Chapter 3

The gate of the Welfare Institute was a large wrought-iron affair with intricate cutouts, framed by a smaller iron door secured with a thick chain lock.

Chen Nian climbed down from the wall and staggered toward the main gate. Only then did she notice the searing pain in her feet—the balls and heels rubbed raw against her shoes.

It hurt too much. Tears streamed down Chen Nian’s cheeks.

Limping to the gate, she craned her neck to peer inside. Someone was sweeping the grounds with a large broom. Chen Nian patted the door.

The woman glanced over. “Where’d you come from, kid?”

“I want to go in,” Chen Nian said.

The woman approached, broom in hand. “Where are you from? Lost? Look at that messy hair—you’re not so little anymore. Hey, quit crying…”

“I want to go in,” Chen Nian repeated.

“Why are you crying? Hey, don’t…” The woman set her broom aside and peered outside. “Where are your parents?”

Chen Nian shook her head. Luckily, she looked like a seven-year-old child; even unreasonable behavior wouldn’t raise eyebrows.

“I want to go in.” For the third time, Chen Nian repeated it, sniffling as she added, “Auntie.”

The woman’s expression softened. She reached through the bars and patted Chen Nian’s head. “Cold? Hungry? Got a phone at home?”

They did have a phone. Even decades later, Chen Nian could recite her childhood landline number from memory.

But she wouldn’t say it. She hadn’t sorted out her situation yet. Was this her imagination? A dream? Or did an unbreakable obsession earn her a second chance from the heavens…?

Whatever the cause, this world held Fang Zhizhu—a living, breathing Fang Zhizhu.

Then Chen Nian had to stay by her side, watch over her, save her.

She picked the best way in. “Cold.”

Sure enough, the woman unlocked the gate. “Come inside and warm up, then. Auntie’s office has a stove going strong and hot. This is a… special school with lots of kids. No need to be scared…”

Chen Nian wasn’t scared. The moment the gate swung open, she darted inside and made straight for the central building.

The woman trailed after her, repeating the same questions. “No phone? What’s your parents’ names? Know your home address? Tell Auntie later, and she’ll call them…”

Chen Nian stayed silent. Someone emerged from the building and greeted the woman. “Dean Su.”

“Hey, we’ve still got tons of cabbage left. Skip buying more today,” Dean Su said.

The man nodded and glanced at Chen Nian, already heading into the building. “New kid?”

Dean Su waved her hands. “No, no—she got lost. Said she was cold, so I let her in to warm up.”

The man cupped his hands respectfully. “Dean Su, you’re a saint.”

“Oh, stop—who wouldn’t panic if their kid went missing…”

After the exchange, Dean Su hurried to catch up with Chen Nian.

Earlier, while clinging to the wall and locking eyes with Fang Zhizhu, Chen Nian had memorized her floor and room. Now inside, she didn’t hesitate, bounding up the stairs without pause.

Dean Su called from behind. “Office is on the second floor, first door on the left!”

Chen Nian hit the second floor but kept going, up to the third.

Fang Zhizhu was on the third floor, fifth window from the south side.

Every room in the building was a small single-occupancy unit, each with one window.

Chen Nian counted them off: one, two, three, four, five…

She stopped.

The fifth room’s door was shut—a green wooden one, paint peeling in long strips from years of wear.

A small window was set high in the door; Chen Nian had to stand on tiptoe and stretch to reach it.

She didn’t touch it. Instead, she wiped her face, drew a deep breath, straightened her clothes, and rapped her knuckles against the wood.

The surface was rough and uneven, scraping her skin.

Dean Su called from below. “Hey, kid! Where’d you go? Wrong floor?”

Chen Nian knocked again: rap-rap-rap.

Dean Su’s footsteps climbed closer.

Chen Nian rubbed her fingers and clasped her right hand in her left to stop it.

Dean Su reached the third floor and spotted her in the hallway. “What are you doing up here? Auntie’s office is downstairs—no stove here, it’s freezing…”

Chen Nian kept her head down, silent and motionless.

Dean Su approached, steps drawing nearer. “Such a peculiar little girl…”

Click. The door opened.

Chen Nian snapped her head up, her gaze locking straight onto Fang Zhizhu’s eyes.

Seven-year-old Fang Zhizhu stood a bit taller than her seven-year-old self. Thin and pale, she was still breathtakingly beautiful.

“I…” Chen Nian parted her lips, but tears spilled out before the words could.

She couldn’t control her own tears. They always fell whenever she thought of Fang Zhizhu—or when she forced herself not to.

In time, that sea within her heart gradually dried up, leaving behind a vast emptiness. Chen Nian’s tears seemed to have run dry; even when she wanted to cry, her eyes only burned with dryness, and her head throbbed with pain.

Now, with time turned back, she gazed into Fang Zhizhu’s eyes and knew this was the sea in her heart.

Fang Zhizhu’s eyes fixed on her tears, following their path as they trailed down her cheeks.

Then she turned and stepped inside.

