Chapter 32 Part 1

It was the last day of February, and the weather was still cold.

The temperature at night was below 2°C, which in the damp Liang City, could be described as bone-chillingly cold.

Song Ran's first floor was originally cool and shady, comfortable in the summer, but chillingly cold this season. Song Ran opened the door and entered, and Li Zan followed her inside, standing in the entryway and glancing at the floor.

Song Ran said in a hoarse voice, "My house has cement floors, no need to change your shoes."

Li Zan scanned the room and asked, "You live alone?"

"Yes. This was my maternal grandparents' house. They've both passed away."

Song Ran put down her bag, immediately turned on the electric heater, and said, "Warm yourself by the fire first. I'm going to wash my face." Although she wasn't crying anymore, her face was streaked with tears.

Li Zan nodded. "Okay."

Song Ran walked a few steps away and turned back. Seeing him still standing there, looking a bit dazed, she pointed to the sofa. "Have a seat."

"Ah." He walked over.

Song Ran went to the bathroom and splashed her face with cold water. When she looked up, she saw her own reflection in the mirror, eyes red and swollen. It was terribly unsightly.

When she came out, Li Zan was sitting on the sofa, his back slightly hunched as he warmed himself by the fire.

His elbows rested on his knees, his well-proportioned, slender hands turning idly above the heater. The glow of the fire reflected between his fingers, illuminating the pinkish color of his flesh. A warm red light also danced on his face, but his calm expression held an indescribable loneliness.

Since they met again this year, Song Ran had never seen such an expression on his face; or rather, she had never seen such an expression on him before, as if even the scorching glow of the fire couldn't melt the solitude in his eyes.

She thought that for the past six months, when she wasn't facing a mirror or anyone else, she probably had the same expression.

Song Ran walked over and sat on the small sofa next to him, also hunching slightly to warm herself. Her hands were a certain distance from his—not too close, not too far.

Even after being inside for a while, her body was still icy, the chill not yet dispelled. She asked, "Have you been waiting long?"

"For a little while," he said. "Your phone was unreachable."

"The battery died."

"Mm."

"Why did you come over today?"

"That case... I think what you said might be right."

"But you were also right. Wang Han lied to me... or not exactly lied, he fabricated 1% of the facts."

They were both right, and yet both wrong.

And at this moment, neither seemed to want to discuss the issue in depth, as if they had reached a silent understanding.

There were other things they wanted to say more.

He and she sat at a right angle to each other, both staring at the heater, their hands rubbing and turning, revealing a hint of inner turmoil.

Finally, he raised his eyes to glance at her and said, "Go drink some water."

"Huh?"

Li Zan said, "Your voice is a little hoarse."

From crying earlier.

Song Ran paused for a moment, only then realizing her throat was dry, raspy, and quite sore. She got up, went to the kitchen to get two glasses of warm water, and handed one to Li Zan.

Li Zan held the glass and asked, "You've cried a lot since coming back from Dongguo, haven't you?"

Song Ran lowered her eyes. "Not out loud."

Li Zan said, "Because of September 26th?"

Song Ran's hand stiffened. She let out a soft "mm" and said self-reflectively, "Maybe it's because I'm not strong enough, so it always hurts so much."

"It's okay," Li Zan said. "I think being a little soft is also a good thing."

Song Ran looked up at him. His head was slightly bowed, and the firelight reflected on the side of his face, making it look exceptionally gentle and warm.

Ever since she was young, her parents had always criticized her for being fragile, for not being strong enough. No one had ever told her, 'I think being a little soft is also a good thing.'

Li Zan said, "Do you know how I felt the first time I saw CANDY?"

"What?" Her heart tightened slightly.

"The world in the photos felt sorrowful and desolate. But at the same time, it made me feel very proud and grateful."

Song Ran was stunned. "Why?"

"Because I know the photographer. She let the world see a nation's suffering. I feel very honored to know her."

"My words of comfort might not do much, but I believe that only those who have fought alongside you are qualified to judge you. I think," Li Zan raised his eyes and looked directly at her, "that I at least have more right to speak than those who don't know you, right?"

His gaze was firm yet gentle, seeming to carry a force that pierced through her eyes and struck a warm chord deep within her heart.

A sudden sourness pricked Song Ran's nose, and she hastily lowered her head.

After being inside for a long time, sitting by the heater, her previously icy hands had gradually warmed up.

She blinked away the moisture in her eyes and, to herself, pursed her lips into a small smile.

He finished half the glass of water, stood up, and placed the glass aside.

She looked up at his ear.

"What about you? Is it still your ear?"

"Hearing sounds is no problem." Li Zan sat back down. Seeing that Song Ran was still looking at him stubbornly, he slowly added the truth, "Sometimes my ears ring, and sounds get muffled."

She frowned. "Is it serious?"

