Hua Rong stormed out of the police station, her fists clenched and her jaw tight. Disappointment, frustration, and helpless anger all churned in her chest like a storm. Her steps were heavy, her mind replaying the same scene over and over—the officer behind the desk flipping through files, barely sparing her a glance as he muttered, "We need audits, we can't file anything without evidence."
Audits? Reports? She was there to talk about harassment, not taxes.
She felt like screaming. Instead, her eyes caught an empty soda can on the pavement and without thinking, she kicked it hard. It clattered against the concrete and bounced near the feet of a girl standing close by.
A gasp.
Hua Rong turned, guilt flashing across her face. The girl was about her age, in casual clothes, holding a drink in both hands like she'd just come from the corner store.
"I'm sorry!" Hua Rong said quickly, trying to walk past.
"Hey, wait!" the girl called out, stepping slightly forward. "Are you angry?"
Hua Rong paused, blinking. The question was oddly straightforward. She turned and let out a tired huff.
"I'm super angry," she admitted.
The girl's lips curled into a gentle smile. "I'm waiting for someone. Want to wait with me?"
It was an unexpected offer, but one Hua Rong didn't feel like refusing. The thought of returning home with her mood still boiling was unbearable. She nodded, and the two walked over to a nearby bench just outside the police station.
They sat down, letting the silence fall between them for a few moments, the late afternoon air cool against their skin.
"What's your name?" the girl asked.
"Hua Rong," she replied, staring ahead.
"Mine's Shen Yiren," the girl said softly.
Another moment passed.
"So… what happened?" Yiren asked.
And that was all Hua Rong needed.
The words poured out—how the people inside had dismissed her, how a man in the cafeteria had harassed her mother, how her voice felt like it meant nothing to the people who were supposed to protect them. As she spoke, her tone shifted from fury to hurt, her throat tightening as her eyes welled with tears.
"I feel super useless," Hua Rong whispered, staring at her shoes.
Yiren reached over and gently patted her back. "You're not useless. No one is useless."
"I am useless," Hua Rong muttered again, her voice barely audible.
Yiren shook her head. "Nope. You know what you should've done? You should've marched up to that man and punched him right in the face. Shouted, 'How dare you touch my mother!' and made him run for his life."
Hua Rong let out a short laugh through her tears. It was unexpected, and it felt good. "Yes! I should've punched him,"she said, smiling slightly.
But just as quickly, the smile faded. "But my mom told me not to fight."
Yiren tilted her head, thoughtful. "Then don't tell your mom."
Hua Rong glanced at her in surprise.
"Look," Yiren said, tone sincere, "sometimes we do things because we have to. For ourselves, or for the people we love. And sometimes… those people don't like the way we do it. Especially our parents."
For a moment, Hua Rong just stared at her. Then she nodded slowly, a small, fragile smile returning to her lips.
"You're a good person, Yiren."
Yiren blinked. "Am I?"
Hua Rong nodded again. "Yeah. Everyone says I'm selfish," Yiren replied with a crooked grin. "But I like your version better."
"Well, I don't think you're selfish at all," Hua Rong said, her voice firm now.
And for the first time that day, she felt a little lighter—like someone had finally seen her
They both laughed, a light, genuine kind of laughter that lifted the weight off Hua Rong's chest—just a little. The kind of laugh you didn't expect to have outside a police station after a horrible day, with a stranger who somehow felt like an old friend.
After that, silence settled between them. But it wasn't the awkward kind. It was the kind of silence that didn't need to be filled. The city sounds moved around them—cars passing, people chatting across the street, the faint bark of a dog in the distance—but their little bench near the station felt like a pocket of calm.
Then, Shen Yiren's phone buzzed. She pulled it from her pocket, glanced at the screen, and sighed with a half-smile.
"That's my ride," she said, standing up and brushing the wrinkles from her jeans.
Hua Rong looked up at her. "Thanks. For sitting with me."
Yiren grinned. "Anytime, Hua Rong. And hey—if you ever punch that guy, let me know. I want front-row seats."
Hua Rong chuckled again, the smile on her lips lingering longer this time. "Deal."
With a wave, Yiren turned and jogged toward a waiting car down the street, disappearing into the flow of the city. Hua Rong sat back, her eyes on the road ahead, the weight on her chest not gone—but easier to carry now.
Sometimes, the right stranger shows up exactly when you need them.
.....
Xu Lingwei sat in his room, organizing tomorrow's schedule like always. Every block of time had a purpose—studies, prefect meetings, library hours, archery training. Everything was neat. Everything was expected. But there was no space for what had just happened today. The audition. The one thing he did for himself.
A knock came at his door. His sister appeared in the doorway, arms crossed. "Father wants to see you."
He sighed, already knowing what it was about.
When he stepped into the study, Xu Qingshan was seated as always—at the polished mahogany desk, glasses halfway down his nose, reading through a file with slow, measured focus. The silence between them was usual, but this time, heavier.
"You called?" Lingwei asked.
Xu Qingshan didn't look up right away. Then he set the file aside and removed his glasses. "I received a call from your institution," he said, tone quiet but steely. "You weren't present for the scheduled prefect audition."
Lingwei's chest tightened. Here it comes.
"I was at a different audition," he replied cautiously.
Xu Qingshan's brows furrowed. "Don't tell me you were with that girl again."
Lingwei frowned. "Why does this always come back to her?"
"Because ever since you started spending time with her, your focus has shifted," his father said, voice clipped. "You've started straying from the path we agreed on. Skipping prefect meetings. Missing extra training. Now this."
"I went to the dance audition," Lingwei said firmly, trying to keep his voice steady. "And I got selected."
Xu Qingshan blinked once. "For dance?"
"Yes." Lingwei's jaw tightened. "And I did it because I wanted to. Because I'm good at it."
"You were raised to lead, not to parade yourself for applause," his father said sharply. "What do you think dance will bring you? Prestige? Power?"
"No. Just something I care about," Lingwei snapped, his voice rising. "And I wouldn't have even tried if she hadn't encouraged me. She believed I could do something more than just obey."
"You're letting her cloud your judgment," Xu Qingshan muttered, leaning back in his chair. "She's impulsive. Emotional. Not someone you should be taking direction from."
"Maybe I needed someone who believed in me instead of constantly measuring me against your expectations," Lingwei said.
His father narrowed his eyes. "I've never stopped you from succeeding."
"But you never thought I could succeed in anything but what you chose!" Lingwei's voice cracked.
There was a pause. Xu Qingshan looked at him, not furious—but disappointed. Not because Lingwei failed him, but because he disagreed. That was worse.
"You've made your choice," his father said stiffly, putting his glasses back on. "Just make sure you're ready for the consequences."
Lingwei didn't say anything else. He turned and left the study, his hands curled into fists, heart pounding.
In his room, he sat on the bed, the schedule board still staring back at him. For the first time, he didn't want to look at it.