The Scorching Sun - 1

Fang Zhuo stood just inside the building's entrance, two umbrellas hanging from one hand. Damp winter air swept through the wide-open glass doors along with gusts of wind, carrying sprays of rain that scattered across the lobby.

The canvas shoes on her feet were worn through, cracked with age. Their faded, rough fabric was stained with mud from the roadside, and flecks of dirt clung to the cuffs of her trousers. Perhaps worried about dirtying the pale floor tiles, she stayed by the doorway, leaning lightly on her umbrella instead of stepping inside.

When Fang Yiming emerged from the stairwell with his briefcase, the first thing he saw was Fang Zhuo smiling faintly as she chatted with one of his coworkers.

Her complexion wasn't the fairest, but her features were delicate, her bearing cool and composed. Combined with her tall frame, she drew attention simply by standing there.

Beneath the oversized collar of her sweater, a long, slender neck showed against her pale skin. She spoke in an unhurried, even tone, carrying herself with effortless poise. 

The sight stirred the memory of a face he had nearly forgotten.

Still hesitating, Fang Yiming hadn't decided whether to approach when Fang Zhuo noticed him first.

"Dad."

The coworker turned at the sound, surprise flashing across her face. Fang Yiming paused, then walked over. "What are you doing here?" There was no warmth or displeasure in his voice, only an unusual haste.

"Such a thoughtful kid!" the middle-aged woman exclaimed before Fang Zhuo could answer. "I had no idea you had such a sensible daughter. I thought you only had a son. And what a pretty girl she is! Those big eyes, that nose. Honestly, even if your wife and you had picked only your best features, you couldn’t make someone this good-looking.”

Fang Yiming did have a prominent nose, but the rest of his features were hard and angular. His wife, Mrs. Lu, was ordinary-looking, and her sharp personality lent her an unkind appearance. In truth, Fang Zhuo resembled neither of them very much.

A shadow crossed Fang Yiming's eyes. The corners of his mouth twitched into a strained, unreadable smile.

"I take after my mother," Fang Zhuo said.

The woman studied her face for a moment, then waved dismissively with a laugh. "I've seen what your mother looked like when she was young. Sure, there's a little resemblance, but you look much more like your father."

"My mother's surname was Ye," Fang Zhuo replied politely.

The woman froze for a beat and glanced at Fang Yiming. Clearly, she had never known that the colleague she'd worked beside for over a decade had an ex-wife before.

Fang Yiming gave a dry laugh. "She grew up in the countryside with her grandmother, only moved here after my mother passed. She's in her final year of high school now, stays at school most of the time. I hardly see her myself.”

"...I see." Warm and talkative by nature, the woman smiled again. “Are you settling in all right here?”

Fang Zhuo said: "I transferred in my second year. I'm mostly used to it now.”

The woman gaze landed on the emblem stitched onto Fang Zhuo's uniform. "A High School. That's a good school."

It wasn't among the city's very best, but it had a solid reputation and an excellent university admission rate.

Still, the uniform hung awkwardly on Fang Zhuo, clearly too large, the fabric faded with age. It looked very much like a secondhand set. The thought struck the woman as off, though she didn't dwell on it.

Seeing the conversation drag on, Fang Yiming abruptly asked, "Why are you here?"

Before Fang Zhuo could answer, his coworker laughed loudly. "What do you mean, why? To bring you an umbrella, obviously! Honestly, Old Fang, you’re too rigid for your own good.”

Fang Zhuo held out the black umbrella she had been carrying. Lowering her head slightly, she looked polite and modest. "The umbrella at home was still by the front door, so I brought it over."

Without a word, Fang Yiming accepted it. After saying goodbye to his coworker, he turned and walked outside.

The rain had eased considerably, drifting down in a fine, gentle curtain.

Gripping the handle, Fang Yiming shook open the umbrella, glancing back at Fang Zhuo. Perhaps he simply couldn't find a reason to be angry with her. His lips parted, and in the same flat voice, he said, "I'm going to pick up your younger brother first. Head home by yourself."

"Okay," Fang Zhuo replied evenly.

***

Yan Lie stepped out of his tutoring class, tapping away on his phone as he hurried beneath the awnings lining the shops. Looking up briefly, he spotted Fang Zhuo standing motionless by the roadside.

His pace slowed until barely two meters separated them. She seemed not to notice him, her attention fixed on the ordinary office building across the street.

Her half-lowered eyes would have looked gentle, even compassionate, on almost anyone else. On Fang Zhuo's face, they only made her seem cold and distant.

The tips of her nose and ears had gone pink from the chill, adding stubbornness to her otherwise unapproachable air, sharpening the irony in her faint smile into something far clearer.

Yan Lie didn't really know her. Though they’d been classmates for about a year, they probably exchanged fewer than ten sentences.

He had always assumed someone as withdrawn and unapproachable as Fang Zhuo must have an unpredictable temper. Yet as he watched her stand there in complete silence, like a tree rooted against the wind, detached and quietly looking down upon the world around her, he realized he might have been wrong.

Before he could make sense of the feeling, Fang Zhuo noticed him.

She withdrew her gaze from across the street and let her eyes pass over him once. Then the corner of her mouth lowered, erasing that unreadable, mocking smile. Her face returned to its usual calm indifference. Without lingering another second, she turned and walked away.

