Chapter 11: Blue Rain

Su Hui had zero interest in his grandfather’s birthday banquet. He was a picky eater and held no anticipation for those exquisite yet dull dishes.

He preferred the old days—like when he was a child—when the family would huddle around the table, a large, old-fashioned buttercream cake in the center, accompanied by a lavish spread cooked by Aunty Chen

But that was many years ago. Later, they rarely celebrated birthdays at home. On an occasion that should have been warm and intimate, Su Hui was always forced to endure the presence of many strangers who had nothing to do with him.

His grandfather, Ji Tailu, pursued perfection in everything. He was pathologically rigorous, intolerant of the slightest error, and treated the face he had meticulously maintained for decades as a treasure, placing it above all else.

Even Su Hui’s mother, Ji Yanan, had nearly been expelled from the family when she bypassed her father to date and marry Su Hui’s father, Su Jin. Ji Tailu had issued a cold ultimatum: “If you don’t leave him, don’t ever return to this house for the rest of your life.”

Perhaps the curse was too potent. Before his mother could leave, Su Jin died in a car accident. As if paying off a debt, Ji Yanan was returned to the Ji family.

Ji Tailu didn’t lament the passing of Su Hui’s father; instead, he demanded repeatedly that Su Hui change his surname to Ji. He believed that since Su Jin had left early, he shouldn’t leave any trace behind on his grandson.

Due to Ji Yanan’s insistence, the demand was never met. It was one of the few times his mother held her ground—just like how she had once insisted on changing her given name from “Yanan” (Asian Man) to a different character, “Yanan” (Asian Nan).

Su Hui often heard his grandmother say that his mother had felt strongly about her original name when she grew up, believing she was in no way inferior to any man. The two had argued over it several times. Eventually, through his grandmother’s mediation, they each took a step back and changed just one character.

These past events made Su Hui immensely curious: how did the rebellious mother, who had been so defiant regarding both her name and her love life, become the woman she was today?

Perhaps it was because of him.

Because the proud mother had a child with a mental illness.

“I’ve picked out an outfit for you; it’s in your room. Wear this, and don’t wear anything else, understand? I’ve also prepared a gift for you to give to your grandfather when you see him.”

Su Hui listened to his mother’s voice on the phone without interrupting, even though he felt it was incredibly rude to have a birthday gift prepared by someone else.

He knew his mother didn’t trust him. Few people did.

Even Aunty Chen, whom he adored, couldn’t fully believe him when he said, “I really have taken my medication.” She would always look at him with suspicion and ask again.

“Oh, and my stylist will be at the house at five to cut your hair. It’s too long; it looks a mess. Cut it so you look fresh.”

“Okay,” Su Hui replied calmly.

Amidst the frantic excitement neutralized by the gloom imposed by his family, Su Hui paced from the garden back to his room. It was a path he trod whenever he needed to escape, like a stray dog crawling away through a hole in a fence.

Before pushing open the glass sliding door, he saw the outfit hanging on the white standing rack: a white shirt, black trousers, and a pair of expensive leather shoes.

He stood barefoot before the rack, obeying his mother’s orders to change into the clothes piece by piece.

Outside, the housekeeper knocked incessantly, announcing the stylist’s arrival and asking him to come out. Su Hui felt a surge of irritation. He pulled at the buttons with too much force, eventually snapping the second button off his chest.

Su Hui stepped out anyway.

Facing the stylist, he offered a friendly smile, allowing the man to manipulate his face and hair like a mannequin in a shop window. The compliments offered felt soulless; Su Hui just wanted it to end quickly.

Just as the cut finished, Aunty Chen approached, holding his medication. She raised her voice to compete with the drone of the hair dryer, “Little Master, your mother asked me to count your pills. They look the same as this morning’s amount. Did you forget to take them…?”

Su Hui’s memory worked differently than a normal person’s. Due to his illness, he would often lose fragments of his daily life, as if a frame had skipped in a movie. Consequently, everyone in the house viewed his words with skepticism.

