Chapter 58

Even Zhou Hehua's husband couldn't stop her from blurting things out, and he gave an awkward laugh: "What nonsense are you talking about?"

Huo Jilin's face was dark as he stayed silent. Zhou Qingshan scratched his head and coughed: "The weather's about to turn. We should head back quickly."

The weather was indeed turning. The wind had already picked up, and the leaves rustled noisily in the gusts.

They made their way down the mountain with Zhou Qingzhu calling "slow down" and Zhou Hehua asking "what happened? What's going on?"

But the two who'd been arguing remained silent, their faces as dark as the sky that was clouding over.

Eventually, everyone fell quiet, leaving only the sound of Old Horse's hooves and the wind rustling through the leaves.

The mountain path was long—if they weren't on horseback, it would take half an hour to walk. During that half hour, the wind rose and the sky darkened, as if the weather was matching everyone's mood.

Chen Jue walked the whole way, his anger gradually cooling. By the time they got home, once Zhou Qingzhu, Zhou Hehua, and the others had gone, Chen Jue said to Huo Jilin:

"Tomorrow, we're going to get a divorce."

He didn't wait for Huo Jilin to respond, walking straight into the house.

He didn't need to wait for Huo Jilin to come up with an excuse for the villagers. He had always done things his own way and didn't give a damn about what others thought.

He didn't have much to pack. He couldn't quite remember what dowry the original Chen Jue had brought when marrying—probably two quilts and this camphorwood chest on the heated brick bed (kang).

Since he'd gotten here, he'd added quite a few things to this bedroom. The clean room was where he'd spent the most money, but those things couldn't be taken with him—he couldn't exactly take the windows out or tear down the walls.

So Chen Jue just packed the chest. It was quite large, and part of it contained Huo Lin's clothes—summer and winter—which Chen Jue took all out.

No need to split the money. Lately, every time he sold herbs, he'd given Huo Jilin his share, and Huo Jilin had accepted it.

So it was easy to settle up.

Chen Jue put everything he could think of into the camphorwood chest and finally closed the lid.

Huo Jilin stood gloomily at the door like a stone statue.

"Dalin! What are you doing standing here?"

Huo Jilin turned around. It was Zhou Qingzhu, dragging Uncle Liu along. It looked like Zhou Qingzhu had gone to get him.

Huo Jilin didn't speak. Uncle Liu smiled and asked, "Go on in! The wind's picking up. Why are you standing at the door?"

He pushed Huo Jilin into the house, and Zhou Qingzhu also lifted his basket, smiling at Chen Jue: "Brother Chen, stop packing for now. Come down and eat some buns first. My dad made them—pork scraps and cabbage filling, thin wrapper, lots of filling. They're delicious."

Zhou Qingzhu's eyes swept over the camphorwood chest Chen Jue was packing, and he pinched his thigh. If he'd told his dad earlier and come to mediate sooner, would they have ended up like this?

He still hadn't told his dad the reason, only saying they'd quarreled and asking him to come talk some sense into them.

The buns were fresh and still warm. Seeing Huo Jilin still standing there silently, Zhou Qingzhu stomped his foot and went to the kitchen to get bowls and chopsticks.

Along with the basket of buns, there was porridge.

A meal like this was meant to be shared as a family. Today they'd all gone up the mountain, so Uncle Liu had stayed home to make buns. He'd wanted a nice meal together, never expecting these two to end up like this.

Zhou Qingzhu simply couldn't understand. Things had seemed fine these past few days—why did it blow up so suddenly today?

He didn't know what had caused it, he just knew he couldn't let Chen Jue get angry.

Chen Jue sat down to eat. He was no longer angry, just waiting to leave after the divorce tomorrow.

He ate his bun, thinking about how to tell Uncle Liu. The man's cooking had almost become a regular part of his life.

Over these six months, he'd come to treat Uncle Liu's family as his own. When it came time to leave, they'd become people he was attached to.

He shouldn't have gotten so close.

Zhou Qingzhu looked at Huo Jilin, who was still standing, and smiled: "Brother Dalin, you eat too. Come sit over here."

Uncle Liu sat down on a chair and said with a smile, "Right. Whatever it is, let's talk about it after we eat."

Huo Jilin was nudged into the seat across from Chen Jue and began eating in silence. When his chopsticks bumped Chen Jue's while reaching for the pickled cucumbers, Chen Jue stopped eating them altogether.

