“Hey, Lu Zhun.”
“I’m… your high school classmate.”
The midsummer wind stirred the banyan trees, leaves drifting toward the teaching building.
The glaring sunlight baked the rubber track until it was scorching. Gym class was half over, and during the free activity period after dismissal, students scattered across the distant field in twos and threes, drifting toward the shaded corners, laughing and making noise.
A boy holding a basketball clapped him on the shoulder, a few other boys trailing behind him. “Hey, Brother Lu, let’s go play ball.”
Arms full of a thick stack of documents, he walked toward the office, voice flat. “No.”
But they clung to him, chattering nonstop as they walked alongside him — they’d arranged a match with the class next door and were short a player at the last minute.
“That punk Yang Kaiyu’s gotten way too cocky. We’re one short — just need you to come wreck them, Brother Lu.”
“After the game we’ll go grab skewers on the back street.”
They cut through the corner, passing by the field.
Unlike the lively field, a girl sat alone by the empty, quiet main path, reading a book.
A few of the boys spotted her too. “Hey, isn’t that the young miss from Class 1 of the first year?”
“Guess she didn’t bring her bodyguards out today.”
Someone clicked his tongue, rubbing his chin. “No wonder she’s the young miss — even just her presence sets her apart from us mortals.”
The guy beside him elbowed him, laughing. “Yeah right, like you’ve ever read a book in your life.”
“If you sat there like that I’d think someone dumped you there.” “Get lost, like you’re any better, and you’ve got the nerve to talk.”
“Hey hey, time’s up, let’s get moving.” “If we’re late that punk will think we’re scared.”
They chatted a bit longer, then a few of the boys checked their watches and ran off toward the basketball gym, balls in hand.
The main path quieted down. A few banyan leaves lay scattered on the ground, their edges tinged yellow.
The girl sat beneath the banyan tree, sunlight filtering through the dappled shade onto her slightly wavy black hair, dyeing it with flecks of fuzzy gold.
She held a literature book, eyes lowered, looking utterly focused.
Walking closer, one could see a small cheat-sheet-like slip of paper tucked inside.
After a while, the girl closed the book and began reciting quietly to herself.
“…is a top-tier celebrity, the TV drama she starred in was… manicure types include French manicure, cat-eye, solid color, matte…”
Halfway through, she suddenly got stuck, brows furrowing slightly, and flipped the book open again to check.
Out of the corner of her eye, the girl suddenly noticed him. She turned her head to look, revealing a pair of calm eyes.
“You’re looking at me?”
“…”
A gust of wind swept past suddenly, carrying a few banyan leaves down, drifting gently to the ground. B L A C K L O T U S Novel Chapters — Black Lotus Novel
The girl’s calm, clear amber eyes stared at him. After a long moment, she tilted her head slightly.
“Hey, are you listening?”
“Mm.”
The leaves fell one by one, mist obscuring the girl’s face until it blurred out of focus.
His throat rolled slowly, and finally he spoke, his voice barely audible.
“Jian Nian, I’m listening.”
“Beep—”
Rain struck against the floor-to-ceiling window, the bedroom pitch black inside. All sound vanished in an instant, returning to silence.
Just like every pitch-black, silent rainy night — that call with nothing but the patter of rain.
Every time he spoke, that faint, trembling breath on the other end would disappear.
“…”
Outside the floor-to-ceiling window, the rain kept falling, no glimmer of light visible.
Inside the bedroom, the scent of alcohol and white plum blossom slowly intertwined, intoxicating.
The man raised his hand, letting the back of it rest slowly over his eyes. His lashes closed gently, shutting out his pitch-black pupils.
…
Inside the phone booth.
Suddenly hearing him say her name, Jian Nian froze for a moment, and right after, her heart gave a sudden lurch.
Before she could process it, the receiver suddenly let out a “beep beep” sound, and the display screen lit up, showing the call had ended.
—Three minutes were up.
She couldn’t say what she was feeling, but seeing the call disconnect, Jian Nian actually felt a wave of relief.
Her mind was in chaos over what she’d heard through the receiver. Jian Nian put the phone back, leaned against the booth, and slowly slid down to sit.
…Was that Lu Zhun?
It sounded a bit like him, yet not quite. Deeper, more like the voice of a grown man.
His tone had sounded gentle, and also unfamiliar.
But he’d said her name.
And the call hadn’t been misdialed, so that must be Lu Zhun, right…?
Thinking it over carefully, seven years had passed — it was only natural for his voice and manner of speaking to have changed.
Jian Nian pressed her head against the glass, thinking about how he’d heard everything she’d said, and her heart instantly turned to ash.
More critically, he’d recognized her too.
“…”
Jian Nian really wanted to go hide in her own grave for a while.
Wait, grave… right, she’d already been dead for seven years.
Why had his tone on the phone been so calm? Not the least bit startled.
Jian Nian thought slowly — could it be he didn’t even know she’d died?
That didn’t seem likely… the police would surely have contacted family after a car accident, and the only number in her contacts was that one. Even if they hadn’t reached him, it seemed unlikely he wouldn’t know at all.
