He had gone to bed early the night before, yet that morning he had taken several calls before finally getting up.

But Xiao Mu was patient and didn’t rush him.

Ye Yuncheng walked two steps with his crutch, then stopped in the middle of the living room. He hung his head and said quietly, “Xiao Mu, I’m not feeling very well.”

“What’s wrong?” Xiao Mu asked. “Do you want some water?”

Ye Yuncheng’s lips moved, but he didn’t answer. After a moment, he shakily crouched down to the floor and lost consciousness, clutching his abdomen.

Xiao Mu walked over and nudged him. No response. He touched Ye Yuncheng’s forehead, and only then realized he was running a fever.

He set his yellow bag down on the floor, reached into Ye Yuncheng’s pockets for his phone, and dialed 120.

When a gentle female voice answered on the other end, he could no longer hold it together. Fear broke through and he began to cry.

“Help me!” he sobbed, his voice catching. “He can’t speak anymore!”

At half past eight, the noise that had swept through City A Middle School settled back into quiet as the first morning class got underway.

The gatekeeper sat in the reception booth, stifling a yawn, having just scrolled through all his energy reserves on a match-three puzzle game. He looked up to see a tall young man pacing back and forth on the other side of the road.

The young man looked frantic, circling the school gate two or three times like a fly without a head, then came charging straight in.

The gatekeeper had been watching him for a while. When he saw what was happening, he immediately stepped out to block him.

But the young man treated him as nothing more than an obstacle and simply veered around him. In desperation, the gatekeeper grabbed hold of his clothes, nearly tearing the zipper off, and was even dragged forward a couple of steps.

Seeing the man pressing on like a stubborn ox, ignoring all protests, the gatekeeper shouted urgently: “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?! Parents have to register at the gate first! What are you trying to do?! Keep this up and I’ll use force!”

Xiao Mu finally stopped and spun around sharply.

Only then did the gatekeeper notice that the young man’s entire body was trembling, sweat beading on his forehead, his face on the verge of tears. The gatekeeper’s grip loosened a little. Then he heard Xiao Mu say desperately: “I need to find someone!”

“Who are you looking for?” the gatekeeper asked.

“Zhuozhuo! Zhuozhuo!” Xiao Mu called out, shouting the name twice at the top of his lungs, and then surged forward again.

The gatekeeper grabbed his arm and barked: “Stop! How are you going to find anyone like this?!”

Xiao Mu went still, like something had been knocked out of him. His face, already pale, drained of any remaining color.

The gatekeeper softened his tone and held his arm firmly. “Come with me.”

The small room was much warmer. The gatekeeper had him stand in the corner, then took out his phone to confirm the details.

“Which class?” he asked.

Xiao Mu shook his head.

The gatekeeper started to say something, then thought better of it. He took a deep breath, and finally said only: “Then what year is she in?”

Xiao Mu shook his head again.

“Calm down,” the gatekeeper said. “Think carefully. How am I supposed to find her for you like this?”

“She’s about to go to university,” Xiao Mu said, his voice hoarse. “A very good university.”

“So she’s in her third year? Any other details?”

Xiao Mu pushed his hand into his pocket and after a moment drew out an ID card. On it was the name “Ye Yuncheng,” with an address listed as “Lü Village.”

The gatekeeper had a vague recollection of the name — a piece of mail had sat in their office for several days once.

He found the contact list and called the homeroom teacher of Class One.

The homeroom teacher was in the middle of teaching the class next door, just getting to the central theme of the text, when the buzz of her phone interrupted her. She knew that if it wasn’t urgent, the gatekeeper would have sent a text. She told her students she’d be a moment and stepped into the corridor to take the call.

“Hello, Teacher Gao, sorry to bother you — could you check with the office whether there’s a student in third year known as Zhuozhuo, who also knows someone by the name of Ye Yuncheng?”

The homeroom teacher turned toward the doorway of Class One and said: “That’s my student. What’s happened?”

The gatekeeper glanced at Xiao Mu and said carefully: “There’s someone at the gate asking for her — it seems urgent… but this person isn’t communicating clearly. I think it would be better if your student came down herself.”

“I’m a fool,” Xiao Mu said, pressing himself against the wall. He had both hands clutching his own hair and kept repeating the words over and over: “I’m a fool!”

