Thirteen Wonders (ShíSānYāo) : Chapter 8 - Four, Five, Six Thousand
Chapter: Four, Five, Six Thousand
Evening After School. Zhou Yao didn’t invite anyone to walk with her. She left the school gate alone.
The weather seemed to match the mood. After several days of clear skies, it suddenly began to rain, and within moments, the dry ground was soaked.
Chen Xuze knew Zhou Yao had left first. His gaze darkened slightly, but his expression remained calm. The worry on Jiang Jiashu and the others' faces, however, was impossible to hide.
“She’s not going to do anything reckless, is she?”
“No.” Chen Xuze’s tone was firm. “She’s probably just going home for dinner. It’s fine.”
Compared to worrying about Zhou Yao, it was obvious that Jiang Jiashu and the others should be more concerned about Chen Xuze himself.
After causing a scene at Class 4’s door, with behavior deemed both inappropriate and severe, Chen Xuze was called to the office by both the disciplinary director and his homeroom teacher to be reprimanded.
“Bullying a classmate in public! And a girl, no less—how could you do such a thing?”
“Choking someone—is that a small matter? If you weren’t careful and used too much force, do you realize it could’ve been fatal?”
“We thought you were a sensible, good student. This is just… truly disappointing!”
“…”
Outside the office, Jiang Jiashu eavesdropped, growing angrier as he listened. He muttered under his breath, “Bullshit! Where were these people when those gossipy girls were messing with others? So what if she’s a girl—does that give her the right to bully someone else? Damn it…”
Regardless, Chen Xuze was ordered to write a reflection and, after being scolded, was sent to stand in front of the school’s ethics building as punishment.
……
The convenience store near the school was open 24/7. Zhou Yao bought a sandwich and crouched by the steps outside, nibbling at it in small bites.
Before her, the rain fell in a continuous curtain of droplets. She hadn’t brought an umbrella. When she first came out, the rain was light, but it had unexpectedly turned heavy in an instant.
The sound of rain pattered on. As Zhou Yao ate, she noticed an old man squatting under the eaves nearby, staring at her. He looked somewhat vacant, his eyes dull and unfocused.
She glanced at him, and as if noticing her gaze, the old man shuffled closer, inch by inch. Zhou Yao paused but didn’t move away. She simply stared at his actions in silence.
“Can you… can you give me ten yuan…”
“Ten yuan…”
His words were slurred, his eyes still empty.
Zhou Yao reached into her pocket and found only a few scattered coins, not even enough to make up ten yuan. She said nothing, only shook her head.
The old man looked at her. After a while, he repeated, “Can you… give me ten yuan…”
He didn’t seem entirely mentally sound. Zhou Yao hesitated, then shifted slightly to the side, putting a little more distance between them.
For a long time, there was no sound except the rain hitting the ground. The noise of traffic and the bustling city seemed distant and irrelevant to them.
The old man sat there, a lone figure within the rain. Zhou Yao couldn’t help but watch him for a moment. Then, slowly, she moved closer again. Stopping about a step away, she tore her sandwich in half. “Do you want some?”
She offered him the untouched half, the side she hadn’t bitten into.
The old man let out a chuckle, and at that moment, Zhou Yao realized he likely suffered from dementia. His mind was no longer fully functional. But there was no contact information on him—she had no way to reach his family even if she wanted to help.
The rain continued, sometimes light, sometimes heavy. The wind blew droplets under the eaves, dampening Zhou Yao’s hair. Eventually, the rain eased, and the sound of drops hitting the ground grew softer.
Zhou Yao and the old man crouched side by side, each eating their half of the sandwich, neither minding the other.
Before she even finished her share, a group of people hurried toward the old man. From their conversation, it was clear they were his family. They anxiously checked him for injuries. When they saw the partially eaten sandwich in his hand, they quickly turned to Zhou Yao and thanked her repeatedly.
Soon, they took the old man and left. The steps in front of the convenience store were once again empty, with only Zhou Yao remaining. There were seats inside, but she didn’t feel like going in. Finishing her sandwich, she dusted off her hands and stood up, looking up at the sky, which was neither fully clear nor entirely overcast.
Everyone on the street seemed to have an umbrella. Those without one were waiting under storefront awnings for someone to pick them up.
She had neither. No umbrella. No one coming to pick her up.
Zhou Yao lifted her bag over her head and, without hesitation, ran straight into the rain.
……
“You’re back? Why are you soaking wet?!”
As soon as Zhou Yao stepped through the door, her mother saw her drenched clothes and frowned.
“It rained.”
“I told you to take an umbrella! Now I have to wash another set of clothes—honestly.”
From the front room, the noise of the mahjong parlor was loud and chaotic. Every table was likely full. Her father was inside, sipping tea and chatting with his friends, while her mother, amid housework, had taken a moment to glance at her.
“Hurry up and change your clothes so I can wash them, you hear me?” she ordered.
Zhou Yao responded with a quiet “Mm,” went to her room, changed into dry clothes, and placed the wet ones into the laundry basket.
“Have you burned incense for your brother yet?” She had just set down her clothes when her mother suddenly asked.
Zhou Yao froze for a moment. “…No.”
