"What happened at his home?"
Wu Yueming's reluctance was palpable. Having already begun, trapped by He Lizhen's intensity, he clearly regretted his impulsive decision to seek her help.
"Brother Kun went home last weekend."
Last weekend. That was after their separation at the mall, He Lizhen realized.
"He usually goes home once a month, stays two or three days at most. It's unusual for him to remain there an entire week." Wu Yueming's voice dropped. "Yesterday..."
"Yesterday what?"
"Last night he called me..." His words became almost inaudible.
"What did he say?"
"He asked to borrow four thousand yuan."
He Lizhen's brow furrowed. Four thousand wasn't enormous, but it wasn't trivial either—everything depended on the purpose.
"Did he explain what he needed it for?"
Wu Yueming's gaze drifted to the corner, fixing on a broom lying there. "I can only tell you he's taking it home. I can't say anything else."
"You don't need such childish tactics." He Lizhen raised an eyebrow, her tone cutting. "You students love this—'I can't say this, can't say that'—as if everything's a dramatic secret."
Wu Yueming spun around, glaring at her.
"What do you know?" His voice wasn't loud, but suppressed emotion vibrated beneath the surface. "You know nothing. Don't be so self-righteous."
"Then tell me," she shot back. "How am I supposed to know if you won't explain?"
Wu Yueming slung his backpack over one shoulder, turning to leave. "Never mind."
"I can lend you the money."
He stopped mid-stride.
"Explain things clearly. Whatever you genuinely cannot say, you can omit." She addressed his back. "But there's a condition for the loan."
He turned slowly. "What condition?"
"I want to give him the money in person."
Wu Yueming hesitated, frowning deeply. "He won't let me tell anyone his home address."
In that brief exchange, He Lizhen read Wu Yueming's expression clearly—he was truly desperate. He urgently needed the money but couldn't find anyone willing to lend four thousand yuan.
She had her own questions about why he'd approached her specifically. But those doubts weren't relevant at the moment.
She looked at Wu Yueming without speaking, acting entirely like an adult negotiating with a child.
Wu Yueming quickly capitulated.
"Then I'll tell you, but you absolutely must give him the money. He... he really needs it urgently." His words tumbled out. "And you absolutely cannot tell anyone his address! He'll kill me!"
At six o'clock that evening, He Lizhen emerged from the bank with a thick envelope of cash in her bag.
Four thousand yuan—nearly two months of her salary.
She clutched the bag tightly, then hailed a taxi and gave the driver an address. He frowned immediately.
"That's quite far."
"Can you make it?"
"Ah, it's fine."
The car pulled away, and He Lizhen settled into the back seat, extracting a piece of paper from her bag. Wu Yueming's handwriting was chaotic and crooked—Wan Kun's home address scrawled across it.
The journey began smoothly on the city center's main roads, transitioning to the ring road. After more than an hour, darkness descended gradually.
The tall buildings outside her window disappeared, replaced by increasingly dense trees.
When the car turned off the main road, following road signs onto a smaller path, the pavement deteriorated. The bumpy, uneven surface made He Lizhen's stomach churn with nausea.
"I can't go any further." The driver stopped at an intersection. "It'll be too late to return."
"All right." She paid without complaint—more than she typically spent on taxis in six months.
Stepping from the car, the air struck her as remarkably fresh. The cool breeze cleared her mind, sharpening her senses after the stuffy vehicle.
The road sign indicated Wuwang Township—a remote suburban town more than forty kilometers from Yangcheng, according to the map.
She recalled the various rumors Peng Qian had shared about Wan Kun's family and found them somewhat absurd. Probably no one knew his home was in such a place. His desperate attempts to hide it were likely just adolescent pride.
The asphalt hadn't even been fully paved; dirt roads stretched in all directions. He Lizhen looked around and spotted motorcycles parked roadside, waiting for passengers. She approached, showing them the paper.
"Do you know this place? Is it far?"
The motorcyclist appeared to be in his early twenties, covered in dust like his vehicle. Against the heat, he'd rolled his shirt halfway up, exposing his stomach.
"Ah, I know it." His thick rural accent cut straight to business. "Fifty yuan. Want to go?"
Having come this far, she wasn't about to waste time. "Yes, but you must take me to the exact location."
"Sure, sure. Get on."
She mounted the motorcycle as the driver turned the handlebars.
This time, He Lizhen truly understood what "trapped in dust" meant. She covered her mouth, feeling encased in sand.
After leaving that initial stretch, conditions improved marginally. No streetlights illuminated the path. He Lizhen weakly clutched the driver's clothes, occasionally glancing up at the moon on the horizon.
Only then did awareness strike—she had actually come all this way.
A thin, twenty-six-year-old woman, hitchhiking through the darkness, money in her pocket, arriving in this pitch-black place.
