It was around five in the morning when she walked out of the train station, the quietest moment on the streets—when predators had retreated and the new sun had yet to rise. Qiao Qingyu, wrapped tightly in her down jacket, trudged against the bone-chilling wind, her steps so light she felt she might be blown away at any moment.

Passing by a late-night food stall that was closing up, she was called to stop.

“Young lady, did you run away from home?”

The person asking was the proprietress who was about to pull down the shutters. She had a northern accent and a sturdy build. Seeing Qiao Qingyu standing there in a daze without responding, the proprietress walked over. “I remember that pretty face of yours—you left earlier without finishing your noodles… It’s cold outside, come in and warm up!”

In her confused state, Qiao Qingyu was pulled inside before the shutters came down. As the metal door screeched shut, she suddenly came to her senses: “No, why are you locking me in here?”

“I felt sorry for you, thought I’d make you a bowl of noodles,” the proprietress smiled kindly. “After you eat, you should go home. A young girl like you shouldn’t be out alone—it’s dangerous!”

A steaming bowl of fragrant chicken noodles with vegetables was quickly served. Qiao Qingyu stirred it listlessly with her chopsticks, finding she had no appetite. Her hands felt too heavy to lift—she had a high fever, and rest was what she needed most. But Qiao Qingyu knew she needed to eat, and not wanting to waste the proprietress’s kindness, she forced herself to finish the noodles, one bite at a time.

After finishing, she took the bowl to the kitchen: “I’m sorry, I don’t have any money.”

“Don’t worry about it,” the proprietress waved dismissively. “Now hurry home—there’s no place better than home.”

While the proprietress washed dishes, Qiao Qingyu stood to the side, trying to organize her muddled thoughts. When the proprietress finished, Qiao Qingyu spoke up: “Ma’am, could I work here for a couple of days? I can do kitchen work—washing dishes, cutting vegetables, prep work, cooking noodles—I know how to do it all… I’m seventeen already, and I’m not running away from home. I was planning to go to Shanghai for work, but my money, ID, and phone were stolen at the train station… I just need enough for the fare to Shanghai and some money for food and calls…”

“Here, use my phone to make a call,” the proprietress said, pulling out her mobile. “Call your family and see if they can send you some money.”

Qiao Qingyu took the phone but didn’t dial, desperately trying to convince the proprietress: “We don’t have any relatives in Huan Prefecture. Even if I called, they wouldn’t send money—it would be too much trouble.”

“You lost your ID—how can I trust you to work here?” the proprietress spread her hands. “With people coming and going, what if you steal money from the register?”

“I’ll stay in the kitchen only,” Qiao Qingyu raised her right hand in oath. “I absolutely won’t steal.”

The proprietress looked at her for a long while before reluctantly nodding: “Find somewhere to sleep and come back tomorrow at three in the afternoon.”

“Could I rest here in the shop?”

“No way—if you take money from the register, how would I find you?”

Her concern was reasonable. So Qiao Qingyu dragged her leaden legs, following the proprietress out the back door, through the greasy alley, to the cold and desolate street corner. She watched helplessly as the proprietress put on her thick scarf, gloves, and hat before mounting her electric scooter. Standing to the side, Qiao Qingyu opened her mouth, almost begging the proprietress to take her along and lend her a blanket to sleep on.

“May I borrow your phone?” she asked instead.

Taking the phone a second time, Qiao Qingyu steadied herself and dialed the simple number she knew by heart.

She hadn’t prepared what to say. During those brief seconds waiting for the connection, her anxious heart nearly jumped out of her throat. But soon, like a deflated balloon, she wilted.

Ming Sheng’s phone was switched off.

It wasn’t until she returned the phone to the proprietress that Qiao Qingyu remembered Ming Sheng was in New York. Her fever had muddled her thinking—

How strong can one person be? After dozing for a few hours back at the train station and showing up on time to work at the night food stall despite her illness, Qiao Qingyu began to admire her resilience and believed she was unbreakable, certain she would make it to Shanghai.

The agreed wage with the proprietress was fifty yuan per day, meals included, paid daily. The cook was a man in his forties who rarely spoke except to direct Qiao Qingyu’s work. Due to her fever, her movements were notably clumsy, but the cook didn’t seem to mind. When night fell and the shop got busy, after continuously washing dishes by the sink for over ten minutes, Qiao Qingyu suddenly blacked out and fell backward, hitting the back of her head on the edge of the stove. The pain made her see stars.

