Mud beads

Two hours later, it was completely dark outside the window.

When Mrs. Su came in, Su Yan was folding up his draft paper and tucking it into his book. Seeing his mother enter, he reverted to his usual aloof and polite demeanor, standing up and saying, "Thank you for your hard work, Teacher Yu."

Yu Zhu slung her canvas bag over her shoulder: "It's not hard work."

Mrs. Su glanced at the table. Her phone was still face down beside her, the textbook was open, and a sheet of scratch paper was missing. Her eyes flickered slightly, but she quickly smiled again: "Teacher Yu, how was today?"

These words were directed at Yu Zhu, and also at Su Yan.

Su Yan didn't answer, and picked up her phone from the table again.

Mrs. Su sighed, her voice low: "Is he being uncooperative again?"

Yu Zhu shook her head, her tone serious: "He has a very good foundation and reacts quickly. Perhaps... the questions and materials could be made a little more difficult."

Mrs. Su looked at her: "But the other teachers said he was always playing on his phone."

"Just because his phone is on doesn't mean he wasn't listening at all." Yu Zhu paused. "Su Yan is very smart."

After he finished speaking, there was a moment of silence in the room.

In front of the bookshelf, Su Yan's hand stopped on a small terracotta warrior.

Mrs. Su pursed her lips, as if touched on a sensitive spot by those words. She quickly regained her composure and smiled, "Thank you for your hard work today. Can you come again next week?"

Yu Zhu did not answer immediately.

Su Yan is difficult to teach, but the difficulty lies precisely in the fact that he is too easy to teach.

The adults have already arranged everything for the child, even turning "lack of communication" into a minor issue that requires payment to resolve. All she has to do is sit here, keep her company, say a few things, and take three hundred yuan and leave. But Su Yan is a person of flesh and blood; she cannot be treated like a problem, nor can she be treated like a piece of furniture in the family compound that needs maintenance.

"I'll go back and check the class schedule," Yu Zhu said, "and then confirm with you."

Mrs. Su nodded without insisting, "Okay. Auntie, please see Teacher Yu off."

When Yu Zhu came out of her room, the door to the study next door was open.

A plain screen stood inside the door, revealing half of a young man's back behind it. He wore a white shirt, his shoulders were broad, and the cuffs were rolled up to his wrists. He held a small teacup in his hand. Opposite the tea table sat the middle-aged man from the group photo on the wall, his head bowed as he adjusted the tea needle.

Yu Zhu immediately lowered her gaze and walked away.

In the entryway, the aunt arranged her shoes and handed her an envelope.

"My wife said she'd had a hard day," the nanny said. "Here's the trial lecture fee."

Yu Zhu accepted it with both hands and thanked her.

The envelope was thin with stiff edges and felt light in her hand. She put the envelope in her bag and walked out of the residential compound.

Moth

In the Su family study, the tea had already been changed once.

The study was small, and a screen separated the tea table into a semi-dark corner, so that any sounds coming from the living room outside were muffled.

Echizen Toru sat behind the screen, holding a teacup in his hand, and blew on the tea foam. A series of very light footsteps brushed past the door, the soles of shoes treading lightly on the old stairs.

Mr. Su placed the tea needle back on the tray, smiling warmly: "That young teacher just now, what he said was quite interesting."

Echizen Toru took a sip of tea, looked up, and nodded: "Mm."

"With Yan Yan's personality, she started sweating after the first two teachers had only spoken for half an hour." Mr. Su shook his head, his expression a mixture of helplessness and indulgence. "For someone her age to be able to speak about things that are suitable for all ages, she's truly a force to be reckoned with."

Echizen put down his teacup and smiled broadly: "With a senior like Minister Su leading the way, how can we, as juniors, not live up to expectations?"

Mr. Su curled his lips, but did not respond to this. He picked up the teapot and poured more tea for Echizen Toru: "When that young girl talked about the Wei and Jin dynasties and the gentry, it reminded me of a few old rubbings I collected when I was young. Unfortunately, I moved later and don't know where they were."

Echizen Toru raised his hand, lightly cupping it to the side. Upon hearing this, his eyelids lifted slightly.

"That's quite a coincidence. I have an old rubbing of the Chunhua Pavilion Calligraphy Collection, a piece from the Wang family, which just arrived recently." He smiled and accepted the offer naturally. "I don't know much about these things. If Minister Su doesn't mind, I'll bring it to you another day and ask you to take a look."

Mr. Su raised his head, a hint of a smile finally appearing in his eyes: "I know a little, a little. I wouldn't call myself an expert."

"Things should be presented to those who appreciate their value." Echizen Toru readily agreed, "They'd be wasted if I kept them."

Upon hearing this, Mr. Su, who was sitting opposite him, shook his head and smiled, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

Beside the tea table, the corners of the folders were whitened by the lamplight, and the words on the paper were spread out in rows, like a row of pork waiting to be stamped.

Moth

Yu Zhu caught the evening rush hour.

