Chapter Ten: The First Love That Blossomed Briefly Like the Ephemeral Flower

This face was haggard, its once radiant beauty now etched with weariness and resignation. Zhang Can saw it clearly; though many years had passed, she was undoubtedly Liu Xiaoli—the very Liu Xiaoli he had secretly loved throughout three years of high school.

"You are...?" Liu Xiaoli was clearly startled, then, with some doubt, asked, "Are you...?"

"It's me, Zhang Can. I sat behind you in class. Do you remember me?"

Realization dawned on Liu Xiaoli, and she exclaimed with excitement, "You... you’re Zhang Can!" But excitement gave way to self-consciousness as she noticed her own disheveled and embarrassing appearance; unable to hold back, she began to sob quietly.

Yet, upon realizing he was an old classmate, the sense of unfamiliarity faded, and she seemed less worried about whether he would turn her away.

Zhang Can noticed several dark bruises on Liu Xiaoli’s face and hands, and wondered how many more marks there might be on parts of her body he couldn’t see. Anger and pity surged within him. Was this truly the dream girl he had pined for over three years?

He boiled some water, poured it into a cup—there was no tea, just plain hot water—and set it on the table beside the bed. Liu Xiaoli was still weeping, though now her sobs were silent, her face streaked with tears.

"Have some water, wash your face, and lie down for a while. Don’t worry, everything will be fine."

Zhang Can’s gentle words seemed to soothe her somewhat. She quietly went to the bathroom to wash her face and tidy her hair. When she reemerged, her complexion was clean and fresh, though the bruises remained. At least she looked more composed than before.

"What a coincidence, running into you like this," Liu Xiaoli forced a smile, trying to ease the awkwardness. Whether intentional or not, she managed to shift Zhang Can’s thoughts to her question.

"It really is a coincidence. I’ve lived here for three years and never once ran into you. When did you come to Jin City?"

Liu Xiaoli shook her head, taking a while to reply. "We came to Jin City last year. Both of us work at a supermarket. Tonight, I came home after my shift and he... he was gambling with friends. I said a few words to him, and then..."

In those few simple sentences, with repeated mentions of "we" and "he," Zhang Can understood: Liu Xiaoli had come to Jin City with her boyfriend—perhaps they were even married by now. Back home, early marriages were the norm.

He felt deeply disappointed. The goddess he had silently loved for years, after all this time, had become someone so changed.

"Are you married?"

It took Zhang Can a long time to force out that question.

Liu Xiaoli shook her head. "No. My father has heart disease, and all our money was spent on his treatment, but he still isn’t better. My boyfriend and I came out here to work, hoping to earn enough to get married. But after more than a year, we haven’t saved a thing. He loves to gamble and spends freely—how could we possibly save up?"

Zhang Can took a few deep breaths before finally asking in a muffled voice, "Do you love him very much?"

Liu Xiaoli’s eyes grew distant, as though lost in memories. "At first, he was very good to me, and I liked him a lot. But his family didn’t approve, and after we moved in together, his parents wouldn’t even speak to us. His family was well-off, so he never knew hardship. Once he was cut off from home, he lost his financial support. So last year, we decided to come out here and work..."

At last, Zhang Can understood. He remembered hearing, the year after graduation, that Liu Xiaoli was dating the son of a wealthy man in the city—a millionaire whose name everyone knew. At the time, Zhang Can had already given up hope; how could he possibly compete?

Love and romance aside, the world was harshly pragmatic. Beautiful women sought security; without money, there was nothing to discuss.

He had accepted this reality back then. Beautiful things were pleasing to look at, but one didn’t have to possess them—longing for what was out of reach was merely a fantasy.

Yet seeing Liu Xiaoli as she was now filled him with a deep discomfort. If she had ended up with him, would she have fallen to such a state?

Liu Xiaoli sipped some water, feeling a little better, and chatted with Zhang Can for a while. Glancing around the empty room, she realized Zhang Can’s circumstances could hardly be much better than her own. Sigh. Working away from home was truly difficult; earning a living was no easy matter. Gone was the carefree feeling of childhood.

To Zhang Can, the idealized image of Liu Xiaoli that had lived in his mind was now utterly shattered. The nervousness and excitement he had felt upon seeing her again gradually faded. He sat with her for a while, then fetched a basin of hot water and a towel, urging her to apply a warm compress to her face—the heat would help reduce the swelling.

After years apart, Liu Xiaoli no longer seemed worried about overstaying her welcome. Still, the long separation had left a sense of estrangement between them; it was impossible to return to the carefree camaraderie of high school. And, encountered under such circumstances, things were even more awkward. Back in school, the beautiful Liu Xiaoli had been the object of many boys’ affection, which had fostered a certain aloofness in her. Now, for Zhang Can to see her so down-and-out was a blow to her pride. Yet, seeing that Zhang Can wasn’t faring much better, she felt a bit more at ease.

