To avoid interfering with Lu Han’s work, Yang Zheng had gone and signed up for a reading card at the Cultural Palace.
Lu Han worked steady day shifts and loved spending his evenings at the desk drafting blueprints. Meanwhile, Yang Zheng either worked early shifts or, on his days off, headed out to the Cultural Palace to read at night.
This effective routine kept their friction to a minimum, and Lu Han’s attitude toward him had softened considerably as a result.
Then came the day Yang Zheng returned from the Cultural Palace to find a massive crowd of people gathered right outside their dormitory door, buzzing with confusion over whatever had just unfolded.
Squeezing his way through the cluster of onlookers, he stepped inside to find Lu Han confronting a disheveled Kong Xiange.
“You all saw it—Lu Han sexually assaulted me! He puts on this high-and-mighty, righteous act, but underneath he’s just a filthy pervert…”
Yang Zheng’s mind reeled. How on earth had things escalated to this?
With exhausted, bloodshot eyes, Lu Han pointed straight at Kong Xiange and stammered, “When on earth did I ever assault you? Don’t you dare frame me…”
Spotting Yang Zheng standing amidst the crowd, Lu Han lunged at him like a drowning man grabbing a straw. “Yang Zheng, come here! Tell everyone—have I ever given Kong Xiange a single pleasant look? How could I possibly have assaulted her?”
Stepping further into the room, Yang Zheng faltered, “Kong Xiange, isn’t there some sort of misunderstanding between you and Lu Han?”
Kong Xiange shrieked, “What misunderstanding could there possibly be?! He shipped you off to the Cultural Palace just so he could be alone with me! Oh, sure—Lu Han, you take advantage of me and then try to pretend it never happened? Fine, let’s take this straight to the Public Security Bureau and hash it out in front of everyone!”
Lu Han’s face turned livid. In a situation like this, once a woman dug her heels in and refused to back down, how was a man supposed to clear his name?
“Kong Xiange, my going to the Cultural Palace to read was entirely my own choice—Lu Han didn’t send me away. He might be blunt when he speaks, but he’s not that kind of person!”
Yang Zheng didn’t particularly care for Lu Han, but he knew with absolute certainty that Lu Han would never commit such an act.
If Lu Han had feelings for Kong Xiange, would he even need to resort to assault?
“You—you’re all cut from the same cloth! I’m a decent, respectable girl—do you really think I’d trash my own reputation just to lie about this? Lu Han, you refuse to admit it? Fine, let’s go to the police station right now!”
With that, Kong Xiange grabbed frantically at Lu Han’s sleeve.
The onlookers murmured among themselves in hushed tones. “She’s right, though. Kong Xiange is so pretty, and she works in propaganda—plenty of guys want her. Would she really ruin her own good name just to frame someone?”
“Lu Han always looked like a gentleman, but I guess he’s just a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
“We better watch our backs, too. The one sharing his dorm probably isn’t any better—covering for each other to bully a young girl like that.”
As the cruel gossip washed over him, Lu Han snapped. With a furious roar, he yanked a thick bundle of letters from his drawer and slammed them down onto the desk.
“Kong Xiange! You’re a woman, so I gave you every ounce of decency I could spare, but you brought this on yourself. Since everyone’s so eager to believe I’m a hypocrite, fine—come take a look! Read these letters Kong Xiange wrote to me!
I’ve already rejected her face-to-face, yet she keeps coming back over and over to throw tantrums. Yes, Kong Xiange, you’re attractive—but I don’t give a damn. Have some self-respect…”
The tide of whispers instantly shifted. “Good grief, are you serious? Is she really that shameless?”
“My god, throwing herself at a guy who wants nothing to do with her…”
Staring at the stack of letters, Kong Xiange completely unraveled. “Yes! Yes, I wrote those letters to you, but what does that have to do with you assaulting me?! You’re the pervert, Lu Han, you—!”
“Oh, come on, Kong Xiange. You liked him so much you threw yourself at him—did he even need to use force? You practically crawled into his bed and he turned you down,” a young male worker sneered vulgarly.
The moment the words left his mouth, crude laughter erupted from the crowd. Crimson-faced and shaking with humiliation, Kong Xiange pointed a trembling finger at the door. “You—you’re all filthy animals…”
“What’d we do? Did we touch you, or did we sleep with you?”
“Call us perverts if you want—let me have a feel and I’ll own it!”
The remarks spiraled completely out of control. Unable to stomach another second, Lu Han bellowed, “Get out! All of you, get the hell out of here!”
