My dad stared into my room for a few minutes, and I hesitated, unsure whether to speak to him.
Just then, Zhao Qin shouted loudly for him to come back inside, so he set his shovel aside and strode off.
I felt a bit restless and stifled. My room was small and stuffy, with mosquitoes buzzing around from time to time. Unable to stand it any longer, I walked outside. A damp, cool breeze brushed past my ears, and the air was soon filled with a moist, chilly atmosphere.
I thought about the two days since I’d been reborn. I had shaken off the scumbag who had entangled me for a lifetime, no longer held any feelings or expectations toward Zhao Qin, and had even met the person who had helped me in my past life. Things were looking up—there was progress at last. The days ahead would be better.
I went back to my room and gradually grew drowsy. I don’t know how long I slept before I suddenly felt cold all around—the blanket wasn’t warm enough at all.
I was about to sit up and find a pair of fleece pants to put on when I suddenly saw a violent, dazzling flash of light outside the window.
The courtyard lit up bright as day. Then came a deafening crack of thunder, and raindrops as big as beans hammered against the window. Almost simultaneously, a torrential downpour began outside.
I sat up and suddenly gasped—was something about to happen to Song Chuan!
If I remembered correctly, Song Chuan died on this very night.
He had heard people say that when the stream surged, the fish from the fish pond ahead would wash into the river, so he went out in the middle of the night to catch fish. He slipped and fell into the water and drowned. His mother searched for him like a madwoman, kowtowing at every house, and everyone joined the search.
But his body wasn’t found until a week later.
He had been soaked into a big white balloon of a corpse. His mother fainted on the spot and soon followed him in death.
My heart burned with anxiety. I knew someone was about to die—I couldn’t just ignore it.
I had to go save him! I jumped off the kang, grabbed a piece of clothing to cover my head, and rushed out.
A fierce gust of wind blew past, and the rain soaked right through me. I was chilled into sneezing several times. No good—I couldn’t get out like this. I remembered that my eldest brother’s room had raincoats and boots. Better to tell him. I hurried into his room.
He was snoring, but he woke the moment he heard the door open and mumbled, “What is it? Who’s there?”
“It’s me, Ge. I need to go out.” I lifted my brother’s hand and looked at it. On his wrist was a very old plum-blossom watch, a gift from a boss back when he worked away from home. It was 2:20. Who knew how long the rain had been falling—I hoped there was still time.
My brother shot up. “Are you crazy? Zhenzhen, it’s pouring out there!”
I was already pulling a raincoat on. “I saw Song Chuan yesterday. He said he was going to catch fish. In rain this heavy, something will happen to him. A life is a life no matter what—I have to go check on him.”
My brother jumped off the kang too. “I’ll go with you. My rain boots won’t fit you, they’re too big—just wear those sneakers, they’re ruined anyway. Bundle up. Put on my big fleece sweater too.”
I nodded without a word, and my brother and I hurriedly got dressed. He grabbed a flashlight, and the two of us rushed out. People in the village rarely locked their doors, so there was no worry about waking our parents.
We took a small path toward Song Chuan’s house, the dirt road already turned to mud. Every step was slippery, and in places the rain had washed away two-thirds of the path. My brother practically carried me through the worst stretches. Raindrops kept hammering down on us, and I was shivering with cold.
My brother comforted me: “It’s fine, we’ll be there soon!”
I grabbed his sleeve, heart pounding, too nervous for words—I didn’t want to die just two days after being reborn.
We staggered all the way to Song Chuan’s house and saw the place pitch dark. Their door wasn’t locked, and my brother pushed it open first.
We went straight into the back room where Song Chuan stayed—it was empty, just as I’d feared. The quilt was folded up neatly; he’d left at some point without anyone knowing.
My brother touched the bedding and looked up. “Let’s go! It’s still warm—he just left. To the river!”
I nodded and ran out with him. In rain this heavy, anyone who stepped into the river would surely be swept away by the flood.
A wave of regret washed over me. When I ran into Gao Shanfeng that afternoon, I’d been so happy I only cared about talking with him. If I had stopped by Song Chuan’s house to say something, to have Auntie Song keep an eye on him, none of this would have happened. If I was reborn and still couldn’t save his life, wouldn’t it all be my fault?
The crops on both sides had been beaten flat by the downpour, many corn stalks snapped by the wind, and lots of pumpkins that hadn’t even grown up yet were washed away, bobbing up and down in the water.
The drainage ditches along the road had all become black rivers, rushing and roaring—an angry water dragon.
