In the experimental building of the university campus, several exams were underway.
As Zong Yan had expected, the school insisted on holding final exams after all. Sometimes, after a disaster, trying to live as one did before was a way to restore order and heal trauma. Although the number of students attending the exams had decreased significantly, the school had rushed to develop different grading criteria.
Zong Yan didn't need to understand or consider any of that. She only needed to focus on what was in front of her and complete the exam paper. Her life was pure and rigid; she was unwilling to actively embrace change. A familiar life gave her a sense of security.
After the exams, the school officially announced the start of summer break. Students who found it inconvenient to return home could choose to stay on campus.
Zong Yan carried her backpack and walked calmly through the crowd, seemingly unaffected by the earthquake. In stark contrast, her classmates had not yet recovered from the blow. The atmosphere on campus was devoid of its usual vitality. People walked with their heads down, brows clouded with gloom—regret for lost lives, anxiety about their own futures, and the stress of the natural disaster were all etched into their youthful lives.
Zong Yan, however, remained the same as she had been before the earthquake.
As she reached the school gates, an expensive-looking black car came into view. Seeing a familiar figure by the car, she stopped, just close enough to catch fragments of the conversation.
Chen Bai, his forehead wrapped in bandages and leaning on a crutch, was speaking respectfully to the car's owner.
"Uncle Si, we were at the bar that day. A-Jiang went out to buy cigarettes, and the earthquake hit ten minutes later. He must be somewhere nearby. You have to get the search and rescue team to look again."
The man, dressed in a suit with a furrowed brow and a weary face, replied, "They’ve been searching for two days. They used life detectors, but there’s no signal. Are you sure he didn't go somewhere else on a whim?"
Chen Bai couldn't hide his guilt. "No, we were all celebrating his birthday together. It’s all my fault. If I’d known, I would have gone with him. Whether he’s trapped or... at least we could have looked out for each other."
"He’s too willful," Si Jiang’s father said, his anger rising. "Even at a time like this, he runs off. Now, the company’s affairs are being affected because of the search for him. Truly, he hasn't given me a moment's peace since he was a child."
Si Jiang’s father grew more frustrated as he spoke. "We’ll keep people looking for now. I’ll give him one more week. If we find him, I’ll bring him home and teach him a proper lesson. If we don’t..."
Chen Bai knew what Si Jiang’s father was leaving unsaid. He had long known from Si Jiang about the coldness of the Si parents, but facing it himself still sent a chill through his heart. He felt a wave of bitterness on behalf of his childhood friend.
When Si Jiang was kidnapped as a child, the two Si parents had been prepared to lose him. They had even prepared the items for a cenotaph, planned the post-incident press conference, and contacted hospitals to inquire about IVF. It was only because things took a turn for the better that Si Jiang was rescued.
Si Jiang’s father’s implication was clear: if he couldn't be found, they would consider their bond as father and son over in this life. They would have another son, and perhaps visit Si Jiang’s grave if they had time in the future.
What a joke.
Chen Bai smiled bitterly to himself. Given Si Jiang’s personality, even if he were truly dead, if he knew his parents brought a younger brother to disgust him at his grave, he might be angry enough to come back to life on the spot and take them down with him. It was precisely because of what happened in his childhood that Si Jiang had spent all these years doing everything possible to block his family’s plans for a second child. He could never accept the possibility of being abandoned.
Zong Yan listened silently, a look of mockery on her face. So, it wasn't just the poor who suffered; even these wealthy families, with more money than they could ever spend, had equally messy relationships. Finding it tedious, she had no intention of listening further and turned to leave.
Chen Bai noticed her sharply. He turned to look at her retreating back, frowning in thought. That girl looked familiar—had she been eavesdropping on them? Why?
Human resilience in the face of disaster was sometimes truly admirable.
Zong Yan passed the vegetable market she frequented and found many familiar vendors already tidying their stalls and cleaning up, striving to return to normal life as soon as possible. Many shops along the road that were still functional were also struggling to open for customers.
Among them was the convenience store where Zong Yan had gone on her "zero-dollar shopping" spree. She went in, picked out some items she was short on, and prepared to pay.
"59 yuan," the owner said with a long face.
Zong Yan’s hand, reaching for her money, paused. "Wasn't it 30 yuan?"
"Little girl, there was an earthquake. Resources are scarce. It certainly can't be the old price."
Zong Yan had pulled out a fifty-yuan bill, but after hearing the owner's answer, she put the money back and removed several items from the pile on the counter.
"Then I only want these. How much now?"
The owner rolled his eyes. What a pauper. "30."
Zong Yan paid promptly and left without looking back. She had originally considered whether to pay for the items she took before, but seeing that the owner wouldn't let himself lose out now, she decided not to bother with the redundant gesture.
"Hey! Xiao Zong? Is that Xiao Zong?"
As she was about to leave the market, someone suddenly called out to her from behind. Zong Yan turned and saw an old woman with a silk scarf around her neck waving at her. She hesitated, glancing at the darkening sky, but walked over quickly.
"Grandma Wang, I'm glad you're okay."
"Oh, I was out doing square dancing when the earthquake hit, so I managed to dodge the disaster. But the old house collapsed. Sigh, I lived there for so many years." The old woman looked somewhat sad.
Zong Yan pursed her lips; she didn't know how to comfort people.
"It’s fine. Being alive is the greatest luck. I’m going to live with my daughter in a while. By the way, have you two kept in touch over the years? She mentioned you when we talked during the New Year. Oh, never mind that, I almost forgot."
