The Scorching Sun - 12

Perhaps she truly was exhausted. After her shower, an overwhelming wave of sleepiness washed over Fang Zhuo. She completely forgot the plans she'd made for herself and fell asleep the moment she lay down.

The soft quilt still carried the scent of sunshine, and wrapped in its warmth, Fang Zhuo drifted into a long, radiant dream.

She dreamed she had become a vast, windless sea.

That day, a giant ship suddenly sailed across her calm, endless waters, sounding its horn and flying colorful banners, doing everything it could to announce its presence.

Sailor Yan Lie stood proudly at the bow, waving both arms at her, while Captain Ye Yuncheng gripped the wheel, letting the ship drift across the boundless ocean.

The sky was an unbroken stretch of brilliant blue, not a single cloud in sight.

Ye Yuncheng removed his sun hat, leaned against the railing, and cast out a fishing net. Together with Yan Lie, they hauled it back in with all their strength.

"We caught something amazing!" Yan Lie shouted excitedly. "I fished up the sun!"

The net broke the surface, but its catch dissolved into golden light that scattered across the sea, rippling over the water before blooming into countless dazzling flowers.

Yan Lie spread his arms wide and yelled, "It smells like osmanthus! Fang Zhuo, come quick!"

That single shout jolted Fang Zhuo awake, a cold sweat breaking across her back from the sheer absurdity of the dream.

...What on earth was that supposed to be?

Morning had already arrived outside. Fang Zhuo sat on the bed for a while, gathering herself. Only after the sunlight shifted across the room and landed on the edge of her bed did she finally throw back the quilt and get up.

The neighboring room was still silent. She couldn't tell whether Ye Yuncheng was awake yet. Moving quietly through the house, she decided to look around for traces of her mother's past.

There were clothes in the wardrobe and miscellaneous belongings tucked into the wooden cabinets. Just as Ye Yuncheng had said, almost every corner still bore the marks of the room's former owner.

She stopped in front of the window.

The desk beside it was covered with shallow knife scratches. Two stick figures holding hands had been carved into the wood, with their names scrawled crookedly above them.

The character "曜 (Yao)" in "叶曜灵(Ye Yaoling)" had been too hard to write, so she'd written it in pinyin instead.

Fang Zhuo ran her fingertips over the carving. The childish lines somehow still felt vividly alive. She bent down and pulled open the drawer beneath the desk.

Inside were nothing but worn-down pencil stubs and yellowing exercise books piled together in a messy heap beneath a layer of dust.

She casually straightened everything up and found a notebook buried at the bottom, its cover scribbled beyond recognition. Curious, she opened it and found several lines of painstaking handwriting, each character carefully formed despite still looking a little crooked.

"I hate my yellow pencil case. I want one with two compartments. I've said it so many times!"

"I want watercolor paints. But there's no money."

"Mom used my money to buy groceries again. Hate it!"

"My brother got into a fight and got a beating. He's so dumb."

"I made over two thousand buttons. Why didn't I get paid! Never trusting Mom again!"

"Bought popsicles. Seven Dwarfs brand. Shared three with Yunyun. He got sticky all over his face."

Fang Zhuo couldn't help smiling. Leaning against the edge of the desk, she kept turning the pages.

You could almost picture her: a young girl sitting at this bright desk, absentmindedly chewing on the end of her pencil while secretly recording all the tiny worries of childhood.

But later, the tones changed.

The smile in Fang Zhuo's eyes faded.

The pages became filled with meaningless, tangled lines, scratched over and over across the paper as though their owner had nowhere else to pour her frustration.

Several pages had been torn out. Holding the notebook up to the light, Fang Zhuo barely made out the impressions left on the following sheet. All of it was dark, negative. Written with such force that even after decades, the impressions remained clear. Words like "I deserve it," "why," "I might as well die."

The entries stayed that way for quite some time. Then Ye Yaoling's handwriting gradually became calmer, and the notebook turned into nothing more than an account book.

Small sums. Ten cents, twenty cents. Later the amounts grew, but only to a few yuan.

She was saving money.

"I'm leaving. I'm never coming back."

The final line was cold and resolute. The bottom corner of the page still bore the faint stains of dried tears.

Fang Zhuo hesitated, then turned a few more pages.

On the yellowed paper, written in mature, steady handwriting with black ink, was a single sentence.

"I wish I'd never had this child."

The words struck Fang Zhuo like a hammer. Her heart lurched violently. She couldn't bring herself to read another word. Her gaze flew upward instead, fixing itself on the wildflowers flourishing outside the window. As blood rushed roaring through her ears, her world emptied into blankness before dissolving into a quiet rain.

She had returned to the place she'd sworn never to come back to.

And this was all she had left behind.

So...

Was that the story of her short life?

A miserable first half. A regretful second.

Fang Zhuo didn't read any further. She shut the notebook with unnecessary force and returned it to exactly where she'd found it.

She didn't know if there were more entries about herself. Even if there were, they probably wouldn't be anything kind.

