Chapter Eighteen: Clouds Drift Gracefully

Days would not change simply because of one’s thoughts. In a blink, more than ten days had passed since Han Bingyan left the Han family’s residence. Each day, Han Bingyan filled his schedule to the brim; whenever he had a spare moment, he could always be found engrossed in a book.

Han Bingyan had come to understand that from now on, he could only rely on himself. Aside from studying hard, what else could he do? Occasionally, he would gaze down the mountain, hoping to catch sight of someone familiar. He thought of his mother, Aunt Xiaoyun, and wondered about his younger sister, Xiaoran. How was she now? When would she come to see him? Then he would laugh at himself for his foolishness—how could she visit when she didn’t even know where he lived?

Before he knew it, the new semester had begun.

On Monday, Han Bingyan arrived at school very early and started cleaning the classroom—a job he’d secured after meeting with the principal. As a part-time worker, he kept the campus tidy in exchange for half of his tuition being waived. Han Bingyan was deeply grateful for the principal’s understanding, never knowing that the change in attitude had only come about after Li Lanyue threatened to resign.

Perhaps it was a sudden pang of conscience.

The classroom was soon spotless. After a few more minutes, the first student entered and was startled to find Han Bingyan already inside.

The first day back was one of disappointment for Han Bingyan. He hadn’t expected that his sister, nor the beautiful homeroom teacher who taught them, would fail to appear. Inquiring around, he learned his sister had taken leave from school, and Li Lanyue no longer taught there.

What joy was left for him at this school? Han Bingyan was in low spirits at the thought.

At that moment, he sensed a group of students surrounding him—it was Han Bingwu and his gang. “What do you want?” Han Bingyan asked with some anxiety.

“Nothing much. Just thought we’d teach you a lesson,” Han Bingwu sneered, looking as if he had everything under control. “Heh, now that little Xiaoran and that meddling teacher aren’t here to protect you, let’s see who can help you. Boys, get him!”

At his command, Han Bingyan was shoved to the ground, countless fists and feet raining down on his slender body. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Han Bingyan curled into a ball, using his arms to protect his chest and vital areas.

The other students, cowed by Han Bingwu’s tyranny, dared not speak out. Though many felt sympathy, none stepped forward to help.

“Remember this: from now on, you’d better keep your head down. You must have the worst grades in the class. If anyone ever scores lower than you, I’ll beat you up just like today.” Perhaps tired from the beating, Han Bingwu spat on him and delivered the threat with venom. As if suddenly recalling something, Han Bingwu’s face lit up with excitement. “Thanks for the pocket money you sent me. I really enjoyed it. Ha!” With that, he and his group left, laughing and joking.

Only then did a few classmates come forward to help Han Bingyan up. But he ignored their outstretched hands—anyone can play the hero after the fact. Wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth, Han Bingyan raged inwardly: “Heavens, why? Why, just when I set my heart on studying, on achieving my life’s goals, must you send another obstacle to block my path?”

His eyes, lifeless and hollow, stunned those present. They watched as the frail Han Bingyan slowly rose and limped away on unsteady legs.

From then on, Han Bingyan withdrew into his own world, shutting out everything around him. Grades? He no longer cared. Just as Han Bingwu wished, Han Bingyan firmly held the bottom rank in the class, propping up the rest.

It was not that Han Bingyan had yielded to Han Bingwu. If it came down to submission, Han Bingwu was not worthy of it. Rather, Han Bingyan had grown weary of excellence. Since he already possessed the knowledge, what was the point of showing it? To stand out as different? To chase an empty reputation and invite trouble from the likes of Han Bingwu—why bother?

His classmates gradually grew accustomed to the changed Han Bingyan, who treated everyone with a cold detachment, as if he were a block of ice, devoid of emotion. When would he ever show a hint of fiery enthusiasm?

Unnoticed, people stopped caring about Han Bingyan. Who would bother courting disappointment? Every morning, Han Bingyan was always early, only finishing his chores by the time his classmates arrived. Occasionally, he’d oversleep, but such instances were rare. His classmates ignored his busy figure, just as he ignored them.

Time drifted by in the blink of an eye—two years passed in a flash. During those years, Han Bingyan waited expectantly for his sister, hoping perhaps Han Bingran would come to see him at school. But all he received was endless disappointment, as though he’d been forgotten by the world—no one remembered him.

Sometimes, he would quietly trail behind Han Bingwu and his group, hoping to catch a glimpse of those he missed. With their martial prowess, Han Bingwu and the others were well aware he was following, but they merely sneered and paid him no mind.

But aside from the cold iron bars, Han Bingyan found nothing.

“Stand up!”

It was class time. The class monitor called out.

“Good morning, teacher!”

“Good morning, everyone. Please sit.”

On the podium stood a beautiful, cold woman, her gaze sweeping over each innocent, youthful face and finally settling in the corner of the room, on that solitary, indifferent boy.

She sighed softly to herself. Li Xiaoyu really couldn’t understand why this student was so out of place.

Li Xiaoyu had taken over as the class teacher two years earlier, when Li Lanyue left. From the start, she noticed the boy who always sat alone at the edge of the classroom. She saw the loneliness in him, and as his homeroom teacher, she felt it her responsibility to help change his character.

“Bingyan, come to my office after class.”

“School’s out!” the children cheered. At their age, they were meant to play—not be confined to a classroom, forced to study. As soon as the bell rang, they rushed out, leaving only Bingyan to trudge reluctantly toward the teacher’s office.

He entered.

“Miss Li.” Han Bingyan greeted softly.

Li Xiaoyu turned and saw Han Bingyan standing before her. She smiled and pulled up a chair for him.

In truth, she had been watching him for a long time. Though Han Bingyan always ranked last in the class, she sensed there was something unusual about him. She was amazed that his grades consistently hovered at the passing mark.

On nearly every exam, Han Bingyan scored exactly sixty—no more, no less. How could this not astonish her? Achieving high marks was easy, but hitting the same mark every time—was that so simple? It was as if it had been programmed into him—barely passing, each and every time.

“Why do you always keep to yourself, standing alone in the corner rather than joining your classmates?” Li Xiaoyu finally voiced her question.

Han Bingyan remained silent, as if determined never to speak. Li Xiaoyu studied him, unable to fathom why this child was so stubborn, so withdrawn.

And so, the two sat in silence, neither willing to break it. In the end, Han Bingyan won; Li Xiaoyu, helpless, waved him away.

As Han Bingyan left the office, he faintly heard Li Xiaoyu mutter to herself, “I believe this child is not useless—he must have his reasons.” At the word “useless,” Han Bingyan’s body trembled involuntarily, and he heard no more.

“I am not useless!” Han Bingyan screamed silently in his heart as he forced himself to keep moving.