A moment later, the water came to a boil.
Before Qiu Yun could get up, Liang He stood. "I’ll do it."
Qiu Yun watched as he walked out to the porch. He found a damp cloth to wrap around the kettle's handle, lifted it with his right hand, and used his left to find two bowls in the cupboard. Returning to the table in front of Qiu Yun, he slowly poured the steaming water into the bowls.
His movements were practiced and familiar.
"I lived in a courtyard house when I was a child, too," he said. "But that one was larger than yours; several families lived there together."
"Oh." No wonder he was so handy.
Liang He’s voice poured out alongside the flowing water. "I didn't actually come here for a home visit."
Qiu Yun looked up. His face was blurred behind the rising steam. "I know," she said.
Liang He gave a soft, thin smile and set the kettle on the floor. "You must think I’m very childish."
Qiu Yun shook her head. "Man is born free. Everyone has the right to stand in the rain or have a drink. If we lose even those small rights when we're troubled, then life is hardly worth living."
Liang He smiled again. "You certainly have a way with pretty words."
He sat down and suddenly asked, "In your eyes, what kind of person am I?"
Qiu Yun was slightly surprised. She turned her head to look at him closely. His hair was nearly dry; his forehead was broad and smooth, his nose bridge straight, and his sword-like brows were as sharp as a painting. The distance between his brows and eyes was narrow, and his large pupils gave him a spirited look when he was alert, yet held a different quality when his eyes were half-closed. Qiu Yun couldn't help but think of that face thirty years in the future. To say there were no changes at all would be impossible—collagen fades, fine lines appear—even the legendary Liang He could not escape the fate of a mortal. Yet, his face changed so slowly through the passage of time, especially those eyes, as if they had been frozen by the snows of the Kunlun Mountains.
Qiu Yun wondered privately: how could he be so favored by fate? Was it that he simply did not age, or... was it that he didn't dare to grow old, as if waiting for someone or something?
"Is it that hard to answer?" Liang He asked when she remained silent.
"Not really..." Qiu Yun thought for a moment and said, "You are a very *good* person." She intentionally drew out and emphasized the word "good."
To her surprise, Liang He replied, "I hate that word 'good' the most."
"Why?"
"Whenever someone is evaluated that way, it usually means they have no other merits. It’s like an awards ceremony; when there’s clearly no prize for you, they patronize you with a 'consolation' award."
"I wasn't being patronizing," Qiu Yun blurted out. "I truly think you are a good person."
Seeing her expression, Liang He froze for a moment, then said dejectedly, "I’d rather not be."
"Why?"
Liang He didn't answer.
"Teacher Liang," Qiu Yun said, "is this a display of your 'bad' side? Keeping things bottled up and getting drunk at my front door?"
Liang He looked up at her, his eyes flashing with the displeasure of having a weakness exposed. "You wouldn't understand even if I told you."
Qiu Yun smiled. "I'm guessing today’s matter has something to do with your father."
Having his thoughts read, Liang He shot her a sidelong glance.
"I take back what I just said; you aren't that good after all," Qiu Yun continued to tease. "Look at you, looking down on someone just because they're younger than you."
"Reverse psychology doesn't work on me," Liang He saw through her immediately.
Qiu Yun choked on her words. Just as she was thinking of a comeback, Liang He spoke of his own accord. "You're right. It is about my father."
Qiu Yun waited quietly for him to continue.
"And it involves Xiaolan."
"Lu Xiaolan?" This genuinely surprised Qiu Yun. Between Liang He’s deceased father and Lu Xiaolan, her mind raced, connecting this to the gossip Wu Liu had once told her. She suddenly had a bold hypothesis: "Did your father leave you a massive inheritance on the condition that you stay with Lu Xiaolan, but now she’s cheated on you with someone else?"
Liang He nearly coughed up blood. He shot her a flat look of pure exasperation.
"Is that why you're so heartbroken? Drinking in the rain... it’s a classic breakup trope," Qiu Yun analyzed with total conviction.
Liang He didn't even bother rolling his eyes this time.
"No?"
"Of course not." Liang He shook his head. "What exactly goes on in that head of yours? It’s Lu Xiaolan who is asking a favor of me."
"A favor?" Qiu Yun was puzzled. "Isn't your relationship... quite good? If she’s asking for help, why not just agree?"
"Yes..." Liang He let out a long sigh, one that seemed to carry a thousand unspoken words. He paused, then shifted the topic. "I think I told you once that my father died of an illness when I was thirteen."
Qiu Yun remembered. "Yes, you mentioned it."
That had been during the first year of junior high. Qiu Yun had gone up the mountain to sell spirit money and happened to run into Liang He, even sharing a meal at his house. Afterward, Liang He hadn't just walked her back to school; fearing she was depressed, he had shared his own family history, including the mention of his father.
"My father didn't die of an illness," Liang He said. "He was beaten to death during *that era*."
"Beaten to death?" Qiu Yun was shocked, but she quickly realized what "that era" referred to. It was a sensitive subject. She opened her mouth slightly, a realization dawning on her. "Does this... does this have something to do with Lu Xiaolan?"
