Huan’er’s memory of that day was filled with trees. Thick trunks, swaying leaves, the bright green of the forest park obscuring the azure sky. Then she learned that Jing Ba had sacrificed his life – trapped forever in that distant forest by a sudden wildfire.

How cruel nature can be. Wildflowers wither and bloom again, vegetation turns yellow then green, rivers freeze and thaw – it holds the privilege of rebirth, and selfishly keeps that privilege to itself.

It takes a life without any regard for the family left behind, torn apart with grief.

Her mother didn’t return that night. She told Huan’er there were many people, better not to come yet.

Near dawn, Song Cong sent a message: I saw Qi Chi, he’s not doing well, so better ask for leave for him tomorrow.

He wouldn’t be alright.

Life, which creates accidents without reason, wouldn’t know. Fate, which plays its jokes at will, wouldn’t know. Nature, the unreasonable culprit, wouldn’t know either – that when one person leaves, they take another with them.

That night, many were sleepless.

The next day during break, Huan’er went to Teacher Xu’s office, saying she wanted to request a few days’ leave for Jing Qi Chi, as his family had matters to attend to.

Teacher Xu didn’t pay much attention, “Have him call me himself, or his parents.”

“Teacher Xu,” Huan’er’s nose stung with emotion, “Jing Qi Chi’s father… has sacrificed his life.”

She just realized that Qi Chi couldn’t make the call, and no one at home would either. Requesting leave seemed insignificant compared to what he was going through.

Teacher Xu’s expression turned solemn, “When did it happen?”

“Yesterday morning.” No one knew the exact time, only that the body was found yesterday morning. She had even covered for him then, saying Qi Chi had returned to school with another class.

Just one day.

“Stop crying now.” Teacher Xu sighed, “This kid’s going to have a tough year.”

First, his professional dream shattered, then losing a family member – heaven seemed to have randomly picked someone to vent its fury upon, and helpless people could only endure this hell-like torment.

If it were unknowing children, it might be different – their memories not being strong enough to make the pain last as long. But they weren’t children anymore. In this first transition period of their long lives, these youths were racing toward adulthood, their emotions at their richest and most intense, their understanding constantly accumulating, and their hopes for the vast future unlimited. They would remember everything they experienced during this time, and it would seep into every inch of their skin like a tattoo – vivid, painful, profound.

Huan’er’s tears fell harder.

Teacher Xu stood up and patted her back in consolation, “Weather brings unexpected storms, fortune changes in an instant. As a friend, the most important thing now is to accompany them through difficult times. Compose yourself and go back to class.”

Huan’er spent that day in a daze, even Du Man noticed something was wrong and asked several times if she was feeling unwell. She couldn’t describe her feelings, only repeatedly recalling how Jing Ba had smiled at them that summer day in the vineyard, touching his face. Such a good elder, such a strong and healthy person – how could heaven bear to let him leave this world?

Huan’er asked Du Man, “Do you miss home when you’re boarding at school?”

“It’s okay,” Du Man hesitated, “My home isn’t far. My parents work hard enough as it is, I board so they won’t have to tire themselves out for me.”

A family of three – even if they could only reunite on weekends, they were still a complete family.

Huan’er mumbled, “We’re all so fortunate.”

“Mm.” Du Man responded, flipping a few pages in the vocabulary book in front of her, “Quick, study this, we have a test, next class.”

Humans, self-proclaimed superior beings at the top of the food chain, are merely ants in the vast universe – fragile and insignificant. Fate’s cruelest act isn’t knocking us down, but never giving us the chance to step into the ring at all.

She saw Jing Qi Chi again a week later.

After a long silence, he sent a message: Come to the base.

Huan’er was halfway through her English essay, but immediately dropped her pen, told her mother, and ran downstairs. This must be what they mean by days feeling like years. She knew the unit had held a memorial service for Jing Ba, knew Qi Chi’s grandmother had fallen ill from the stress which was why he hadn’t been home, knew Jing Ma had returned to work though her mother said Aunt Lin was just numbing herself, forcing herself to cope. She knew all this but dared not ask anything. Questions would only increase the grief. All she could do was check her phone countless times each day, silently vowing to appear instantly if needed.

Finally, she saw him. A dejected figure before the cedar tree, like a ghost easily melting into the night. Huan’er ran forward without catching her breath, hearing him murmur to himself, “If only trees could talk.”

If trees could talk, I wouldn’t need apologies or questions, I just want to know what that warrior was like in his final moment.

Such a simple thing had become a mystery.

“Qi Chi,” Huan’er called out, nearly in tears.

Jing Qi Chi looked up, then slowly sat down without a word.