But he stubbornly insisted he had taken them. Aunty Chen looked awkward, merely repeating that the number of pills hadn’t changed and that his mother had explicitly warned that while he might miss or reduce doses on regular days, today was absolutely forbidden.

It was as if Su Hui couldn’t leave the house without taking the pills. Since he didn’t want to go anyway, and didn’t want to lose his temper with Aunty Chen, he wandered into the garden like a child, looking for a watering can to tend to his plants.

But Aunty Chen misunderstood, fearing he was looking for a rope again. Panicked, she immediately called Ji Yanan.

His mother quickly changed her plans, returning home before heading to the hotel. She forced Su Hui to swallow the two pills, using methods that were humiliating but effective, right in front of the stylist who hadn’t managed to escape in time.

Sitting in the backseat of the car, Su Hui tilted his head, staring motionlessly at the traffic outside. The thought of opening the car door and jumping out crossed his mind, but he couldn’t open it.

“You brought the gift, right? I spent a fortune getting that Fulong inkstone from a master craftsman through a friend. They say it was a tribute piece from the old days. Your grandfather should appreciate it. He likes calligraphy; he’ll have use for it.”

Su Hui didn’t turn around. He thought of the heavy gift box, then of the handmade gift he had once spent a whole month crafting for his grandfather. His grandfather hadn’t explicitly said he disliked it—that wouldn’t be polite—but Su Hui had seen him tuck it away into a cabinet, packaging and all, never once displaying it.

Compared to a priceless inkstone, his own work was indeed cheap.

When they got out of the car, Su Hui felt noticeably dizzy. He stood still for a moment to steady himself, and when he reached the hotel elevator, his mother scolded him softly.

“Everyone is waiting. Hurry up.”

“Mom, I don’t feel very well.” Su Hui walked to her side.

“Where are you uncomfortable?” Ji Yanan looked at him with concern, only to notice Su Hui’s collar was gaping open. “Why can’t you wear your clothes properly?”

She reached out to adjust it, only to find the button missing. She looked unhappy. “Where’s the button?”

A wave of physiological nausea surged up. Su Hui held it back. “I’m… going to throw up.”

“You really are disobedient. You can even tear a button off just by wearing a shirt.” Ji Yanan had no choice but to pull the hem of his shirt down from behind, which helped the collar sit higher.

The elevator arrived. She grabbed Su Hui’s hand. “Drink some tea in a bit to settle it. Did you sneak some food you shouldn’t have again? I’ve told you countless times, you’re not allowed to eat random things when we’re out…”

As they encountered guests in the hallway, she smiled and greeted them, silencing herself and ending her admonishments of Su Hui.

They had booked the largest private room—the size of two suites, fully equipped with entertainment facilities.

In the center of the round dining table stood a pot of purple moth orchids. Some guests were already seated. As soon as Ji Yanan walked in, acquaintances smiled and hurried over to talk to the mother and son.

An aunt he didn’t know very well walked up to Su Hui and embraced him intimately. Her expensive, heavy perfume—violets and irises, a thick, powdery scent—assaulted his respiratory tract.

I want to vomit.

Su Hui endured the discomfort. He was led by Ji Yanan to sit beside his grandfather and, like submitting an assignment, handed him the inkstone. The shame of delegating this to someone else made Su Hui feel as though he were sitting on pins and needles.

The surrounding old acquaintances who were close to his grandfather took turns examining the inkstone, all giving Su Hui a thumbs-up, lavishing him with praise. Su Hui didn’t respond, sitting with his eyes lowered.

“Su Hui will be graduating in two years, right? Are you planning on going to the Central Bank, or…”

Su Hui said he hadn’t thought about it yet. Ji Tailu smiled. “He has a childish temperament, not quite ready for the world. He’s no match for your grandson, who has already built a career so quickly. Truly young and promising.”

The group began to flatter one another; it was a scene Su Hui knew all too well. His dizziness increased. He braced himself against the seat and drank several cups of tea, but he couldn’t suppress the nausea and disgust. He hadn’t eaten anything, yet he felt like throwing up.

