The bus came to a stop.
At some point, rain had begun to fall without anyone noticing. Umbrellas pressed against umbrellas along the street, people crowding shoulder to shoulder, their laughter and chatter thick in the damp air.
Night had already begun. Neon signboards flickered to life.
Through the curtain of rain, the Walled City, spanning barely six and a half acres, looked like a film set, dazzling with a riot of colors that left the eyes overwhelmed.
And within it, no one knew what kind of script they were about to perform next, whether it would unfold as tragedy or joy.
Lin Yansheng walked the entire way, murmuring instructions and reassurances. “…The tuition for this semester has already been paid, so go to school without worry. As for next semester, there’s no rush. I’ll find a way to manage it.”
Suddenly, Qin Shun spoke up. “Are you going to keep building your pile of debts even higher?”
Lin Yansheng faltered.
He turned his head, meeting Qin Shun’s gaze.
The boy did not look rebellious, only cold and distant, his eyes dark and heavy.
Lin Yansheng’s heart skipped uneasily.
Still, it was understandable for a child who had just lost his mother to lash out.
He softened his voice. “These things aren’t for children to worry about. Just focus on your studies. Things will work themselves out when the time comes. Don’t be afraid, A’Shun. You still have your uncle.”
Qin Shun gave no response, nor did he make a sound.
At last, they reached home.
The place looked exactly the same as when they had left that morning yet an inexplicable emptiness hung in the air.
Leftover food sat on the table beneath a cover.
“Are you hungry?” Lin Yansheng asked. “I’ll heat the rice for you.”
Qin Shun glanced at his hands.
Aside from teaching calligraphy, Lin Yansheng was also a writer of modest reputation.
It was an era when good writing could command high demand, paper was said to be worth its weight in gold in Luoyang. Compared to doing manual labor, it was better to produce a few more manuscripts. When he had been single, he wrote with ease; now, his knuckles had grown misshapen from overwork, wrapped in strips of adhesive bandages.
“I’ll do it,” Qin Shun said. “Don’t you still have a manuscript to submit, Uncle?”
Lin Yansheng did not refuse.
By the time dinner was ready, the night had fully settled.
They had been behind on water and electricity bills for three months and for half a month now the lights no longer worked.
It was truly embarrassing.
At the time, Lin Yansheng could only laugh it off, making light of their hardship as he coaxed A’Shun. “Just like people in ancient times, work at sunrise, rest at sunset. Quite healthy, isn’t it?”
After filling their stomachs, he lit a kerosene lamp that had been used for decades, its glass chimney stained yellow by soot, preparing to spend the night hunched over his desk to finish his writing.
In the moonlight, A’Shun’s back was clearly visible.
He had changed back into his cheap cotton shirt and jeans, keeping his head lowered as he worked without a word.
By midnight,
“A’Shun, stop for today. Whatever it is can wait until tomorrow. You’re still young. Go to bed early so you can grow properly,” Lin Yansheng couldn’t help but say.
Qin Shun paused, then replied, “Uncle, the bedroom is empty now. You can sleep there. I’ll go spread the sheets.”
He naturally assumed he would continue sleeping on the sofa in the living room.
After several days of rushing about, Lin Yansheng was utterly exhausted yet sleep would not come.
A faint, bitter medicinal scent lingered in the air, curling softly around his nose. He rose and called toward the doorway, “A’Shun, are you asleep?”
A rustling sound followed. Barefoot, Qin Shun came when summoned and asked in a quiet, toneless voice, “Uncle, what is it?”
“I was worried you might be hiding somewhere to cry,” Lin Yansheng said.
In truth, during the two years they had known each other, he had never once seen A’Shun cry, not even a single time. All afternoon, he had watched him carefully.
There had been a fleeting moment when Qin Shun’s expression twisted slightly. Lin Yansheng had thought, Is he going to cry?
But Qin Shun did not cry. He only shook his head.
When even a child did not weep, Lin Yansheng felt embarrassed to shed tears himself. The thought weighed heavily on him. What would happen if you simply said, “I miss Mom”? As long as you said it, I could echo you. Then we could cry together, clinging to each other like a real father and son.
Since childhood, Qin Shun had followed his mother from place to place, living under the roofs of others. He had learned to read expressions well. In the dimness, he reached out and took hold of Lin Yansheng’s hand, which rested against his cheek.
Kneeling by the bedside in that half human, half beast manner, he said, “Uncle, I will never forget your kindness to me for the rest of my life. In the future, I will repay you a hundredfold.”
Lin Yansheng was startled, then smiled. “You’re a child, not a promissory note.”
His voice softened. “You’re still a secondary school student, already thinking about soaring to great heights someday. That’s too much pressure. Some things cannot be obtained just by persistence. Everything depends on fate.”
Qin Shun neither agreed nor disagreed. It was as if he murmured a faint acknowledgment and yet perhaps he had not.
Only then did Lin Yansheng realize that his own hand was cold as ice, while A’Shun’s palm was burning hot, warmth steadily flowing between them.
He was too tired.
As though seized by a nightmare, he drifted gradually into sleep.
The sleep was deep and heavy.
He did not wake until the following evening.
When he awoke, the room was spotless, the windows bright and clear, clean to an almost excessive degree.
At first, Lin Yansheng did not believe A’Shun would run away from home.
No matter how tall and sturdy he had grown, he was still only a fourteen year old boy. Where would he find the courage? Where could he possibly go?
Besides, not a single banknote was missing from the chest of drawers.
Yet after searching and waiting, all the way until night fell, there was still no trace of him.
Only then did Lin Yansheng notice a letter on the table,
Held down by a rust green copper paperweight. The handwriting was the very style he himself had taught: strokes firm and restrained, the brushwork heavy with resolve, as if the writer had already made up his mind beyond doubt.
“Uncle, you no longer need to borrow money for me. A man’s ambition lies in all directions; I will find a place to stand on my own. The debt I owe you, I will send it back as soon as I earn the money.” – Left by Qin Shun.
On the next page, a promissory note was attached.
The format was precise and orderly, stamped with a vivid red fingerprint, unmistakably bearing legal validity.
Qin Shun had left with nothing to his name, carrying only two changes of clothes.
✦ ✧ ✦
Fleurveil
[Translator]
☕ A LITTLE SOMETHING FOR THE TRANSLATOR
(╯°□°）╯︵ ☕ — deploy caffeine!
☕ BUY THEM A COFFEE →
✧ (づ｡•ㅅ•｡)づ ☕ ✧
✦ thank you for reading ✦
← PreviousNext →
ChaptersChapter 1 · UncleChapter 2 · Ran AwayChapter 3 · TimidChapter 4 · DeceasedChapter 5 · Grow upChapter 6 · CharmChapter 7 · EndureChapter 8 · Biological FatherChapter 9 · ContestChapter 10 · MisunderstoodChapter 11 · BreakChapter 12 · ReunionChapter 13 · MeetChapter 14 · To clearChapter 15 · InstructionsChapter 16 · RegretChapter 17 · SecretChapter 18 · Subtle SophistryChapter 19 · GuestChapter 20 · KissingChapter 21 · Extra 1Chapter 22 · Extra 2Chapter 23 · Extra 3Chapter 24 · Extra 4Chapter 25 · Extra 5Chapter 26 · Extra 6Chapter 27 · Extra 7Chapter 28 · Extra 8