Shooting Lu Han a look of venomous hatred, tears streaming down her face, Kong Xiange choked out, “Lu Han… I hate you. I hate you!”
With that, she spun around and bolted out the door.
Running a hand through his hair in frantic agitation, Lu Han stood frozen, utterly at a loss for how things had spiraled this far out of control.
“Lu Han, do you think… something might happen to her?” Yang Zheng asked anxiously.
“Happen… to her?”
As if jolted back to reality, Lu Han snatched up his jacket and dashed out the door.
Yang Zheng hurried right behind him. Driven to a desperate corner, a young woman might do anything if she felt she had nothing left to lose.
With her dignity completely shattered now, how was she supposed to face anyone in the plant ever again?
Wracked with regret, Lu Han realized he had acted far too rashly.
Rushing down to the ground floor, they found the courtyard completely empty—Kong Xiange was nowhere to be seen.
Turning to Yang Zheng, Lu Han said, “We’ll split up and search.”
Just then, Liu Dabao came jogging over. “Yang Zheng! I heard Kong Xiange and Lu Han had a huge blowup—what’s going on?”
“Yeah, she ran off. Lu Han went that way to look for her. Let’s split up and search the grounds too.”
“Alright, I’ll take the west side, you take the east,” Liu Dabao urged.
Outside, a torrential spring downpour broke loose, and Yang Zheng ran blindly through the pelting rain, finding no trace of Kong Xiange anywhere.
A crash of spring thunder brings spring rain as precious as oil; this year’s harvest is bound to be a bountiful one.
Woken abruptly by the midnight thunderclap, Qiaoqiao sleepily sat up to latch the window. From the bed, Zhou Wenhui’s quiet voice drifted over: “There are candles in the top drawer of the desk.”
He was as aloof as ever, yet on a stormy night like this, hearing his voice made her feel distinctly less afraid.
Fumbling around in the dark, she opened the drawer, struck a match to light a candle, and quickly pulled the half-open window shut tight.
The howling wind, the roaring rain, and the booming thunder were all locked firmly outside.
“Do… do you need to use the commode?” Qiaoqiao asked, pulling her quilt tightly around her shoulders.
“No. If you’re scared, come up on the bed,” Zhou Wenhui said calmly.
“I’m not scared…”
Before the words had even fully left her lips, a deafening crack of thunder tore through the sky, startling Qiaoqiao into a panicked scramble. Scrambling clumsily onto the mattress, she pulled the heavy quilt completely over her head.
As the wind and rain began to subside and the thunder rolled away into the distance, Qiaoqiao poked her head out from under the covers.
“You should bring your bedding onto the bed and sleep up here properly,” Zhou Wenhui remarked.
Abandoning her embarrassment in the chill, Qiaoqiao scurried out of bed on bare feet, dragged her own cotton quilt over, and huddled into the far corner of the mattress, wrapping herself up tightly.
The thunder tonight had simply been too terrifying.
Neither of them managed to fall back asleep. Flash after flash of lightning illuminated the dark room as brightly as day.
“I wonder if the cabbage seeds I planted will sprout tomorrow,” Qiaoqiao murmured to herself.
“Maybe. Spring plants shoot up overnight once they catch the wind and rain,” Zhou Wenhui replied.
“Good thing I sowed the seeds yesterday, otherwise all this rain would have gone to waste,” she added with a hint of quiet pride.
“Go to sleep, it’ll be dawn soon.” Shifting his position, Zhou Wenhui turned his back toward her.
Half-burying her face in her blanket, Qiaoqiao drifted off to sleep before long.
When the morning wake-up bugle sounded, Qiaoqiao stirred and shifted her weight. Feeling utterly exhausted, she drifted right back to sleep.
Through a haze of lingering sleepiness, she caught the shrill ringing of a telephone. Zhou Wenhui nudged her awake. “Get up. There’s a call.”
Having never answered a phone in her life, she asked sleepily, “Whose call?”
“There’s a phone by the living room sofa. It’s probably my mother—go answer it quickly,” Zhou Wenhui urged, frowning slightly.
He waited for those calls every day, yet dreaded them just as much.
For the phone to ring this early—could something have happened to his parents?
Leaping out of bed without even taking time for her shoes, Qiaoqiao rushed to the phone and picked up the receiver. “Hello? Yes, I’m Yang Zheng’s younger sister.”
“What? My brother… killed someone?”
“How could that be? Why would my brother ever kill anyone? A murder suspect? No, no way!”
“Okay, okay—I’ll head over right now!”
Listening intently from the bedroom doorway, Zhou Wenhui felt his heart skip a beat. Something had gone terribly wrong with Yang Zheng.