“However,” he added, “I know someone who can help you.”

Ruan Mian’s heart had been floating and sinking due to his two simple sentences. Now, it hung suspended in the air with no place to land, and her reaction was half a beat late—

“…Who?”

“Ruan Mian.”

“Huh?” In her trance, she belatedly realized that this seemed to be the first time he had called her name.

Two characters that, when pronounced, were clearly extremely soft, yet he spoke them with a certain aloofness, giving them a unique texture.

“Come here.” The man had already walked to the smooth, blue-green stone closest to the lake.

Ruan Mian obediently followed.

He leaned against the stone at ease, lowered his head, and lit a cigarette. The pale blue flame died down, and a small red glow sprang up between his long fingers. He took a drag and slowly exhaled, then raised an eyebrow when he saw her staring blankly at him. “Still haven’t found him?”

The twilight quietly enveloped the surroundings. A burst of clear, melodious bird song came from the small woods.

Ruan Mian looked again and again. Aside from herself and the man in front of her, there was no third person.

“Where is he?”

Qi Yan smiled again, his long fingers slightly curved, flicking off a section of ash.

His gaze fell upon the surface of the lake.

Ruan Mian followed his line of sight, seeing her reflection in the water—the light was dim, so it wasn’t very clear, just a black silhouette, but because the lake was calm, it reflected a complete outline.

Her eyelashes trembled constantly, and her mind felt like a tangled mess, completely unable to think. “This…”

“Ruan Mian,” he called her again in a low voice. “Only she can help you.”

“I don’t understand.” Ruan Mian was utterly bewildered. “Let me think…”

She felt as if she were looking at a path with light at the end, but she didn’t know how to walk toward it. She was afraid of falling, afraid of getting lost, afraid…

But looking at the composed man next to her, she inexplicably gathered a sense of reckless courage.

Don’t be afraid. Just walk out there.

She actually took a step forward, then another. Her foot suddenly found empty air, but she was quickly and strongly pulled back by a powerful hand.

Ruan Mian was still shaken. She had completely forgotten that she was standing at the edge of the lake. Startled like this, her thoughts suddenly became clearer.

His meaning is: Only I can help myself. Only I can be my own backer?

“Figured it out?”

The voice seemed to ring right beside her ear. Ruan Mian turned her head, realizing just how close they were. She could almost smell the faint smoke scent on him, and a certain… mature masculine scent that was utterly foreign to her.

Her mood was still low, yet her heart was beating faster and faster. She didn’t dare to look into his eyes. She quickly let go of the hand gripping his sleeve and retreated two steps.

Qi Yan glanced at the spot where his sleeve was wrinkled from her grip, seeming unbothered. He raised his hand and pressed the cigarette out on the blue-green stone.

“I understand a little,” Ruan Mian answered truthfully, “but not completely.”

She understood: She had to rely on herself.

But the current her was too fragile. She was no reliance at all.

Qi Yan nodded.

She hadn’t gotten a complete answer and looked at him helplessly. “Then what should I do next?”

He looked toward the lake, no ripples in his narrow peach blossom eyes. “Turn around.”

Ruan Mian’s body reacted faster than her brain—it had been like this from the start. She had a strange, inexplicable certainty and trust in every word this person said.

“Walk forward.”

She walked forward a few steps. He didn’t say stop, so she continued walking forward. When she was about to reach the small woods, she suddenly understood.

He had already given her the answer.

Turn around, walk forward.

If the lake ahead was a dead end, then change direction and keep moving forward.

She could only walk forward.

A sheen of tears covered Ruan Mian’s eyes, but she didn’t actually want to cry. It was just a rush of emotion that needed an outlet. She looked back again.

A faint white mist shrouded the lake. The tall, straight figure was still standing by the stone, watching her walk away. She nodded vigorously at him, waving her hand, and slowly walked into the woods.

A wave of clarity washed over her. Every step she took after that felt unusually solid.

When she got home, Ruan Mian went straight to her room. A small black shadow was curled up on the floor by the door. She looked down in the moonlight filtering from outside. Hearing her footsteps, the shadow lifted its head, looking at her with a face full of anxiety, yet a stubborn, wronged look in its eyes.

After a long silence, Ruan Mian stared at her toes and quietly spoke three words. “I’m sorry.”

The words that had inadvertently entered her ears while passing the living room still echoed—

“Huihui has such a huge bump on the back of his head! When I asked him how he got it, he just cried and pointed at himself.”

