Family intervention

Zong Family Villa, 11:47 PM.

Outside the French windows, a cold wind swept through the courtyard, swirling withered leaves and causing branches to snap softly in the wind. Zong Heng stood by the window, an unlit cigarette between his fingers—Xu Ying disliked the smell of smoke, and he hadn't smoked in a long time.

The phone screen lit up, and the message notification sound was exceptionally clear in the quiet room.

[Xu Ying]: See you tomorrow? I don't know the last question on my physics homework.

He could almost picture her saying those words—her brows furrowed slightly, her pen unconsciously drawing circles on the draft paper, and as he leaned closer, she would casually push the notebook toward him.

Zong Heng's lips curled into a slight smile as his thumb rapidly tapped the screen: [Silly, I'll teach you tomorrow. And we'll go eat something while we're at it—]

The study door was suddenly pushed open.

"Still playing on your phone so late?"

Zong Yue's voice was like a bucket of ice water poured over him. Zong Heng's fingers paused, he locked the screen, and when he turned around, all the warmth on his face had vanished: "What is it?"

Zong Yue, dressed in a velvet bathrobe and holding a glass of whiskey, walked to the mahogany desk, took a brown paper bag from the drawer, and moved with the elegance of someone displaying a business contract.

"I recently received some interesting things."

The photos were scattered on the table. The first was from last Friday after school, when Zong Heng pinned Xu Ying against the corner of the school building and kissed her; the second was from the amusement park over the weekend, when he was feeding her cotton candy; the third...

Zong Heng's pupils suddenly contracted—the photo showed Xu Ying walking home alone, and the angle of the shot was clearly a candid shot.

"You sent someone to follow her?" His voice was terrifyingly low.

Zong Yue took a sip of his drink: "I'm just making sure my son doesn't go astray." The ice hockey puck made a crisp clinking sound in the glass.

"You've investigated very thoroughly." Zong Heng sneered, his fingers unconsciously tracing the edge of the photo. In the photo from the amusement park, Xu Ying's eyes curved into crescents as she smiled, sunlight dancing on her hair.

"Next Monday, you'll be transferring to St. John's International School." Zong Yue put down his wine glass. "The Lin family's youngest daughter studies there, and you—"

"impossible."

The glass suddenly shattered. Zong Heng himself didn't realize when he had grabbed the whiskey bottle; the amber liquid dripped down the edge of the desk, leaving dark stains on the Persian carpet.

Zong Yue didn't even raise an eyebrow: "Or should I have this girl's entire family move out of Lincheng?"

The antique grandfather clock in the study struck twelve.

Zong Heng's knuckles were white, and the photo was crumpled in his palm. He suddenly remembered Xu Ying asking him last week, "What kind of person is your father?"

What did he say at the time? It seems he casually said "workaholic," then changed the subject and kissed her so much that she forgot to ask further questions.

"I'll give you three days to consider." Zong Yue pressed the call button, and the butler immediately appeared at the door. "Escort the young master to his room. Also," he glanced at the shards of glass on the floor, "have the carpet replaced tomorrow."

One by one, the motion-sensor lights in the corridor turned on. When Zong Heng reached the corner on the second floor, he suddenly noticed that his mother's favorite oil painting had been replaced with an abstract decorative painting—just like all traces of that woman's existence had been erased little by little.

Back in his bedroom, he locked the door and pulled his spare phone from under his pillow. The screen displayed a message Xu Ying had sent five minutes earlier:

Guess what I just saw? A calico cat gave birth to four kittens at the entrance of our neighborhood! One of them has the same grumpy face as you [photo]

In the photo, a gray and white kitten is hissing fiercely at the camera. Zong Heng suddenly burst out laughing, and then buried his face in his palms as he laughed.

Outside the window, the first snowflake of the year landed silently on the windowsill.

The morning mist had not yet dissipated when Xu Ying stood at the school gate, clutching two cups of soy milk in her hands, her fingertips slightly red from the heat.

Zong Heng was late.

This is very unusual.

He always arrived earlier than her, lounging lazily against the railing. When she arrived, he would casually take her schoolbag and slip her a bottle of warm strawberry milk. But today, the school gate was deserted, with only a few students on duty yawning and sweeping.

Xu Ying glanced down at her phone—no new messages. His last reply last night was at 11:30, a mere three words: "Go to sleep early."

She hesitated for a moment, then sent a message: 【Have you arrived at school yet?】

The message shows as read, but there has been no reply for a long time.

Xu Ying felt a slight tug at her chest, pursed her lips, and started walking towards the teaching building.

Just as I reached the top of the stairs, I suddenly heard a series of hurried footsteps behind me.

"Xu Ying!"

She turned around abruptly and saw Zong Heng standing at the corner of the stairs, his school uniform jacket casually draped over his shoulders, breathing slightly rapid, as if he had run over.