A few minutes later, the proprietress found her leaning against the wall with closed eyes outside the back door.

“Over here!” she called out.

Qiao Qingyu startled awake, opening her eyes to find He Feihai’s face before her.

Her first instinct was to flee. But as soon as she lifted her leg, He Feihai grabbed her: “Qingqing!”

Almost simultaneously, Qiao Qingyu shouted: “I won’t go back!”

“Your parents are worried sick!” He Feihai’s voice carried a severity Qiao Qingyu had never heard before. “You… this is absurd!”

The word “absurd” seemed to burst straight from his chest, and Qiao Qingyu knew He Feihai was truly angry.

“Is this what you want? Working illegally at a food stall?” He Feihai moved in front of her, and noticing her unnaturally flushed cheeks, checked her forehead with the back of his hand. “You have a high fever.”

“I’d rather die out here than return to that ignorant, cold, and authoritarian home.”

He Feihai let out a long sigh before returning to his usual gentleness: “It’s not as bad as you say, Qingqing. Even if you hate them, you shouldn’t do something like this, hurting everyone in the family.”

Before Qiao Qingyu could respond, he took a big step forward and grabbed her arm: “Come on, let’s go home.”

“I won’t go back,” Qiao Qingyu struggled. “I won’t!”

He Feihai held her tightly while reaching for his phone with his other hand. Seeing him about to make a call, Qiao Qingyu quickly snatched the phone away.

“Don’t call my parents!”

“Stop joking around,” He Feihai looked incredulous. “Do you know how worried everyone is? Your parents rushed to Huan Prefecture last night, they’ve been searching every bus station today, and they’re still at the train station! Your grandfather, uncle, and aunt also came to Huan Prefecture today! Everyone’s afraid something might happen to you!”

“Are they worried? Or do they just want to drag me back for questioning? Brother He,” Qiao Qingyu quickly countered, “You must have seen the note in the candy box. Now you know what my sister went through. Don’t you feel any sympathy for her?”

As if choked, He Feihai’s mouth opened but no sound came out.

“Brother He, did you attend Brother Jinrui’s wedding yesterday?”

After a long silence, He Feihai shook his head: “I only went over after hearing there was trouble at Jinrui’s wedding that evening.”

Qiao Qingyu felt slightly comforted and gained more trust in He Feihai: “I know exactly what I’m doing. I planned this—even if you find me, I won’t go back. I despise my family.”

“But you have a fever,” He Feihai said softly, still trying to persuade her. “And your grandmother fainted at the wedding yesterday from anger.”

Qiao Qingyu shook her head: “My decision won’t change. Don’t avoid my question, Brother He. Sister was abused by Brother Jinrui when she was twelve—doesn’t that break your heart? Brother Jinrui ruined sister’s youth—don’t you hate him?”

He Feihai blinked slowly twice: “Qiao Baiyu has already left. Even if I hate Brother Jinrui, I couldn’t act as impulsively as you have, involving so many innocent people. Now everyone knows what happened, and your family’s reputation, built up over the years, has been destroyed overnight. Your whole family has been dragged through the mud.”

“No one is innocent,” Qiao Qingyu shook her head. “My grandparents, uncle and aunt, my parents—they helped cover up Jinrui’s evil past, giving him the confidence to be heartless. They’re all accomplices.”

He Feihai sighed deeply again.

“I know what it feels like to be dragged through the mud. For the past three years, I’ve hated my sister, feeling like her ghost was haunting and ruining my life,” Qiao Qingyu continued. “I used to be proud of my innocent, unblemished family. But after discovering this, I understand—it wasn’t sister who dragged us through the mud, it was the whole family who forced her into it.”

“It’s not that dramatic,” He Feihai said softly, though without conviction. “Before, Qiao Baiyu was very cheerful. Honestly, no one could tell she had experienced…”

“She was suffering inside!”

Perhaps due to her agitation, Qiao Qingyu’s vision went black again. Seeing her stumble two steps, He Feihai grabbed her sleeve: “Whatever the case, you’re sick, you must…”

“Lend me money.” Qiao Qingyu steadied herself.

“What?”

“All my money was stolen.”

“Let me find you a hotel to rest.”

“So you can call my parents?”

