The Scorching Sun - 6
There were no obvious road signs on either side, and the houses all looked much the same.
She continued along the direction she'd come from. Before long, she spotted a group of men sitting beneath a large tree, chatting in the shade.
One of them noticed her from afar, lifted his fan to shield himself from the sun, and called out, "Girl, who are you looking for?"
The speaker wore a loose dark-red undershirt. He looked to be in his sixties or seventies. His stubble hadn't been shaved, his hair was disheveled, and his rough appearance wasn't exactly gentle or welcoming.
After a brief hesitation, Fang Zhuo answered, "Ye Yuncheng."
"Ye who?" the middle-aged man asked in a thick local accent, half his words swallowed by dialect as he rattled off a string of questions. "Where's he live? What's his family's name? How old? What's he to you?"
Fang Zhuo only caught about half of it. She took out the courier slip, preparing to read the address aloud, when the man suddenly exclaimed, "You can read? The one who writes letters, right? I know who you mean. Ye Yuncheng! What's your relationship with him? Never heard he had any family left!"
His enthusiasm left Fang Zhuo completely bewildered.
Seeing her struggling to understand, he repeated himself. In the end, he waved his palm-leaf fan in defeat. "Never mind. Follow me. I'll take you to him. He lives just back there."
The man led the way, glancing back every so often to make sure she was following. Each time he caught her eye, he offered her an honest, good-natured smile.
But Fang Zhuo's steps only grew slower. Her head hung low, her mind a complete blank.
The two walked in silence until they stopped before an old wooden house.
The man rounded to the side, where a dark wooden door stood secured by an old-fashioned lock that looked like it could be kicked in with a single blow; only held shut by a loose iron latch.
He knocked hard on the door and shouted inside, "Wake up, Xiao Ye! You've got family coming to see you!"
A muffled response drifted out from within. Without waiting, the man pushed the door open and walked inside.
Fang Zhuo stayed where she was, peering through the narrow opening.
The room was dim. Thick curtains drawn tight, blocking out even the daytime sun. Bare concrete stretched across the floor, and the stale air carried a faint smell of mildew.
The man strode over to pull the curtains open, then returned and swung the front door wide so the two could finally see each other.
"Look! You know her, Xiao Ye?"
Like brilliant sunlight pouring into a dark wooden box, the sudden light sent tiny specks of dust dancing through the air, each one glowing gold.
Opposite the door, set against the wall, was a bed. The person Fang Zhuo had come to find was lying in it.
He wore pale blue pajamas. His hair was thick but tinged with a sickly yellow, and he looked exhausted. Yet his features were strikingly handsome, his skin so pale it bordered on colorless, every inch of him carrying the unmistakable frailty. The moment he saw Fang Zhuo, he froze. Instinctively, he straightened his back, pulling himself a little upright.
Fang Zhuo's gaze swept over his face, then drifted to an metal box beside his bed before moving on to the rest of the room.
A few books were stacked near the foot of the bed. Beyond that, there was almost nothing of any value in the house.
Only after letting her eyes wander for a while did they finally settle back on Ye Yuncheng.
He was studying her just as intently.
Their gazes were equally deep and complex, revealing nothing of what either of them was thinking.
Although they had never met before, Fang Zhuo found his presence strangely familiar.
Perhaps it was because the two of them truly did resemble each other.
A rustling came from the bed. Ye Yuncheng looked like he wanted to get up. He adjusted his clothes, but ultimately stayed under the covers.
His hand rested atop the quilt. Against the red fabric, they looked even paler, the blue veins starkly visible. It was obvious he rarely saw the sun.
"Fang Zhuo?" His voice was clear, with a slight hoarseness from a dry throat. "What brings you here all of a sudden?"
After lingering uncertainly for a moment, Fang Zhuo stepped inside and took a folded note from her bag.
"Grandma passed away," she said quietly. "My dad sold the house. The person who handled the village mail forwarded this to my school. I only got it last week."