Not far away, his grandmother detached herself from a circle of ladies and walked toward Su Hui, gently pulling him into her arms. “Why has our Xiao Hui grown thin again? You must eat more.”

Seeing his grandmother, Su Hui’s mood lifted a little. “Grandma, you look really beautiful today.”

“Praising me is just praising yourself—you’re the one who picked this out for me.” His grandmother looked at him tenderly.

She was interested in literature and art, having delved deeply into them in her youth. Now retired, she frequently traveled abroad and wasn’t home often.

But whenever she was around, Su Hui felt safe. His grandmother was unlike anyone else; she could understand him.

Su Hui smiled like a child, but unexpectedly, his grandfather beside him said sternly, “Su Hui, sit properly.”

Su Hui had no choice but to pull away from his grandmother and sit up straight.

“You aren’t a child anymore. Learn more from your uncles. You’re so grown up, yet you still act like a child. Not composed at all.”

His expression was so severe that even those around them felt the need to smooth things over. “Little Su is still young; he’s barely an age. And Elder Ji, you only have one grandson; he’s bound to have a limitless future.”

“That’s right, he’ll be a heavyweight figure soon enough!”

“Exactly! We’ll be counting on Little Su to look after us in the future.”

The hypocritical flattery made Su Hui feel increasingly uncomfortable. He couldn’t help but fantasize: if he hadn’t been born into this family, or if they lost all their wealth and status, would these people still be like this?

Before long, another person walked through the door. Su Hui looked up—it was Xu Zhi.

The last time he had seen this stepfather was a month ago. He had heard his mother say Xu Zhi had been assigned a very important overseas mission, and his return likely meant a promotion.

Looking at his triumphant expression, he had probably received the good news.

“Ah, Little Xu is here.”

Hearing the guest, Ji Tailu raised his eyes and nodded slightly. Xu Zhi took off his coat; his opening remarks were apologies, followed by offering tea in place of wine as an apology—as thoughtful and slick as ever.

Seeing him arrive, Ji Yanan walked over with a smile. Although she was exceptionally well-preserved and born beautiful, the years had still left traces at the corners of her eyes and brows—even more obvious when she stood before a partner eight years her junior.

In the early days, there had been no shortage of opposition to this mismatched pair—Ji Tailu was the first. But Xu Zhi was no simple man. Back when he was just a minor civil servant, he had somehow managed to persuade Ji Tailu single-handedly to agree to his union with Ji Yanan.

Su Hui watched Xu Zhi’s fake smile and thought to himself: Even my biological father didn’t receive such recognition.

The gossip surrounding their union had never ceased: the college student from the mountains catching the phoenix, rising through the ranks, changing his fate by leaning on the only daughter of the Ji family. Xu Zhi seemed deaf to such assessments; he was focused solely on his career, his ascent up the social ladder.

On the sofa, Xu Zhi smiled and poured tea for Ji Tailu, glancing at Su Hui out of the corner of his eye. “Xiao Hui’s complexion is good lately. How’s school going? Encountered anything interesting?”

Su Hui managed a strained smile. “No. Maybe it’s just because it’s almost summer. I like summer, so my mood isn’t bad.”

“That’s good. Mood is the most important thing.” Xu Zhi took a sip of tea himself.

“A colleague’s daughter in our office recently fell in love. That bond is truly deep. Unfortunately, the other party doesn’t seem to be a good person. My colleague thinks it’s unreliable and told her to reconsider. Who would have thought the little girl would be at home crying her heart out, refusing to eat?”

Grandfather listened, shaking his head as he placed his teacup on the table. “Unbecoming.”

“Indeed,” Xu Zhi smiled. “Love is supposed to be about a good mood. If you tear yourself to pieces over someone else, you’re putting the cart before the horse.”

A guest caught something and jokingly teased, “Xiao Hui must be in love too, right? With such a handsome face, there must be many girls chasing him.”

