Qing Ye had never witnessed such a scene in her life. Many people, both familiar and unfamiliar faces, were frantically throwing water from bottles and basins, but it was like pouring drops into an ocean. The fire danced wildly in the bitterly cold wind, leaping higher within the blink of an eye, its flames reaching toward the sky.
People scattered in all directions as the fire truck’s sirens pierced the air. The surrounding tiles crackled and popped like countless hands drumming against the ground, creating a sharp, haunting sound.
Xing Wu abandoned his motorcycle, and Qing Ye watched helplessly as he ignored all warnings and rushed in with the firefighters.
At that moment, her world spun. She stood rooted to the spot, screaming Xing Wu’s name repeatedly, but he couldn’t hear her—or perhaps she could no longer hear her voice. Cries for help, shouts, and weeping surrounded her, the cacophony of soundless noise attacking from all directions, striking at Qing Ye’s very soul.
Grandmother was still inside, and Xing Wu wouldn’t abandon her, just as she had never abandoned him during his countless moments of rebelliousness in childhood.
Qing Ye’s heart pounded uncontrollably as she struggled to breathe. The world spun before her eyes. She saw Li Lanfang sitting opposite Xuan Dao, crying with disheveled hair, surrounded by her mahjong friends who kept trying to pull her up from the ground. She wept and cried out, “Wu Zi, don’t go in! Wu Zi, what will become of our family?”
Li Lanfang’s grief-stricken cries filled Qing Ye’s ears as her body grew increasingly cold, so cold her teeth chattered. She mechanically walked toward the fire but was stopped by the firefighters, who told her to retreat across the street as the building could collapse at any moment.
Dense smoke continuously billowed from inside toward the street, hitting her face and making it increasingly difficult to breathe. The fear she felt when her mother was covered with a white cloth resurfaced. She desperately called out Xing Wu’s name to the raging fire as tears streamed unstoppably from her eyes.
She didn’t know what to do or what else she could do. Her entire soul trembled as everything around her became blurred, unreal, and phantasmagorical.
Suddenly, a loud crash rang out, and a firefighter pushed her away, shouting, “Get across the street! The beam has collapsed!”
As she ran backward while looking back, she saw all the firefighters who had rushed in with Xing Wu running out, but Xing Wu wasn’t among them.
A large hole had burned through the roof, with thick smoke rising to the sky through it. The last thread holding Qing Ye together finally snapped. She recklessly rushed forward, grabbed a firefighter, and demanded, “Where’s the man who went in with you? Where is he?”
“He hasn’t come out!”
Qing Ye stumbled. Another firefighter nearby asked her, “What’s your relationship with him?”
“Family.”
“We’re preparing for a second rescue attempt. Prepare yourself mentally.”
Qing Ye stared blankly at the firefighters before her until they forcibly pulled her away.
She stood across the street, watching the towering flames, feeling as if she’d fallen into an ice cave. All surrounding sounds disappeared as the flames before she transformed into a terrifying hell, slowly pulling Xing Wu away from her. A powerful force suddenly erupted from within her body as she screamed desperately, “Xing Wu, come out! Xing Wu, I’m scared! Please come out! I’m begging you! Please come out…”
With a thunderous “boom,” the second floor collapsed. Gone—their home was gone. The place she had lived for half a year was gone forever. With that explosive sound, the last bit of strength seemed to be drained from her body. She slid to the ground, silently crying out, “Xing Wu… I can’t live without you…” She had never before realized this truth so clearly—he had silently taken root in her world, and if he left, her world would collapse with him.
Just then, a voice called out from the other end of the street: “Qing Ye!”
She turned her tear-filled eyes and miraculously saw Xing Wu emerging from the alley by the small shop, carrying Grandmother on his back as he ran toward them, looking completely disheveled.
She stumbled to her feet and rushed toward him, stopping before him in disbelief: “How did you get out?”
“Through Aunt Zhao’s back door. Here’s your computer—quick, take it. I can barely hold it.”
Qing Ye grabbed the laptop tucked under his arm and threw her arms around him, sobbing heavily: “You nearly scared me to death!”
Li Lanfang also ran over, and the three of them hugged together as if they had just returned from death’s door. With Grandmother on his back and his neck being squeezed by two women, Xing Wu could barely breathe and said helplessly, “Let me go first so I can put Grandmother down.”