"You..." She was about to speak, but suddenly stopped.

Zong Heng looked terrible.

There were faint dark circles under his eyes, his lips were tightly pressed together, and his whole body was taut like a fully drawn bow. What alarmed her even more was that there was a thin, long red mark on the side of his neck, as if he had been scratched by something sharp.

"Are you injured?" She subconsciously reached out, but just as her fingertips were about to touch his skin, Zong Heng slightly turned his head away.

"It's nothing." He said in a low voice, reaching out to take the soy milk from her hand. The moment their fingertips touched, Xu Ying felt that his hand was very cold.

“Last night…” she asked softly.

"My phone's dead." He interrupted her, his tone flat, yet revealing a weariness she had never heard before.

Xu Ying didn't ask any further questions.

She knew Zong Heng too well—if he didn't want to talk about something, no one could get it out of him.

But her heart sank little by little.

The fourth period was a self-study period. Xu Ying secretly wrote a note and gently pushed it onto Zong Heng's desk: "Want to go to the rooftop?"

Zong Heng glanced at it, said nothing, but stood up and walked straight to the back door.

Xu Ying followed.

The wind was strong on the rooftop, making her school uniform jacket flutter loudly. Zong Heng leaned against the railing, took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, took one out and put it in his mouth, but didn't light it.

"When did you start smoking?" she asked.

“I always have,” he said casually, “I just never smoked in front of you.”

Xu Ying was silent for a while, then suddenly reached out and took the cigarette from his lips.

Zong Heng was taken aback.

"Don't smoke," she said softly. "It's bad for your health."

He stared at her for a few seconds, then suddenly laughed, though the smile didn't reach his eyes: "Xu Ying, you're quite nosy."

These words were like a thorn, gently pricking her.

She gripped the cigarette in her hand tightly, her voice trembling slightly: "Zong Heng, what's wrong with you?"

The wind whistled through the air, carrying fallen leaves between them. Zong Heng's gaze was fixed on the distance, and after a long pause, he finally spoke: "If... I mean, if I had to leave for a while..."

Xu Ying's breath hitched.

"Where to?" she heard her own voice, so faint it was almost carried away by the wind.

Zong Heng did not answer.

He turned around, placed his hands on the railing, his back to her, his shoulders taut.

Xu Ying stared at his back and suddenly had a strong premonition—he was struggling.

She stepped forward and hugged him from behind.

Zong Heng's body visibly stiffened for a moment.

"Zong Heng," she said, pressing her face against his back, her voice muffled, "don't lie to me."

She could feel his heartbeat, heavy and clear, one beat at a time.

After a long while, Zong Heng slowly turned around and pulled her into his arms. His chin rested on the top of her head, and his arms were tightly wrapped around her, as if afraid she would suddenly disappear.

"It's alright," he said softly, his voice hoarse. "I'll handle it."

Xu Ying didn't say anything more.

She simply clutched his school uniform jacket tightly, her fingertips trembling slightly.

As school let out, a light drizzle began to fall.

Xu Ying stood in the corridor waiting for Zong Heng, but saw him being called to the office by the homeroom teacher. Through the half-open door, she vaguely heard words like "transfer school" and "parents' opinions," and her heart clenched.

When Zong Heng came out, his face was even more gloomy than in the morning.

"Let's go." He picked up his schoolbag, his tone eerily calm.

The rain was getting heavier and heavier. The two shared an umbrella, with Zong Heng tilting almost the entire umbrella towards her, and his right shoulder was quickly soaked by the rain.

Xu Ying looked at his profile and suddenly reached out to touch the side of his neck: "How...did you do that here?"

Zong Heng paused.

"It was scratched by a cat," he said.

Xu Ying knew he was lying.

Zong Heng's family doesn't have a cat at all.

She stopped, the rain hitting the umbrella with a dull thud.

"Zong Heng." She looked up at him, raindrops sliding down her bangs like tears. "Didn't we agree to face anything together?"

Zong Heng's pupils contracted slightly.

The next second, he suddenly lowered his head and kissed her.

The kiss was urgent and heavy, carrying a sense of near despair. Xu Ying was held in his arms, tasting rain and a faint metallic flavor between her lips—his lips were cut.

"Xu Ying." He pressed his forehead against hers, his breathing erratic. "Trust me this once."

Xu Ying looked into his eyes, where she saw emotions she couldn't understand.

She nodded slightly.

Zong Heng closed his eyes, as if he had breathed a sigh of relief, but also as if he was in even greater pain.

In the rain, he held her hand tightly, so tightly it almost hurt her.

But Xu Ying knew—

He is slowly letting go of her.

At 2:13 a.m., a soft "click" came from the glass window.

Xu Ying suddenly sat up in bed. Moonlight streamed through the gap in the curtains, casting a thin beam of light on the floor. Then came another soft sound, like a pebble hitting glass.

