No

That pale yellow figure disappeared behind the door of Teacher Jin's office, like a stone thrown into a deep pool, leaving only suffocating ripples that continued to spread in Shen Ci's empty pupils.

The chaos in the office seemed to continue. Teacher Zhao's groans, and the discussions, attempts to dissuade, and exclamations of others, all seemed to be seen through a thick layer of frosted glass, blurry and distant.

Shen Ci stood there, motionless, his face still bearing traces of wet tears and lingering violence and pain.

He stared at the tightly closed door, as if he could see through the door panel the world inside that had suddenly lost all its color and shrunk up.

He wanted to rush in, to get to her side immediately, to tell her that it wasn't like that, that she wasn't dirty at all, that she was the cleanest and most beautiful being in the world.

But his steps felt like they were made of lead, too heavy to lift. He knew that at this moment, he was probably one of the last people she wanted to see.

He failed to protect her, allowing her to hear those despicable words that could destroy everything.

In the end, it was the other teachers who, through a combination of dragging and persuasion, pulled him away from the mess left by the cold-faced man. Teacher Zhao was helped to the infirmary, cursing and threatening to call the police and report him to the principal. Shen Ci ignored him; his soul seemed to have already followed that small figure and been locked behind that door.

Teacher Jin's office.

Qingran walked in silently, showing no reaction whatsoever to the other teachers who usually teased her and gave her snacks. Like a puppet with its strings pulled, she went straight to the recliner by the window where she often sat, slowly sat down, and buried her face deeply in the rabbit doll in her arms.

There was no crying, no fussing, not even a trace of extra emotion. She just sat there quietly, her gaze blankly fixed on the sycamore trees outside the window that were beginning to wither, as if separated from everything around her by an invisible, thick barrier.

A teacher tried to talk to her and offered her candy, but she seemed not to hear or see it.

Those amber eyes, which were always brimming with curiosity or joy, were now dull and lifeless, completely unfocused.

Until Sister Jin returned from her meeting.

The moment Jin Jie opened the door and saw her daughter looking like this, her heart felt like it was being gripped tightly by an invisible hand.

She was all too familiar with this state—it was a sign that Qingran had been greatly stimulated and had completely shut herself off, which was more unsettling and frustrating than crying or making a fuss.

"Ranran? Ranran, Aunt Jin is back." Sister Jin suppressed her panic, softened her voice, and quickly walked over, squatting down in front of her. She gently held Ranran's cold little hand. "What's wrong, baby? Who bullied Ranran? Tell Auntie, okay?"

Qingran's eyelashes trembled, and her eyes turned to Sister Jin very slowly, but her gaze seemed to pierce through her and land on some distant and cold place.

She opened her mouth, a slight hissing sound came from her throat, but ultimately said nothing. She simply hugged the rabbit in her arms tighter, buried her face deeper into it, and her body shrank almost imperceptibly.

Sister Jin's heart sank to the bottom.

She tried everything she could think of: telling jokes, taking out Qingran's favorite picture book, and even humming the lullabies she loved as a child. But Qingran still didn't respond, like a delicate but lifeless porcelain doll, immersed in her own dark and cold world.

That evening, at Sister Jin's house.

A low-pressure system enveloped this usually cozy little home. A suffocating silence and sorrow filled the air.

In the living room, Sister Jin sat next to Qingran, gently stroking her back, her eyes filled with heartache and anxiety.

Xiao Jue also arrived, his brows furrowed, his expression more solemn than ever before. He tried to speak to Qing Ran in a gentle voice, but it was like throwing a stone into the sea.

Qi Shuo stood by the window, his back to the room, his figure stiff, exuding a chilling aura that kept strangers at bay.

He had pieced together everything that had happened in Shen Ci's office that afternoon from Sister Jin and the other teachers. At this moment, his clenched fists, his nails digging deep into his palms, were barely able to suppress the violent rage that raged within him, a rage that wanted to kill and destroy everything.

Not only towards that beast surnamed Zhao, but also towards... Shen Ci.

It was him who made Ranran hear those things.

He shouldn't have allowed him to contact Ranran time and time again.

Tan Huaiyu stood alone outside the tightly closed door.

He knew he couldn't go in.