After setting Grandmother down by the roadside, Xing Wu explained that the fire hadn’t reached the kitchen yet, but there were gas cylinders there. Fearing the fire might get out of control, he wouldn’t let Qing Ye and Li Lanfang approach Xuan Dao, and all the surrounding households had been evacuated.
After putting Grandmother down, Xing Wu ran to inform the firefighters about the fire situation in the backyard. Fortunately, they had all left the house after dinner, with Li Lanfang at her mahjong game, and Grandmother’s room was on the other side of the backyard. When Xing Wu rushed in, the fire hadn’t spread to her room, so he ran upstairs to grab the laptop and then carried Grandmother out through Aunt Zhao’s door.
Qing Ye stood at the intersection, trembling as she looked at the now unrecognizable Xuan Dao. Even the familiar three-colored lampshade at the entrance was completely shattered. She didn’t know what had caused the fire, but everything left her with a terrifying sense of aftermath.
Thankfully, the fire hadn’t caused any casualties, but Xuan Dao’s two-story building had become ruins. After being rescued, Grandmother sat by the roadside, rocking back and forth continuously, muttering strange sounds like some ancient incantation that made Qing Ye feel incredibly oppressed.
She wasn’t a weak person, and after confirming Xing Wu was safe, she had already stopped crying. Especially with Li Lanfang still crying, she couldn’t add to Xing Wu’s psychological burden by making him face three women on the verge of collapse alone.
She took off her white circular fleece jacket and draped it over Grandmother, then ran to the shop across the street to buy two bottles of water. She gave one to Li Lanfang and helped Grandmother drink some. As the jacket kept slipping down, she simply held it in place with her hand.
It took nearly an hour for the fire to be finally extinguished, and the firefighters left only after making thorough confirmations. By then, it was almost midnight, and the surrounding neighbors had gradually dispersed.
Across the empty street, Xing Wu turned to look at them. Qing Ye couldn’t tell what he was thinking—whether he felt his life was completely miserable, now homeless and burdened with three women.
But after only a brief pause, he strode toward them without hesitation, showing no apparent emotion, as if years of practice had taught him to hide his feelings well. At least Qing Ye couldn’t detect any cracks in his facade.
But she knew this was his home, where he had grown up. His heart couldn’t possibly be unmoved.
However, no matter how great the turmoil, Xing Wu couldn’t dwell on it now. The night was deep, and he needed to settle them first.
He told Li Lanfang and Qing Ye, “I just went in to check. Grandmother’s room is still okay. Let’s get her back there first.”
Grandmother still sat on the ground wrapped in Qing Ye’s jacket, looking dazed. Qing Ye said awkwardly, “I think Grandmother might have… soiled herself…”
She had smelled it earlier but didn’t know what to do. She had never encountered such an embarrassing situation and could only cover Grandmother with the jacket.
Xing Wu lifted the jacket to look, seeing a wet patch where she sat. Li Lanfang cried while cursing, “You old death-seeker, always causing trouble. What terrible fate made us stuck with such a dead weight…”
“Enough!” Xing Wu turned and roared at Li Lanfang. Qing Ye had never seen him like this and stared at him in shock.
Xing Wu lifted Grandmother onto his back and headed toward the backyard, with Li Lanfang helping support the old woman while still muttering complaints. Qing Ye followed silently behind them.
When she stepped into Xuan Dao again, the mirror she had cleaned days ago, the familiar chairs, the worn sofa, the cash register, the hair-washing bed, the mahjong table—everything was unrecognizable. She stood in the middle of Xuan Dao and looked up. Ironically, she could see the night sky through the broken roof. At that moment, she suddenly realized that this last shelter from wind and rain had completely vanished in the great fire.
She didn’t know how to describe her feelings either—despair? Confusion? Collapse? Sadness? All seemed trivial. She just felt like she was dreaming, everything happening before her eyes seemed unreal, not like her own life, becoming increasingly phantasmal.
She shifted her gaze to the darkness ahead. There was no back door anymore; just a few steps led to the backyard. The wooden table and shelter where they usually ate hadn’t escaped the fire either. The wall outside the kitchen was completely blackened, and the glass had shattered. Looking inside through the window, she saw the area around the water station was a complete mess, but fortunately, the fire hadn’t reached the gas cylinder area.