Ye Yuncheng went still. He leaned forward slightly, carefully studying the clothes Fang Zhuo wore, trying to gauge what kind of life she was living. But a standard school uniform and a pair of new white sneakers revealed very little.
If anything, he was the one who looked worse off right now.
He coughed softly, forcing a bitter smile. "So... did you have something in mind, coming here? I... I probably don't have any savings to spare."
Fang Zhuo's thoughts seemed to move through rusted gears. After a pause, she replied slowly, "No. That's not… I just wanted to transfer my household registration out of my father's family."
As long as her name remained on that household register, the law still tied her to that family. The registration itself made her feel trapped.
Before coming here, Fang Zhuo hadn't really known what she wanted.
Maybe she would visit Ye Yaoling's grave, to fulfill one lingering wish. Maybe she'd meet the uncle she'd never known and thank him for all the years he'd quietly cared from afar.
Receiving the letter had made her curious.
It was only on the walk over, following the kind villager, that it occurred to her: maybe she could transfer her registration here instead.
She didn't hold any special expectations. After Fang Yiming, she learned that most so-called blood ties could be more distant than anything else.
The man who had been quietly watching from the side suddenly spoke up. "You can't transfer it back here. He's got a rural household registration. They don't let you move registrations to the rural ones these days."
Both of them turned to look at him.
Realizing he was intruding, the man chuckled and waved a hand. "I'm off. You two take your time talking."
Once he was gone, only the two of them remained. An awkward silence slowly filled the room.
Fang Zhuo realized her visit had been presumptuous. The stifling air made it hard to breathe. She was just searching for an excuse to leave when Ye Yuncheng, after fumbling for words, asked, "Your father... doesn't treat you well?"
Fang Zhuo didn't answer. Not even the slightest change crossed her face, as though she hadn't heard him at all.
But Ye Yuncheng could guess.
Despite exchanging only a handful of sentences and meeting for the very first time, he somehow felt he could read many things from the quiet, reserved girl standing before him.
"Wait here," he said. "I'll tidy up a little. Make yourself comfortable."
He pushed the covers aside, reached for the crutch resting against the bedside, and struggled to his feet.
Below his left knee...
There was nothing.
Fang Zhuo's eyelid trembled. Before he could catch her looking, she turned her gaze away first, letting it wander aimlessly near the window.
As Ye Yuncheng made his way toward the bathroom at the back, he glanced over his shoulder. "Sit wherever you like. I'll only be a minute."
He stepped inside and closed the door.
The mirror reflected a face worn almost beyond recognition.
His haggard appearance suddenly made him realize just how long he'd been drifting through life in a daze.
He had no idea what expression he'd worn outside. Would Fang Zhuo dislike seeing him looking so shabby?
Twisting the faucet, he splashed two handfuls of cold water onto his face.
The cold liquid soaked his skin, some of it stinging his eyes with a faint burn.
He bent down awkwardly, stretching his arm to rummage through the cabinet below and found an old, worn-out razor.
Maybe it was the numbness from lying in bed so long, or maybe his emotions had left his hands trembling. Halfway through shaving, he suddenly lost his balance and fell. By the time he struggled back up, a long cut beneath his chin was pouring blood.
Panic flashed across his face. He hurriedly rinsed it with water, but the bleeding refused to stop.
In the end, he let go of his cane and brace himself against the sink. With one hand pressed to the wound, he stubbornly continued shaving with the other.
When he'd finally cleaned up the stubble on his lower face, he quickly washed his hands and the wound. Then quietly opening the door.
The room beyond had once been another bedroom, but it had been unoccupied for so long it now mainly served as storage.
Yet traces of everyday life remained everywhere.
Posters still covered the walls. Folded bedding sat neatly beside the bed. A pair of faded shoes rested on the floor. As though the room's owner might return at any moment.
Relying on memory, Ye Yuncheng searched through the wooden cabinet for a box of bandages.
