Chapter 7
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The bus was nearly full of students, chattering excitedly as they craned their necks to look outside. Lu Yichuan sat by the window in the front row, his brow growing increasingly furrowed as he stared at the road below.
Gao Zilan, sitting beside him, explained, “This area is an industrial zone—steelmaking, coal refining… so heavy pollution is to be expected.”
Zhao Shuo leaned over the seat back and asked, “Then why was the welfare center built in an industrial district?”
“It used to be a thriving area, with many factories and workers. It was quite prosperous, so building a welfare center here wasn’t unusual.”
Gao Zilan’s gaze drifted outside, where dense steel structures loomed beneath a dark sky, obscured by either storm clouds or smog.
“Unfortunately, after all these years, this is what it’s become…”
The bus pulled up near a wall covered in climbing ivy and came to a stop.
The students filed out, the sound of rain pattering steadily. The rusty iron gate emitted a pungent scent of oxidized metal, soaked through by the downpour.
Lu Yichuan was the last to disembark. While others went to the trunk to unload supplies, he stood motionless at the gate, holding his umbrella.
The rain intensified, striking the umbrella with a sharp patter, forming silver streaks that splashed onto the gray-black ground, quickly speckling the tips of his pristine white shoes with mud.
The air was thick with the acrid smell of machine oil and coal dust.
Zhao Shuo stood beside him, complaining, “Damn! This place is filthy. If I’d known, I’d have stayed in my dorm, sleeping comfortably.”
He glanced at Lu Yichuan. “Weren’t you usually not into these kinds of activities? Why’d you come this time?”
Lu Yichuan, clad in a spotless white shirt, stood before the battered iron gate, his bearing noble and upright like a verdant bamboo stalk, his expression calm and unreadable.
“I was just idle and came to take a look.”
Zhao Shuo didn’t press further on whether he was truly idle.
Though they were classmates and seemed close—always together before and after classes—Zhao Shuo had gradually realized Lu Yichuan was far from the harmless persona he projected. Despite appearing carefree, Zhao Shuo remained cautious around him, which was why he’d always managed to stay by his side.
Gao Zilan came over carrying a pile of new clothes. Seeing the two chatting without helping, her face fell. She opened her mouth to say something when the heavy iron gate creaked and swung open.
Three people emerged: an elderly man with graying hair in the center, walking unsteadily, flanked by a man and a woman.
Gao Zilan shoved the clothes into Zhao Shuo’s arms and smiled at the elderly man. “Hello, Director. I’m the president of the Student Union at A University. We’ve brought some modest donations for the children here.”
The bus trunk was packed full of clothes, shoes, textbooks, extracurricular books, toys—small but essential items for the children.
The director’s eyes glistened with moisture. “Thank you… you’re all good kids with kind hearts…”
Lu Yichuan stepped through the open iron gate and saw a peach tree budding with spring blossoms. Dozens of children, rubbing their eyes, stood in the rain in the yard.
Beneath an old elm tree, just big enough to be embraced by two people, lay a white cat.
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The white cat, seemingly unused to so many people, looked dazed as it awoke, then, as if sensing his gaze, turned to look directly at him.
Their eyes met midair.
Lu Yichuan gripped his umbrella tighter as an indescribable feeling stirred within him. He couldn’t quite name it. Since last night, this feeling had lingered, compelling him to defy his own nature, take leave from the café where he worked, and come to this unfamiliar place.
Yet, even after arriving, his mood did not improve.
His eyes swept the surroundings, searching for something unknown, something undefined.
Outside, the storm raged; his heart felt hollow. As the cold wind blew in, the emptiness echoed with a chilling resonance.
He returned his gaze to the cat.
Despite being wet, the white cat was striking, its heterochromatic eyes—one yellow, one blue—sparkling like precious gems. It sat gracefully, staring at him with curiosity.
A woman suddenly appeared beside Lu Yichuan. Noticing his gaze, she smiled and explained, “That’s a stray cat that snuck into the welfare center today. A beautiful white cat. I don’t know what its owner was thinking, abandoning it like that.”
Lu Yichuan diverted his eyes to the tall elm tree. “It looks clean, hardly like a stray.”
“Yes…” the woman sighed softly. “The other cat that’s with it is much worse off. Much smaller, filthy, and suffering from a severe illness. I’m afraid it won’t survive long.”
The noble man slightly turned his body, fixing his gaze on her. “It has a companion?”