Her mother turned, giving her a disapproving look. “Then go do it! You’re old enough now, and yet you have no sense of propriety. Your brother is all alone, and the incense on the altar is almost burnt out. Hurry up and light more for him!”
Zhou Yao said nothing as she walked to the cabinet against the wall in the living room. On top of the cabinet sat an incense burner, and behind it was a photo of a young child. The boy in the picture looked very much like her—perhaps even more beautiful than she was.
He was her older brother, but in truth, Zhou Yao barely knew him. Before she was old enough to remember things, he had already died in a car accident. He had been their mother’s most treasured child. After his passing, their mother had spent an entire year teetering on the edge of despair, nearly ending her own life due to depression.
Zhou Yao lit three sticks of incense and placed them on the burner, and the door was knocked. Her mother went to open it and saw their neighbor standing outside, carrying a plate of freshly made glutinous rice cakes.
After a brief exchange of pleasantries, her mother thanked the neighbor and accepted the rice cakes. She took one from the plate and placed it in a bowl, handing it to Zhou Yao to send it to Father Zhou in the mahjong parlor.
The rice cakes were large, but there were only four. Her mother took a knife and cut one in half, eating one piece herself and giving the other to Zhou Yao. That left exactly two on the plate.
Zhou Yao had a sweet tooth—so much so that, as a child, she had almost ruined her teeth from eating too much candy. After finishing her half of the rice cake, her chopsticks hesitated slightly as they hovered over the two remaining pieces. She didn’t take one, but there was a trace of reluctance in her movement.
Before she could make a decision, her mother picked up the plate and walked toward the cabinet. She carefully placed the two rice cakes before the framed photograph of her eldest son.
Gently, she murmured:
“Baby, you loved sweets the most. Eat a little more, okay? If there’s anything you want, remember to come tell Mommy in my dreams…”
Zhou Yao twirled her chopsticks between her fingers, then silently walked to the sink, washed them clean, and put them back in their holder.
……
Zhou Yao knew for certain that Chen Xuze had been punished. She had heard bits and pieces about it before leaving school. Choking a classmate—especially when the other party was a girl, and he was a boy—was something no teacher would excuse, no matter the reason.
Chen Xuze was ordered to write a five-thousand-word self-reflection, to be handed to their homeroom teacher by tomorrow afternoon. And tonight, as punishment, he was not allowed to have dinner. Though their teacher felt bad for him, they had to set an example. He was made to stand outside, in the outermost corridor of the ethics building, until the start of the night study session.
When Zhou Yao arrived, he was standing under the corridor, one hand in his pocket, his expression calm and unbothered, showing no signs of distress.
Seeing her, he asked, “You ate already?”
She nodded.
“What did you eat?”
“Leftover lunch. I didn’t have it earlier, so I ate two rice cakes from the neighbor.”
Chen Xuze seemed oddly interested. “Were they good?”
“Yeah,” Zhou Yao nodded. “Sweet.”
She liked sweets—he knew that. At her words, he seemed to smile slightly. It was faint, almost as if it were just a trick of the light.
Raindrops clung to the green branches, and water dripped intermittently from the eaves. The outer edge of the corridor was almost completely wet.
Zhou Yao asked, “Are you hungry?”
He didn’t react at first. He lowered his gaze slightly to look at her—shorter than him—then, after a while, nodded absentmindedly.
She reached into her pocket and took out a small pack of biscuits, handing it to him. He accepted it without even looking, stuffing it into his own pocket.
“Can’t eat now,” he said with rare amusement. “If the teacher sees, I might have to stand here until morning.”
Zhou Yao smiled.
“How long have you been standing? Must be tiring.” She asked.
“Not too bad,” he said. “Just boring. I wanna leave.”
He tilted his head back slightly, rolling his neck lazily. His posture was relaxed, showing none of the stiffness one might expect from someone being punished. He was tall and lean, standing there amid the rain-drenched leaves, looking like a quiet and picturesque scene.
Zhou Yao glared at him. “You can’t leave! If you do, you’ll get scolded later.”
“So what?”
She glanced at him. “How much longer?”
He looked up at the clock on the building wall and pouted. “Twenty minutes, maybe.”
“You have to stand properly and behave. Just wait until class starts, then you’ll be free.”
Chen Xuze didn’t respond and instead muttered, contradicting her on purpose, “Not necessarily. Standing here is so annoying. I might just leave in a bit.”
Zhou Yao frowned. “You better stand properly, or you’ll get punished even more.”
He looked utterly indifferent.
She studied him for a few seconds, taking in his refined and handsome features. Then, all of a sudden, she said, “Give me your hand.”
Without hesitation, Chen Xuze extended his left hand.
Zhou Yao pulled out a black pen she carried with her, uncapped it, and carefully wrote three words in his palm—
Xuze, be good.
He stared at the words in his palm for a few seconds before slowly curling his fingers into a fist and tucking his hand into his coat pocket.
For a long moment, he didn’t speak. But finally, he stopped being stubborn. He stood quietly, no longer thinking about sneaking away. He only tilted his chin slightly, lowering his gaze to look at her.
The rustling leaves carried the sound of the wind, soft and damp.
After a few seconds of silence, he finally spoke.
“…Okay.”
The author has something to say:
Our Xuze is actually very, very, very good. ￣ω￣=
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