“This rain is really coming down!” My brother took my hand and strode forward. Our clothes were soaked through; I was shivering all over, my face covered in rainwater. Luckily we were almost at the river, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
He swept his flashlight around, and I grabbed his arm, the wind pouring down my throat, making it hard to even speak.
“Anything? Do you see him?” I shouted.
“No… ah! There’s someone up ahead!”
I yelled urgently, “Get him to come back!” The two of us rushed over, shouting as we ran.
“Chuan-zi, come back! Don’t go in the water!”
A figure in a black raincoat stood on the riverbank. Startled by our shouts, they lurched, lost their footing, and sat down—it was a slope, so the person tumbled toward the river. A wave crashed over, and the water swallowed more than half of them.
They tried to struggle to their feet, but only sank deeper into the river, screaming in terror.
Hearing the voice, I realized it wasn’t Song Chuan at all—it was a woman!
But even if it wasn’t Song Chuan, we couldn’t just watch her die. My brother made a flying leap, landed at the river’s edge, and grabbed her around the waist, hauling her up with all his strength. She was covered in mud and water, incredibly heavy, and she clung to my brother, weeping.
“Save me!”
“Don’t worry, you’re fine—just relax! If you struggle like that, we’ll both die!” my brother shouted.
But the woman kept her eyes shut tight, silent, her arms still locked around my brother’s neck.
My brother helplessly dragged that girl, struggling with all his might to climb toward the bank. It was a small slope—almost every two steps forward, they’d slide back down. I hurried over to help too, shouting loudly for the woman to let go!
“You’re pulling on my brother so hard—are you a water ghost trying to drag him down with you?”
Hearing this, the woman couldn’t help but laugh, and her grip loosened considerably. My brother and I, both in a sorry state, pulled at her together and finally rescued the woman, hauling her up the slope.
The three of us collapsed onto the muddy ground, gasping for breath.
My brother panted as he looked at her: “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Thank you both.” The woman, still shaken, started crying again: “I remember there being a small bridge around here.”
It turned out she was heading from her aunt’s house to her grandmother’s, but when she got here, she found the road was gone. Just as she was panicking, she heard us shouting, got startled, and fell into the river.
My brother helped pick a few blades of grass out of her hair: “The bridge was probably washed away by the water. What’s a girl like you doing out here in the middle of the night?”
“Well, I had a fight with my cousin.” The girl wiped away her tears.
We didn’t have time to chat about her family matters right now.
My brother asked if she’d seen a young man come here to catch fish: “He’s not quite right in the head—he’s always giggling. About this tall. Did you see him?” My brother gestured with his hand.
The girl pointed ahead: “Yes, I did. He scared me half to death. But he ignored me and ran on ahead.”
“Let’s hurry and catch up!” My brother and I ran forward as fast as we could, slipping and falling several times.
Sure enough, before long we spotted Song Chuan, holding a net and about to go into the river. He had even carefully placed his shoes by the riverbank and rolled up his pant legs—utterly speechless. In rain this heavy, what good would leaving your shoes on the bank do? They’d get soaked anyway.
But there was no time to worry about shoes. We shouted together: “Don’t go in the water!”
Song Chuan couldn’t hear us—the rain was too loud. He was just stretching out one foot to test the water when his body tilted and he staggered. We all cried out, thinking he was about to fall.
My brother looked around, grabbed a rock from the ground, and hurled it at Song Chuan.
Thud! The rock hit Song Chuan square in the back.
Song Chuan turned around furiously and cursed: “Who did that? How dare you hit me!”
“It was us!” I rushed over, grabbed Song Chuan, and pulled hard toward the bank: “The rain is so heavy and the river is so high—you’ll die if you fall in!”
Song Chuan said: “No, I won’t. They say there are fish in here. I’m going to catch fish to eat! Sis, I’ll catch fish for you!”
My brother said: “The fish here have all been washed away. There are none left. Go home.”
“I don’t believe you. I’m going to catch fish!” When Song Chuan got stubborn, he was extraordinarily annoying. He kept insisting, crying out stubbornly like a little kid, determined to catch fish. Even with both my brother and me pulling at him, it was no use.
Just then, a bolt of lightning suddenly tore across the sky, briefly lighting up the night. Right in front of us appeared a mass of glowing, tree-branch-like lightning, winding and jagged, terrifying to behold. It was followed immediately by a huge, explosion-like clap of thunder, and the rain grew even heavier. The river surged past like a furious dragon, carrying with it countless tree roots and tangled vines swept down from upstream—and even a piglet from some unknown household had been washed away too, its bulky body flashing past in the floodwater in an instant.
I smacked Song Chuan on the back of the head: “See that? Do you think you’re heavier than that pig? Even the pig got swept away—what makes you think you’d fare any better?”