Judging from her name, her mother should have been someone full of warmth and blazing light.

But rain seemed to fall endlessly across her world, leaving every corner cold.

If you asked why, perhaps…it had all been decided long ago.

Her mother's name was Ye Yaoling.

Yaoling meant the sun. If the sun had fallen too early, how could flowers and grass ever grow leaves?

Fang Zhuo sat silently at the desk for a long time, her hands clasped together, staring blankly ahead. Feeling that she ought to do something, she dug a jacket from her backpack, pulled it on, tucked her hands into the pockets, and walked outside.

The chicks from yesterday were still quietly huddled inside their cardboard box in the corner of the wall.

Fang Zhuo poured them some water, added the leftover rice from dinner, then tore up the outer leaves of a cabbage and scattered the pieces inside.

Once chickens grew up, they ate a surprising amount. When that time came, she could collect vegetable scraps from the fields then, mix them with porridge or leftovers, and add some bran or rice husks.

Though she couldn't add too much bran, it would affect how well they laid eggs.

Once she'd settled the chicks, Fang Zhuo headed for the chicken coop.

The coop hadn't been cleaned yet. With Ye Yuncheng's leg, it really wasn't an easy job. Rocks were piled everywhere inside, and weeds had overrun the entire space.

She rolled up her sleeves and pant legs, cleared away the rubbish first, stacked the uneven stones neatly against one wall to open up some space, then began pulling up the weeds.

The little courtyard was only about twenty square meters. It didn't look like much, but after years of neglect, cleaning it up was no small task.

By the time Fang Zhuo finally straightened her aching back, the sun had climbed high into the sky. Sweat soaked her clothes, her waist throbbed with fatigue, and her bare hands were caked with dirt, stinging from countless tiny scratches.

"Fang Zhuo."

Ye Yuncheng stood at the entrance to the courtyard with another man beside him. Both of them stared at her in surprise.

"I thought you were still asleep. Why are you up so early?"

Fang Zhuo dropped the bundle of weeds in her hand and rubbed her muddy palms together.

"This is Uncle Liu. He does poverty alleviation work," Ye Yuncheng introduced. "Since it's Mid-Autumn Festival, he brought mooncakes and gifts. Come have breakfast."

Although Ye Yuncheng called him Uncle Liu, the man had a youthful baby face that made it impossible to guess his age.

Fang Zhuo nodded politely, and he smiled back. The man seemed like a good-natured, easygoing person.

Ye Yuncheng served porridge onto the table and sliced up the mooncakes Uncle Liu had brought.

Seeing they were five-kernel mooncakes, Fang Zhuo politely declined. She wasn't fond of them, so she simply ate a few quick mouthfuls of porridge with yesterday's pickled vegetables.

Uncle Liu and Ye Yuncheng seemed to know each other well. As they chatted, he mentioned a village girl who had once been dragged back to school but had recently been accepted into a vocational college. They were now helping her apply for financial aid.

As he spoke, his eyes drifted toward Fang Zhuo.

The implication was obvious enough. Fang Zhuo quietly set down her bowl and met his gaze.

Ye Yuncheng smiled proudly. "Our Zhuozhuo goes to A High."

Uncle Liu's face immediately lit up. "That's an excellent school! Getting into a top university shouldn't be a problem. Do you have a school in mind?"

Fang Zhuo shook her head.

While they talked, Ye Yuncheng quietly picked up a clean pair of chopsticks and kept piling meat and vegetables into Fang Zhuo's bowl.

Uncle Liu recommended, "If you're interested, you should consider A University. My alma mater. The professors are great, and the atmosphere's wonderful."

Fang Zhuo had just been trying to stop Ye Yuncheng from feeding her more food. Hearing that, she paused and looked at Uncle Liu again.

Ye Yuncheng laughed. "Your Uncle Liu was an outstanding student. On the township civil service exam, he outscored second place by dozens of points. He's a local. Wanted to stay in the village and help build things up for a few more years. If you have any questions, you can ask him."

Uncle Liu scratched his head awkwardly. "I've been out of school for years now, I might not have the most accurate information. Let me put together some materials for you."

Fang Zhuo ate quickly, mostly because she was the only person at the table actually focused on eating. Ye Yuncheng's own bowl was still nearly full by the time she stood up with hers.

Ye Yuncheng hurried to say, "There's more in the pot."

Fang Zhuo put her bowl and chopsticks in the sink. "I'm full."

Seeing her heading outside again, Ye Yuncheng called after her, "Leave it. I'll come help you later."

"I'm almost done," Fang Zhuo answered. "I'll wash my clothes while I'm at it."

On her way back to the courtyard, she remembered she should ask Ye Yuncheng if he had a pair of thick work gloves. Just as she reached the doorway, she heard voices deliberately hushed inside.

She quietly stepped behind the wall and listened.

"Ye-ge, you might not like what I'm about to say. I understand you have your own ideas, but you... you…” Uncle Liu spoke softly. “In your condition... can you really take care of a senior-year student? Before, I suggested..."