The old woman was a whirlwind of energy, telling Zong Yan to wait. She trotted over to a tricycle by the road, pulled out two large bags, and tried to hand them to Zong Yan.
Grandma Wang had been a soldier in her youth, then worked in a factory. After being laid off, she went into business. Even in her old age, she couldn't stay idle; she liked growing her own vegetables and raising chickens and ducks to sell. She didn't lack money and was always casual with her prices, but she never accepted haggling.
Only with Zong Yan would she ignore the numbers on the scale and tell blatant lies, practically wanting to give the food away for free. She was warm-hearted and straightforward. Unable to stand the adults in Zong Yan’s family, she did what she could to help this struggling child. Though it wasn't much, it was one of the few kindnesses Zong Yan had encountered in the world.
"Take these. These are supplements my juniors sent over; I haven't even opened them. You've grown so thin, you need to nourish yourself. And this, be careful—it’s the last batch of eggs from my hen. My chickens aren't fed commercial feed; these eggs are definitely more nutritious than anything you'd buy elsewhere."
"Take this meat back and put it in the freezer; it’ll keep for a long time. You should have power back at your place, right? Oh, and one more thing!"
The old woman pulled out a paper bag. "There are two down jackets in here. I bought them a while ago and they’ve just been sitting in the closet, never worn. I see you always wearing those same two things in winter. You can tough it out while you're young, but girls catch cold easily, and you'll suffer for it when you're older."
Zong Yan listened quietly to the old woman’s rambling instructions, and a warmth grew in her habitually cold heart.
"Grandma Wang, I’ve grown up. I can earn money to buy things myself."
"You're still a student, and there's no one else in your family. How much can you earn? Alright, no more talk. Take these back, and don't you dare say no. It seems like a lot—how about I drive you home? Where are you living now?"
Zong Yan looked at the tricycle and shook her head. "I live nearby, just a few steps away. You go on with your business."
Grandma Wang never knew that Zong Yan lived in an unfinished building with her stepfather, and even now, she hadn't left. If she knew, she would probably be furious. It was better this way. Even if Zong Yan had never lived with a normal elder, she knew at least one thing: don't make the people who care about you worry. Moreover, Grandma Wang wasn't a blood relative; there was no need to burden the old woman with her hardships.
"Grandma Wang, thank you."
Zong Yan held the bags in both hands. They were heavy, the handles digging into her palms with a throbbing pain. She bowed her head to the old woman.
The old woman waved gallantly and drove off in her little tricycle with a series of chugs.
Zong Yan stood there for a moment, watching the tricycle disappear, before taking a deep breath and setting off for home.
By the time she returned, the sky was almost completely dark. Zong Yan set the things down and quickened her pace toward the secret room.
As expected, as soon as she approached the inner door, she heard her name.
"Zong Yan, Zong Yan, Zong Yan, Zong Yan..."
A person trapped in fear calling for a savior.
"Liar, big liar."
He was crying as he called out, resentment mixed with his tears. He spoke through gritted teeth.
Zong Yan opened the door, and the figure huddled under the sink rushed toward her. Halfway there, he came to a sudden halt.
Zong Yan stood at the door, looking at him with a cold expression.
In the dim light, he sat on the floor, cradling a candle that had long since burned out. His eyes were red as he accused her, "The candle went out. It’s been two hours."
"Yes, I know."
Zong Yan told him to hold out his hands.
He reluctantly spread his palms. "You lied to me."
Sure enough, the wax that had melted and then solidified was stuck between Si Jiang’s fingers, his skin red and swollen from the heat. Zong Yan skillfully peeled off piece after piece of the wax while Si Jiang hissed in pain.
"I told you not to hold the candle. The temperature is too high."
"No, I have to hold it." Si Jiang obediently kept his hands extended. "If I protect the candle in my hands, I don't have to worry about the wind blowing it out."
"Where would wind come from?" Zong Yan could never find a vent in this secret room, except for the small gap under the door.
"There just is wind! The candle can't go out early. If it goes out early, you won't come. If you don't come, I’ll... I’ll..."
Seeing him get agitated again, Zong Yan interrupted him directly. "Fine, I get it. Do as you wish."
As she dug the last and largest circular piece of wax from his palm, Si Jiang winced and blew on his hand. Once it felt a bit better, he hurriedly pulled a glass jar from under the sink.
It was the one Zong Yan had given him. He held it out to her. "Quick, put it in."
His expression was like a child expecting candy.
Zong Yan dropped the wax piece into the jar, and Si Jiang happily hugged the jar, shaking it so it made a clinking sound.
"Look, I’ve collected so much."
Inside the transparent former fruit jar, wax pieces already filled nearly a third of the volume.
Zong Yan didn't stop this strange behavior. It was said that pets all had their own hoarding habits—dogs hide bones, cats hide toys, hamsters hide grain. It was quite interesting that Si Jiang treated a pile of wax pieces like treasure.
She took bandages and Yunnan Baiyao from the cabinet. While he played with the jar, she said calmly, "Changing the dressing today. Stretch out that leg."
Si Jiang froze, his expression turning reluctant. "I don't want to. It’s a bit ugly."
Even in his current state of mental confusion, he subconsciously felt a rejection of his own deformity.
"If you know it’s ugly, then don't keep moving it around. Otherwise, it will only get worse."
Zong Yan removed the brace and bandages from his leg. After checking the wound's healing progress, she began to wrap it again, layer by layer.
The leg was fractured, and she was no doctor. Without going to a hospital, it was impossible for Si Jiang to receive proper treatment, and he would likely be left with a permanent disability.
If that happened, wouldn't it be quite good?
A weak prisoner has even less courage to run away.
***
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