His movements knocked over a framed photo on the counter. Ye Yuncheng hurried set it upright again.
Moments later, it fell over once more.
He picked it up this time, brushing away the dust with his fingertips. But no matter how hard he looked, the people in the photograph remained blurred, hidden behind a layer of mist.
His vision had gone blurry.
Every ounce of restraint he'd been clinging to finally gave way. He covered his face with one hand as tears broke free. Suppressing every sound, he sobbed as quietly as he could, finally allowing the storm inside him somewhere to escape.
Fang Zhuo had come back.
For so many years, no one else had crossed the threshold of this house.
Did she...
Need him?
Ye Yuncheng felt himself suspended in that hazy space light and shadow. His withered soul felt like it might start blooming again.
He needed it. He desperately needed someone to need him.
Someone like him.
After finally calming himself, Ye Yuncheng managed to find an old box of adhesive bandages. God knows how many years they'd been sitting there, but he placed one over the cut beneath his chin, hiding the wound.
He hurriedly straightened his clothes, grabbed his crutch, and made his way back outside.
"Fang Zhuo! Fang Zhuo!"
He called her name twice, unable to hide the excitement in his voice.
When he reached the front room, she was already gone. Even the wooden door had been quietly closed behind her.
He hurried over and pulled it open, gazing out toward where the small path ended. There was no sign of Fang Zhuo anywhere.
Desolate, he turned back around. Only then did he see the stack of money and a note left on the table. The note said she had to head back to school. It didn't say whether she'd come back.
***
Fang Zhuo had no idea how often the minivans passed by. She waited by the roadside for over an hour before finally catching one.
By then, the sky had been dyed pitch black.
Following the same route as before, she got off near the bridge, walked the remaining distance, and boarded the rural bus back toward school.
The transfers had took so long, the bus she caught was the last one of the night. There were only a handful of passengers aboard.
She hugged her backpack and chose the seat furthest in the back corner.
At first, she watched the brilliant city lights flicker past outside the window. Before long, exhaustion overtook her. Her eyelids slowly drooped shut.
By the time she came to her senses again, the bus had already stopped somewhere unfamiliar.
The sound of the engine cutting off jolted her awake. Fang Zhuo shot to her feet and hurried toward the front.
The driver, who had just removed the key from the ignition, jumped in surprise when he saw her. "There's still someone on board?"
Fang Zhuo blinked, still dazed from sleep. "Where... is this?"
"The terminal!" the driver said. Noticing her school uniform, he added, "You're going to A High, right? You missed your stop ages ago. If you'd said something when you got on, I could've reminded you. I thought you already gotten off."
Fang Zhuo responded with a slow nod, shouldered her backpack, and stepped through the open rear door.
The driver, a little worried, followed. "You alright, kid? Call your parents to come pick you up. There aren't any more buses tonight."
Fang Zhuo shook her head, gave a non-answer of "Thank you," and used the dim streetlamps to find her way to the main road.
Fang Zhuo hated getting lost. Because knew that if she ever went missing, no one would come looking for her.
Unfortunately, she had an awful sense of direction. Whether it was the mountains or an unfamiliar town, she always spent a long time fumbling her way around.
Now it was the middle of the night. There weren't many people left on the streets to ask for directions.
She wandered aimlessly, hoping to find somewhere she could stay until morning, just like last time.
Unfortunately, luck wasn't on her side tonight.
After walking for a long while, she still hadn't found a hospital or an all-night fast-food restaurant.
She finally sat down by the roadside to rest. Her mind drifted blankly until a warm orange beam swept over from the distance.
It circled across her once, then pulling back, illuminating the face of the person holding the flashlight.
"Fang Zhuo?"
Yan Lie clicked off the flashlight and stepped out of the chaotic darkness into the pool of light beneath the streetlamp.
The two of them, one standing, one sitting, stared at each other, a two-meter distance between them.
After a long pause, Fang Zhuo said stiffly, "What a coincidence.”
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