All for one student.
"You need that house up ahead." After a bumpy twenty-minute ride, the motorcycle finally stopped.
"Oh dear, what's that commotion?"
He Lizhen handed the driver his payment. His words made her turn forward.
Without streetlights, the sky was exceptionally dark. To the path's right lay a cornfield; to the left, she could vaguely discern a small, single-story house with a front yard. Beyond that, nothing was clearly visible.
Though she couldn't see much, she could definitely hear.
The sound of arguing.
He Lizhen pressed fifty yuan into the driver's hand and walked toward the disturbance, carrying her bag. The dirt road made her legs unsteady after the long ride. She quickened her pace until figures materialized.
Several motorcycles were parked at the courtyard entrance, four people blocking the way inside.
Light emanated from the courtyard—a wooden pole extended from the roof with coiled wires wrapped around it, a light bulb hanging at the front, emitting dim yellowish illumination. Flying insects swarmed around the bulb.
Beneath that light, a person stood.
Wan Kun.
The dim light illuminated his hair, deepening the shadows on his face. He Lizhen stopped suddenly. She remained some distance away, yet for a moment, she felt she could see him with absolute clarity.
He looked exactly as she imagined—hair slightly obscuring his eyes, eye sockets deep-set, head lowered slightly, expressionless and silent.
"How many days has it been?!" Someone shouted suddenly, snapping He Lizhen back to reality. "It's not that we're being unreasonable! Pay your debts! Who's wrong here?!"
Wan Kun seemed to reply, but he was too distant for He Lizhen to hear. She descended from the road to the courtyard, drawing closer. Everyone was too focused to notice her approach.
"If you can't produce the money, don't even think about leaving this house again!" The group's leader—a bald man—pointed at Wan Kun. "How long has this been going on?! You're all trash! Complete trash! No wonder that whore died of illness—she deserved it!"
He kicked a pile of garbage, sending it tumbling across the ground.
Wan Kun stood rigid. Listening to the bald man's curses, he seemed to be grinding his teeth to powder to keep from lunging forward.
"It's not that I won't repay you—can't you give me a few more days?" A man's voice came from inside the house. The door opened, revealing a thin old man who stood timidly behind Wan Kun, his clouded eyes filled with resentment. "Always pressuring us—aren't you just bullying us?"
"Bullying you?" The bald man sneered. "Why didn't you mention bullying when you borrowed the money? Huh? You old bastard, you were practically begging on your knees! Now you claim I'm bullying you? I fucking gave you extra days—!? I'll fucking—"
Working himself into a rage, he bent down, grabbed a brick from the ground, and hurled it toward the old man.
Wan Kun moved instantly.
As the bald man bent to retrieve the brick, Wan Kun had already closed the distance. When the man straightened, before the brick could leave his hand, Wan Kun had grabbed his wrist. Wan Kun didn't strike back—simply threw the brick aside and shoved the bald man.
The man stumbled backward several steps, steadied by those behind him.
Wan Kun stood in the courtyard's center, voice low. "I don't have money now, but give me another week. Five days will do."
"A week? Dream on!" The bald man waved his hand, and several men rushed forward.
Wan Kun gritted his teeth, quickly grabbing a wooden stick from nearby, shouting behind him, "Get inside!" The old man retreated hastily, locking the door.
The bald man's group had significantly superior weapons—several men pulled batons from their belts and charged at Wan Kun.
Just as the two sides collided—or rather, had already collided—a voice suddenly cut through the chaos.
"Don't do this—!!"
The unexpected interruption stunned both sides. Everyone looked toward the entrance.
He Lizhen, unsteady on her feet, forced herself to maintain composure. She looked at the bald man. "If you want money, I'll give you money. Why are you hitting people?"
The moment Wan Kun saw He Lizhen, he froze. Only when the bald man strode toward her with an impatient expression did Wan Kun react, rushing to block her path.
He Lizhen shifted aside. The bald man glared at Wan Kun before turning to her. "Who are you?"
She asked coldly, "How much does he owe you?"
The bald man chuckled. "What, you want to repay it?" He gestured toward Wan Kun with his chin. "Ask him how much."
He Lizhen glanced at Wan Kun, unable to see his face clearly, sensing only his gloomy expression.
"Not going to tell her? I'll tell you myself. It's 180,000 yuan. Pay up."
Upon hearing this, He Lizhen nearly lost her balance. She gripped her backpack tightly, trying to keep her voice steady. "What did you say?"
"180,000! Can't you hear me? 180,000!"
The bald man shouted, craning his neck. He Lizhen suddenly noticed Wan Kun moving beside her, instantly realizing he was about to attack, and quickly reached out to restrain him.
She grabbed his arm—it felt like gripping an iron bar.
"Wan Kun, don't do it!"