He looked at the tree shadows, the night sky, and the lit and unlit windows of the hospital building. Huan’er could only look at him, following his gaze, trying to understand what these most ordinary things meant to him.

“Let me tell you a joke,” Jing Qi Chi suddenly spoke, continuing without waiting for a response, “I accidentally saw my mom’s phone. That night wasn’t my dad’s shift, but do you know why he switched?”

Huan’er didn’t understand his meaning and shook her head.

“Want to guess?” Jing Qi Chi asked with a smile, but his smiling eyes were crying.

He wiped his eyes, “It was for me. Because the next afternoon there was a meeting scheduled with a coach from the municipal sports school. They said they wanted to know more about my situation, see if there was a possibility of transferring there to continue playing football.”

Jing Qi Chi cried with restraint, just wiping his tears one by one, almost soundlessly.

So that’s why Jing Ba had switched shifts with his colleague, why he had been forever consumed by that forest fire.

Everything was coincidental beyond words.

Huan’er gently patted his back, “That was an accident, it’s not your fault.”

“He knew I wasn’t resigned to it, knew I still wanted to play football. He was always asking around for me, trying to find opportunities for me… Huan’er, I know I shouldn’t think this way, but really, it shouldn’t have been him, the person who left shouldn’t have… shouldn’t have been my dad…”

His voice grew softer and softer until only sobs remained.

Perhaps the Jing family’s devastation had completed another family’s wholeness – Huan’er didn’t know how to view this fact.

The reason there’s no absolute justice in the world is that what’s happened cannot be changed, and all we can do is seek relative balance through compensation – like how the person who hurt Song Ma was sentenced to two and a half years, or how Jing Ba was posthumously honored as a martyr, becoming a brave and strong role model in many people’s hearts. Even if only relative, humanity had shown its warmth with the utmost sincerity. This was an unshakeable order and a consolation filled with genuine comfort.

“It’s not your fault.” Facing her friend sinking in the quagmire of self-blame, Huan’er desperately wanted to pull him out but found herself powerless. She could only repeatedly say it’s not your fault, not your fault at all.

Finally, Jing Qi Chi wiped away his tears and stared blankly up at the building beside them, “So many times, I’ve thought about jumping from there. I want to see him, want to apologize to him.”

His gaze was fixed on the hospital roof.

Huan’er suddenly cupped his face, their eyes meeting as she told him word by word, “Don’t even think about it.”

No, impossible, forbidden.

Jing Qi Chi smiled, patting her hand with red-rimmed eyes, “You go back first, I want to stay alone for a while.”

Huan’er had to leave. He had many things to say to his father, he needed uninterrupted time.

Walking from the base back to the residential compound, she deliberately passed by the Jing family’s building. The living room light was on, that light so pale and haggard. Turning toward her own home, with each floor she climbed, the motion sensor lights of two consecutive floors would illuminate. A certain feeling grew stronger and stronger, like a fist pressing outward against her heart’s membrane, forcefully. By the time she reached her door, her entire heart felt pierced through, her body making a thunderous sound, and she turned to sprint back downstairs.

The base was empty. She ran up to the hospital roof in one breath, but the door was locked tight, impossible to open despite her fierce rattling. Chen Huan’er began searching – the hospital, residential compound, affiliated elementary school – this area was only so big, where could he have gone?

The phone calls went unanswered, her head constantly echoing with explosive sounds, and she felt she would shatter.

She ran along the main road searching, and as if guided by some force, she found Jing Qi Chi at the construction site where they had once fought.

He was lying spread-eagled in the middle of the road, motionless.

Chen Huan’er rushed over, running so hard she nearly fell several times, her mind completely blank.

No blood, no injuries, just eyes empty and bottomless on the ground.

She frantically pulled him up, dragging him to the roadside, not hesitating to slap him, “Jing Qi Chi, what are you trying to do? Get your act together, damn it!”

He wanted to die.

But he didn’t know if death was the right choice.

So he chose to leave it to heaven – if cars stopped, he would live on; if they ran him over, then that was meant to be.

The most impossible thing was that on such a deep night, in these deserted ruins, he was saved.

Chen Huan’er rubbed his face, shook his shoulders, and grabbed his hair, but the person before her was like a walking corpse, impossible to wake.

She furiously punched his face, “Say something!”

The blow was heavy, heavy enough to make Jing Qi Chi stagger back a step. He slowly raised his head, pleading, “Huan’er, hit me. How I wish someone would hit me, scold me, torture me, but everyone just says it’s okay, they don’t blame me, things will get better. How can things get better? How on earth can things ever get better?”

Under the flickering street lamp, a private car sped past, leaving only the roar of its engine in the air.