Beneath the Ripples
After returning from the mountain stream, Lin Xueyin felt that something in her heart seemed to have loosened.
That quiet and beautiful mountain stream was like a hidden secret, providing a space for her imagination when she felt suffocated and oppressed. Song Zhiyuan's act of taking her there was more like dropping a stone into stagnant water, creating ripples that were subtle but continued to spread.
She was still afraid of him, her body still subconsciously stiffening when he approached, remembering the pain and humiliation of that night. But that fear was beginning to be mixed with something else—a complex feeling of trying to understand and figure out his thoughts.
She began to observe him more closely.
She discovered that he actually spoke very little and was silent most of the time, but his eyes were sharp and he could always accurately capture everything around him. He was cold to people, but not completely unkind, and occasionally he would show some subtle relaxation to the truly honest and hardworking members.
He seems to be very good at all kinds of things, whether it is farm work, repairing equipment, or dealing with some sudden disputes among villagers, he can always find the key quickly and solve it in the most effective way.
He was like a mystery, powerful and cold, yet at certain moments, he revealed a side of him that was completely different from what she knew.
Lin Xueyin's "flattery" also began to undergo subtle changes.
She was no longer just obeying out of fear, but began to experiment, to touch him in ways that he might like.
She knew he preferred cleanliness, so at the radio station, she would wipe the chair he often sat in spotlessly. She noticed that he seemed to like tea, but the commune only had the coarsest tea leaves.
She remembered that there was a small packet of decent jasmine tea that her mother had given her in the enamel jar she brought with her, so she secretly took out some, wrapped it in a clean handkerchief, and when he came to see her one day, she quickly stuffed it into the pocket of his military uniform while he was not paying attention.
After doing all this, her heart was beating wildly and her cheeks were hot. She didn't dare to look at his reaction and pretended to concentrate on organizing the manuscript.
Song Zhiyuan didn't say anything at the time, but his gaze lingered on her red ears for a moment.
But the next day, Lin Xueyin discovered that a faint scent of jasmine wafted from the enamel pot he used to drink water.
At that moment, an indescribable, tiny sense of accomplishment, mixed with shame and a hint of secret joy, quietly grew in her heart. She seemed to have found a way to get along with him.
That evening, Song Zhiyuan took her back to the educated youth camp. As they passed the big banyan tree at the entrance of the village, they saw several naughty children chasing and playing. One of them, about seven or eight years old, ran too fast and bumped into Song Zhiyuan's leg. He fell flat on his butt and his slingshot flew out of his hand.
The boy was frightened and looked at Song Zhiyuan's stern face, about to cry out.
Lin Xueyin was also startled and subconsciously wanted to help the child, but she was worried that Song Zhiyuan would be unhappy.
However, Song Zhiyuan did not get angry. He bent down to pick up the crude slingshot made of a tree branch, weighed it in his hand, and then squatted down to look the frightened boy in the eye.
"When you run, watch where you're going." His voice remained cold, but it didn't contain any reprimand. He even reached out and, with a somewhat awkward gesture, brushed the dust off the boy's pants before handing the slingshot back to him. "Here."
The boy took the slingshot in a daze, forgot to cry, and just stared at him blankly.
Song Zhiyuan stood up, ignored the child, and signaled Lin Xueyin to continue walking.
Lin Xueyin followed him, looking at his usual upright and cold figure, but her heart was stirred even more. She suddenly remembered that he never said anything bad to the children in the commune primary school. Even when she was teaching, he would occasionally pass by with a calm look in his eyes.
He seems to treat children differently.
This discovery touched a soft spot in Lin Xueyin's heart. Could someone who was patient with children not be completely cold-hearted deep down?
She couldn't help but speak, her voice was very soft and tentative: "You... don't seem to be very mean to children."
Song Zhiyuan didn't stop walking. After a moment, he replied calmly, "The child is troublesome, but there's no need to be fierce."
It was a simple answer, but it made Lin Xueyin silent for a long time.
As the night deepened, the two of them walked to the vicinity of the educated youth station. Just when Lin Xueyin thought he would stop at the door as usual, he suddenly said, "Hold out your hand."
Lin Xueyin's heart tightened, and she subconsciously put her hands behind her back, looking at him warily.
Song Zhiyuan looked at her reaction, which was like that of a frightened little animal, and frowned slightly, but his tone remained calm: "I'm not going to punish you."
He stretched out his hand, and in his palm lay a round, smooth, white pebble with natural patterns, which shone with a warm luster in the moonlight.
Lin Xueyin recognized it as a stone beside a shallow pool in the mountain stream.
"For you," he said, placing the stone in her unconsciously opened palm. The stone still retained a trace of his palm's warmth.
Lin Xueyin held the cool stone, her fingertips feeling as if they were burned. She looked up, trying to read his eyes, but he had already looked away.
"Go in." He said, turned and left.
Lin Xueyin stood there, holding the pebble, watching his back disappear into the night, without moving for a long time.
The tranquility of the mountain stream, his patience with the child, and the stone in her palm that was filled with moisture and his body temperature...all of these, like a little glimmer of light, tried to penetrate the thick haze of fear in her heart.
She still couldn't see him clearly, and was still afraid of his power to control everything and his brutality that night.
But the desire to "please" him in her heart seemed to no longer be just for survival and self-preservation, but was mixed with a trace of... a desire that even she herself had not yet clearly understood, a desire to touch his true heart.
This desire frightened her, but she couldn't suppress it.
Beneath the ripples, the direction of the undercurrent seemed to be shifting in a way that even she herself hadn't noticed.
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