Her strength was no match for his; pulling hard accomplished nothing. In desperation, she raised her hand and slapped Wan Kun across the face.
The sound echoed in the night air.
He Lizhen felt as if she'd lost her mind. She yelled sharply at him, "You bastard! I told you to stop—didn't you hear me?!"
She had never slapped anyone in her life. She suspected Wan Kun had never been slapped either. After that, both fell silent. He Lizhen, breathing heavily, turned and glared at the bald man.
"I'm serious—how much does he owe you now?!"
Seeing she genuinely seemed prepared to pay, the bald man answered, "Three thousand a month. What, you want to pay?"
He Lizhen secretly exhaled in relief, opened her bag, and counted out three thousand yuan.
"Take the money and leave, or I'll call the police!"
The bald man held the money, counting it several times, then had the others verify it.
The amount wasn't particularly large—he was doing this purely to irritate He Lizhen and Wan Kun.
He Lizhen appeared unbothered, but she secretly observed Wan Kun, worried he might act impulsively.
But Wan Kun didn't move.
From the moment he was slapped, he stood quietly to the side.
Finally, the bald man and his men lingered a while longer, delivering a lengthy lecture, before departing. The motorcycle sounds faded into the distance. The courtyard door reopened, revealing the old man.
"Oh, who is this...?" The old man looked at He Lizhen with curiosity.
Examining him closely, judging from their features, she concluded he was likely Wan Kun's father. She took a deep breath. "Hello, I'm Wan Kun's Chinese teacher. My name is He Lizhen."
"Ah, teacher." The old man's face showed recognition—Wan Lin, clearly. "I'm Wan Kun's father, Wan Lin. What brings you here, Teacher He?"
Wan Lin looked puzzled, probably wanting to ask, "Why are you helping us repay our debt?" Or perhaps, "Do we still need to repay you?"
As he spoke, he eagerly tried to shake hands with He Lizhen, but before she could raise her hand, Wan Kun slapped his father's hand away.
"Wan Kun, how could you—" He Lizhen exclaimed in shock.
Wan Kun glared at her. "Shut up!"
She fell silent. Wan Kun looked too fierce—like a caged beast, even his breathing seemed threatening.
He grabbed her arm and pulled her outside.
"What are you doing?" Wan Kun walked so decisively that He Lizhen nearly fell, but he didn't stop.
Wan Lin stood at the door, still peering out expectantly.
Wan Kun dragged He Lizhen a considerable distance before finally stopping.
She forcefully shook off his grip. "Let go!" The moment she freed herself, he turned her by the shoulder.
Wan Kun's voice was low, filled with malice.
"What are you doing here?"
"What?"
"I asked you what are you doing here!?" His roar startled her. Wan Kun was furious, his rage impossible to conceal. The hand on her shoulder felt like a viper, every pore of his body screaming violence.
"Who told you where my home is? Was it Wu Yueming? Was it him!?"
"Did you hear me when I asked you a question—!?"
He bombarded her with questions, leaving He Lizhen dizzy and disoriented. Her mind was complete chaos, ignoring the pain in her shoulder. Shang Jie's words kept echoing:
"That child has a wild streak."
Those words possessed magical power. After repeating them mentally several times, He Lizhen felt her heartbeat gradually calm.
She finally found courage to look directly at Wan Kun. "Wan Kun, calm down."
He stared at her. In the night, his eyes were like ice—cold and bright, crystal clear, permitting no deception. But gradually, his temper seemed to subside considerably, as if blown away by the wind. He straightened, turned around, speaking calmly. "I'll pay you back. Give me a month."
With that, he walked to the path's opposite side.
"How will you pay me back?" He Lizhen called to his retreating figure. "Go back to that place to work? Didn't I tell you that if you—"
Wan Kun paused, then suddenly turned back, standing directly before He Lizhen.
"I don't think I made myself clear before. I'll tell you now." He spoke each word with deliberate precision. "Don't give me those grand principles. I don't care. Wherever the money is, that's where I'll work. I won't owe you a single penny less." Something surged in his eyes as he continued, "Thank you for today. From now on, just pretend I'm not your student."
His resolute departure made He Lizhen's heart tremble.
He didn't go far. Wan Kun went to the cornfield, sat on a large rock, and smoked one cigarette after another.
He knew He Lizhen hadn't left, but he didn't look at her again.
Unlike that other night, there was wind tonight.
The smoke drifted from its original path, and with it, his hair and clothes were blown about.
He Lizhen stared at that silhouette in the darkness for a long, long time. Until her eyes stung and her legs ached. She leaned against a tree, enduring the mosquitoes, but she didn't look away.
For reasons she couldn't explain, under the dark moonlight, the boy's silent, lonely, yet resolute and broad back touched something deep within her heart without making a sound.
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