Chapter 14: Fallen Angel
Yu Qingman stood under the streetlight, her beauty like a star plucked from a TV screen, radiant and untouchable. Her eyes swept over me, widening at the lifeless void in my gaze. "Zhou Yan, what happened? How did the exam go?"
"I didn't take it today." My voice was flat, my head shaking lightly.
"What?" Her disbelief cut like a blade, her voice sharp with anger. "Zhou Yan, you "promised" me—we'd get into Pingchuan University together! How could you break your word?"
It was for her—for the fleeting spark of her presence—that I'd crossed Qin Shaohu. She should've told me the truth about her and him, about whatever tied them together. Maybe I would've been careful. Maybe my future wouldn't be a smoldering ruin. But as I met her clear, innocent eyes, the blame boiling in my chest fizzled out.
"I was taken away… too far. By the time I got back, it was too late. I'm sorry. Go to college without me."
"What?! Who did this?" Her stare burned, as if she could sear the truth from my soul.
"Ask the son of Chief Qin. He might know something." A bitter laugh cracked from my lips. I brushed past her, avoiding her gaze, each step heavy with defeat.
Behind me, her scream tore through the dusk: "Qin Shaohu! You bastard! I'll never forgive you!"
Our promise—shattered. The fragile thread of love between us—snapped. I walked to my house, loneliness pressing down like lead, a weight I could barely carry.
---
The door creaked open to reveal my father lounging on the sofa, one arm draped casually over Xu Li's shoulder, his grin oblivious to the storm brewing. "Xiao Yan! How was the exam?" he asked, voice bright with expectation.
"I didn't take it today. I can't go to college." My hollow smile hung in the air, waiting for the inevitable explosion.
My father shot to his feet, eyes bulging with rage. Xu Li's gaze flickered—joy, quickly masked by feigned shock. "SMACK!" His slap cracked like thunder, whipping my head around, pain blooming across my cheek.
"You little bastard!" he roared. "Why didn't you go?!"
"Didn't feel like it. Bad mood." I didn't tell the truth. What was the point? He was just a small-time businessman with a few drinking buddies—powerless against the police chief's son. I had no license plate, no clear memory of faces. Even if I named Qin Shaohu, he'd laugh and crush me without a shred of evidence.
My indifference ignited my father's fury. Fists, boots, rage—a storm that split me open. Blood spilled from my nose and mouth, pattering the floor like rain. Xu Li clung to him, her touch light as a feather, a performance of restraint. I collapsed, spitting foam red with blood, as he kicked me again and again until she dragged him into the bedroom, his curses echoing through the walls.
She returned with a damp towel, kneeling gracefully, wiping the blood from my face with a smile that glittered with cruelty. I stared at her, my eyes dead. Even the silk stockings and lace inches away stirred nothing. If I died in that moment, I wouldn't have cared.
---
I crawled upstairs, every muscle screaming, and vanished into silence. Three days, I lay there—no food, no water, no words. Letting go of everything. Xu Li came sometimes, sighing with false pity, or perhaps wishing I'd die faster. My father came once, his voice cold, his eyes hard: "Repeat the year. Sit the exam next time. Until then—no allowance."
I nodded, empty. Too many storms. Too much pain. My will to fight—gone.
---
One evening, sunlight spilled through the curtains, warm and tender, like a hand pulling me from a black dream. I rose, washed my face, changed clothes, scraped away the stubble. Stepping into the cool dusk, the street hummed with life—people rushing home, their purpose a stark contrast to my own. For the first time, no study, no pressure. A strange lightness bloomed in my chest, but the future was a fog without end.
My feet carried me to a small park, its bell-shaped lake glinting under the fading light. People drowned here sometimes, their stories swallowed by the water. I sat on a stone bench, thoughts spiraling like black birds.
Then—music. A hoarse voice, tangled with guitar strings: ""Pain in the storm, what's that worth? Dry your tears, don't be afraid, at least… we still have dreams…""
An old song, one I'd hated when classmates butchered it. But now, it pierced something deep, a spark in the ashes of my heart. Yes. Even in the storm, we can't lose our dreams. We must stand strong, like sailors braving the sea.
---
I followed the sound, finding him—a man in his thirties, lean face darkened by the sun, shoulders broad like wings. His hair was long, tied in a braid, his loud plaid shirt a defiant splash of color. He sat on a boulder near the park gates, guitar in his arms, singing like the world didn't exist. Beside him, a pair of crutches and an empty pant leg, tied at the knee. An iron bowl at his feet held a scatter of coins.
My chest ached. I dug out ten yuan and slipped it in. His eyes lit up, fingers dancing faster on the strings. I sank down nearby, hugging my knees, listening. Tears came, hot and soundless, spilling down my face.
When the last note faded, he grinned, teeth flashing white. "Kid, how about something happier, huh?"
I shook my head, my voice cracking. "Life… feels like a net I can't break. A thicket I can't escape."
He chuckled. "Well now—that's some poetic talk." He held out a hand. "Name's Han Feng."
"Zhou Yan." His grip was iron, grounding me.
"You're… college age?" he asked.
"High school grad. Unemployed drifter."
He laughed, smacking his thigh. "College ain't the only way, kid. Learn the streets—you can still live big. Stand tall."
"I don't know the streets. Been to KTV once. That's it."
That sent him roaring with laughter. "Stick with me—I'll show you the world. Bars, clubs, dance halls—hell, nightclubs too. You'll live, and love, and laugh till you drop."
I glanced at the iron bowl, wondering what gave him such confidence. He misread my look, winking. "You paid big, brother. Name a song."
"'Fallen Angel.'"
He nodded. "Good choice. I love that one too." His fingers strummed, his voice rising, fierce and tender.
Then—the growl of engines. Two motorcycles screeched to a stop. Four men swung off, swaggering toward us. My blood boiled red.
Qin Shaohu. And his pack of dogs. One of them—Monkey, my classmate—grinned like a jackal.
"Well, well. If it isn't our star student Zhou Yan. Looks like you're screwed now!" Qin's laugh was a blade, dripping venom. "A piece of trash like you—best you can do is sit with a crippled beggar. You'll die a virgin, loser!"