Another immediately laughed. “Of course. A friend’s daughter likes Xiao Hui; she even asked me for his phone number. How would I dare? I hurried to tell her: this child is Elder Ji’s only grandson, treasured like nothing else. Better not get their hopes up.”

Ji Tailu smiled. “It’s not like that. He’s not ready yet, and it’s not the right time.”

“Indeed. When the time comes, Uncle will help you vet them. There are still many good girls in our circles.”

“Right, doesn’t Wang Shouzhang have a granddaughter…”

As Su Hui listened to them, ringing began to build in his ears. His brain buzzed, and he desperately wanted to throw up.

His grandmother was called away by his mother. Xu Zhi’s words made him the center of the topic; he couldn’t have run even if he wanted to.

Su Hui drank another cup of tea, but it didn’t improve; the symptoms only grew worse.

By the time most of the guests had arrived and the appetizers were served, his grandfather’s old subordinate stood up to propose a toast. As soon as he started, Su Hui couldn’t hold back any longer. He bolted up, hurried out of the private room, and went to the restroom to vomit.

The dizziness persisted, and his legs felt weak. Su Hui realized something was wrong. He hadn’t eaten anything spoiled; it was lithium toxicity.

Inside the private room, Ji Yanan smiled and told everyone Su Hui had a recent bout of gastroenteritis, asking them not to worry. After the guest finished his toast, she used the excuse of checking on the dishes to go find her son—but she couldn’t find him.

She opened her phone and saw several messages from Su Hui, the sentences chaotic and illogical.

[Su Hui: I told you I already took my medication. You didn’t believe me and insisted I take it again.]

[Su Hui: I have lithium toxicity. That’s what this is now—I’m poisoned.]

[Su Hui: I know what to do. Have a good birthday, don’t come looking for me. You’re afraid of being gossiped about.]

[Su Hui: I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry.]

When she called back, Su Hui had already turned off his phone.

It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Ji Yanan furrowed her brows, suppressed her emotions, and turned to call the driver, Feng Zhiguo, telling him to find Su Hui.

Feng Zhiguo received the order and drove the car around the hotel area, circling endlessly, but he could never find a trace of the self-willed Little Master, growing immensely frustrated.

The errand wasn’t as easy as he had imagined.

In this massive city, there are countless people troubled by work, and Ning Yixiao was one of them.

He could have calmly finished his tutoring job for the semester that day, but he saw Ding Xiaochen with even worse injuries: the bruising on his neck was terrifying, his knees were swollen, and he was limping.

Halfway through the lesson, Ning Yixiao stood up, left the room, and called the boy’s mother. Her tone on the phone was hesitant and vague, and when Ning Yixiao said, “This really can’t go on like this,” she broke down helplessly in tears.

He suggested that Ding Xiaochen’s mother call the police. She hemmed and hawed, noncommittal.

Ning Yixiao knew he had no standing—he couldn’t even really be considered a “real” teacher—but he still told this mother about the potential future consequences, hearing her fall into a painful silence.

Ten minutes later, Ning Yixiao took the child to the hospital. He was very silent along the way; it was Ding Xiaochen who comforted him. “Teacher, please don’t be angry.”

Ning Yixiao usually always smiled, rarely showing an expressionless face. He knew this would frighten Ding Xiaochen, so he smiled. “I’m not angry.”

While waiting to register at the hospital, he said again, “You should be angry; you have that right. When you grow up, you can completely leave this home. Study hard for that purpose, do you understand?”

Ding Xiaochen nodded, his eyes reddening. He whispered a thank you.

Ning Yixiao wasn’t sure if he could continue being his teacher after today, so he only said, “He doesn’t deserve to be your father.”

“I suggest that when you go back, have your mother take you to report it. Even if there’s no way to punish him immediately, remember: grit your teeth and endure it. Eventually, you’ll pay him back in full.”

Ding Xiaochen nodded through his tears, unable to even say thank you. Ning Yixiao patted his shoulder and took him for his check-up.

Partway through, he received a call from Ding Xiaochen’s father and went into the hallway to answer.