Dean Su reached for Chen Nian, but Chen Nian hurried into the room after her.

The room held a bunk bed with upper and lower levels, a table and chairs pressed against one wall, and a washstand bearing a neatly folded white towel.

Fang Zhizhu sat down on the bed. Only the lower bunk was made up, its sheets and covers faded with age.

“It’s cold in here,” Dean Su said. “Why don’t you come to my office…”

Chen Nian took a seat on the stool, facing Fang Zhizhu squarely. “Can I go with her?”

“There’s no need for Little Zhi to go,” Dean Su replied. “This is her room.”

“Mm,” Chen Nian said. “Then I won’t go either.”

Dean Su gave her a strange look. “You kid—do you know Little Zhi?”

She turned to Fang Zhizhu. “Little Zhi, do you know this girl?”

Fang Zhizhu said nothing. She didn’t even glance at Dean Su. Her gaze remained locked on Chen Nian’s face, devoid of expression.

But Chen Nian knew she was studying her, just as she had during their first meeting all those years ago. Chen Nian had been the photographer, the one meant to stare intently at her model through the lens—yet Fang Zhizhu had gazed back at her with unwavering focus.

Chen Nian sank into that sea. She said nothing.

The two sat staring at each other in silence, the room utterly still. Dean Su stood there, dumbfounded.

A gust of wind whistled through the open window, carrying a sharp chill.

Dean Su crossed to close it, muttering under her breath, “I keep telling you girls to shut the window, but you never remember…”

She turned and headed out, making no further attempt to speak with them. As she left the room, she pulled the door shut behind her.

Auntie Zhao was mopping the stairs. She looked up as Teacher Su passed. “Teacher Su, what’s going on with Fang Zhi this time?”

Su Li’s brows were knitted tight. She hurried over to Auntie Zhao and lowered her voice. “Fang Zhi’s acting strange today—and she ran into someone even stranger…”

“Who?” Auntie Zhao set down her mop and followed Su Li down the stairs.

“Who knows! She just showed up out of nowhere and started crying nonstop…” Su Li had held it in for a moment, but now she poured out the whole story to Auntie Zhao.

Auntie Zhao frowned as she listened. The two of them speculated back and forth for a while, but they couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

“If we can’t figure it out, we should call the police,” Auntie Zhao said. “See if it’s some family’s missing kid. You can’t get anything out of her—let the cops handle it. We don’t want another child turning up here out of the blue.”

Su Li let out a sigh. “I guess that’s our only option.”

After making the call, Su Li climbed the stairs once more to check on them.

She peered through the small window in the door—the way they always did room checks, so her movements were practiced and swift.

The two odd children were still sitting face-to-face. Fang Zhi remained expressionless, while the new girl kept crying.

No sobs, just a steady stream of silent tears that she wiped at now and then. It wasn’t like any child’s crying Su Li had ever seen.

Staring at those endless tears, Su Li worried the girl might dehydrate herself.

She went back downstairs and poured a cup of hot water. Before she could carry it up, the police arrived.

The station wasn’t far, and a missing child was a priority—they responded quickly.

Su Li headed upstairs with the water, briefing the officers as she went. “She showed up at our front gate, said she wanted to come in. It was freezing, so of course I let her. Didn’t say a word—just bolted straight to the kids’ dorm. She’s still in there.”

“What time was this?” one officer asked.

“About half an hour ago,” Su Li replied.

“Did you see anyone else with her?”

“No, I didn’t see anybody. There aren’t many people around at this hour anyway.”

“Is the surveillance camera at the gate working?”

Su Li slapped her thigh in embarrassment. “Ah, damn—a big wind last week knocked it out. I’ve been so busy, I forgot to get it fixed…”

The officer jotted it all down. They reached the door to the room.

He knocked, then pushed it open. Just as Su Li had described, the two children sat quietly inside, neither speaking nor moving.

“See?” Su Li said.

The officer pointed, and Su Li nodded toward Chen Nian. “The one on the stool.”

He approached Chen Nian and crouched down to her level. “Hey there, little one. Where’s your home? I’m a police officer—Uncle Police. You can tell me if you’re in any trouble.”

Chen Nian turned her head to look at him, her voice hoarse as she spoke. “I want to stay here.”

The police officer chuckled and patted her on the head. “Why do you want to stay here? Do you even know what kind of place this is?”

Chen Nian replied, “The Welfare Institute.”

The officer’s eyes widened. “Oh, you know that? So, did you have a fight with your mom and dad?”

“No.” Chen Nian’s gaze drifted back to Fang Zhizhu. Her lips parted several times before she finally voiced her small request. “I want to be friends with her.”

The police officer froze, clearly caught off guard by the answer.

Su Li laughed and set her water cup down on the table. “Then why don’t you tell Auntie? Of course you can be friends. So, are you going to tell your new friend your name?”

Chen Nian looked at Fang Zhizhu. “Is that okay?”

Fang Zhizhu suddenly kicked off her shoes, scrambled onto the bed, yanked the blanket over herself, and buried her head inside.