"Back then, the person who reported him and presided over the interrogation was named Lu Wenfang. He was my father’s colleague—and Lu Xiaolan’s uncle."
"This..." Qiu Yun was stunned. If the Lu family had treated Liang He’s father that way, how could he still be on such good terms with Lu Xiaolan?
"Because Lu Xiaolan saved me," Liang He said, as if anticipating her question. "She and I grew up together with many other children in the compound. After my father died, I was devastated and went to live temporarily at my maternal uncle’s house in the countryside. Lu Xiaolan would walk over an hour on mountain paths every day to find me and tell me about things happening at school."
"Did she... did she know about the grudge between your parents' generation?"
"No. She wasn't even eleven then. Neither of us knew what was really happening to the world. But in the compound, she and I were the only only-children, and we were closest in age, so we had always been the best of friends."
"She stayed by your side until you got better?" Qiu Yun felt a strange, inexplicable pang of jealousy.
"Yes. But when I say she 'saved' me, I don't just mean that. She literally saved my life. In a moment of despair, I tried to end it all by jumping into a village pond. She was the first to find me, and her screams for help brought over the local farmers who pulled me out."
Qiu Yun was speechless. She had never imagined Liang He had suffered through such things, nor that his history with Lu Xiaolan ran so deep. She had always felt their relationship was odd—seemingly close, yet maintaining a distance; detached, yet intimately connected. Qiu Yun didn't quite believe in pure friendship between men and women, but Liang He and Lu Xiaolan certainly didn't seem like lovers. After hearing his story, she finally understood: what bound them together wasn't romance, but a powerful knot of family resentment and personal debt.
"So... what is she asking of you now?"
Liang He gave a mocking laugh. "Lu Wenfang has had a relapse of heart disease. He’s in critical condition. She came to ask my uncle to be the lead surgeon."
"This—" Qiu Yun was at a loss for words. What was this? The wheel of fortune turning? Or poetic justice finally coming around?
It was indeed a thorny problem. Qiu Yun asked, "Did you agree?"
Liang He closed his eyes briefly. "I couldn't refuse."
"Your family won't agree, will they?" Qiu Yun ventured.
"Why do you think I was kicked out in the rain?" Liang He smiled bitterly.
"What... you actually went home and brought it up with them?" Qiu Yun’s voice rose involuntarily. "If I were your mother, I’d think you were so hopelessly infatuated that I’d need a club as thick as my arm to beat some sense into you."
Liang He frowned at her. Qiu Yun realized she might have overstepped, but that wasn't what Liang He focused on. "How did you know my mother asked me exactly that?"
*Please... any woman would think that.* Qiu Yun sighed. "Her family has a blood feud with your mother. How could she possibly agree? But—I’m also curious. Her family took your father from you. Don't you hate them?"
Liang He looked out the window, his gaze distant. "Hate? Of course I hate them. But the Lu family wasn't the only factor in my father’s passing. Back then, for the sake of her own extended family, my mother divorced my father and severed ties with him first. Perhaps that was the first step in my father’s tragedy."
Qiu Yun sat in a daze, not knowing what to say. She remembered the photo of the family of three under the glass on Liang He’s desk, and she remembered his mother, He Chengyan, looking so approachable and kind. She couldn't reconcile that image with the bloody storms of that era. She saw Liang He’s hand resting on the table, his fingers long and well-defined. Suddenly, she felt a strong urge to hold it, to give him some strength.
"My father was posthumously rehabilitated in '78, and the Lu family suffered their share of hardships as well. So when Lu Xiaolan came to find me, I didn't feel vindicated... I just felt..."
"You felt she was pitiable," Qiu Yun said.
Liang He looked deeply at her. "Yes."
"That was the fault of the era, the fault of history," Qiu Yun couldn't help but say. "She shouldn't have to pay for it, and you certainly shouldn't have to pay for it."
Liang He watched her, saying nothing.
"I haven't lived your life, so I can't truly say I feel exactly what you feel, but..." Qiu Yun slowly moved in front of Liang He and knelt down, looking up at him. The hesitation and melancholy in his eyes made her heart ache. This time, she didn't hesitate. She took Liang He’s hand in hers and said earnestly, "You don't owe her anymore." Fearing he wouldn't believe her, she added, "Truly."
*Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump.* She didn't know whose heartbeat it was, but it was loud enough to drown out the rain outside.
When Liang He first began studying oil painting, he had sketched the hands of different people, of different ages, in different poses. He had copied them from books and drawn them from life. But he had never realized that a hand could feel like this...
He stared blankly at Qiu Yun’s hand—that slender hand, smaller than his own, yet trying to cover his. It was so warm.
***
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 陆文放 | Lu Wenfang | Lu Xiaolan's uncle, responsible for Liang He's father's death. |
| 何成燕 | He Chengyan | Liang He's mother. |
| 平反 | Rehabilitated / Posthumously exonerated | A political term for clearing the name of someone wrongly accused during the Cultural Revolution. |
| 堰塘 | Pond / Weir pond | A small body of water, often used for irrigation in rural areas. |
| 主刀 | Lead surgeon | The primary doctor performing a surgical operation. |
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If I Wait Thirty Years | Chapter 53 | Debts of the Past | Novela.app | Novela.app