The subway station was packed with people. The escalators lurched downwards, and several winding queues formed at the turnstiles. She stood in the crowd, her canvas bag pushed in front of her, envelopes tucked between textbooks and a black leather notebook, the edges digging into her palms. In the carriage, some people were carrying flowers, some were carrying groceries, and some were sleeping against the door, their heads bobbing slightly.

Yu Zhu gripped the handrail, stood beside the glass door, and stared at her blurry reflection in the glass.

My phone vibrated in my pocket; it was a WeChat message.

Liu Zhengyang: How is it?

Yu Zhu thought for a moment and replied: "It's a waste of money."

The subway doors opened, she put her phone back in her bag, and followed the flow of people out.

By the time I got back to my neighborhood, night had fallen.

At the alleyway entrance, a barbecue stall was set up, the charcoal glowing a dark red, iron skewers rolling in the oil, and the aroma of chili powder and cumin carried by the wind throughout the street. Downstairs, the convenience store was lit by a white light; the proprietress sat inside cracking sunflower seeds, a local dialect mediation program playing on the television, the male and female voices arguing loudly. Yu Zhu passed by the entrance, about to walk into the building, when she suddenly stopped.

There was a very eye-catching car parked on the side of the road.

The car was gray, with low, heavy lines. Parked next to a row of electric bikes and old bread trucks, it gleamed like a cold piece of iron. Most of the cars in this neighborhood were dusty and gray, with annual inspection stickers on their windows and their trunks crammed with grocery baskets and folding stools.

Yu Zhu glanced at it only once before continuing to walk down the corridor.

The light in the building entrance is broken again.

She groped her way up the stairs in the dark and hadn't gone more than two floors when she smelled smoke.

Unlike the cheap cigarettes smoked by the old men in the neighborhood, this one smelled colder and milder, with a hint of leather, seeping into my nostrils along with the damp dust and old paint.

Yu Zhu raised her head.

On the corner of the stairs, a cigarette butt glowed red, like a peering eye, flashing faintly in the darkness. The man leaned against the handrail; he was tall and had long legs, his shoulder line sharply defined by the light streaming through the small window in the stairwell.

Echizen Toru was looking down at her.

Yu Zhu stood there, stunned.

For a moment, she even thought she had gone to the wrong place.

But the half-torn toy in the hallway, the styrofoam box piled in the corner, and the worn-shiny edge of the steps reminded her that she wasn't the one who had gone to the wrong place.

He stood there, more conspicuous than the car outside the residential area.

Yu Zhu gripped the canvas bag strap tightly, her heart pounding: "How did you find this place?"

Echizen lowered his hand from his lips, the cigarette falling to the ground and being extinguished by his leather shoe. He turned to look at her, a smile in his eyes: "Himeko can know, but I can't?"

Yu Zhu was stuck on the stairs, unable to go up or down.

"What do you want to do?" she asked again.

"Let's chat."

"I don't want to talk to you."

Echizen looked at her, his posture still relaxed: "Reason?"

"Not wanting to is an excuse."

Koshima Toru gave a meaningful "oh," straightened his collar, and said, "I'm not busy right now, so I can wait for you for a while."

Before Yu Zhu could answer, he chuckled to himself and glanced upstairs.

"It might be a bit troublesome if the residents coming and going see it."

Yu Zhu's heart skipped a beat.

The smell of smoke faded in the air, and the familiar scent of wood emerged again, silently enveloping her.

She understands this all too well.

There was no threat, no coercion, and he even seemed to be considering her feelings. But his presence alone was a problem. People in this old neighborhood gossip; if a man moves into someone's apartment, several versions of the story will be circulating the next day when they go grocery shopping. What's more—Liang Dong lives upstairs.

Eshima Toru is too conspicuous.

It's so conspicuous that it would ruin her life.

Yu Zhu stood there for a few seconds, then finally turned to the side, grabbed the strap of her bag, and walked upstairs.

Echizen followed behind her at a leisurely pace, as if he were truly a guest she had invited.

We've arrived at the third floor.

Yu Zhu took out her key to open the door. Her fingers were a little stiff, and it took her two tries to insert the key. The metal made a soft, clinking sound as it hit the lock. Before pushing the door open, she took a deep breath and turned to the man behind her: "After you've finished speaking, please leave immediately."

"Okay," Echizen Toru readily agreed.

The lights came on.

The room was so small that you could see it all at a glance.

To the left of the entrance is a narrow kitchen with a small pot on the stove and washed dishes upside down on a plastic drainer. To the right is the bathroom, its door open, with several empty clothes hangers on the clothesline. In the center of the room, there is a bed, a small desk, and a stool. The desk is covered with neatly arranged books, and next to it is a half-finished glass of water.

There was no sofa, no dining table, no television, and no dressing table.

She lives in a place like this.

Echigo stood at the door for two seconds, then looked down and didn't see any extra slippers.

There is no trace of another person living here.

Yu Zhu changed into slippers and said casually, "You don't need to change."

Echizen Toru smiled, took off his leather shoes, and went into the house wearing only his socks.

The door clicked shut behind him, and Yu Zhu's heart sank.

Echizen Toru took two steps forward and reached the end.