"It's not serious usually, but at work," he lowered his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose, "if I'm exposed to a bomb..."

Song Ran understood. "What did the doctor say?"

"Stress-induced trauma. Because I was injured by a bomb, my body developed an instinctive rejection."

"Can it be cured?"

"I don't know." He rubbed his hands together forcefully, his expression grim. "They said it depends on time, but no one knows how long."

Song Ran silently looked at his hands—a pair of hands that dismantled bombs, slender with strong knuckles. Xiao Qiu had said they were hands that could play the piano.

She didn't comfort him, but suddenly asked, "Do you want to go back to your old post?"

He was silent.

After a moment, just as he was about to speak, she whispered, "You have to tell the truth, okay? Heaven will be listening."

Li Zan bit his lip and answered, "Very much."

For six months, he had numbed himself, pretending not to care, unwilling to admit he was a failure, always evading the longing in his heart. But at this moment, he absurdly held onto a sliver of hope. If admitting it could bring good luck, he was willing to face his own reluctance to give up.

Song Ran silently chanted something in her heart, then nodded forcefully, as if muttering to herself, "It will definitely get better."

Li Zan suddenly let out a soft laugh, a sound escaping his frowning lips. "That's some perfunctory comfort."

"It's true. If you desire something very, very much, it will definitely come true."

Li Zan clearly didn't believe in such unscientific notions. "Who said that? You?"

"I've experienced it myself. The things I've desired very, very much have all come true... But," Song Ran's voice dropped, "some people also say that to get better, you have to stay away from the source of the stimulus."

"Stay away?" Li Zan tilted his chin up slightly and narrowed his eyes, clearly disagreeing. "Suffering is 'wanting' something you can't have. Only by getting rid of the 'want' can you stay away. But if you stop 'wanting,' the suffering disappears, and so does the happiness."

"That's why I think it's nonsense too." Song Ran rubbed her fingers together and said, "It's easy to comfort others, but when it's yourself, you still have to keep struggling in the end."

"Yes." Li Zan gave a very faint tug at the corner of his lips and lowered his head to continue watching the heater.

He had stood outside for several hours just now and was thoroughly chilled. Now, sitting inside, he had been watching the fire in the heater for so long that its warmth seemed to gradually seep into his eyes.

The two of them chatted idly, a word from him, a word from her.

Comfort, it seemed there was none; persuasion, also none.

Just pouring out their hearts and listening; that was all.

Outside, the cold wind howled; inside, it gradually grew warm.

The night deepened. Suddenly, the sound of knocking came from Grandma Wang next door. "Ran Ran, are you home?"

Song Ran glanced at Li Zan and quickly got up. "I am!"

Grandma Wang had already pushed open the courtyard gate and walked in.

Song Ran opened the door. The grandma handed her a needle. "Aiyo, my eyes are acting up again, I just can't thread this needle. Ran Ran, could you thread it for Grandma?"

Just as Song Ran took the needle and thread, Grandma Wang glanced inside, saw Li Zan, and whispered, "You have a guest?"

"Yes." Song Ran lowered her head to thread the needle for Grandma Wang.

Perhaps from staring at the fire in the heater for too long, Song Ran's vision was filled with a reddish glow, making her eyes blurry. She blinked repeatedly, but after half a day, she still couldn't thread it.

Grandma Wang laughed. "Look at you young people, your eyesight is about the same as this old woman's. You've been staying up late again, haven't you?"

Li Zan stood up, walked over, and said, "Let me try."

Song Ran handed it to him. He held the tiny needle and thread, focused his gaze, and with a gentle push, the fine thread slipped through the needle's eye.

Grandma Wang took the needle and thread, smiling. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Li Zan said gently. "Watch the steps."

"Alrighty." The old woman supported her knees as she carefully walked out. "Thanks, young man."

Li Zan glanced at his watch. It was already eight in the evening.

He looked at Song Ran, pursed his lips a bit unnaturally, and said, "I should probably get going now."

Song Ran guessed he was afraid the neighbors would gossip about her, so he said that for Grandma Wang to hear.

But for a moment, she didn't say anything.

Since she didn't answer, Li Zan stood by the door, waiting.

Only after Grandma Wang next door had gone inside did she say softly, "Stay for dinner before you go."

A flicker of uncertainty crossed Li Zan's eyes. He said in a low voice, "I don't want to be a bother..."

"It's no trouble," Song Ran lowered her lashes, fidgeting with her fingers. "There's no real food... just noodles."

...

In the kitchen, she opened the refrigerator. There was nothing inside except noodles and eggs.

The cooking pot was in the top cabinet. Song Ran stood on her toes and reached for it, but couldn't get it. The next second, a shadow loomed over her from behind—Li Zan had walked up, stood behind her, and reached out to take the pot down.