Huo Jilin's face got even darker.

Uncle Liu pretended not to watch them, then spoke up: "Dalin, Jue Geer's already eight months along. In a little over a month, he'll give birth. You can't make him angry. Whatever you did wrong, apologize to him."

Huo Jilin set down his chopsticks. How could he apologize? Chen Jue had slapped him without even apologizing! Couldn't they all see the handprint on his face?

Uncle Liu saw it but pretended not to, saying with a smile: "You young couples fight, but you always make up. Nothing's that serious."

Chen Jue had finished eating too. He set down his spoon and said to Uncle Liu: "I've decided to divorce him. I'm leaving here tomorrow. Uncle Liu, thank you for all your care these past months."

Uncle Liu was taken aback. He knew Chen Jue's temperament—he hadn't known it before he got to know him, but he'd learned it clearly over these months. When Chen Jue decided to do something, it was final. He was definitely not the type to joke around.

What on earth had happened? How had things gotten to the point of divorce?

Divorce was such a big deal.

Uncle Liu said urgently: "Child, you can't be so rash! You're about to give birth! You can't divorce! Dalin! Say something! What's going on?"

Huo Jilin took a deep breath and looked at Chen Jue: "I was wrong. Can we not get divorced?"

Huo Jilin hadn't expected things to spiral out of control.

In the past, his methods had always been direct—especially when dealing with Chen Jue. Sharp as a blade, clean and decisive.

He'd also forgotten that Chen Jue was even more decisive, even quicker to walk away. Before, Chen Jue had Dean Chen and Director Zhou, the people of Zhonghai Hospital—he couldn't just walk away. But now he was alone, and he didn't care about anyone here anymore.

Staying here this long had probably been his limit.

Huo Jilin clenched his fist hard, looking for excuses for himself.

He'd wanted to gradually lead Chen Jue out of his depression, but there was no time. Chen Jue was about to give birth, and he talked every day about leaving. Whether he left before or after the birth, he'd face even more severe depression.

But no matter how he rationalized it, the result was that his heavy-handed medicine had been too strong, and Chen Jue had thrown him out along with everything else.

Chen Jue shook his head slowly at everyone. His mind was made up.

Uncle Liu and Zhou Qingzhu finally left, glancing back every few steps.

Chen Jue stood at the door watching them for a while. These were the bonds he'd formed in this world, and today he cut them.

Outside, the wind grew stronger. The leaves rustled loudly, and the lightest, first leaves to turn yellow rode the wind, fluttering down like a rain of leaves saying goodbye to summer.

It was quite beautiful, and kind of poetic.

Chen Jue watched in silence.

Compared to Chen Jue, who was as calm as an ice sculpture, Huo Jilin's face matched the weather outside—storm clouds brewing, barely held in check, threatening to erupt at any moment.

But before he could erupt, the heavens changed their mood first.

By evening, the wind was strong enough to send bamboo baskets rolling.

Huo Jilin, with lightning reflexes, grabbed a basket that had blown off the wall—it had been hanging there and still got blown down, let alone the branches, which creaked and groaned in the wind.

"Get in the house!" Huo Jilin shouted at Chen Jue, who was grabbing another basket.

Chen Jue's hair was blown loose by the wind.

A few days ago, he had cut his hair shorter for easier washing and drying; once pinned up with a hairpin, no one could tell.

People in ancient times didn't cut their hair—the idea that your body and hair are gifts from your parents ran too deep.

So he usually coiled it up and pinned it with a wooden hairpin.

Now, with the wind blowing, the wooden hairpin came completely loose. Even though he'd cut it shorter, it still got in his eyes. He grabbed the basket, glancing back at Huo Jilin shouting at him.

Huo Jilin yelled at him: "Watch out!"

A branch snapped off the tree and came crashing down.

Huo Jilin lunged over and clapped the basket over his head, and the broken branch smacked into Huo Jilin's back.

It wasn't life-threatening, just a gash—one more scar layered on top of the old knife wound.

Chen Jue dressed Huo Jilin's wound; the bleeding had stopped, and it wasn't too bad.

But Chen Jue still thanked him, then added a doctor's order: "Keep an eye on that wound for the next few days, and don't lift anything heavy."