Qingran's current isolation may not be solely due to hearing those vulgar words. Those words, like a vicious key, may have pried open some of the darkest scars deep in her memory that she had deliberately forgotten but had never truly healed.

And his presence, as that man's flesh and blood, even if he did nothing, could be a stimulus, a reminder, making her more uneasy and more fearful.

So he chose to stand guard outside the door. Leaning against the cold wall, looking up at the dim motion-activated light on the ceiling, his heart felt like it was being immersed in ice water, tightening and aching in waves.

For Qingran, and also for the man inside who was on the verge of collapse. He knew how much pain, hatred, and helplessness Qi Shuo felt.

In the silent stairwell, only his own breathing could be heard, heavy and slow.

After an unknown amount of time, another set of footsteps sounded from the other end of the corridor.

Slow, heavy, with an indescribable weariness and... a barely perceptible tremor.

Tan Huaiyu gathered his chaotic thoughts and looked up.

The motion-sensor lights lit up one by one with each footstep, and the dim yellow light outlined a familiar figure—it was Shen Ci.

His clothes still bore slight wrinkles from the afternoon's pulling, his face was almost transparently pale, his eyes were dark and swollen, his lips were cracked, and he looked as if all his energy had been drained away, leaving only a frail, swaying shell.

Only those eyes, which were always gentle and peaceful, were now bloodshot, churning with unfathomable pain, self-blame, and a hope that bordered on despair.

He climbed the last step and saw Tan Huaiyu standing outside the door. His steps faltered, his eyes trembled violently, and his chapped lips moved, the sound as hoarse as if sanded:

"...Where is Ranran?"

Seeing his expression, Tan Huaiyu felt a heavy weight in his heart. He turned slightly, gestured with his eyes towards the closed door, and whispered, "He's inside."

Shen Ci's gaze immediately locked onto the door, as if trying to pierce through the thick wooden planks to see what was inside. His Adam's apple bobbed, and it was as if he had used all his strength to ask the next question:

"Can... I go in?"

Tan Huaiyu remained silent for a moment.

He could see the almost humble plea in Shen Ci's eyes, and he could also feel the heartbreaking silence in the room.

He slowly shook his head, his voice soft yet undeniably clear:

"It's best not to."

He paused, then added, his tone complex, "She... doesn't want to see you right now."

The words "I don't want to see you yet" were like a dull knife, stabbing deeply into Shen Ci's heart and slowly churning within him. His body swayed almost imperceptibly, and his face seemed to paler even more.

He closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again, all that remained was an overwhelming, unbearable pain and... a profound, deathly silence.

“…Fine.” He replied in a hoarse voice, without arguing or insisting, simply accepting the verdict obediently and despairingly.

He took a step back, leaned against the cold wall, and slowly slid down to sit on the floor, burying his face in his palms. His shoulders trembled slightly, unable to stop himself.

In the dimly lit stairwell, only the silent breathing of the two men and the faint, suppressed sobs of Sister Jin could be heard from inside the door.

After a long while, Shen Ci finally raised his head. He had forcibly suppressed most of the vulnerability and pain on his face, leaving only a deep weariness and bewilderment. He looked at Tan Huaiyu, his voice still hoarse:

"How...is she?"

Tan Huaiyu leaned against the wall, his gaze fixed on a point in the void, and shook his head: "Not speaking, not looking at anyone, just spacing out. Sister Jin and Qi Shuo... can't do anything about it."

Shen Ci's heart sank even further. He recalled her empty eyes that afternoon, and her calm words, "Ranran is dirty." His heart felt like it was being repeatedly kneaded by an invisible hand, the pain almost suffocating him.

“That guy surnamed Zhao…” Shen Ci’s voice suddenly turned cold, carrying a trace of lingering hostility.

“I will handle it.” Tan Huaiyu interrupted him, his tone calm but carrying an undeniable force. “I will make him pay the price, in the proper way.”

Shen Ci nodded and didn't ask any more questions. He knew Tan Huaiyu's methods and knew that the beast would never have a good end. But this did not alleviate even a fraction of the pain in his heart.

Another suffocating silence ensued.

Tan Huaiyu turned his head to look at Shen Ci's pale profile and the deep, almost burning pain in his eyes.

