It wasn’t until her mouth was dry and her throat was parched that Xie Miao’er suddenly realized she had been rambling on for who knows how long.
The crisp sound of her voice abruptly stopped, and Lu Huaihai raised an eyebrow as he looked at her. “Tired?”
Feeling a little embarrassed, Xie Miao’er tucked her chin and replied, “A little.”
When they left earlier, she had noticed that Lu Huaihai’s expression wasn’t the best, so she had wanted to pull him aside for a chat to lift his spirits. Instead, she had gotten carried away, talking so much that she forgot her original intention was to cheer him up.
But, Xie Miao’er thought, when someone is listening, the urge to pour out one’s heart always grows stronger. It couldn’t entirely be her fault.
Lu Huaihai was still looking at her.
She was like a clear mountain spring; with just one glance, one could see the playful little fish darting around inside.
Having spent some time together, Xie Miao’er was no longer as guarded as she had been when they first met. She didn’t mind Lu Huaihai looking at her a little longer.
However, today his gaze seemed far more complicated than usual.
She raised her evenly proportioned hand and rubbed her chin with the back of it. “Is there something on my face?”
Of course not. Lu Huaihai withdrew his gaze, stood up, and said, “Let’s go.”
Just as his voice fell, a blinding streak of lightning tore across the sky—
Followed immediately by a deafening roar of thunder. It was as if a firecracker had exploded right next to their ears. Startled, Xie Miao’er’s leg, which was just about to step over the long bench, gave a sudden tremble. She nearly toppled over onto Lu Huaihai’s back.
She barely managed to steady herself. When she looked up, she saw that Lu Huaihai’s figure was still shielding her.
“It’s raining,” he said.
It was only then that Xie Miao’er noticed the massive, dark clouds that had piled up in the sky, now so black they were almost oppressive.
With the rumble of thunder, bean-sized raindrops eagerly began their descent from the heavy clouds, pelting the earth below.
They hadn’t brought an umbrella and were now stuck in the small four-sided pavilion.
Looking at the sudden downpour, Xie Miao’er said regretfully, “It’s all my fault. If we had headed back earlier, we wouldn’t have been trapped here.”
Lu Huaihai, of course, did not blame her. On the contrary, an inexplicable sense of delight rose in his chest.
This wasn’t the first time the two of them had been alone together, but those past occasions had been forced by circumstances—if there had been a second room in the small courtyard, there wouldn’t have been any need to sleep on the floor.
But this time, the situation was different. She had willingly invited him to stay.
“Summer rain comes quickly and leaves just as fast. Let’s wait it out,” Lu Huaihai said.
With rain this heavy, he didn’t mind walking back drenched, but as for her… Lu Huaihai glanced at her. It was better to wait.
Xie Miao’er nodded and sat down again, leaning against one of the elm wood pillars, still facing outward. As soon as she sat down, she remembered something and said, “Shaoye, thank you for your help. I’ve already exchanged the banknotes, and as for the remaining forty taels, I’ll repay you once the rain stops and we get back.”
Lu Huaihai wasn’t particularly interested in this topic. Still standing with his hands behind his back, he let out a noncommittal hum as a response.
On the cool summer night, the sound of the rain echoed in their ears, a rhythmic drumming against the earth.
The curtain of rain enveloped everything, cutting off all the voices and activity outside the pavilion’s eaves. For a brief moment, the small four-sided pavilion became an isolated haven, untouched by the outside world.
Apart from the sound of rain, it was deathly quiet.
It felt as if, in this world, there were only the two of them left.
Xie Miao’er had just about said everything she wanted to say. As the silent atmosphere settled in, she didn’t speak again. Instead, she quietly looked at Lu Huaihai, who had his back to her, wondering, What is he thinking?
But before she could gather her thoughts, he suddenly turned around, catching her gaze directly.
Lu Huaihai didn’t say anything. He sat down beside her, separated only by the pavilion post. Startled, Xie Miao’er straightened her back and no longer dared to lean against the post.
With no voices to break the quiet, the silence in the pavilion began to feel suffocating. Xie Miao’er grew inexplicably flustered. She stretched her neck, sneaking a glance toward the post.
Cautiously, she broke the silence with a probing question: “Ever since you met Sister Baozhu, you… haven’t seemed very happy.”