There was only a plastic stool next to the table in the room, where she seemed to usually eat and read. Now, the two of them were standing in the small room, unable to even find a suitable place to sit.

Yu Zhu hung her canvas bag on the hook by the door, then turned and went into the bathroom to wash her hands. Yue Jianche glanced at her retreating figure, then walked towards the bed.

Hearing footsteps, Yu Zhu, who was in the restroom, immediately poked her head out: "You can't sit here."

Koshima Toru turned around and stopped.

"You're wearing your outer pants." Yu Zhu pointed to the plastic stool, her fingertips still covered in unrinsed foam. "Sit on the stool."

Echizen looked at her for a while, then slowly smiled.

"What goes around comes around." A slight smile appeared on his lips, as if he found it absurd, yet also intriguing. "Now you think I'm dirty?"

Yu Zhu was taken aback.

Years ago, when she first entered the Yue family home, she had washed herself and changed her clothes. But standing in the entryway, she still felt dirty. Her old shoes, her snakeskin bag, the lingering black dirt under her fingernails—all were filthy. Yue Jianche didn't need to say anything; his eyes said it all.

For many years afterward, she washed herself.

She washed his hair, did the laundry, and washed her hands. He drank too much and fell asleep in her bed. She didn't dare cover him with a blanket, afraid he would find it dirty. She looked at his sleeping profile, and even though no one knew, no one saw, she didn't dare get close.

That face hasn't changed. The lines are clean and sharp, the bone structure is deep, and when he smiles, his clean and pure features seem to let the light shine through.

But as she looked at him, her gaze pierced through the bright light, past the door that Cheng Fu had pushed open in the old house on that rainy night, and finally settled on the chaos that mixed kisses, humiliation, gratitude, and charity.

"Yes." Yu Zhu lowered her head, rinsing the foam from between her fingers. "I thought you were dirty."

The smile on Echizen Toru's face faded.

The room fell silent for a moment.

A child rode a bicycle past the window, the bicycle bell ringing clearly, and then quickly disappeared.

"Ha." He chuckled briefly, his brow furrowing, a hint of mockery flashing in his eyes. "Why didn't you mind how dirty you were when you came back to the Yue family with me?"

Yu Zhu did not answer. She dried her hands, walked out of the bathroom, and pinched her palms with her fingertips.

Toru Koshima took another step closer to her: "Didn't you find it dirty when you were studying at the same school as me?"

The room was too small, and the distance between spaces felt very short.

"Yu Zhu".

Koshima Toru stopped in front of her.

He took her hand and placed it on her chest.

"Ask yourself honestly," he laughed again, "Have I ever wronged you?"

The moment her hand touched her chest, Yu Zhu instinctively staggered back half a step. She could feel her own heartbeat and hear the old refrigerator humming in the corner.

She wanted to say yes.

But when the words reached her lips, they were blocked by a jumble of memories.

Start with a lemon candy.

A shining name. The school corridor at dusk, the key in the security guard's hand. Praise in public, a brand-new computer. The teacher's care. A quiet hospital ward...

He had indeed given her so much. Even though his giving was always accompanied by pain and indifference.

If we ignore his cruelty, everything he gives is genuine.

But that's not right.

How can human suffering and cruelty be ignored?

He's the type who does this best.

"You're using a fallacy to mislead us." Yu Zhu lowered her hand from her chest.

Before he could answer, she walked to the door and placed the handle on it: "I told you, I will repay what I owe you. But if you're here to lecture me, then please leave."

Echizen looked at Yu Zhu.

Her face was cold, and a hint of barely concealed anger flickered in her eyes. Her hair, which had been tied back, had loosened, and a few strands fell beside her cheeks, making her small jawline appear even more delicate.

Just now, in the Su family's child's bedroom, separated by a wall, he listened to her speak eloquently, with such tolerance and peace. Now, facing him, however, she has revealed her most spiky side, constantly pointing it at him.

"You're so cold." He couldn't help but move closer to her again. "You can say to a stranger—people express their emotions in countless ways, and people shouldn't be bound by a set of rules and regulations...

"Why?" He reached out and hugged her tightly, burying his head in the crook of her neck. "Why is it that nothing works with me?"

Yu Zhu was suddenly pulled into Yue Jianche's arms, and her mind went blank.

The half-back view in the Su family study: white shirt, broad shoulders, sleeves rolled up to wrists.

It's him.

Is it a coincidence?

No. Even if it's a coincidence, if it happens to Echizen Toru, it will become a thread in his hand.

"open."

She had said this to him countless times.

Ignoring her completely, Echizen Toru held her even tighter. Through his thin shirt, she could feel him quickly heat up, becoming hot. His scalding breath brushed against her neck, and she instinctively turned her head away.

He pinned her against the door, moved the arm behind her back to the back of her neck, and effortlessly lifted her head as if breaking a flower.

Moth

Boom, boom.

The door behind me suddenly vibrated twice.

Very light, very orderly.

Liang Dong's voice came through the thin door panel.

"Sister, are you there?"

Koshima Toru raised his head.