The gatekeeper quickly said: “Please come quickly! This looks quite serious. He’s crying in here right now.”

The homeroom teacher said: “Understood. I’ll notify her immediately.”

By the time Fang Zhuo received the message and ran to the school gate, Xiao Mu completely broke down in tears.

He covered his face with his hands and wept loudly, which sent Fang Zhuo into a panic as well.

Fang Zhuo felt her throat had gone bone dry from running. She swallowed hard and asked: “What’s happened?”

Xiao Mu wiped his face and said haltingly: “They told me to come find you.”

Fang Zhuo asked patiently: “Who did?”

“The nurses. The doctors. Many people.” Recalling it all made the room feel like it was spinning. There had been too many people, too much chaos. He had held tightly to Ye Yuncheng’s hand and memorized what they had asked him to do. “He can’t speak anymore. They said you need to get to the hospital quickly.”

Fang Zhuo’s hands and feet went cold. The air she inhaled felt like a high-pressure bomb inside her chest, detonating again and again — boom, boom, boom — the sound so loud it drowned out her ability to think. She didn’t dare try to piece together what Xiao Mu’s words might actually mean.

It was only when the gatekeeper shook her by the shoulders that she realized the sound had been her own heartbeat all along.

The gatekeeper shouted at her: “I’ve called a taxi for you — the one right out front! Go now!” He then pressed a hundred yuan into her hand.

Fang Zhuo’s head was nearly spinning, but she forced herself to stay calm. She had taken two steps before she remembered to thank him, turning back to bow to the man.

Xiao Mu led Fang Zhuo through the hospital at a quick pace, murmuring numbers under his breath.

When he had left, he had memorized every corner and every corridor, afraid he wouldn’t be able to find his way back.

Halfway through, a nurse stopped them.

The nurse asked: “I told you to go find a guardian. Where are they?”

Xiao Mu recognized her and turned to point at Fang Zhuo.

Fang Zhuo quickly said: “I’m Ye Yuncheng’s guardian — well, not guardian exactly. I’m his family.”

The nurse noticed her school uniform and made a pained expression. “Is there no one else in your family? I told him to go fetch an adult.”

Fang Zhuo shook her head.

The nurse hesitated, then said: “All right then, go find the doctor first.”

“Acute cholecystitis. Surgery is required.”

Of everything the doctor said, those two phrases were the only ones that landed clearly in Fang Zhuo’s buzzing ears. She held her breath, waited for the doctor to finish, then asked: “Is it dangerous?”

The doctor across from her was fairly young, wearing glasses, and had a kind, knowledgeable manner. He said: “All surgeries carry some degree of risk, but gallbladder removal is one of the most common procedures in general surgery. There’s no need to worry too much.”

Fang Zhuo stiffened. “But Xiao Mu said he was in terrible pain. And he had a fever.”

“The symptoms of acute cholecystitis are indeed very intense — it’s a genuinely grueling condition. But the patient was brought in promptly. It’s been less than twenty-four hours since onset, and the inflammation and swelling haven’t fully set in yet, which makes the procedure more straightforward. We can arrange the operation once everything is in order.” The doctor looked at her and said gently: “Don’t be afraid.”

When she heard those three words, the floaty numbness in her limbs began to ground itself slightly.

The doctor tapped at his computer, then handed her the medical records card. When Fang Zhuo reached out to take it, she noticed that her hand was shaking violently. She quickly gripped her wrist with her other hand to steady it.

The doctor said: “The risk is low. Go settle the admission fee first.”

Fang Zhuo didn’t move. She looked down at the card in her hand and said quietly: “Doctor, how much does the surgery cost? How much does the national health insurance cover? Is it possible to pay in installments?”

The doctor looked up at her again, adjusted his glasses, and asked: “Is there no one else at home?”

Fang Zhuo shook her head. She worked to keep her expression composed, not letting the panic show, trying her best to come across as a capable and composed young adult.

“I will pay. Can you operate on him first? Please use the better medications too… I’m young. I’ll find a way to repay it.”

The doctor was quiet for a moment, then said: “We still have a few test results that haven’t come back. Once we confirm the surgery can go ahead, we’ll arrange the operating room and send him in. Go speak with the nurse first about what needs to be prepared, all right?”