“When I knocked the bird down, he rushed downstairs, looking like he was going to fight someone for it. Turns out he wanted the bird. He chased me, fell, and must have hit his head then.”

“Then he…”

“How could I? I wouldn’t dare let him touch that ominous thing… Later, when he wasn’t looking, I threw it straight into the garbage can.”

Ruan Mian closed her eyes. Her heart ached dully, as if being slashed by a knife—for the small, innocent life that was lost.

Just three words, and Ying Minghui’s entire bellyful of grievance was lightly resolved.

He shook his head frantically, a big tear rolling in his eye. Then, for some reason, he suddenly ran over and forcefully hugged her.

Ruan Mian was about to push him away without hesitation.

She couldn’t push him away.

He was hugging too tightly.

Ruan Mian tried a second time, but he didn’t budge an inch.

Two thoughts waged a silent tug-of-war in her mind

He is that woman’s son. He is the concrete evidence of your father’s betrayal of your mother.

But he also carries half the same blood as you…

That night, Ruan Mian had a dream. In the dream, the sky was full of stars. The man stood silently beneath a tree, his deep eyes like a secluded pond. She didn’t dare to approach, only watched him from afar, her heart like a bright mirror, reflecting him entirely.

Her gaze swept over him from the tips of his hair to his eyebrows, from his head to his toes, over and over again.

It was a very long dream, lasting from the moment she fell asleep until dawn, but throughout the entire dream, there was only him.

The morning after the typhoon was unusually beautiful. The sunlight was clear, the wind cool, and the flowers fragrant.

Ruan Mian was brushing her teeth when she suddenly stopped all movement.

The person in the mirror had a bright, radiant smile. She intentionally pressed her lips together, but her eyes were still smiling, a shimmering joy welling up from the depths of her eyes like a spring, impossible to stop.

She turned off the faucet, hung up the towel, and turned to walk out.

The whole house was quiet. Sunlight streamed freely across every stairwell. Ruan Mian lightly stepped down, her long hair floating behind her.

It was still early. There weren’t many people on the street. She rode her bicycle through an intersection, then turned onto a winding side road, stopping at the deepest part of the alley.

Her nose quickly caught the rich aroma of soybeans.

Although this small shop was remote, it often had long lines because the food was so delicious. Ruan Mian was lucky enough to find an empty seat by the window today.

She sat down, quietly eating a bowl of tofu pudding and a cage of soup dumplings.

These two dishes were her and her mother’s favorite breakfast.

Around her, children were crying, people were buried in their food, and others were talking softly—it was lively and bustling. She sat by the window filled with light, slowly eating her long-missed breakfast, a faint smile on her lips.

This kind of morning was too beautiful.

Because she bought a breakfast for Pan Tingting, Ruan Mian waited a little longer, so she arrived at school later than usual.

Just as she walked up to the third floor, she saw Pan Tingting rushing toward her. She waved the bag in her hand, about to speak, when her friend hurried close, her face anxious. Without a word, she pushed Ruan Mian toward the staircase.

Ruan Mian was bewildered. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t say anything right now,” Pan Tingting said seriously. “Just follow me.”

They walked all the way to the end of the corridor. Once they confirmed no one was around, Pan Tingting immediately looked distressed. “Soft Cotton, I think you’re really in trouble this time! Do you know? The little tyrant came to our classroom first thing this morning and was waiting for you…”

Ruan Mian’s heart sank instantly. Staring at her toes, she asked quietly, “She came looking for me… to do what?”

“Who knows?” Pan Tingting said. “But it’s definitely not good news.”

Ruan Mian was silent for a moment, gripping her school bag strap, habitually taking a step backward.

Seeing her reaction, Pan Tingting said, “How about I ask the teacher for leave for you? Say you’re not feeling well. She’s a girl; Old Chen won’t ask too many questions. He’ll definitely approve.”

“No need,” Ruan Mian suddenly looked up, staring fixedly at her, then shook her head. “No need.”

Walk forward. She could only walk forward.

She had to face it eventually. Running away wouldn’t help.

Her eyes seemed to hold a glimmering light as she spoke. Pan Tingting stared blankly. When she snapped out of it, Ruan Mian had already walked several meters away.

Pan Tingting hurried to catch up.

When they returned to the classroom, over a dozen pairs of eyes swished and focused on them. The brightest gaze came from a corner under the window.

Wang Linlin.