“Yes,” she replied. “They probably begged for food together. The little cat is very sensible; it knows it’s dirty and afraid of being scolded, so it never comes out until the white cat has eaten. But sadly…”
Lu Yichuan’s fingers whitened around the umbrella handle, whether from the cold wind or something else, he wasn’t sure.
“What illness?”
“Feline infectious peritonitis—a deadly disease among cats. If treated early, there’s hope, but it’s a stray. Who would care enough to help?”
The woman quickly added, fearing he’d think them heartless, “The treatment costs a lot of money. You know the welfare center’s situation—we simply don’t have the funds.”
The director led the students inside, with Lu Yichuan at the rear, the woman following him.
“Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Su Ye. I was once a child here, and now I stay to help.”
Amid the children’s lively greetings of “Hello, brothers and sisters,” Lu Yichuan closed his umbrella and stepped through the iron gate.
“Lu Yichuan.”
Walking beside him, in his peripheral vision, he noticed that her left hand had only three fingers.
Noticing his gaze, Su Ye smiled and explained, “It’s congenital. I was born with only three fingers, so my parents abandoned me.”
“There are many children like me in the welfare center,” she said, her eyes carrying an unfathomable depth. “The adorable kids you see in novels and on TV who get adopted easily are rare. Here, most are disabled—physically or mentally. We take in all the children no one else wants.”
“So we’re very grateful for your help. No matter your reasons, the supplies you donate truly mean a lot to us.”
The man beside her maintained a composed posture. When she expressed gratitude, his face revealed only a perfectly measured smile. Though gentle, Su Ye sensed his smile was a mask concealing an unreadable coldness.
“This is the effort of the entire student body. We’re just offering a small, insignificant contribution. The ones truly working hard are the students running around. I’m just here to see for myself.”
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Having struggled at the grassroots level for years, Su Ye was more perceptive than most. Judging by the man’s demeanor, she knew he probably didn’t want to talk further, so she found an excuse to leave, giving Lu Yichuan some space.
Mist rolled in from the distant mountains, shrouding this steel city in a pale, milky veil—hollow and cold.
After distributing the supplies, the director hurried the children back to their dormitories and led the students on a tour of the welfare center. Though called a tour, the small center was visible entirely from the courtyard.
The director, now elderly, spoke intermittently with pauses, his eyes fixed on the old elm tree in the yard.
“I planted this tree when I first arrived. Years have passed like a flash, children have been sent away in batches, and this tree has grown so large…”
The elm’s branches had just begun to leaf out in March. Tender yellow buds clustered at the tips, swaying uncontrollably in the rain.
Lu Yichuan noticed the white cat under the tree had vanished. Near the corner of the wall lay a trail of scattered paw prints.
He stared at the paw prints absentmindedly, the emptiness inside growing deeper.
The director’s voice continued, “Thankfully, the government is funding a new welfare center in the new district. When it’s complete, the children will move there, no longer cramped in this dilapidated place…”
…
As they left, the mist still lingered. The once-clean bus was now speckled with black mud on its undercarriage after entering the industrial district.
Zhao Shuo squeezed under the same umbrella with Lu Yichuan and looked at the surrounding mess, sighing sincerely, “Good thing I don’t live here. Waking up every day in this place would feel like the end.”
Lu Yichuan turned his head again toward a nondescript dog hole in the corner.
He didn’t know what he was waiting for but remained still for a long time—so long that Zhao Shuo nudged him, “Lu, what are you looking at? We’re the last ones not on the bus.”
Gao Zilan peeked out from the gate, staring at the two. “What are you two doing? Get on! This place reeks of machine oil—disgusting.”
Lu Yichuan closed his umbrella with a smile. “Let’s go.”
They returned to their seats as before. Gao Zilan stood upfront, holding her phone to take pictures, while Lu Yichuan leaned against the window, his gaze drifting across the street.
Across the road were a few sparsely patronized restaurants, and directly opposite the bus was a narrow alley branching into several paths. The pothole-ridden road starkly contrasted the wide, smooth asphalt outside.
Low, dilapidated houses lined the alley, litter strewn everywhere with no one to care. A few children ran out from the corners, clutching sticks as if searching for something.
Lu Yichuan straightened slightly.
Gao Zilan put away the rolled-up book she’d been pretending was a microphone. “Alright, let’s go!”
The engine roared to life. Amid the sound, across the road, Lu Yichuan seemed to hear the arrogant, harsh laughter of those children.
“That cat’s as good as dead today…”
The bus cut through the rain, advancing forward. The mist over the distant mountains began to clear, and the white blossoms of wild pear trees stood out vividly against the fresh green.
Yet this city forged of steel appeared to have lost its springtime.