He knew that some things were perhaps best said by him. He spoke slowly, his voice exceptionally clear in the empty hallway:

“Shen Ci, if you have any questions about the past, I can tell you.”

This is the greatest honesty he can offer.

For the man who is suffering terribly and is about to die, and for the little girl who is curled up inside the door and locked herself back into the darkness.

Shen Ci was startled and suddenly looked up at Tan Huaiyu. He saw the seriousness in the other's eyes, and also the deep pain hidden beneath the calm.

The sordid and disgusting truth about Qingran's past may lie in Tan Huaiyu's next words.

His hands, which were resting on his knees, suddenly tightened, his nails digging into his palms, causing a sharp, stinging pain.

For a fleeting moment, he wanted to know, to know who that beast was, to know all the details, to know what kind of hell she had gone through... and then what?

And then let those sordid details gnaw at your heart day and night? And then let yourself wallow in endless imagination and pain? And then, knowing this, how can you face that girl as pure as the first snow?

No.

Shen Ci slowly shook his head. The movement was slow, but firm. He looked back at the closed door, his gaze seemingly trying to pierce through it and land on that fragile figure.

"No." He heard his own voice, hoarse but unusually clear, "That's not what I care about."

Tan Huaiyu was slightly taken aback, seemingly not expecting him to refuse. He thought Shen Ci would want to know, would want to understand the full extent of that pain, and then perhaps feel anger, perhaps pain, perhaps... even more pity.

"Then what do you care about?" Tan Huaiyu asked softly.

Shen Ci closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again, his eyes filled with an overwhelming sorrow and an almost devout, reckless persistence. He gazed at the door and spoke clearly, word by word:

"I only care about whether she's happy or not."

What he cared about was not why she was disabled, nor what kind of dirty past she carried.

What he cared about was whether her smile was still there, whether the light in her eyes was still bright, and whether her pure heart could still feel even the slightest bit of warmth and happiness.

The darkness and filth of the past are scars branded on her body, an abyss that stands in the way of her life.

He knew, but he chose not to stare into the details of that abyss. He only wanted to be the one who would do everything in his power to pull her up when she fell; the one who would light a lamp for her when she was afraid of the dark; the one who would tell her again and again, "You are good, you are pure," when she doubted herself.

Tan Huaiyu stared intently at Shen Ci, seeing the pure, unadulterated sorrow and protectiveness in his eyes. He remained silent for a long time, finally nodding almost imperceptibly. He said nothing more.

Some understandings need no further explanation.

Just as a heavy silence fell between the two—

“Clatter.”

A very faint sound, the click of a door lock turning, broke the silence.

Tan Huaiyu and Shen Ci were both startled and turned to look at the doorway.

The tightly closed door was opened a crack from the inside.

Warm yellow light streamed through the crack in the door, illuminating the small figure at the entrance.

Qingran was still wearing that pale yellow sweater, clutching her rabbit doll tightly in her arms. Her little face was expressionless, her eyes were slightly red and swollen, but her gaze was no longer as empty as it had been in the afternoon; it was just calm, calm to the point of indifference.

She stood there, not looking at anyone, but slightly turning her head to face Tan Huaiyu outside the door, and said in a very soft, hoarse voice:

"Brother Huaiyu, come in."

Tan Huaiyu was completely stunned. He never expected that Qing Ran would open the door and let him in.

In his mind, the person Qingran least wanted to see at this moment was probably him.

Shen Ci also stood up abruptly in an instant, and even staggered because the movement was so fast.

He stared intently at Qingran behind the crack in the door, his heart feeling as if it were being clenched by an invisible hand, then suddenly released, bringing a sharp surge of ecstasy and a deeper sense of panic.

He opened his mouth, and instinctively, in a trembling voice filled with endless hope and humble pleading, he called out that name:

"Ran..."

However, he only uttered one syllable.

Qingran didn't even glance at him. After saying that, she quietly waited for Tan Huaiyu to stand there, unsure of how to react.

He looked at Qingran's overly calm, even indifferent face behind the crack in the door, and felt a sharp pain in his heart, as if something had clenched it tightly.

He subconsciously glanced quickly at Shen Ci, whose face had turned deathly pale and whose eyes were almost broken.