Chapter 1: The Family Rod and a Chance Encounter

I ambled aimlessly down the bustling street, the roar of passing cars brushing past me.

Just a few hours prior, I had stormed out of my house in a fit of pique after a heated argument with my parents.

The catalyst was likely nothing more than a trivial matter, a scene that had played out countless times before.

Yet, what truly broke my heart was my mother.

She always assailed me with malicious, fabricated accusations, leaving me utterly devastated.

Just moments ago, after a minor squabble over trifles, she had shrieked to my father, claiming I had shoved her, even accusing me of striking her.

“What! You dared to hit your mother!”

It was a grave accusation.

My enraged father charged forward, his palm striking my face.

I saw stars, the entire room seeming to spin around me.

“No! I didn’t, I merely complained a little…”

My resistance was futile.

Evidently, my father wouldn’t believe a word I said.

He kicked me to the ground, then, seizing a rope from somewhere unseen, he bound my hands behind my back and pressed me firmly to the floor.

“Today, I’ll teach you a proper lesson,” my father declared to my mother.

“Go fetch the family rod!”

“Yes! Beat him hard, make him remember!”

My mother retorted venomously, not forgetting to land several kicks before she departed.

I, of course, knew precisely what they meant by “family rod”—it was the nightmare of my childhood, a “good companion” that had accompanied my growth since I could remember.

Though merely an ordinary wooden stick, whenever I erred, or when my parents were in a foul mood and needed an outlet for their anger, they would wield this very stick to brutally discipline me, ensuring I understood what they desired and what they expected of me.

Naturally, after so many years of use, it couldn’t remain intact indefinitely; it had been replaced several times over the years.

There were even many occasions when, unable to endure the brutal beatings, I had secretly taken it outside and discarded it.

However, this only resulted in even more vicious retaliation, such as being “served” with a belt.

The sheer agony of it.

From then on, I finally understood—compared to my father’s belt-whipping technique, the sensation of a wooden stick striking my body felt like a benevolent caress.

The family rod was soon in my father’s hand.

Caught between the two of them, the wooden stick, unfortunately, snapped after only a few blows this time.

Perhaps the previous “serving” of the family rod had been too recent, and its durability hadn’t fully recovered.

My father, of course, wouldn’t give up so easily.

He skillfully unbuckled the belt from his waist and continued to swing it…

“No! I never touched her, I didn’t, I’m innocent!” I screamed, thrashing and rolling on the ground.

Even if I couldn’t evade the belt’s savage strikes, I could at least prevent my mother’s slaps from landing accurately.

Though I had endured such pain countless times, I still couldn’t bear it.

I understood the pathetic state I was in beneath their blows, yet I also knew that my cowardly heart might never be able to face such agony with the strength and composure I imagined.

For the more I dodged, the harder the blows would become.

“You dare to dodge!”

Unable to land a hit, my mother, exasperated, simply lifted her foot and stomped.

In that instant, I inexplicably recalled a scene from a Stephen Chow movie where someone on fire was put out by people stomping on them.

But it was far from funny.

The tragedy, however, did not continue for long.

In the chaos, perhaps it was my luck, or perhaps my father’s binding had been too hasty; the rope behind my back gradually loosened as I thrashed.

Seizing the opportunity, I pulled my hands free and scrambled to my feet, then, with a swift stride, I flung open the door and bolted out of the house.

“If you have the guts to run, then don’t ever come back!”

The furious shouts from behind gradually faded.

I ran headlong down the street, weeping, completely oblivious to the strange glances of passersby.

This, of course, was not the first time such an incident had occurred, yet each time it happened, I found myself utterly unable to regain my composure.

I was terrified of my parents.

Perhaps it was simply because they beat and cursed me.

However, the more I feared them, the more severely they beat me, perpetuating a vicious cycle.

And so, today, I had run out again, once more choosing to flee.

I was acutely aware that my nature always inclined towards evasion, incapable of facing everything with equanimity, only to make matters worse.

Indeed, running away from home like this was not a wise choice.

For ultimately, I would have to return.

After all, I was merely a second-year high school student, and everything, including my very survival, still depended on my parents.

As I slowly calmed down, I realized that what awaited me, besides continued beatings, were the usual punishments, such as kneeling facing the wall all night.

A sudden chill touched the back of my hand.

Looking up at the sky, I saw that it had begun to rain.

Only then did I realize how far I had unknowingly fled.

No one on the street spared me a second glance now.

Their hurried, fleeting figures seemed to mock my plight, filling me with a profound sense of solitude.

I stared blankly as raindrops fell one after another onto the ground, yet I had no desire to move.

Although I was wearing a decent amount of clothing, I hadn’t had time to grab a coat when I rushed out.

In this northern city, the rain quickly brought on a biting chill.

‘Perhaps freezing to death like this wouldn’t be so bad…’

‘Haha, you clearly won’t freeze to death, you idiot!’

I muttered to myself, as if another self within me was also mocking my plight.

Waves of weariness washed over me.

With my body growing cold, I curled up by the roadside, leaning against a lamppost.

My consciousness, blurred and fading, slowly succumbed to darkness.

****

I had no idea how much time had passed.

My entire body seemed drenched.

Suddenly, in my daze, I heard a voice call out.

“Hey, are you alright?”

Was someone calling me?

I lifted my head in confusion, my vision filled with a blur of colors.

Focusing my gaze, I realized it was an umbrella, held by a boy who was crouching before me.

“You… who are you?”

He was a boy who appeared to be roughly my age.

His incredibly handsome face, for some reason, exuded an air of flamboyance.

At this moment, he was looking at me with concern in his eyes.

I couldn’t help but frown.

I was utterly bewildered by the situation.

This unfamiliar face, though tinged with an inexplicable sense of familiarity, I was certain I had never seen him before.

What was he up to?

The boy seemed to pause when he saw my appearance.

His gaze lingered on me for a long moment as he pondered, then he performed a truly unexpected action—he held the umbrella over my head, leaving the greater part of his own body exposed to the rain.

What the hell?

I was dumbfounded by his actions!

“It’s alright, I just saw you crouching here.”

He offered a brilliant smile.

Upon seeing that smile, it was as if something within me stirred in an instant, like a distant, hazy memory, yet one that left me with a feeling I couldn’t shake.

“Do you… need any help?”

“Thanks, but no need!”

I didn’t know him at all, so why was he suddenly rushing over to show me concern?

Though I found it strange, I replied politely.

As a teenage man, I felt confident that no child or woman trafficker would target me.

However, I’d heard there were many homosexuals in society now; could this guy be one of them?

Looking at his umbrella, then at his face, a shiver ran down my spine, sobering me considerably.

This was no place to linger; I needed to get away quickly.

Besides, it seemed to be getting late.

If I returned any later, tonight’s punishment would likely be even more unbearable.

Disregarding my soaked clothes, I stood up.

I pushed away the umbrella he held over my head, and jogged through the rain, heading towards home.

‘What a strange person.’

Behind me, the person didn’t seem to have left.

They remained, holding the umbrella, staring blankly in the direction I had departed.

I couldn’t help but run faster…

****

Three days later.

In the school classroom, after morning self-study, the homeroom teacher burst through the door and strode in energetically.

The noisy classroom instantly fell silent.

“Today, we have a new classmate joining our class.

Let’s give them a warm round of applause!”

I looked up at the person on the podium, my face filled with disbelief, and a hint of confusion in my eyes.

“My name is Ren Yunkong…”

He looked at me, his handsome face unchanged.

The difference was that he now wore a confident expression as he introduced himself to the entire class.

Our gazes inadvertently met, and from his, I seemed to discern a knowing smile.