“…Grumble.”
So hungry.
Jian Nian was soaked from the rain, both sleepy and cold, and now on top of that her head was spinning with hunger, her stomach aching a little.
She braced herself against the glass and stood, opening her red umbrella, intending to leave the phone booth and find something to eat.
Besides, she couldn’t spend the whole night here…
Suddenly she heard footsteps, splashing through the rain. Amid the pouring downpour, there were faintly voices too.
“Jian Nian—” — black lotus novel Novel Chapters | BLACK LOTUS NOVEL
Jian Nian froze for a second, then raised her umbrella and looked through the pitch-black curtain of rain, spotting a woman’s figure not far off, searching around with a flashlight.
The white beam swept over her, and the woman looked up to see her standing in the booth, hurrying over.
The woman wore a full raincoat, her face soaked with rainwater, the edges clinging tight to her skin. Most of the clothes underneath were wet too, dark patches showing through.
She was panting, as if finally letting out a breath of relief. She made a phone call, said a few short words. “Found her, you all go on back with Sister Liu first.”
Hanging up the phone, only then did Yu Qingqing’s gaze turn to her.
Meeting Jian Nian’s calm eyes, within two seconds she looked away, her gaze landing on her face instead.
Her complexion was even paler. She’d had a recurring low fever these past few days, no telling if it had gotten better.
Yu Qingqing’s throat moved, and she stayed quiet for a good while, not managing to say anything. She let out a long breath and reached out to pull her along. “Let’s go home first.”
Jian Nian took a small step back, dodging her hand.
She looked at her and said, sincerely, “My family’s already gone bankrupt. I can’t give you all what you want.”
Yu Qingqing froze.
It wasn’t clear whether it was because of this news, or because she hadn’t expected her to say something like that.
She opened her mouth as if to argue, stammered a few times, but still made no sound.
She just stepped forward instead, grabbed her wrist, and pulled Jian Nian along into the rain, repeating that same line again.
“Let’s go home first.”
Jian Nian couldn’t win against her, and so she was pulled along, walking through the curtain of rain.
The whole way back to the Yu Family Sugar Paintings shop passed in silence.
Jian Nian stood inside the house, watching Yu Qingqing take off her raincoat. Without changing out of her wet clothes, she went straight into the bathroom.
Their place wasn’t big, and the bathroom was small too — once the solar water heater was fitted in, there was hardly any room left.
She went into the shower, and the sound of water started up inside.
After a while, she came back out, went to her room to grab a change of clothes, and pushed Jian Nian into the bathroom.
“Shower first,” she said. “Or you’ll get sick again.”
Jian Nian didn’t fight herself on it, stood behind the door for a moment, then went in.
She turned on the tap, warm water falling over her, the temperature just right.
The solar water heater’s temperature was unstable — on a sunny day it hit 100 degrees, and the shower dial wasn’t sensitive either, either scalding hot or freezing cold. Jian Nian always had to turn it bit by bit, taking forever to adjust the water temperature.
“…”
Jian Nian lowered her eyes, finished showering, changed clothes, and came out.
Sounds of cooking came from the kitchen.
The drawing board had been retrieved and set on the long coffee table, the paper clipped to it soaked through by the rain, wrinkled and crumpled. The tree in the drawing had blurred too.
Yu Qingqing came out of the kitchen carrying two bowls of noodles, setting one down in front of her.
“Eat first.”
The noodles were a simple shredded-meat soup noodle, still steaming. A spoonful of shredded meat piled to the side, a few strands of green vegetables, an egg nestled in the middle.
Jian Nian looked up; Yu Qingqing was already sitting across from her eating, head bowed low, taking big mouthfuls.
Her wet clothes had been changed too, swapped for a simple short-sleeved shirt.
Jian Nian picked up her chopsticks, lowered her head, picked up a bit of noodles and put them in her mouth.
The taste wasn’t great — aside from being salty, there was no other flavor to speak of. Yu Qingqing’s cooking skills had never been good; she followed video tutorials step by step when cooking, and somehow always managed unexpected mistakes anyway.
But eating the hot soup noodles now, the burning ache in her stomach felt somewhat better.
Jian Nian ate mouthful by mouthful, then suddenly remembering something, spoke slowly: “Thank you.”
Yu Qingqing’s chopsticks paused slightly mid-motion.
After a while, she finished the rest of her noodles, lifted the bowl to drink the remaining broth, then got up and went to the kitchen.
After finishing the noodles, Jian Nian finally felt like she’d come back to life. It was already deep night, and drowsy fatigue washed over her.
Yu Qingqing pushed her into the bedroom, sat on the bed, and skillfully laid out a bamboo mat on the floor for herself.
Outside the window, the rain kept falling. | Black Lotus Novel | Translation
Jian Nian sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her gaze back from the night outside, and said, “I’m leaving tomorrow.”
Yu Qingqing had finished laying out the mat, holding a blanket, and paused slightly. “Where to?”
“To Huai City, to find relatives.”
“Mm.”
Yu Qingqing gave a light hum in response, spreading out the blanket. “What about your parents?”