In the blink of an eye, it was two in the morning. Zhang Can noticed there was only one bed and said, "Xiaoli, you must be tired. Why don’t you rest on the bed? I’ll sleep on the sofa; it’s not cold tonight."

"No, no... You should sleep on the bed," Liu Xiaoli protested, then hesitated, biting her lip as she asked, "Zhang Can, could I borrow your phone for a moment?"

Zhang Can handed her the phone without a second thought. He was about to urge her again to rest and leave any worries until morning, but she immediately began sending text messages. Shortly after, the phone’s unique notification tone sounded.

Liu Xiaoli stared at the messages, her expression shifting from anger to joy to anxiety, showing no sign of sleepiness.

In the past, Zhang Can might have yearned to show off his success or confess his long-held feelings. But now, watching Liu Xiaoli so eagerly texting someone else, his heart cooled. Moreover, the old infatuation had vanished entirely. After sitting for a while, he stopped paying attention to her and lay down on the bed to sleep.

When he awoke the next morning and stretched lazily, it took him a moment to remember Liu Xiaoli. Startled, he checked the sofa—she was gone. On the old table lay a sheet of white paper. He picked it up and read the brief message: "Thank you, Zhang Can!"

Nothing else remained—no name, no phone number, no means of contact. Zhang Can stood there for a long while, then unexpectedly felt a sense of release. After seeing Liu Xiaoli again, he no longer wished to dwell on her. Whenever he thought of her, his mind would instantly conjure the image of her from the previous night.

He washed up, then went downstairs to a small shop for breakfast. At nine-thirty, he went to the bank to cash the check and transferred half a million yuan back home to his parents.

Zhang Can reasoned thus: even with the strange power of his black-and-white vision, there was no guarantee he’d always be as lucky as yesterday. After surviving Old Su’s trap, he wanted to leave himself a way out. Of the million he’d gained, he sent five hundred thousand to his parents and kept the other half as a stake for himself. If his luck failed and he lost it all, he would simply return to the countryside. With half a million in savings back home, he’d be considered wealthy and could provide his family a comfortable life.

With everything arranged, Zhang Can felt truly at ease. His greatest dream had always been to earn three or five hundred thousand yuan; now, this wish had been fulfilled with ease, and the thirty thousand he lost had been recovered. He had no burdens at all—half a million as capital, half a million safely with his parents. Besides, now that he had the black-and-white eyes, it wouldn’t be easy to squander his fortune.

After wiring the money, Zhang Can called his father. "Dad, I just sent five hundred thousand home. Put it in the bank. Use whatever you need for the family, give five thousand to my big brother, and buy some nice clothes for Mom and my sister. Don’t be too frugal—you’ve worked hard your whole lives. You deserve some comfort now. I’m still making money here."

His father was momentarily stunned, then burst out laughing over the phone. "Son, you were never one for jokes. What’s gotten into you, telling tall tales now? Heh. I know you want to make money, but don’t wear yourself out. The money you’ve sent before already paid off our debts; don’t worry about us. If things don’t go well, come back home. Life isn’t so bad here. You’re not getting any younger—come back before the New Year, let your aunt introduce you to someone, settle down with a wife. Only then will I be at ease..."

Zhang Can quickly responded, "Okay, Dad, I understand. I’ll definitely come back before the New Year." Then he hung up.

He was twenty-five now. Back home, most men his age were already married. How could his father not worry, seeing his son still drifting about?

He still had half a million left—a small fortune, yes, but in a city filled with towering buildings, it was hardly enough to put down roots. The most it could do was cover a down payment on a home. If he really bought a place, he’d be shackled to decades of debt, and if he ever missed a payment, the house would be reclaimed.

Yesterday’s satisfaction at outsmarting Old Su had been shattered by Liu Xiaoli’s sudden appearance last night. Now, as he reflected, he sighed. He briefly considered taking his remaining half a million and returning home for good. With a million in hand, life back home would be exceedingly comfortable.

But just then, his phone rang, interrupting his thoughts. The caller ID showed an unfamiliar number, but Zhang Can answered anyway.

"Xiao Zhang, where are you? I need to see you urgently—come to my shop right away... No, no, tell me where you are, I’ll drive over and pick you up!"

To his surprise, it was Zhu Senlin’s voice, speaking with great urgency.

Zhang Can was puzzled. "Old Zhu? What’s going on? I’m outside the Industrial and Commercial Bank, across from Linjiao Qianjin Street. No need to pick me up, I’ll come to you if you need me!"

"No, no, I’m pressed for time. Stay right there, don’t move—I’ll be there soon!" Zhu Senlin insisted, then hung up abruptly. He clearly was in a hurry.

Zhang Can was surprised. What could be so urgent? Did Zhu truly plan to fire Old Su and hire him? That seemed unlikely. Even if Old Su had made a mistake, it wouldn’t warrant such drastic action.

Of course, Zhang Can hoped Old Su would meet with misfortune. After what he’d nearly suffered because of him, he had no intention of letting it go. As the old saying goes: justice may be delayed, but it will not be denied. When the time comes, retribution will fall.