Lu Huaihai didn’t hide his emotions from her, so he wasn’t surprised that she noticed.
Xie Miao’er hesitated, trying to find the right words. “It’s not that you’re unhappy, exactly. It’s just that you seem… well, kind of strange.”
After some thought, she finally found the perfect description. “You seemed uneasy.”
Yes, in front of his own sister, he had been uneasy.
Lu Huaihai chuckled softly, the low sound blending with the rain, so faint that Xie Miao’er almost thought she had imagined it.
“You noticed,” he said.
“Why is that?” Xie Miao’er asked, puzzled.
If his tense relationship with his parents could be explained by their attempts to force him down a “safer” path he didn’t want, why would he be so uneasy in front of his own sister?
“Do you want to hear it?” he asked.
Of course, Xie Miao’er wanted to hear it.
A hundred years later, she would become obsessed with reading every record about Lu Huaihai she could find—official histories, local chronicles, even anecdotes and rumors.
She wanted to understand everything about him.
But instead of eagerly agreeing, she shook her head and seriously asked, “Shaoye, do you want to tell me? If you want to tell me, I want to listen. But if you don’t want to, then I don’t want to hear it either.”
Her response surprised Lu Huaihai.
She had an almost worshipful enthusiasm for him. He didn’t know if it came from gratitude or some other reason, but he had assumed she would immediately insist on hearing his story.
“I want to tell you,” he said.
Accompanied by the sound of rain, Xie Miao’er listened to a story.
Back then, the Tatars had suffered a crushing defeat, and the people of Liaodong were overjoyed. The regret of not celebrating the Lunar New Year properly made everyone eager to celebrate the Lantern Festival. Eleven-year-old Lu Huaihai secretly took his six-year-old sister to see the lanterns, never letting go of her hand amidst the bustling crowd.
Their father, who had killed countless enemies on the battlefield, had become a target of revenge. Someone seeking to retaliate against their family had their eyes on the siblings. They were knocked unconscious, stuffed into burlap sacks, and taken away.
Their family discovered the situation quickly, and the kidnappers, realizing something was amiss, tried to escape. Perhaps because the younger sister was smaller and easier to hide, the kidnappers took her and abandoned Lu Huaihai.
Later, his sister was rescued, but she could never be the same again. She would never shake her brother’s arm and beg him to take her to see the lanterns.
No wonder…
Xie Miao’er listened quietly to the end, feeling a bitter ache in her heart.
But who could really be blamed for this?
Could Madam Su blame her husband for being too fierce in battle and provoking the enemy’s retaliation? Could she blame her young son for failing to protect his sister?
No one could.
But truth be told, how could one truly be entirely unaffected in their heart?
Lost in her thoughts, Xie Miao’er didn’t even notice when Lu Huaihai moved to stand in front of her.
His expression was calm as he said, “Let’s go. The rain has eased a lot.”
Xie Miao’er looked up, and behind him was the hazy drizzle.
From this angle, he seemed even taller.
She suddenly sprang to her feet and asked him a completely random question, “Shaoye, how tall were you when you were eleven years old?”
Lu Huaihai had anticipated many possible reactions from her, but he hadn’t expected this question.
After a moment of silence, he lifted his hand and gestured in the air to show his height at that age.
Xie Miao’er said, “You were only that tall back then. If I really tried, I could have carried you on my back. Shaoye, you’re too hard on yourself.”
Lu Huaihai paused, lowered his head, and looked at her. “Carried me on your back?”
He could tell her playful tone was deliberate, but he chose to go along with her good intentions anyway.
Xie Miao’er continued, “Don’t underestimate me. If I had encountered the eleven-year-old you, maybe I really could have carried you.”
A sudden thought crossed her mind: If only I had arrived in this era a few years earlier…
But she quickly shook her head.
Don’t overthink it, she told herself. The present must be the best arrangement heaven has made.
Still, she couldn’t help but wish she could see the eleven-year-old Lu Huaihai.
Picturing a young Lu Huaihai in her mind, Xie Miao’er couldn’t stop herself from curving her lips into a smile.
With that silly grin still lingering on her face, a hand suddenly landed on the top of her head.
The next moment, that hand roughly tousled her hair.