Ruan Mian met the gaze of those eyes that always looked at people with arrogance.

Pan Tingting kept tugging at her shirt hem from behind.

Everyone in the classroom stopped their reading, reciting, or test-taking. All attention was focused on Ruan Mian, curious, worried, and excited to watch a good show.

However, what happened next was completely unexpected—

Ruan Mian herself was stunned. She loosened her clenched fists, wondering if she had misheard something. But seeing Pan Tingting and the others with equally shocked expressions…

Wang Linlin had just said, “I’m sorry”?

She finally managed to gather her thoughts a little. Wang Linlin handed her a paper bag. Being someone who was used to being on top, her expression looked somewhat unwilling, and her words were choppy. “The reference books inside are what I’m replacing for you. Besides the math one… I bought the other subjects too. I hope you can… forgive me.”

“Holy cow! That’s unbelievable! The little tyrant is actually apologizing to someone?” Pan Tingting’s voice was clear and loud, like rattling beans. She pointed to her own head. “Do you think she’s…”

Ruan Mian quickly pulled her back. “She hasn’t gone far. Be careful she doesn’t hear you.”

“Heh heh heh! At first, I thought she was here to harass you again. I was holding my breath! But who would have thought? The plot twist came as fast as a tornado,” Pan Tingting rummaged through her drawer for a pack of seeds and bit one open. “Let me eat some seeds to calm my nerves.”

Ruan Mian also found it hard to believe, but the full bag of new books on her desk, and the fact that everyone present had heard Wang Linlin’s “I’m sorry”…

She suddenly thought of a possibility. “Could it be the homeroom teacher?”

“That’s possible,” Pan Tingting nodded. “Now that you mention it, I remember he used to be in the Academic Affairs Office, a master at dealing with troubled students!”

“Hey,” she turned and saw Zeng Yushu walking in through the door and immediately waved him over. She snapped out a seed shell. “I’m telling you, you just missed a great show…”

She then exaggerated the events as much as possible, telling the story vividly. Ruan Mian shook her head at her antics. She found the familiar number on her phone and began to draft a message.

“Do you remember I told you about my book being shredded last time? That girl apologized to me today…”

Send successful.

The day seemed to pass extraordinarily quickly. Before she knew it, school was over.

Ruan Mian pushed her bike, walking along the blue lake. She stopped suddenly, looking at the lush green old house in the distance.

She had forgotten.

She forgot that the little creature was gone, and she forgot that she no longer needed to come here to look for its favorite food.

She turned the bike around and slowly rode toward home.

The room was empty. Apart from the faint smell of smoke, it seemed to only hold her own breath.

Ruan Mian sat on her chair, watching the twilight surge like a tide. The sky outside the window darkened little by little, and she was plunged into darkness.

After an unknown time, the light snapped on, and a thin shadow softly crept in from outside the door.

She squinted, adjusting to the sudden light, and saw the person standing at the doorway clearly. He grinned, making a “mealtime” gesture to her.

Seeing her nod, Ying Minghui smiled happily, his row of white teeth showing. They walked downstairs one after the other, always maintaining a distance of three steps.

One was unwilling to approach, the other didn’t dare to approach.

After dinner, Ruan Mian returned to her room. After showering, she started on her homework. She leaned against the headboard, a small desk spread out in front of her, and buried her head, seriously working on a math practice paper.

The night deepened unnoticed. The wind made the curtains whoosh whoosh loudly. She quickly jumped out of bed to close the window. As she returned, she accidentally knocked her foot against the bedpost, wincing in pain.

Her gaze inadvertently swept the small wooden box under the bed. She stared at it for a while, dragged the dust-covered box out, and found a box of paints inside.

She closed her eyes, her slender fingers reaching from left to right, pulling out a tube of deep blue paint.

She paused, then skillfully pulled out a tube of lemon-yellow paint.

Ruan Mian put on rubber gloves, held the palette of mixed colors, and walked up to the wall blackened by the fire. She raised her paint-dipped hand—

A deep blue night sky slowly unfolded beneath her fingers. She then dotted it with stars, one by one… just like the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen.

The sky was faintly bright. The birdsong was clean and clear.

Ruan Mian finally completed the painting. She looked at it from top to bottom and slowly wrote underneath: Starry Night · Eternity.

She then wrote: rm.

Her fingers trembled slightly. The two letters were placed too close, looking like two connected doors.

One end led to the deep night sky, and pushed open, the other led to the bright dawn.