October, the autumn was in full swing. The blowing wind had lost its dryness, and the city of Gu Cheng had become a bit more desolate.
It had rained the previous night, leaving many puddles on the uneven road. A car honked as it sped by, splashing a passerby with water.
The victimized middle-aged man hurriedly brushed the water droplets off his coat, but the fabric was absorbent, leaving many water stains. He looked down; his pants were also soaked in a large area, as if he had just peed on them.
Unable to take the insult, the man spat in the direction of the motorcyclist who had just passed: "These days, all kinds of people exist. What month is it, still wearing a tank top and speeding? Not afraid of freezing to death!"
Hearing the commotion, Ye Qingli, who had just come out of the alley, looked in the direction he was pointing.
A red light ahead, the countdown flashing on the sign, twenty seconds left. A car blocked the way, so the motorcyclist couldn't cross and slowly stopped, extending a long leg to the ground to support the bike.
The young man wore a helmet, his black hair pressed against his neck. He was in a sleeveless T-shirt, revealing solid arms with veins bulging over most of his forearm, tattooed with a spider lily.
It was Xiao Yu.
Ye Qingli recognized him.
Not just her; the whole school knew him.
On the registration day of freshman year, under the scorching sun, Xiao Yu beat a volunteer senior who was helping new students with luggage until his nose and mouth were bleeding.
Ye Qingli was there too. The senior was built, with solid muscles, clearly a regular at the gym. But when facing Xiao Yu, he was completely defenseless, lying on the ground and covering his head as Xiao Yu hit him.
The scene was bloody. Later, both ended up in the police station. All witnesses thought Xiao Yu wouldn't be able to attend university and would have to stay in detention, but unexpectedly, he showed up the next day.
"Holy crap, he must have connections!" That was the comment Ye Qingli heard from people around her at the time.
And it was true. Xiao Yu always wore designer brands; a single piece of clothing or shoes could cost as much as someone else's monthly living expenses. Plus, he was good-looking, so countless girls swarmed around him.
Ye Qingli had seen girls asking for his WeChat more than once.
If one had to find a flaw in this rich young master, it would be his bad temper.
How bad? Ye Qingli didn't know, since she had never interacted with him and had no ties.
Running into him today was purely accidental; she never expected they were in the same city.
The light turned green, and the roar of the motorcycle instantly pierced the sky. It was only then that Ye Qingli snapped back to reality. She lowered her eyes and walked in the opposite direction.
If he had heard what that man said about him, he probably wouldn't have taken it lying down.
...
When Ye Qingli got home, her mother was cooking in the kitchen.
Zhang Luan heard the sound and poked her head out of the kitchen: "Qingqing, why are you back so late?"
She looked behind her again. Ye Qingli closed the door, took off her canvas shoes, put them aside, slipped into slippers, and walked over. "Don't look, Dad said he's busy these days and can't come back."
Ye Yaohui started a decoration company last year. The early days of the business were tough—not enough staff and cash flow problems.
Now things were finally getting better, but he was so busy he didn't even have time to come home for a meal.
Zhang Luan seemed used to it. She turned off the gas, crouched down to get bowls and chopsticks: "If he can't come back, then he can't. Anyway, your dad eats with his work buddies, it can't be that bad. We'll eat on our own."
Ye Qingli took the bowls and chopsticks herself, then suddenly thought of something and turned around: "Mom, did you take your medicine today?"
Zhang Luan had severe anxiety disorder, many years now, and needed medication to maintain a normal life.
She smiled: "I took it, I remember."
"Good, as long as you remember."
At the dinner table.
Zhang Luan handed her the freshly served rice: "We just got back from your grandma's two days ago, and she was on the phone missing you again."
Ye Qingli smiled: "My grandma likes me."
Before, Ye Yaohui and Zhang Luan worked away from home and couldn't take care of her, so she lived with her grandma. She was basically raised by her grandma, and only started living with her mother in the past two years.
So Ye Qingli was closer to her grandma.
Zhang Luan understood that. She said helplessly: "What can we do? I ask her to come live with us, but she won't. You have to board at school, so if we can't see her, there's no way."
Hearing that, Ye Qingli suddenly felt a bit sad.
Her grandpa passed away early, and her grandma wasn't in good health. Old age brought many minor ailments that wouldn't go away. She only had this one daughter, Zhang Luan, who couldn't often visit. Grandma didn't like watching TV, and Ye Qingli really didn't know what else Grandma did besides tending to the flowers and plants in the yard.
"Mom, winter break—let's bring Grandma over during winter break, okay?" Her eyes were clear, reflecting the innocence of youth.
The old lady was stubborn, as everyone knew. Zhang Luan wasn't sure if she could persuade her, but she still smiled and said okay.
They ate in silence. Ye Qingli struggled to swallow the last piece of meat, frowned, and put the bowl aside: "Mom, I really can't eat anymore. It's up to my throat."
Zhang Luan's chopsticks were still in midair. After trying to persuade her to eat more without success, she lowered her arm: "You're already thin, and you can't eat much. Tomorrow school starts, and I won't be able to see you. Next time you come back, you'll probably be skin and bones."
It wasn't without reason that Zhang Luan said this. Ye Qingli had a weak stomach, didn't like breakfast, and her lunch and dinner combined were less than what others ate in one meal. Eating a little more felt like swallowing medicine. Even with her mother supervising, she couldn't eat much. At school, with no one watching, she might collapse from hunger one day.
Plus, she was prone to low blood sugar, which worried Zhang Luan to death.
In contrast, Ye Qingli seemed indifferent. She laughed: "It's not as serious as you say! Okay, Mom, I'm going to my room to pack."
Zhang Luan had no choice, waving her hand: "Go on, go on."
...
The National Day holiday passed quickly. The high-speed train pulled into the station, and when the doors opened, the crowd surged in, carrying large and small bags—mostly office workers returning from trips, with a few elderly people.