The person on the other end scolded him loudly, near fury. Ning Yixiao listened in silence, his eyes fixed on the hospital slogan posted on the wall: Gathering the hearts of parents under heaven, spreading kindness and warmth throughout the human world.

“Who told you to be a busybody? I paid for you to tutor my son. Who the hell do you think you are, telling tales? You little animal, I’ve given you too much face!”

Ning Yixiao listened to him finish, a mocking smirk actually appearing at the corner of his mouth.

“Mr. Ding, why are you so angry?”

The man was stunned by the question, caught off guard by the response.

Ning Yixiao smiled, his tone gentle. “Is it because I suggested your wife report it? Or because I taught your son how to deal with someone like you?”

“You!”

“Mr. Ding, these are indeed your family affairs, which I have no right to question. Of course, you can continue to beat Ding Xiaochen. At worst, you beat him to death—but do you really dare to have a human life on your conscience? According to my understanding, you’re a technician at an outsourcing company. There isn’t much room for promotion, you’re easily replaced by newcomers, and you’re carrying a heavy mortgage.”

The man on the other end clearly lacked his former audacity, still pretending to be unafraid. “What do you mean by that!”

Ning Yixiao was abnormally calm. “You don’t really dare to beat Ding Xiaochen to death. He will eventually grow up; you will get old, old enough that you won’t even be able to lift your hands, and a single kick will finish you.”

“You pay me money; I’ll give you one final lesson: leave yourself an exit, especially when it comes to your own son. After all… raising a child to provide for one’s old age, isn’t that the point?”

Ning Yixiao smiled and hung up.

He knew that after doing this, he would definitely lose his job.

Ding Xiaochen’s father was a cowardly, incompetent man who took his frustrations at work out on his wife and children. Now that he had driven a wedge into that, the man would inevitably use every means possible to lodge complaints against him.

Ning Yixiao had long expected this, so he specifically chose to act after the final lesson was finished.

He had only just left Ding Xiaochen at his grandfather’s house for two or three minutes when the training agency’s accountability call came in, ordering his resignation.

But the training agency had no grounds to touch his wages—just as he had expected.

It was raining outside, and he was all alone. Usually, Ning Yixiao never took taxis, saving every penny he could. Today, he had paid a large sum for Ding Xiaochen’s check-up and medical expenses, but he knew very well this was only temporary help—he couldn’t do more.

At that moment, Ning Yixiao recalled sporadic bad memories, like wearing an old coat he had long forgotten. He reached into his pocket and felt some shredded, dried tissue fragments.

As a child who was beaten, he had nowhere to go. Hearing that saltwater could disinfect, he ran to the seaside of the fishing village to wash his wounds, only for them to get worse. He was nearly caught by villagers farming mussels, who took him for a thief and cursed him viciously.

The sun had been venomous that day; Ning Yixiao remembered it clearly.

Beijing rarely had fine, misty rain.

By evening, the sun had vanished completely, the sky a deepening gray-blue. Ning Yixiao walked on the sidewalk, passing under a pedestrian bridge, passing buildings flickering with golden light. The bustling neon reflected in the puddles, turning into a dirty oil painting.

He had no direction, wanting to be carried off to a happier place by this rain.

Eventually, Ning Yixiao reached a bus stop and finally decided to head back. The advertising board at the stop radiated a blue-violet halo in the rain, dreamlike and illusory.

As his gaze gradually focused, Ning Yixiao vaguely saw a familiar figure. The person was leaning against a stainless steel bench, a white shirt dyed a faint blue by the light. The profile was hazy. There were many empty mineral water bottles on the bench and on the ground—tilted this way and that, looking more like a pile of melancholy wine bottles.

His collar was open, his expression empty, his shirt half-wet and somewhat translucent, like a forlorn painting.

It was Su Hui. After confirming, Ning Yixiao stood still.

Perhaps there really was some kind of magical telepathy; at that moment, Su Hui turned his head and locked eyes with him.

Two broken souls met in a sorry state.