Chapter Thirteen: Thick Smoke Rising

"Oh." Ye Mian nodded, smiling. "Well, you get some rest. I'm going to take a shower. See you."

"Mm, go ahead." Jiang Chen gave a slight nod, his expression gentle and unreadable, betraying neither joy nor sorrow.

Under his quiet gaze, Ye Mian hung up the phone. Keeping her composure, she picked up her clothes and headed to the bathroom, pretending nothing was amiss.

She turned on the shower, and steaming hot water burst forth, fogging up the mirror with a layer of mist.

Through the blurred reflection, Ye Mian caught sight of her flushed cheeks, her fingers trembling slightly.

The next moment, she ducked her head under the stream, inhaling the strong scent of body wash.

She told herself, it must be the heat.

The weather was hot, raising one's body temperature and easily reddening the cheeks.

—

The weekend ended, and it was time to return to school.

A faint melancholy lingered over the campus, especially among the seniors, weighed down by academic pressure. Hard-won moments of rest were over before they could truly enjoy them.

The monthly exams were coming up next week, and the teachers repeatedly emphasized the importance of transferring classes.

Most of Class 2's students were unenthusiastic; for them, their current grades were above average, and as long as they held steady, there was no fear of failing out.

Only a few continued striving for the top class.

Ye Mian was one of them.

Her determination inspired Jiang Yuan, who found herself paying much more attention in class than usual.

In truth, Jiang Yuan wasn't just moved by Ye Mian's spirit; she simply didn't have many close friends. If Ye Mian left for the top class, wouldn't she be all alone?

But whatever the motivation, studying was always a good thing.

Wednesday was the day when the top students returned. But since the high-speed train journey was long, even if they made it back, it would be nearly time for dismissal.

During self-study, Ye Mian, for once, wasn't reading. She bit her pen, her gaze fixed outside the window.

Counting the days, she remembered she had Jiang Chen's photo in her bag. She planned to return it to him when they met.

Noticing Ye Mian's lack of focus, Jiang Yuan gleefully chatted with her about gossip.

Ye Mian, however, was distracted and only half-listening.

It wasn't until the return bus finally arrived that Ye Mian pulled Jiang Yuan out to the corridor.

But among the arrivals, Jiang Chen was nowhere to be seen. Word had it there was a second bus on its way.

Unfortunately, even when the bell signaled the end of the last class, Ye Mian still hadn't spotted Jiang Chen at the school gate.

When school was dismissed, she told Jiang Yuan she was leaving first and dashed home.

—

As she reached the old part of town, her steps faltered.

She saw, in the direction of the big pagoda tree, a billowing column of thick smoke rising into the sky. Ash darkened the heavens, threatening to swallow everything.

It seemed... it was Jiang Chen's house.

Ye Mian's heart sank. She ran frantically toward the source.

When she got close to the small building, she found a crowd had already gathered under the pagoda tree, their faces stunned as they watched the house beside the tree engulfed in flames.

"Isn't Dong Yulian just bringing disaster on herself? Oh, what a curse!" The owner of the corner shop scowled, covering his nose and mouth, unable to restrain his anger. He turned and called for everyone to grab buckets and fight the fire.

The neighbors responded with enthusiasm, throwing water into the burning house.

The scene was chaotic.

Ye Mian swept her gaze through the crowd and immediately spotted Jiang Chen.

His figure was sometimes obscured by the swirling smoke.

He stood before the small courtyard, clutching his arm, blood seeping between his fingers. His face was expressionless, his eyes dark and silent as he stared at the two figures clinging to each other.

Ye Mian paused, then followed his gaze.

Dong Yulian was sprawled on the ground, wearing an ill-fitting, gaudy floral dress. Her pale legs were exposed to the air, her face flushed oddly. Perhaps out of fear of embarrassment, she covered her face, sobbing.

Beside her crouched a man—the burly one Ye Mian had seen before—looking awkward and not daring to meet anyone's gaze. Blood streaked his forehead as well.

But Ye Mian barely noticed them, her eyes fixed stubbornly on the dress Dong Yulian was wearing.

A slow anger welled up in her chest.

In the July air, Ye Mian heard a woman nearby say, word by word, "That shameless vixen—how dare she wear another woman’s dress to fool around with a man? Fooling around is one thing, but now the house is on fire. Someone else’s home, and she doesn't care at all. Disgusting..."

Dong Yulian heard these words, glared up fiercely, but under the boy's indifferent gaze, she cowered and fell silent.

The woman spat hard. "Shameless, truly shameless—breaking up a marriage and driving the wife to suicide."

Suicide...

Jiang Chen's mother had taken her own life.

Ye Mian lifted her face, frowning gently.

Her gaze returned to the boy.

Blood streamed down his arm, but he endured it as always, his delicate features showing not a hint of pain or sadness.

Ye Mian's heart contracted.

Jiang Chen didn't look up, not until a soft hand stretched out before him.

Resting on it was a photograph.

He raised his head. His dark, intense eyes met the girl's clear gaze.

Ye Mian felt her whole heart twist, that faint, aching sorrow rising again.

Struggling to steady herself, she spoke in a trembling voice, "I found this photo the other day. It's a bit dirty, but it isn't damaged."

Jiang Chen's eyes were starkly black and white, his shoulders trembling slightly. He took the photo, his voice hoarse, yet he managed that seemingly gentle smile. "Thank you."

That thank you sent a tingling sensation down her scalp.

Ye Mian's heart fluttered with his smile. She wasn't afraid, only unsure what exactly this humiliation tasted like.

So this was it—the once-proud, radiant Jiang Chen, tasting humiliation and cruelty first in this world.

Even the heavens, it seemed, felt sorrow.

A blinding flash cut through the heavy sky, thunder exploded, and a torrential rain poured down.

The pagoda tree's branches shuddered in the gale.

The sudden rain soaked everyone to the bone.

And it quenched the fierce flames.

In the old city, every heart felt damp and cold.

...

The rain fell harder and harder, showing no sign of stopping.

The fire was gradually brought under control.

Ye Mian frowned, watching Jiang Chen's blood drip to the ground and scatter with the rain.

She bit her lip, turned, and ran home through the downpour.

Only after she had gone did Jiang Chen look up.

Beneath the old pagoda tree, the girl's silhouette was slim and graceful. The rain burst around her, wrapping her in a gauzy veil.

Yet her quickening steps seemed to betray a certain fear.

Jiang Chen's gaze lingered on her retreating form for a long time before he turned away, rainwater threatening to spill into his eyes, which held a tenderness no one else could understand.

Perhaps the wind in this world was simply too strong—it blew in all the world's gentleness, only to sweep it away again, leaving even the last shred of dignity scattered to the ground.

...