The Storm Brews

The next day, Qin An arrived at school sporting dark circles under his eyes. In the end, besides kneeling on a keyboard, a washboard, and a remote control, Qin Yage still didn’t get the answer she wanted—where did the hairpin her brother gave her come from? Qin An certainly couldn’t tell her the truth; he could never say that he had stolen something like that.

As soon as Qin An entered the classroom, he saw Huang Jiajun sitting in his seat, chatting happily with An Qi.

Qin An intended to greet the class monitor, but just as he raised his hand and the “Good morning” was still on his lips, Huang Jiajun rudely turned and walked away.

Qin An could only shrug helplessly, admitting to himself that he had been too forward.

“Qin An, you don’t look too well. Are you ready for today’s exam?”

“I’m fine! But you seem a bit tired yourself.”

An Qi stretched and said, “Because my dad said something happened at the Happy Garden. I’m just a bit worried.”

The midterm exam was somewhat formal. They rearranged the seats, separating the good students from the bad ones to prevent cheating. As for the good students, in the teachers’ eyes, these obedient children would never cheat. But the teachers didn’t know how many of those so-called good students were actually fakes.

The first subject was Chinese. Teacher Lin Chunlan, with her barrel-shaped waist, handed out the exam papers.

“Mm! Hmph!” Lin Chunlan placed the test paper on Qin An’s desk, then knocked her knuckles on the surface, casting him a very dissatisfied glance. Her expression looked as if she wanted to devour him alive. Seriously, such deep hatred, such great enmity!

Qin An took the exam paper with a beaming smile, making Lin Chunlan feel like she had punched cotton with all her strength.

The questions were no obstacle for Qin An. He blazed through them like a warrior cutting down foes. While others were still constructing sentences, reading comprehension, or reciting poems, Qin An had already started savoring the essay topic.

The essay topic was somewhat special: “If I Were Given One Day.” The meager six-hundred-character requirement felt like a joke to him. His writing wasn’t particularly good; writing a report of tens of thousands of words was no problem, but condensing it into a six-hundred-word essay was a bit challenging.

Should he use flowery language to record a bland diary? Or quote Gorky’s famous line, like “The fastest and slowest, longest and shortest, most ordinary and most precious, most easily overlooked and most regretted thing in the world is time” to appear artistic?

But Qin An didn’t want that. He had once delved into the darkness of the world, tasted blood and sorrow; now he lived in the happiest harbor, enjoying joy and laughter.

Qin An glanced at the girl in the first row, her bow fluttering in the wind. Suddenly, inspiration struck. Images and words floated through the database of his mind. But when he picked up his pen, he hesitated. Would it be bad to write this? Then he thought again, so what if it’s bad? He only wanted to write what was in his heart. So he set pen to paper and wrote swiftly, the sound of scratching filling the air.

The elementary school exam was quick, and there was no English test at this time, so it could be finished in one morning.

He finished the elementary math in twenty minutes, feeling the questions were an insult to his intelligence.

He handed in his paper early and left, ignoring the teacher’s gaze like she was looking at trash and the classmates’ contemptuous stares. As for the little beauty An Qi, she was used to his behavior, but the class monitor was so angry she could grind her teeth into powder. That bastard.

Qin An walked aimlessly along the corridor with his hands behind his head. Suddenly, a familiar figure appeared on the playground.

A person wearing a red-and-white baseball cap and a pure white T-shirt, carrying a baseball bat. Who else could it be but Wang Luoran!

A thin, fragile-looking girl cowered behind her, her clothes slightly torn from pulling. Opposite them were two male students in middle school uniforms, looking shifty and obviously up to no good.

The situation was on the verge of explosion, and Qin An couldn’t stop it in time.

“Are you guys having fun bullying younger girls all day?” Wang Luoran said.

“If we don’t bully girls, what’s the point of being students?”

“Yeah, yeah, what’s the point of living if you don’t bully girls? Besides, this one dresses so cheaply every day, obviously asking for it.”

“You bastards!”

The girl behind them couldn’t hold back her tears at their words, becoming even more pitiful. This only fueled the nameless fire in Wang Luoran’s heart.

“I heard your mom was a nurse before, Little Tyrant! And strange men often visited your house, right? Tsk, no wonder your mom became a tramp!”

“Shut up! Shut up!” Their words were like pouring oil on fire. Wang Luoran’s little universe finally exploded. She swung her baseball bat wildly at them. Strangely enough, they didn’t dodge; they just covered their heads with their hands.

By now, Wang Luoran was blinded by rage. She had lost any sense of restraint. By the time Qin An reached the playground, the two on the ground were already covered in bruises. But Wang Luoran showed no sign of stopping.

“Little Tyrant, that’s enough! Stop!” Qin An shouted loudly, but Wang Luoran’s actions didn’t change.

Qin An hugged her from behind, locking her shoulders with his arms, but she still looked like she was going berserk.

