The rain of early summer began lightly, drizzling, pausing, then drizzling again—lasting four or five days.
The forest’s greenery deepened under the downpour, each leaf soaked, glistening darkly. The air was fresh; each breath felt pure, like every pore had opened. I started to get used to this life—without thinking, without concern.
True to his word, Shen Jianqing hadn’t locked the door. I spent the days sitting under the eaves of the stilted house, staring idly at the forest, letting my mind drift.
Shen Jianqing, meanwhile, busied himself in the small upstairs room—the one holding Shen Siyuan’s ashes—fiddling with who knows what. He emerged daily, looking exhausted.
A few days ago, I even saw him carrying a bamboo basket upstairs. From inside came the hissing of snakes.
I didn’t ask what he was doing. Honestly, I was content to leave him be.
The only downside was my ankle. Though healed, the dampness in the stilted house and the ongoing rain made the old injury ache faintly.
Leaning against the long corridor of the stilted house, listening to the rain and leaves struck by droplets, I suddenly thought of a poem by Li Shangyin.
“Autumn clouds linger and frost falls late; I stay to hear the withered lotus in the rain.” I recited softly, only to hear Shen Jianqing’s voice from behind.
“Yu Ze, what are you saying?”
I turned and saw him standing at the far end of the corridor, tall and poised. His hands hung naturally by his sides, but I immediately noticed the little insect, named “Honghong,” crawling on the back of his right hand.
For some reason, it seemed redder than before—an almost glowing crimson, with patterns on its back even more distinct, eerie, and mesmerizing.
“I heard the rain and thought of a poem I really like,” I said, suddenly feeling like I had said too much.
Shen Jianqing stepped closer. Honghong crawled along his hand, disappearing quickly beneath his sleeve.
“A poem? What’s a poem?” His eyes were clear like the moon, as if washed by a summer rain.
How could I explain it in just a few words? I sighed and said, “It’s like the love songs of your Miao people. The outside world has many similar folk songs passed down through generations.”
Shen Jianqing’s interest was piqued. He moved a small stool next to me and sat down, eyes bright with anticipation. “Recite it again.”
Moisture clung to his face from the rain, tiny droplets on his long eyelashes. I wasn’t sure if he could understand, but I recited it again nonetheless.
“Autumn clouds linger and frost falls late; I stay to hear the withered lotus in the rain.”
He quietly parted his lips. “What does it mean? Doesn’t sound like a love song… I don’t understand. Are your songs always this hard? You’d never find a wife like this. Our love songs are direct, passionate.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at his troubled expression. Shen Jianqing looked just like a first-grader.
Well, in terms of cultural knowledge, he wasn’t much beyond a child either. The thought made me chuckle quietly to myself.
Even when I teased him, he didn’t get angry. Tilting his head, he whispered, “You smiled. Yu Ze, I haven’t seen you smile in so long.”
I stopped laughing immediately.
This had been, by far, the most pleasant day we’d spent together recently.
“Cough, cough…” I cleared my throat, shifting the topic. “The meaning of this poem is that the autumn clouds linger, the lotus in the pond has withered, and it’s the perfect time to listen to the rain falling on the leaves.”
“Lotus…” Shen Jianqing’s eyes were blank. “I’ve never seen a lotus. Is it beautiful?”
Life in the mountains was limited. Many things in the village, one might never see in a lifetime. The same went for the outside world.
I suddenly felt a pang of pity for him, but quickly smothered the thought.
If Shen Jianqing was pitiable, then wasn’t I—left here by him—equally so?
Feeling listless, I lazily replied, “It’s very beautiful. There are many other beautiful things outside too.”
The moment I said “outside,” Shen Jianqing’s brow furrowed, and he didn’t comment further. We sat side by side in silence, watching rain drip from the eaves, leaves sway, and clouds drift across distant mountains.
Suddenly, Shen Jianqing asked, “Are your feet hurting?”
My heart skipped a beat. How did he notice?
“You keep unconsciously pressing your palms against them,” he explained. “I remember people in the village saying that after bone injuries, cold aggravates the pain.”
I shook my head. “It’s fine.”
Better to daze outside than lie in that prison-like room.
“I know of a herb that can—” Before he could finish, the rapid splashing of footsteps came from the forest ahead: tap, tap, tap.
We both looked. A white umbrella emerged from the trees, revealing a delicate but panicked face.
The girl came closer. Spotting me, her expression flickered with distaste before she quickly averted her gaze and spoke to Shen Jianqing in Miao, clearly flustered.
It was the same girl we first met when entering the village—the first child we saw and the one she had been searching for—so I remembered her well.
After hearing her, Shen Jianqing stood. The hem of his dark blue tunic brushed my cheek, sending a shiver through me.
The girl stepped forward as if to grab him, but he dodged gracefully. Turning to me, he said, “Something’s happened in the mountains. Wait at home for me—don’t wander off.”
The last three words were low, part concern, part warning, his gaze fixed on me as if trying to see through me.
Caught in the sudden tension, I said reluctantly, “Go quickly. I won’t wander off.”
Satisfied, Shen Jianqing’s expression softened, looking almost fragile, as if he weren’t the same person who had just threatened me. He took the umbrella, glancing back repeatedly as he walked away with the girl.
Their figures quickly disappeared into the forest. The girl’s panicked expression and the “Chuan” mark between Shen Jianqing’s brows made my heart race.
Strange—I was worried about Shen Jianqing?
Why? What was there to worry about him for? If something happened…
I sighed and stopped thinking further.
At that moment, a gust of wind swept through the dense forest. I tightened my clothes against the damp chill. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw another slender figure approaching from the trees.
I paused.
It was Wan Ying.