Zhou An’s belated recollection gave everyone a real scare.
Xu Zhou was especially shocked and asked three times in a row, “Are you sure?”
Zhou An insisted that she was.
After school that afternoon, the three of them headed to Ye Hong’s house. They chatted as they walked, the conversation still circling around Xu Qin.
Zhou An said, “Are they siblings? They don’t look that much alike to me. I think he’s her boyfriend.”
Xu Zhou replied, “The point isn’t whether he’s her boyfriend or a relative. The point is that Teacher Xu is connected to Zhou Yizheng.”
And so all three of them were left puzzled.
Just what was Zhou Yizheng’s deal?
The mere fact that Teacher Xu kept his photo in her home meant he was someone important to her.
If that was the case, then he effectively determined where she stood.
Zhou An recalled, “Remember that day during tutoring when Zhou Yizheng picked me to be his class representative? I was so confused at the time—why me, out of everyone? What a coincidence!”
It suddenly clicked. There was no way it was a coincidence.
“I remember now,” Meng Bai said, rubbing her brow. “But if that’s true, it makes things even stranger. If they were in on something together, why go out of their way to get our attention?”
Xu Zhou scratched her head. “Hiss—what if there’s a possibility?”
Meng Bai: “?”
Zhou An: “?”
Xu Zhou: “What if they did it on purpose?”
Memories flashed through their minds, little details bubbling up.
They remembered that day: Zhou Yizheng had first made a point of appointing Zhou An as class rep, then at lunchtime he’d come out of the classroom to ask why the three of them weren’t eating their boxed meals.
He’d seemed overly focused on them, which was exactly why they hadn’t liked him.
But now, looking back, it all felt so deliberate—like he was practically begging them to notice him.
Everyone was baffled. “If that’s the case, then why?”
No one had an answer.
Zhou An grumbled, “It’s got me all mixed up. The thought of him being Teacher Xu’s boyfriend just doesn’t fit with that image of a refined pervert.”
After all, Teacher Xu was such a good person.
That week they’d spent in the classroom-turned-dorm had been a near-perfect slice of bliss for Zhou An.
She refused to believe Teacher Xu could be anything but good.
The three of them went back and forth without reaching any solid conclusions, spinning endless theories but finding no real evidence to back them up.
Before they knew it, they had reached the mouth of a narrow alley. Zhou An finally stopped. “I think this is it.”
Meng Bai looked up. It was a secluded lane with a narrow stone-paved path stretching off into the distance.
Low, tiled-roof houses lined both sides, their eaves thick with green moss.
It was shabby and cramped, the air heavy with a musty stench.
An oppressive feeling washed over them.
They never would have imagined that Ye Hong, bright and sunny as she was, had lived in a place like this.
This must have been the slums of their rundown Small Town.
“Her family lives here?” Meng Bai asked.
Zhou An nodded. “Yeah, right here. They’ve got a sewing machine—her mom does sewing and mending to support herself and Ye Hong. But after Ye Hong died, I heard she stopped working altogether.”
Meng Bai’s heart ached for her. It must have hit Ye Hong’s mother hard.
Bang!!!
Crash!!!
Suddenly, the sound of pottery shattering erupted from inside the house—three crashes in quick succession—followed by a woman’s furious shriek.
“I’ll kill you, you son of a bitch! I’ll kill you, you bastard!”
Meng Bai jumped in fright. By the time she gathered her wits, Zhou An was already charging ahead.
“Hurry, hurry! Come on!”
They had assumed someone was at Ye Hong’s house, but when they got there, it was just her mother.
She was muttering to herself, lashing out at the walls. The place was a wreck.
Everything breakable had been smashed, and the sewing machine was buried under scraps of torn fabric.
Grief must have consumed her completely; she looked completely unkempt, like some deranged middle-aged woman who’d lost her mind.
The three girls hesitated, unsure whether to get any closer.
Zhou An tugged gently at Meng Bai’s sleeve, signaling her to hang back a little.
“Auntie Xu—”
“Who the hell are you?!” The woman snatched up a ball of yarn and hurled it their way. “Get out! All of you, get out!”
“Auntie Xu, it’s Zhou An. Do you remember me?”
The woman turned slowly, her tangled hair half-hiding her face, her eyes still fierce and wild. Only when her gaze met Zhou An’s did they soften a fraction.
She nodded. “Zhou… you’re Little Zhou.”
“That’s right, I’m Little Zhou.” Zhou An took a cautious step forward, then another. “You recognize me. That’s good.”
Ye Hong’s mother was Xu Jingfang. Before the tragedy, she’d been a kind, unassuming woman—the honest, hardworking type everyone knew.
Now she was smashing things left and right. Her mind must have taken a terrible blow, but it was completely understandable.
Ye Hong had been Xu Jingfang’s entire world. Her death had snuffed out every last hope for that family.
Xu Jingfang’s eyes were dull and lifeless.
The three girls could empathize all too well.
Recognizing it as a grief-stricken outburst, Zhou An wasn’t afraid. She approached Xu Jingfang slowly and crouched down beside her, speaking softly. “Auntie, have you eaten anything? How about a bite? We can talk after.”
Xu Zhou passed over a bag from behind—savory pancakes they’d just bought.