He pressed his cheek against hers and said gently, “Luoran, that’s enough. Stop now!”

“Let go!”

After Qin An called her name many times, Wang Luoran finally turned her head, her eyes filled with tears, and murmured softly, “Qin An, Qin An, why? Why! Why…”

Qin An gently patted her back and said, “It’s over. They’ve already been punished as they deserve.”

“Why can’t I still protect my mom? I’ve tried so hard. Is it because I’m a girl? Is that it?”

“No, it’s not your fault. It’s the world’s fault.”

Wang Luoran buried her head in Qin An’s chest, sobbing quietly, her hands clutching his back so tightly that it hurt, making him wince.

Qin An turned around and saw that the girl and the two middle school boys had already fled. But in the nearby bushes, he spotted four figures—besides the three who had just escaped, there was an old man.

The sun was bright, and the object in the old man’s hand reflected the sunlight, blindingly dazzling. But his smile was so sinister, dark, and disgusting that it was deeply engraved in Qin An’s heart.

That night, a storm was brewing next door to Qin An’s house.

“Xia Yixin, take a good look at what your precious daughter has done! She bullied a female student for no reason, beat up the senior students who came to help, and skipped the midterm exam.”

“Impossible. How could Luoran be that bad?” Xia Yixin’s eyes were full of disbelief.

“Here’s the footage. Do you think it’s fake? Xia Yixin, you need to recognize your position. If the school hadn’t hired you as the school nurse first, would you have had the chance to become a doctor? If I hadn’t covered up so many of your daughter’s messes, do you think that little hooligan could still stay in school? This time, I also held off the victims’ families first, or else they would have reported it to the principal long ago.” The old man patted the disheartened Xia Yixin on the shoulder. “Think about it carefully. What are you going to do? I’ll wait for your answer tomorrow. Ha! Ha! Ha!”

The old man whistled, walking away in a good mood. Xia Yixin’s choice was obvious.

After the old man left, Wang Luoran, who had been hiding behind the door, ran out and crashed into her mother’s arms, sobbing, “Mom, I’m sorry. It’s all my fault.”

Xia Yixin stroked Wang Luoran’s hair, her face ashen. “Don’t blame yourself. It’s our fate. I just want you to grow up safely. I don’t care what happens to me.”

“But, but…”

“Alright, if you really care about me, go put on the new dress I bought you today.” Xia Yixin forced a smile.

Wang Luoran went to her room for a long time before coming out awkwardly, asking softly, “Mom, does this look weird on me?”

Xia Yixin pulled Wang Luoran into a tight embrace, choking up, “This is my beautiful daughter.”

Then tears—whether of happiness or sadness—streamed down Xia Yixin’s face, falling onto Wang Luoran’s cheeks, feeling icy cold.

“Auntie Xia, I’m here to return the bowl,” Qin An called out. Before he could knock, the door swung open by itself. Behind it stood a girl in a blue dress with white flowers, her short hair just touching her shoulders, her wheat-colored shoulders bare, her eyes shimmering with tears as if they would overflow at any moment, projecting an indescribable pitifulness.

“Little Tyrant?”

Wang Luoran just nodded quietly, her face so red it seemed ready to drip water.

“Auntie Xia, thank you for the dish. It was delicious.”

“I’m glad you liked it. I’ll make it for you again next time.”

Xia Yixin’s smile was very forced, her face pale as snow.

“Qin An, I need your help with something.” Wang Luoran pulled Qin An out to the front yard without looking back.

“I just saw Ren Yin. What did that old man want at your house?”

The one who had come to Wang Luoran’s house was none other than Ren Yin, the director of the school’s discipline office.

“That disgusting old man recorded a video of me beating up those pieces of trash. He wants to use it to blackmail my mom into… doing things she doesn’t want to do. Qin An, do you have any way? It’s all my fault. If I had behaved, this wouldn’t have happened.” As Wang Luoran spoke, tears fell like pearls again.

Although Wang Luoran only mentioned a small part, Qin An had already guessed the rest. After a moment’s thought, he said, “I have a plan.”

“Really?” Wang Luoran’s dull eyes suddenly lit up, but her furrowed brows still showed some doubt.

“We’ll just steal the video.”

Wang Luoran brought out her bike and sat on it without a word. Qin An felt his satchel; it seemed he had all the necessary gear.

Wang Luoran urged, “Hurry up and get on, or I’ll go alone.” Qin An rubbed his nose. Shouldn’t the experienced driver be the one riding?

Qin An shook his head helplessly, jumped onto the back seat—the iron frame digging into his butt—and gently placed his hand on the back edge of Wang Luoran’s seat to steady himself.

But neither of them noticed that on the window of the house next door, a face was pressed against the glass, staring intently at them. Her face was squished into a comical shape, but she didn’t care.

Looks like I need to buy a bicycle. Yes, just one, she said firmly to herself.