Love Finds Its Time - Chapter 36

Wen Qinghan was quiet the entire afternoon until nightfall, sometimes even caught reading a book when the cameraman came in.

Dinner was brought in by that guard child. When he came, the host also wandered in for a quick look. After chatting a few words, he left with the cameraman to visit other rooms.

After observing for an entire afternoon and evening, she memorized roughly how long it took that child to eat and the time he would leave—not too early, not too late. It must have been a mealtime fixed by the production crew.

Early in the morning, Wen Qinghan quietly opened the door, peeking through the crack. Finding only the cameraman outside, she relaxed. Just then, she faintly heard a door opening from next door.

“Qingqiu?”

“Mm, it’s me.” Shi Qingqiu’s voice drifted softly from the next room.

Wen Qinghan suddenly lifted the corners of her lips, smiling silently. She couldn’t see Shi Qingqiu’s face, nor hold her hand, yet just a few simple words like that swept away those faint feelings crowding her heart. She only wanted to say more. “Did you sleep well last night?”

“Not bad, just too boring.” Shi Qingqiu sighed, then suddenly asked, “By the way, Qinghan, you said you’d handle it. Do you have a plan now?”

Wen Qinghan shook her head, resting her forehead against the iron-barred door, arms crossed, deep in thought. “I think this time money won’t work. The production team must have already anticipated such a straightforward method. They must have taken precautions in advance. Maybe they promised the guards that whatever we offer, they’ll double. Or maybe they’ve declared that our words mean nothing—any exchange of benefits during filming will be invalid and must be surrendered.”

So, yesterday Qin Wang had oversimplified it. Yes, any method could be tried, but the production crew had already set countermeasures. Some things were arranged early on, dismantling traditional bribery from the very first step.

No sooner had Wen Qinghan finished than Shi Qingqiu added, “Besides, the guard is just a child, not a mentally mature adult. So we can’t deal with him using adult methods.”

“Mm, exactly.”

Shi Qingqiu leaned sideways against her iron-barred door, arms crossed, facing the direction of Wen Qinghan’s room. That slightly cool voice came from next door, as steady as always. But after that night a couple of days ago, hearing it now gave her a strange sense of reassurance. She suddenly wanted to see Wen Qinghan. Only hearing her voice without seeing her face felt stifling.

Sensing her silence, Wen Qinghan tentatively called, “Qingqiu?”

“Mm?” Shi Qingqiu snapped out of her daze, shaking her head to throw away the thought. “I’m here, just thinking about something.”

Wen Qinghan said, “Leave that child to me. If you need me, open the door when he goes to eat or rests.” Her tone carried a softness unusual for her cold voice, though the distance made it hard for Shi Qingqiu to catch.

That’s why, when listening to someone, it’s best to look into their eyes, close enough to hear their voice clearly—so as not to miss the emotions flickering in their gaze, or the feelings woven into their words.

“All right,” Shi Qingqiu answered softly. Then, worried Wen Qinghan might not have heard, she raised her voice. “I got it.”

A child’s voice came humming a nursery rhyme, accompanied by light footsteps. With it, Shi Qingqiu heard Wen Qinghan’s voice. “Qingqiu, he’s here. Close your door.”

“Mm.” Shi Qingqiu made a sound in reply. Yet before shutting her wooden door, she didn’t hear Wen Qinghan’s door close. Suddenly, all the senses by which she could feel Wen Qinghan’s presence seemed to fail at once, like a ship losing its compass at sea, drifting without direction.

She closed the door. The warmth in her eyes and the curve of her lips vanished together. Clutching the handle, she shut her eyes, trying to steady this unfounded unease. But as soon as she did, in the darkness where nothing should exist, an image of Wen Qinghan appeared—gentle and serene.

Wen Qinghan hadn’t closed her door. She waited for the child to arrive.

Just as he was about to put on the airs of a guard and scold her, she bent down slightly. A few strands of her black hair slipped against her cheek, softening her coldness, as she smiled. “Little one, it’s too boring here. Shall we talk?”

“Y-you… what do you want?” The boy stammered, wide eyes fixed on Wen Qinghan behind the iron door, feeling that this pretty older sister looked dangerous.

“I’m not going out. What’s there to fear? I won’t let you be beaten by the other kids.” A glint of curiosity flickered in Wen Qinghan’s eyes as she studied him closely, noting every detail of his expression.

Hearing that, the boy let out a breath.

He tugged at the iron-barred door, finding it solid, just like the uncles had said. As long as he didn’t take out the key, the sister inside could never get out.

Wen Qinghan pulled over a chair and sat by the door. “See? Now are you reassured?”

The boy glanced around, then finally sat on the ground, separated from her by the barred gate. He looked up at Wen Qinghan and asked, “So, what do you want to talk about? I don’t know anything. I’m just here to watch you.”

Folding her hands on her knees, Wen Qinghan smiled gently, making herself seem less intimidating. “What grade are you in?”

“Fourth. I’ll be in fifth next term. I go to the elementary school in town.” The boy answered obediently. Hugging his knees, he looked at Wen Qinghan. Whatever little guard’s wariness he had left after tugging the iron bars quickly melted away under her calm demeanor.

Wen Qinghan nodded, then asked, “Which subject are you best at? When I was little, I hated math. How about you?”

“I don’t like math either. I like Chinese class best! My grades in Chinese are the highest!” His voice rose with excitement. But before long, his mood sank, plunging to the bottom. “But every time I want to show my report card to my dad, I hear Mom say Dad’s really good at math. But whenever I try, he won’t look… or he hits me with a stick…” The boy rested his chin on his knees. Children’s emotions always came swiftly, bare and unhidden. One moment he was happily chatting about his favorite subject; the next, recalling something sad, he collapsed into gloom—like a sky turning from sunny to stormy in an instant.