“Mom passed away. Dad, I don’t know — before the company went bankrupt, he fled overseas with my stepmother and half-brother.”
Yu Qingqing’s eye corner twitched suddenly, as if she was about to spit out some choice words, but forcibly held it back.
After a moment, she spoke slowly: “…Is your whole rich family like that, huh, complicated?” She’d swapped in a more tactful word.
Jian Nian thought about it. “More or less.”
Because they’d been grooming her to inherit the family business, she’d gotten to know the entrepreneur families they kept close ties with too, and all their family relationships were pretty tangled.
She counted on her fingers: “There’s one where a sixteen-year-old son registered his own two-year-old kid externally as his younger brother, one where the couple’s infertile but somehow has children anyway, and one where the man had a son with his own sister-in-law…”
Yu Qingqing listened, jaw dropped, and couldn’t help giving a thumbs up: “Wow, the rich really do play games.”
She balled up her pillow, turned off the light, and lay down, looking like her usual excited self whenever hearing gossip. “Anything else juicy?”
Jian Nian went on, picking through memories to share slowly. Yu Qingqing propped herself up on the pillow to listen, chiming in with commentary from time to time, and bringing up gossip she knew in turn, chattering on endlessly.
Jian Nian listened drowsily.
Neither of them brought up what had happened at dusk.
Until drowsiness completely swept over her consciousness, Jian Nian’s head tilted, sinking into the pillow, and she fell asleep.
Yu Qingqing quieted down too, watching her for a while, then lifted the blanket and got up.
…
The next day, at the first hint of dawn, Jian Nian was already awake.
She turned to look — the woman on the floor was still asleep. She got up slowly, stepping lightly past her, and walked out of the bedroom.
The night before, while they ate, Yu Qingqing had washed her dress and hung it up to dry; summer weather was hot, so it dried within a few hours.
Jian Nian took the dress down, hung the hanger back on the line, and was about to head back to the room when she turned around and found someone standing in the living room.
It was Yu Yu.
At this hour, it was time for him to head off to early morning study session.
He was staring at her.
Jian Nian asked, “Something wrong?”
Yu Yu took a step back, leaning against the wall, and spoke slowly. “There’s a reason Yu Qingqing lied to you.”
He said that a few months ago, he’d saved a drowning kid at the stone bridge, and ended up getting scammed by the family, forced to pay out several tens of thousands of yuan.
Now the sugar painting shop’s business was dead and struggling, barely breaking even to begin with. Yu Qingqing had been taking on other work to keep it afloat all along. Now, supporting the two of them while also paying the shop’s rent — the shop was on the verge of shutting down.
Yu Yu pressed his lips together. “…So that’s why she thought of it.”
Jian Nian recalled the argument between the two of them she’d overheard that day, and said, thoughtfully, “Oh, so that’s why your grades are so bad — you don’t want to go to school, to save on tuition money.”
Yu Yu froze. “How’d you know?”
Jian Nian hadn’t quite mastered Yu Qingqing’s tactful way with words yet, and chose a different way of responding — turning her head away as if she hadn’t heard.
Yu Yu rubbed his head. “Anyway, don’t hate her, I think she’s really—”
Jian Nian looked a bit surprised, blinking her calm amber eyes, and said, “I don’t hate Yu Qingqing. I hate you.”
Yu Qingqing hadn’t even scolded her. — BlackLotus Novel Translations — Black Lotus
Yu Yu: “…”
Yu Yu rode his bike off to school, vanishing into the hazy morning light.
Jian Nian went back to her room and changed clothes, and noticed the bag on the table.
Inside were packed the drawing board and pencils, bottled water, a plastic bag with meat pies, an umbrella, cold medicine, and other odds and ends.
Standing quietly at the table for a moment, Jian Nian pulled out a sheet of drawing paper.
The sky at the horizon turned fish-belly white, faint light seeping in through the small wooden window.
After the girl left the room and closed the door behind her—
Yu Qingqing opened her eyes.
…Not even a single goodbye had been said.
She stared at the door for a while, then got up. Her gaze landed on the drawing board left on the table, and she suddenly paused.
Yu Qingqing pressed her lips together, picked up the drawing board, and suddenly felt there was still a sheet of paper tucked inside.
She flipped it over.
The paper was filled with writing, the elegant handwriting carrying a calm quality, stroke by stroke laying out a plan for improving and marketing the sugar painting shop.
…
Before the alarm rang, the man in the bedroom had already woken. His expression indifferent, he got up and went to the bathroom to wash up.
Undoing his pajama buttons one by one, revealing a firm waist and abdomen, the man casually grabbed a black shirt and walked out of the closet, changed.
Sunlight poured in through the floor-to-ceiling window, lighting up the room.
On the nightstand, white plum blossoms unfurled in a vase; beside it, the phone alarm rang right on cue. The man walked over, his long fingers casually tapping it off.
Still somewhat hungover, his brow furrowed slightly, and he pressed his fingers against it.
He got up to leave, but his gaze happened to sweep across the screen, and he suddenly paused.
The phone screen had stopped on the call log page.
At the very top, there was a new three-minute call record.