She walked barefoot to the window and carefully lifted a corner of the curtain—Zong Heng was standing downstairs, his black hoodie pulled low, looking up in her direction.

The phone screen lights up: [Down. Now.]

Xu Ying's fingers trembled slightly. She quickly put on her coat and tiptoed downstairs. The moment she pushed open the door, the night wind carrying the scent of rain rushed towards her.

Zong Heng grabbed her wrist with such force that it hurt her.

"Come with me," his voice was incredibly hoarse, "tonight."

Rain dripped down his hair, and Xu Ying then realized that he was soaked to the bone, but his eyes were frighteningly bright.

"Where to?" she asked softly.

Zong Heng pulled a crumpled train ticket from his pocket and stuffed it into her hand: "G1372, departs at 5 o'clock, final stop Kunming."

His body temperature was still on the ticket.

Xu Ying was pulled by Zong Heng as they ran in the rain, the icy rainwater wetting her eyelashes.

"Wait—" she stopped, panting, "I didn't bring anything..."

Zong Heng turned around and cupped her face in his hands: "Did you bring your ID card?"

She nodded.

"That's enough." He wiped the raindrops from her face with his thumb. "I'll buy you the rest."

The halo of the streetlights blurred into a mass in the rain. Xu Ying looked at the unfamiliar Zong Heng in front of her—there was an almost obsessive determination in his eyes, like a gambler who had made a desperate gamble.

Why Kunming?

"It's far enough away," Zong Heng's voice mingled with the sound of rain, "far enough that my dad can't reach it."

A taxi screeched to a halt in front of them, splashing water that soaked Xu Ying's trouser legs. Zong Heng opened the car door and practically shoved her inside.

"Airport," he told the driver.

As the taxi drove into the rainy night, Xu Ying saw her reflection overlap with Zong Heng's profile through the water-stained window. His fingers were gripping the ticket tightly, his knuckles white.

The airport lights were blindingly white.

Xu Ying sat on the hard plastic chair, watching Zong Heng pace back and forth in front of the self-service ticket machine. He checked his phone every thirty seconds, and his bangs were still dripping wet.

"Does your dad know?" she asked softly.

Zong Heng paused for a moment: "It's not important."

He knelt down and placed his hands on her shoulders: "Xu Ying, this is your only chance. By the time my dad finds out, we'll be three thousand kilometers away."

Xu Ying looked down at her toes. The airport terminal was broadcasting flight information, and a child was crying in the distance; everything felt eerily real.

What about the schools? What about the college entrance exam?

"I can work to support you," Zong Heng said eagerly. "Don't you like painting? There are many art training classes in Kunming..."

Xu Ying looked up and suddenly noticed that Zong Heng's right hand was trembling uncontrollably. She reached out and grasped it, only to find that his palm was covered in cold sweat.

At that moment, she suddenly understood—he was afraid.

The arrogant Zong Heng was actually afraid.

"Boarding for flight G1372 to Kunming has begun..."

Zong Heng suddenly stood up, grabbed his backpack, and tried to pull her away. Xu Ying, however, stood still.

"Xu Ying?"

Looking at the flashing indicator light at the boarding gate, she suddenly said, "I can't leave."

Zong Heng's expression froze.

"My mother has a heart condition," Xu Ying said softly. "If I suddenly disappear... she won't be able to handle it."

The chill of the rain seemed to seep into his bones at that moment. Zong Heng slowly loosened his grip, and his backpack fell to the ground with a "thud".

"I knew it." He smiled wryly, "You're too obedient..."

Xu Ying's tears finally fell: "I'm sorry..."

Zong Heng suddenly hugged her tightly, his grip so strong it felt like he wanted to meld her into his very bones. Xu Ying felt his heart pounding frighteningly fast, the sound of the airport announcement making her eardrums ache.

"I was too selfish," he whispered in her ear. "Let's go back."

A commotion arose in the distance, and several men in black suits were peering through the security checkpoint. Zong Heng's body visibly stiffened.

"They're here." He released Xu Ying, quickly wiping away her tears. "Go out the side door and take a taxi home."

Xu Ying grabbed his sleeve: "What about you?"

Zong Heng gave her one last look, his gaze seeming to etch her image into his very soul.

"This time, it's my turn to wait for you." After saying that, he turned and ran in the opposite direction.

When Xu Ying returned home, it was already dawn.

She stood in the entryway, soaking wet, and found her mother sitting in the living room, the ashtray in front of her overflowing with cigarette butts.

"mom..."

"He came to see you?" The mother's voice was exhausted.

Xu Ying's tears welled up again. Her mother sighed and handed her a dry towel: "Wipe yourself off, don't catch a cold."

In the bathroom, hot water washed over her body, but Xu Ying felt no warmth. She opened her palm; the train ticket, soaked by the rain, was already blurred, leaving only a blot of blue ink.

Outside the window, the rain has stopped.