He Feihai remained silent. Finally, he said: “You can’t stay away from home forever. Besides, your parents reported you missing to the police this afternoon. Every station and hotel has your photo now—you can’t leave Huan Prefecture, you have nowhere to go.”

“Lend me money,” Qiao Qingyu repeated. “If you don’t want me to die out here.”

As soon as He Feihai stepped out the shop’s front door, Qiao Qingyu slipped out the back. She had seen him discussing something with the proprietress before leaving. She ran through the dim, greasy passage, hearing the proprietress calling out something as she turned the corner, but she didn’t look back.

A taxi with its “vacant” sign lit up was parked by the road. Without thinking, she got in.

The driver flicked his cigarette out the window and asked her destination. She said “Anling Cemetery.” Seeing the driver’s startled expression in the rearview mirror, she changed it to “hospital.”

“That’s more like it,” the driver stepped on the gas confidently. “What would you be doing at a cemetery in the dark of night? Which hospital?”

“I’m not familiar with the area,” Qiao Qingyu said. “I have a fever and feel terrible—just take me to the nearest one.”

After about ten minutes, she saw a red cross with a white center by the roadside. Only after paying did she see the hospital’s name: Provincial First People’s Hospital.

The emergency department was straight ahead. With the five hundred yuan He Feihai had given her, Qiao Qingyu walked in with peace of mind.

Faced with the doctor’s advice to drink more water and get more rest, Qiao Qingyu insisted on getting an IV.

“I need to get better quickly,” she told the doctor. “As fast as possible.”

Reluctantly, the doctor gave her a prescription slip. Taking it to the infusion room, watching the nurse insert the needle into the vein on the back of her hand, Qiao Qingyu’s head tilted to one side, and she quickly fell asleep again.

She was awakened by a child’s crying, just as the glass bottle above her head emptied. She called the nurse to remove the needle. The infusion room’s sofa chairs were wide and soft. Remembering what He Feihai said about hotels having her photo, Qiao Qingyu thought staying in the hospital’s infusion room wouldn’t be bad. Looking around, she saw an elderly man receiving an IV to her right front, with a thick blanket covering his knees. Qiao Qingyu quietly went to sit in the seat beside him, pretending to be his companion, closed her eyes, and quickly fell asleep again.

This time she slept longer, perhaps because she was truly exhausted and surrounded by the warm air from the air conditioning. It was her first relatively peaceful sleep in days. What woke her was chaos outside the infusion room. Several medical staff in white uniforms were running back and forth shouting, and the wheels of hospital beds were making harsh scraping sounds against the smooth floor.

Faintly, Qiao Qingyu heard someone shouting: “Has Director Wen arrived?”

“He’s almost here!” another running voice shouted back. “The director just returned from America last night, and hasn’t even had time to adjust to the jet lag…”

“Take them straight to the operating room!”

The elderly man beside her had left at some point, but the brown blanket was covering Qiao Qingyu’s legs. Suddenly, she understood why she had slept so soundly.

She carried the blanket, wandering around the lobby for two rounds, but didn’t see the elderly man. It was only seven o’clock, but long queues had already formed at the outpatient registration counters. There was staff at the nurses’ station. Qiao Qingyu handed the blanket to a nurse, deciding to leave the increasingly noisy hospital and head to Anling Cemetery.

Outside the outpatient department, an empty taxi was just about to start moving. Qiao Qingyu rushed over but collided with someone in a suit at the entrance.

“I’m downstairs,” the person was on the phone and didn’t look at Qiao Qingyu, just slightly nodding his head in apology.

Although he hurried to the elevator, Qiao Qingyu saw clearly—it was Director Wen, Ming Sheng’s father.

The taxi outside had just left. Behind it was parked a black car, with a short, stocky man standing beside it, chatting with a passing nurse.

“Director Wen kept urging me to hurry, but the road was slippery, I didn’t dare drive too fast,” the man said. “Where was the accident?”

“On the Huan-Shun Highway,” the nurse said, shaking her head. “It was even a wedding car, full of white roses. They say it’s too horrible to look at, the bride and groom both… It’s tragic.”

“Ah,” the man sighed, “a happy occasion turned tragic.”

Huan-Shun Highway, wedding car, white roses.

Fear spread rapidly through her entire body, leaving Qiao Qingyu paralyzed.