Yan Lie's phone remained suspended in midair as he watched her retreating figure.

Somehow, her peculiar personality had become a little easier to understand.

After all, he had worn that same expression for a certain person many times himself.

***

Fang Zhuo sat quietly on the sofa. Her so-called younger brother crouched by the coffee table a short distance away, the television playing in front of him. One hand held the remote while the other scrolled through his phone. His eyes only flicked toward the variety show every now and then.

Outside, the rain lingered, thin slanting droplets falling tirelessly from the gray sky.

Not long afterward, Mrs. Lu came home from work. The moment she opened the door and saw Fang Zhuo, she paused halfway through changing her shoes. Then she lifted her head and called for her son, loudly urging him to go do his homework. Without sparing Fang Zhuo another glance, she headed straight into the kitchen to help Fang Yiming prepare dinner.

The roar of the range hood blended with the couple's hushed conversation. Their words were impossible to make out, broken now and then by the clatter of dishes as Mrs. Lu set plates down with obvious irritation.

Half an hour later, an impatient shout came from the kitchen, calling her son to dinner.

Only three sets of bowls and chopsticks sat on the table.

The family of three gathered at one end of the rectangular dining table, chatting among themselves as they began eating.

On the television, the variety show guests burst into exaggerated laughter during a game. Their noisy amusement mixed with the family's casual conversation, lending the absurd scene an almost comical air.

Fang Zhuo wanted to laugh.

When she had first arrived, Mrs. Lu hadn't welcomed her either, but lines had not been this openly drawn. It seemed a full year had finally exhausted whatever patience Mrs. Lu once had.

Fang Zhuo remained on the sofa for a while longer. When the program cut to commercials, she stood, walked to the dining table, took the empty wooden chair, and quietly watched them.

Perhaps uncomfortable beneath her gaze, Fang Yiming opened his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted when Mrs. Lu reached across to pick up more food.

The teenage boy shot Fang Zhuo a glare. There was a young wolf's savagery in his eyes. Apparently too disdainful to bother with her, he clicked his tongue, turned back around, and shifted his chair farther away from her.

Fang Zhuo's eyelids trembled faintly. She smoothed the fingers resting on her knees and blinked once, her expression unchanged.

"My tuition for this semester hasn't been paid."

Fang Yiming tilted his chin at Mrs. Lu. “I told you to withdraw the money this afternoon. Did you bring it?"

"No hurry." Mrs. Lu spoke softly, almost gently, yet there was always something in her tone that made people uncomfortable, every word edged with unmistakable sarcasm. "That thing I asked you to consider. Have you thought about it?”

"No."

Fang Zhuo's voice was calm but resolute.

"I'm doing this for your own good." Mrs. Lu poked idly at the food on her plate, carefully choosing her words. "I pulled a lot of strings to arrange it for you. If you transfer to No. 3 High, they'll make you a priority student. If you get into a first-tier university next year, they'll refund all three years of tuition. If your grades stay good, you'll also get several thousand yuan in scholarships every semester. You can’t keep up at A-High. Your teacher called me last time, your foundation is too weak."

Fang Yiming remained silent throughout.

Mrs. Lu set down her chopsticks. "Don't look at him. Look at me."

Fang Zhuo turned to face her. "No."

Fang Zhuo had never met her mother. From as early as she could remember, she’d lived in the countryside with her grandmother.

Her grandmother didn’t like her much, nor Fang Yiming for that matter. She rarely showed Fang Zhuo affection, seldom spoke to her, and never talked about her mother. Fang Zhuo only learned her mother’s full name from her birth certificate.

Even so, her grandmother had never stopped her from going to school. Every yuan of Fang Zhuo's tuition had been painstakingly saved from her grandmother's land compensation insurance payments.

When she realized she did not have long left, the old woman gathered every free-range egg the family had, wrapped them in a faded red cloth bundle, then silently led Fang Zhuo, one slow, unsteady step at a time, to the school her granddaughter was attending.

No one knew what she said to the school administrators.

In the end, Fang Zhuo's homeroom teacher personally took her to A High School to plead her case. The school made a rare exception, allowing her to sit for an entrance examination. Only after passing was she admitted as a transfer student.

By every measure, A High School was an excellent school.

No. 3 High School, meanwhile, barely deserved the name. In recent years, the number of students managed to admitted to first-tier universities could be counted on one hand.

Fang Zhuo’s voice hardened with emphasis. "Give me my tuition."

Deep down, Fang Zhuo had always understood.

She was like a tumbleweed drifting across an endless desert, blown whichever way the wind brought her, always wandering, unwanted wherever she landed.

Only, the desert was vast beyond measure.

Her own world was narrow and suffocating, hemmed in on both sides by towering walls.

She loathed that life, that endless, sunless days of solitude and desolation.

She wanted to climb over those towering walls and look up at a sky full of stars. She wanted to pass through every shadow standing in her way and greet the radiance of the sun.

Growing up, countless people patted her shoulder with pity or sympathy and told her the same thing. "You have to study hard."

So in her world, there had only ever been one road.

Study.

Either accept your fate.

Or fight your way out through education.

She had clawed and scraped her way this far on sheer stubbornness alone.

No one was allowed to destroy her future now.

---

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