She turned and walked toward Grandmother’s room, suddenly feeling grateful that Grandmother’s room was built separately on the other side of the backyard. Otherwise, she dared not imagine what devastatingly destructive impact this fire might have had on Xing Wu.
She quickly walked to the doorway as Li Lanfang passed her with a basin, crying and cursing, “Troublesome old woman, won’t let people have peace even when dying…”
Qing Ye had never seen Li Lanfang like this. Although she usually complained and grumbled, she always maintained that stern appearance. When had she ever appeared so fragile and about to collapse?
She entered Grandmother’s room to find her lying on the bed, the room filled with a terrible stench. Xing Wu was searching for clean clothes to change her into, with a large basin on the floor, presumably for washing her.
Li Lanfang quickly returned, pouring hot water into the basin. Qing Ye rolled up her sleeves and said, “Let me do it.”
Hearing her voice, Xing Wu suddenly looked up, his gaze terrifyingly sharp. He abruptly stood up, strode to the door, and pulled Qing Ye out of Grandmother’s room, shutting the door firmly behind them.
Heavy clouds covered the moonlight, and the silent night seemed completely enveloped in darkness without a trace of light. But in that second, before the door closed, Qing Ye still caught a glimpse of embarrassment flashing across Xing Wu’s face.
He told her, “You… maybe wait in the kitchen for now. It’s cold outside. I’ll find you a place to rest after I’m done with Grandmother.”
Black soot covered his sharp jawline, its smooth lines tightly drawn, his deep eyes revealing undisguised exhaustion. Under Qing Ye’s gaze, he avoided eye contact.
Qing Ye understood his shame. He didn’t want her to see the scene inside, didn’t want to show her any more of this wretchedness.
In that instant, Qing Ye wanted to cry, but she knew she couldn’t—not now, not in front of him. He didn’t need sympathy or pity; things were bad enough, and she couldn’t make him feel worse. She needed to preserve his last shred of dignity.
So she held back her tears and said, “Okay.”
Xing Wu turned and went back inside, but Qing Ye didn’t wait in the kitchen. She ran out her tears like icy knives in the bitter wind. She had never known life could be so difficult, every step like running on razor blades. A seemingly calm boat could sink with just one wave, and no one knew where or when the next wave would strike.
After about fifteen minutes, Qing Ye knocked on Grandmother’s door. Xing Wu opened it, and she handed him a package, breathless: “Use these for Grandmother. They might help.”
Xing Wu looked down at the feminine products Qing Ye held out to him. He didn’t know how she had obtained these items at past midnight when the streets were empty. He just frowned deeply as he looked at the sweating Qing Ye, choking slightly as he said, “Go drink some water. I’ll be done soon.”
Qing Ye nodded, but again, she didn’t wait in the kitchen. Instead, she walked back into the ruins, where the night was as silent as the day she first arrived as if she were the only person left in the world.
Her heart, which had been unsettled all day, suddenly calmed at this moment. Standing at what used to be Xuan Dao’s entrance, she silently gazed at the devastated street and suddenly thought of many questions.
Where would they live now? The hair salon was gone—what about their source of income? Liu Nian and Du Qiyan would lose their jobs too. Many problems came rushing in, making Qing Ye suddenly feel an invisible mountain pressing down on her head. She seemed to suddenly understand the weariness and deep helplessness in Xing Wu’s eyes—what kind of pressure was this that made one buckle under its weight?
She let out a long sigh and crouched down, hugging her knees with her brows tightly furrowed. Suddenly, something flashed, and Qing Ye’s wandering gaze returned to the ground, where she saw a metal ring. She nudged it with her foot, revealing a Q-version Kamen Rider attached to a deformed metal ring.
She didn’t pay much attention at first and stood up, but when her gaze fell on the Kamen Rider again, she suddenly had an indescribable feeling. She felt she had seen this object before, and recently too, somewhere, but she couldn’t remember where no matter how hard she tried.
She bent down again to pick up the Kamen Rider figurine. Xing Wu called from the backyard: “Qing Ye, where are you?”
Qing Ye slipped the Kamen Rider into her pocket and turned around to answer, “I’m here.”