Not a single wasted word.

Huo Jilin shot him a look but didn't say a word.

Chen Jue had tied his hair back into a ponytail, since he'd been in too much of a hurry to pin it up, he'd just used a piece of straw rope.

Yet he still looked good—a few stray strands at his forehead made him look even younger. That stern, unsmiling face, softened by his youthful look, didn't seem so cold anymore.

Huo Jilin watched him in silence. So this was Chen Jue at nineteen.

He looked away under Chen Jue's gaze.

Outside, it was pitch black now. Huo Jilin shot a dark look at the gloomy sky.

Chen Jue was also looking. The yard was clean as a whistle now—anything that could blow away was gone.

The big rooster up in the tree had already herded the hens and chicks into the coop.

The old horse in the stable seemed to sense the weather coming, burying its head in the hay and chowing down.

As it ate, another branch snapped, smacked the sturdy roof, then tumbled down onto the horse's face. The horse shook its head hard a few times to dislodge the branch, then went back to eating.

Chen Jue turned his gaze to another hazelnut tree in the yard—this one even taller.

The wind sent the leaves rustling loudly. He wondered how many hazelnuts would come down tomorrow. He'd never tasted the hazelnuts from this tree. And since he was leaving tomorrow, he never would.

Chen Jue looked off into the distance too. The mountains far away had that "storm's brewing" look.

Leaves were flying everywhere—the kind of scene that'd make a killer photo. If only he had a camera. Chen Jue shook his head slightly. He hadn't missed modern conveniences in a long time, let alone watching a movie.

"Close the door, the wind's too strong." Huo Jilin got up and went to shut it.

This time, it came out as a suggestion.

Chen Jue nodded and took one last look at the horse.

He thought, thank God the stable was built. Uncle Liu said it'd rain at the start of autumn, and sure enough—you can't underestimate the wisdom of the older generation.

He'd always wondered how the twenty-four solar terms could be so accurate, and now he found it even more incredible.

Huo Jilin stood at the door for a bit, his clothes whipping in the wind, his hair blown every which way. Finally, he closed the door. He came back with a grim look on his face, probably because he looked a total mess.

Chen Jue just glanced at him, made sure it wasn't his wound, and looked away.

There was nothing left to say between them now—they were just waiting for tomorrow's divorce.

Chen Jue climbed onto the kang.

It wasn't bedtime yet; the darkness was just from the overcast sky. So Chen Jue lay on the kang for a while, unable to fall asleep.

On the other side, Huo Jilin wasn't asleep either, tossing and turning restlessly.

Chen Jue rolled over, turning his back to Huo Jilin.

He drifted off at some point, and the rain started in the middle of the night.

And it was a full-on thunderstorm.

The rolling thunder kept Chen Jue from sleeping soundly, and it morphed into a real scythe swinging through his dream.

This time, the person being cut down in his dream turned around. In the gleam of the blade, he saw the face clearly—it was Huo Jilin.

And finally, Chen Jue's shout burst out: "Huo Jilin! Move!"

Just like Huo Jilin had yelled at him that afternoon.

"Move!"

He couldn't dodge. The blade struck solidly across Huo Jilin's back. That long, twisted scar looked exactly like the lightning cutting across the sky.

After shouting, Chen Jue woke up abruptly.

Outside the window, a bright flash of lightning cut across, followed by a loud rumble of thunder, as if it had struck right by the window. The sheer, high-quality gauze window showed everything clearly.

His window was specially made, impervious to wind and rain, so he hadn't closed the wooden shutters. At this moment, it was so bright.

Chen Jue's heart pounded like a drum. He couldn't quite tell if this was a dream or reality.

It took him a while to recover. He wiped the sweat from his face and looked at Huo Jilin beside him.

Huo Jilin seemed off too.

His breathing was so rapid that Chen Jue could hear it clearly even across the small table—like he couldn't catch his breath. His brows were furrowed tightly, his teeth chattering, grinding so hard they made a creaking sound.

His body was trembling violently, but he was trying hard to control it, because his spasming hands were gripping the blanket tightly.

Just as Chen Jue was about to look more closely, the lightning passed, and the room fell back into darkness.

Chen Jue fumbled to move the small table aside and crawled over to Huo Jilin: "Huo Jilin, Huo Jilin, wake up, wake up..."