At those words, Xu Jingfang’s tears gave way. She threw her arms around Zhou An and sobbed. “Hong’s gone… she’s dead… she won’t come home…”
Zhou An patted her back, soothing her. “I know. We all know. That’s why we’re here to help Ye Hong. Please eat something first, then we can talk, okay?”
Those words—”help Ye Hong”—made Xu Jingfang clutch Zhou An’s hand desperately. Her rough, calloused fingers trembled. “You can help? You’ll help? You have to!”
When you’re at the end of your rope, you cling to the thinnest straw.
What could three high school students possibly do? But in that desperate moment, Xu Jingfang wasn’t thinking rationally.
To her, these soft-looking Senior Year 3 girls were her one glimmer of light and hope.
“Auntie Xu,” Zhou An said, “I know you went to the school this morning, but we don’t have the full story. That’s why we’re here—we want you to tell us everything.”
Xu Jingfang shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “I don’t believe it. I don’t believe any of it.”
“We believe you. We all do.” Meng Bai came over as well. She and Zhou An crouched down together, looking up at Xu Jingfang as they reached out to gently wipe the tears from her cheeks. “Whatever you say, we believe it.”
~~~
Ye Hong was like a tree with lush branches and leaves—and those leaves were the memories of her.
The person who had gathered the most of them was destined to be her mother.
Her father had died young, and a woman’s options for survival in this small town were far too limited. Her mother could only take on the most tedious, low-paying jobs.
It was a hard life, but they pressed on.
Mother and daughter were like the patch of moss clinging to the corner of the wall outside their window—thriving stubbornly in the constant dampness.
Long ago, Xu Jingfang had told Ye Hong that sunlight would shine in one day. It was just a matter of studying hard.
Ye Hong had always been obedient. She worked diligently and followed her mother’s every word.
Their hope was embodied in the numbers scrawled on the blackboard: 222 days until the College Entrance Exam.
When those 222 days dwindled to zero, that hope would soar into the sky, becoming the sunlight that finally pierced their crumbling little home.
What Ye Hong said most often was: “Mom, once I get into university and graduate, I’ll take you to the city. We’ll never live here again.”
And Xu Jingfang would reply: “Mom’s waiting for you.”
Everything changed the day that man showed up.
One day, Zhang Gou came knocking. “Xu Jingfang, your girl is something special,” he said. “Our Project Department has decided to sponsor her. She’s got a bright future ahead—no need to worry about college tuition.”
Xu Jingfang naturally asked why.
Zhang Gou shrugged. “GM Engineering was already planning to fund a group of students. Even if it wasn’t your Ye Hong, the money would’ve gone to some other kid. I’m not doing you any special favors.”
That put Xu Jingfang’s mind at ease. She figured the money wasn’t coming out of Zhang Gou’s pocket—it was the project footing the bill, and he was just the go-between.
And so Ye Hong became the first student sponsored by GM Engineering, selected ahead of everyone else.
She was the first girl’s name on the list.
Life went on as before after that. Ye Hong attended school while Xu Jingfang slaved away day and night at her sewing machine, piecing together just enough to keep the household afloat.
But as time wore on, Xu Jingfang noticed her daughter changing.
They used to chat when Ye Hong came home from school each day, but sometime around a week before Senior Year 3 started, she grew quiet and moody.
Some days, she’d hole up in her room and refuse to come out. She lost her appetite, too.
At first, Xu Jingfang chalked it up to exam stress and tried talking to her several times, but nothing came of it.
Then, the day before Ye Hong’s fatal fall, they had their big fight:
“Mom, doesn’t college cost a fortune?”
“It does, but GM Engineering has you on their sponsorship list. Money won’t be an issue.”
Xu Jingfang had already made up her mind: if tuition was covered, she’d scrape together living expenses somehow—even if it meant grinding her sewing machine to dust.
But Ye Hong’s response caught her off guard. “You couldn’t afford to send me anyway. What if I don’t go? It’d ease the pressure on us. Graduating high school is good enough—I can find work at one of the factories. They’re always hiring.”
Xu Jingfang flew into a panic. “Honghong, what are you thinking? What on earth? Haven’t I told you all these years… Haven’t we suffered enough, the two of us?”
Xu Jingfang could still picture that argument vividly.
Ye Hong repeated it three times: she didn’t want the sponsorship from GM Engineering. She didn’t want to go to college.
And Xu Jingfang scolded her three times in return.
The morning Ye Hong left for school, they were still at it:
“Mom! I don’t want to go to school anymore! I’m not going!”
“Fine! If you skip today, don’t bother going back ever!”
Xu Jingfang hadn’t meant it—she just couldn’t understand what her daughter was so worked up about. Unable to make sense of it, she sat down at her sewing machine and cried. Ye Hong stood in the doorway, backpack slung over her shoulder, tears streaming down her own face.
In the end, though, Ye Hong wiped her eyes, shouldered her bag, and headed out. That was how sensible she was.
Of course, it was also the last time they saw each other.
When word of Ye Hong’s plunge reached her, Xu Jingfang raced to the school like a woman possessed, consumed by regret. She was convinced she’d driven her own daughter to her death.
“I shouldn’t have forced her to go that day.” Here, Xu Jingfang broke down completely, tears flooding her face. “I thought she’d jumped out of anger—that I’d killed her. If it weren’t for what came later—”
“Later? What happened?”
Tears poured from Xu Jingfang’s eyes. “Later, I found a notebook in Honghong’s room. There were some things written inside…”