"Please, Qiaohong."

Ye Yuncheng interrupted him. His voice was calm, but a slight hoarseness betrayed the turmoil underneath.

His head was bowed. He pressed a hand over his eyes, over that look of sorrow and despair.

"I don't want to see her looking like she has nowhere left to go."

Standing there all alone. Eyes so empty it seemed they held nothing at all. And yet as though one more question would make her break down crying.

He understood that feeling. Too many emotions pressing down your chest until your heart becomes a churning whirlpool, the current so violent it sharpened into a blade that cut you cold whenever your thoughts stirred.

"She came here to save me."

She needed a family. So did he. That was how it was for him. For so many years, he had nearly drowned in that boundless loneliness.

Silence settled both inside and outside the house.

We're two people drifting in the same lonely sea, Fang Zhuo thought.

Both of us are drowning.

She won't be afraid anymore.

 

Not long after, Ye Yuncheng saw Liu Qiaohong out.

Leaning on his crutch as he came down the stone steps, he invited him, "Come over for dinner tonight. I'll have Zhuozhuo buy a chicken. It's Mid-Autumn Festival."

Liu Qiaohong sighed. "I'm swamped. There's another inspection team coming in a couple of days."

Ye Yuncheng could only smile and let him go. Once Liu Qiaohong disappeared from sight, he turned and headed for the courtyard to help.

Ye Yuncheng had found some wooden planks from somewhere and spent the afternoon hammering them together into a chicken coop. After covering the roof with black cloth and securing the sides with stones, it fit neatly into the little courtyard.

By the time they finished cleaning up the yard, evening had arrived.

Ye Yuncheng wanted to point out that no one kept a chicken coop this clean. After all, the chickens would eat, drink, and relieve themselves all over it. It wouldn't be long before it became messy again.

But looking at everything they had accomplished together, he still felt deeply satisfied.

His heart felt full. It seemed, at last, that this old house was coming back to life.

Eyes shining, Fang Zhuo stared at the open patch of earth in the middle of the yard. "We can bring in some soil later, grow vegetables there."

Ye Yuncheng laughed. "All right. We'll grow vegetables."

Unable to help himself, he asked, "Do you really like farming games that much?"

"Farming?" Fang Zhuo blinked in surprise. "There are games for that?"

Remembering a word she'd heard before, she asked, "Like... clubbing?"

Ye Yuncheng: "?"

"...Never mind." He led her over to the wash basin. "Wash your hands first. You spent the whole day working. Didn't I waste your holiday?"

Fang Zhuo ran her hands under the water. "It's fine."

Ye Yuncheng said regretfully, "Now you don't have any time to do your homework."

Fang Zhuo: "..."

Ye Yuncheng took several photos of the courtyard and said with emotion, "This is so nice. Zhuozhuo is spending the Mid-Autumn Festival with her uncle this year."

Fang Zhuo listened quietly. She tilted her head up at the clear, bright moon, then a thought suddenly struck her.

Just as Ye Yuncheng was about to go inside and start cooking, Fang Zhuo asked, "Can I borrow your phone?"

"Of course." He handed it over. "Go back inside to use it, though. The mosquitoes are bad out here."

Fang Zhuo hummed softly, opened Yan Lie's contact, and typed Happy Mid-Autumn Festival.

Before sending it, she decided it was too dull and deleted the message.

Holding the phone, she turned it around in her hands a couple of times. She thought about sending a picture of the moon, but couldn't figure out the MMS function. Besides, she'd heard MMS was expensive.

So she sent Yan Lie a Schrödinger's photo instead.

Fang Zhuo: Does this moon look familiar?

Yan Lie was watching television. After waiting for a while without receiving any picture, he was completely baffled.

Yan Lie: Don't tell me it's the one right over my head? 

Fang Zhuo: Maybe.

Yan Lie: What a coincidence!

Fang Zhuo disappeared again.

Yan Lie refused to accept this. What was with this person?!

Yan Lie: When are you coming back to school?

Yan Lie: Why'd you suddenly invite me to look at the moon? The moon is really beautiful tonight.

Yan Lie: Miss your deskmate after two days apart?

By then Fang Zhuo had gone back into the brightly lit house. Catching sight of the last message, she found herself typing almost without thinking.

Fang Zhuo: No. But I dreamed about you yesterday.

Yan Lie nearly launched himself off the sofa. He read the sentence over and over, unsure if he was allowed to read into it.

Still, he couldn't stop the buoyant excitement bubbling up inside him.

Yan Lie: Thanks for making time to dream about me. Do I have the right to know what I was doing in this dream?

Yan Lie: If it was something bad, I can reflect on myself.

Fang Zhuo: Chicken farmer.

Yan Lie: Sounds profitable.

The conversation died again.

She was like a robot whose power had suddenly been cut, disappearing without logic or reason.

After waiting ten more minutes, Yan Lie reluctantly accepted reality.

He pulled out a calendar, checked the date they would return to school, let out a long sigh, and flopped backward onto the sofa.

One and a half days left.

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