Wen Qinghan frowned slightly. Slowly, she reached out her hand. The boy didn’t notice. She paused, then gently patted his head.

Startled, the boy looked up. She smiled faintly and asked, “Why does your father always hit you? Have you ever asked him?”

What he said next shocked Wen Qinghan to the core.

“He doesn’t just hit me. Sometimes he hits Mom too.”

Startled, Wen Qinghan instinctively glanced toward the cameraman. What was this? Part of the show’s design, or real? If it was real, then was the challenge laid before her now to help this child?

She thought hard, pulling apart the tangled threads in her memory, all information about Inside and Outside the Drama flashing anew before her eyes.

Soon, a flash of light streaked past, and Wen Qinghan narrowed her eyes slightly.

She pulled her thoughts back, noticing the boy’s ill-fitting long sleeves. The hand resting on his head resumed its slow movement, her thumb gently stroking his hair. “Then how do you usually deal with it? What does your mother say to you?”

The boy shook his head, his clear eyes glistening with faint tears. “Sometimes Dad holds us and cries—he cries while holding me, and he cries while holding Mom. Mom says to forgive Dad, that he’s in a bad mood because of his leg, that he doesn’t mean it. Dad also promises he won’t do it again, but the next time he gets drunk, he cries and beats us again…”

“What happened to your father’s leg?” Wen Qinghan caught on to the key point.

“Dad hurt his leg at work. Now he can’t walk easily, and working is hard too…” As the boy spoke, the sadness on his face shifted subtly, his tone tinged with concern.

Wen Qinghan immediately asked the most important question, “Then do you think your father should be forgiven?”

The boy seemed to halt his sadness, his face filled with bewilderment, as though it was the first time anyone had ever asked him this.

At first, he shook his head lightly, but then he quickly nodded firmly. “Dad’s just unhappy. He didn’t mean it. He used to love me so much, he’ll turn back into how he used to be soon.”

Wen Qinghan’s hand froze. Perhaps this child had been fed such thoughts many times, which was why he forgave so easily. But that initial shake of the head—that was his truest feeling. Deep down, he hadn’t forgiven his father.

“If I told you this isn’t right, would you agree with me?” Wen Qinghan’s voice was soft, her hand gently stroking the boy’s hair, smooth and patient.

“No! You’re lying! You’re tricking me!” The boy flared up as though she had touched a forbidden scale. He shoved her hand away harshly, and her pale, slender hand struck hard against the iron bars.

Wen Qinghan even heard the crisp snap, pain forcing her brows to knit together.

She saw the boy scramble up in panic, pointing at her door and shouting, “Don’t talk! Shut the door! Close it now! Hurry!”

Something was wrong. The cameraman’s expression turned grim, and he started toward them. But Wen Qinghan waved him off to show she was fine. She then looked deeply at the panting boy, pulled her chair away, and closed the door.

The throbbing in her hand faded slowly along with the heavy atmosphere, yet whenever she moved her fingers, the ache brought back the image of that boy’s brief panic and instinctive rejection.

***

The day passed quickly. Aside from dealing with the host once, Wen Qinghan secretly opened her door to observe the boy, waiting patiently until nightfall when he finally left. Only then did she open her door again.

Moonlight spilled across the corridor. Wen Qinghan lifted one hand, palm up. The silver light slipped through her slightly parted fingers. The breeze passed by, as though she were holding moonlight itself.

“Qinghan, what are you doing?”

Shi Qingqiu’s voice, laced with a faint smile, drifted over. She saw Wen Qinghan’s slender fingertips shimmer coldly under the moonlight, her hand slowly curling as if to catch the falling light.

“Nothing, just thinking.” Wen Qinghan sighed, moving her injured right hand, smiling faintly.

It was rare for Wen Qinghan to admit she had something on her mind. Before, she never said so—whatever it was, she always worked it out alone.

Shi Qingqiu’s curiosity was piqued. She asked, “What are you thinking about? Is it related to now?”

That outstretched hand instantly clenched into a fist. Though it was delicate and slender, Shi Qingqiu suddenly felt an illusion—that this hand carried endless strength and conviction. Whatever it wanted to grasp might not come immediately, but it was only a matter of time.

Shi Qingqiu smiled, shaking her head to dismiss such an absurd thought.

“Qingqiu, truthfully, I’m not very confident this time. A whole day has passed, and I still haven’t figured out how to handle that child. If we lose, and we can’t get out within three days, will you blame me?”

Shi Qingqiu froze. There was a wall between them. She couldn’t see her face. She had to lean out just to barely glimpse Wen Qinghan’s palm.

Even so far away, she still felt that Wen Qinghan was sighing.

A single “No” lodged in Shi Qingqiu’s throat. She opened her mouth but couldn’t say it. Winning or losing didn’t matter to her, but Wen Qinghan would think it did.

She saw that hand slowly open again, those slender fingers just as cool to the touch as when they had slipped into her palm two days ago—cold to feel, cold to see.

Shi Qingqiu smiled and said, “If we lose, we can just win it back. Who said losing once means you can’t win the next round? It’s not over yet.”

Wen Qinghan paused, then suddenly lifted her lips in a smile, the light in her eyes brighter than the starry sky. “Yes, we can win it back.”

When will you truly understand? Losing once only means you can win again. If one person makes you lose everything, there will always be another who lets you win it all back—restoring what you’ve lost, and giving you what you’ve never had.