She had a pent-up, ugly anger with nowhere to vent. Her gaze swept over the ground, deliberately looking for small stones to take it out on.
She spotted a sharp-edged pebble and swung her foot, kicking it hard—
The stone shot off with a whoosh, struck the earthen wall by the roadside, bounced once, and rolled into the grass.
Hmph! Damn Jiang Muchen!
Then she saw a smooth, round river stone and kicked it forcefully again—her toe slammed into it through the thin sole of her shoe, sending a dull ache shooting up.
She sucked in a sharp breath, her brows knitting even tighter, her anger flaring hotter.
It was all his fault! Because of him, she’d gotten scolded by her dad!
She practically picked a fight with every slightly noticeable stone along the road, walking and kicking as she went.
Some of the stones she sent flying splashed into the ditch, stirring up muddy water; some rolled into the cracked fissures of the dry fields by the roadside; one nearly hit a foraging chicken, startling it into flapping its wings and clucking as it ran off.
Her kicks were wide and forceful, filled with displaced anger and a childish need to vent.
After a while, there were no stones left underfoot. Jiang Muchen glanced back at her and suddenly stopped.
Ling Yue stopped as well, instinctively lifting her head in alertness.
She saw Jiang Muchen turn around, bend down, and begin carefully rummaging through the dust and weeds by the roadside.
Before long, he straightened up, holding several stones of different sizes in his hands—none of them sharp, all fairly smooth. He walked up to Ling Yue, still silent, and cautiously placed the small handful of stones at her feet, one by one.
Neatly arranged.
After finishing, he stepped back half a pace and looked up at her again.
His eyes seemed to say: Go on. Kick them. I picked them for you.
Ling Yue froze completely, a tingling creeping over her scalp. She truly thought this guy was a freak. He tilted his head slightly toward her, turning the ear with the hearing aid to face her, as if waiting for her to say something.
“I don’t like you,” she said coldly. “I don’t like you at all.”
Jiang Muchen squatted down. The light in his eyes dimmed bit by bit. His lips moved faintly. She frowned and bent down to hear him.
“I’m not dirty…”“I’m not dirty…”
The whisper was so soft it was almost a sigh, nearly carried away by the wind.
Jiang Muchen crouched there, curled in on himself like a stray puppy soaked by the rain with nowhere to go. His head was lowered. Ling Yue barely caught those words, filled with a stubborn, almost pitiful attempt at self-defense.
She let out a quiet sigh and lifted her foot, continuing forward.
Jiang Muchen followed. She glanced at the hearing aid on his left ear and asked, “Your ear… what happened to it?”
The question seemed to catch Jiang Muchen off guard.
At the same time, he felt a flicker of surprise—she actually wanted to know about his past…
“When I was little… I had a fever. After that, I couldn’t hear anymore.”
As he spoke, Jiang Muchen hoped Ling Yue might feel sorry for him—at least spare him a few more glances, maybe pat his head. But she said nothing, just kept walking ahead, which left him quietly disappointed.
The two of them walked one behind the other in silence.
The dirt road gradually sloped upward, leading toward the base of a low hill. Jiang Muchen was very familiar with the area. He took the lead, his steps steady as he walked ahead.
“Up there,” he suddenly said, “you can see the whole village.”
Ling Yue looked up. At the end of the mountain path was a relatively flat stretch of land, where several massive boulders stood abruptly.
She hesitated for a moment—then followed him up.