Mengran sat at the small table, staring at the noodles, hot water, and medicine in front of her. Her emotions were complicated, and she hesitated to lift her hands.
Her first instinct was rejection. She and Zhou weren't close—just classmates who had barely exchanged a word over the years. And yet, here she was, in his home, wearing his clothes, about to eat the food he had made. How could she possibly do that?
But her body was urging her to accept. Hunger had taken over her mind, sending constant signals that she needed to eat.
She glanced to the side. Zhou was sitting at another table, holding a pen, seemingly focused on his homework, completely ignoring her—as if she wasn't even there.
Sensing her gaze, Zhou stopped writing and said softly,
"You're not usually this shy. Just eat. Once you're done, I'll lend you an umbrella so you can leave."
"…"
Hearing this, Mengran had no reason to refuse anymore.
She carefully picked up her chopsticks, took a small bite, and the warmth instantly spread through her body.
After that, she didn't hesitate. She ate quickly but quietly, trying not to make a sound.
Ten minutes later, she finished everything, drank the hot water, but didn't take the medicine—she felt she would be fine without it.
Then she stood up and reached into the pocket of her soaked clothes, taking something out.
She walked over to Zhou, held it out to him, and whispered,
"Um… thank you…"
"Hm?"
Zhou looked up and saw that she was holding a hundred-yuan bill.
"Why are you giving me money?"
"I don't want to owe you anything…"
Zhou met her eyes—she was serious, not joking.
He didn't take the money. Instead, he turned back to his exam paper and muttered,
"If you don't want to owe me, don't pay me back with money…"
"You're good at studying, right? I can't solve this question. Teach me, and we'll call it even."
Zhou tapped his pen on a difficult problem in his workbook.
Mengran glanced at it and instinctively blurted out, "This is so simple, how can you not—"
"Sorry, yeah, I can't even do something this simple."
"Uh…"
Mengran awkwardly shut her mouth, then reached out and began explaining the problem to him.
Zhou listened carefully, but he had to admit—his brain just wasn't as sharp as hers.
It wasn't until she broke it down into the smallest details that he finally understood.
After finishing the explanation, Mengran got ready to leave. Her uniform had been drying under the air conditioner for a while, but it was still damp. There was nothing she could do about it.
"I'll return the clothes and umbrella when I go to school…"
Mengran stood at the door, speaking softly.
She was wrapped in her still-damp uniform, wearing Zhou's clothes underneath. Her wet clothes were all stuffed into a plastic bag.
Zhou, hearing this, suddenly remembered—Mengran hadn't been to school for several days.
She was good friends with Tong. Over the past few days, Tong had been in a bad mood, probably because of Mengran's absence.
When he confessed to Tong, he could tell she was annoyed.
Now, something felt off. Zhou frowned and asked,
"Just to be clear, do you have anywhere to go right now?"
He usually didn't meddle in others' business. That's why he hadn't asked why she was there or why she had been crying.
But for some reason, he wanted to ask this one question.
He had a feeling that if she left now, she would still have nowhere to go.
Sure enough, Mengran froze at his question. She lowered her head, silent.
Zhou tapped his pen on the desk and said casually,
"If you have nowhere to go, then you can't leave. Do you have your phone with you?"
"No…"
Zhou took out his own phone, opened the dial pad, and asked,
"What's your parents' number? I'll call them to pick you up."
"…"
"?"
Hearing no response, Zhou looked up—
Mengran stood there, completely still. Tears welled up in her eyes like crystals, on the verge of falling.
"You…"
Zhou slowly put down his phone. Something was wrong.
That reaction—did something happen to her family?
It was the middle of the night. If he made her cry at his house, that wouldn't be good.
Looked like he couldn't just ignore this situation.
His mind raced with words—comforting ones, probing ones.
But he wasn't good with words.
So in the end, all he managed to say was,
"Uh… what happened?"
Mengran sobbed for a long time before finally speaking, telling Zhou everything.
A little over a week ago, her parents had gone out driving and were in a fatal car accident.
Now, she was essentially an orphan, with no relatives willing to take her in. Her grandparents had already passed away.
Zhou listened with a furrowed brow.
Now he finally understood why she had been crying alone out there.
She hadn't been to school for days, yet she was still wearing her uniform.
She was suffering through something so terrible, all by herself.
"No home to go back to?"
Hearing this, Mengran looked as if she had heard the most heartbreaking words. Her grief deepened.
Zhou, though awkward with words, could tell he had asked the wrong question.
Of course—if she had a home, she wouldn't be wandering around in the rain. There had to be some painful reason behind all this.
The room fell silent.
The only sound was Mengran's quiet sobbing.
Zhou looked away, feeling restless and uncomfortable. He had no idea what to do.
Mengran was their class president. Not only was she a top student, but she was also popular, bright, and optimistic.
She was the heart of the class—their leader, their friend, their teacher's pride.
She was the complete opposite of him.
And now, that same person was in his house, crying like a lost child.
If she went to school and told everyone about this, he wouldn't just be a joke—he'd be an outcast.
He was already bad at studying. Being shunned by the whole class would be even worse.
But he knew one thing for sure—he couldn't let her leave.
Now that he knew her situation, how could he just send her away?
Especially with the rain still pouring outside.
With that thought, Zhou stood up, walked over, and took the bag from her hands…