Extra Story of Lu Ruoxi: The Thorned Rose - The Falling Sun

Ye Ruoxi was ten years old.

Her birthday fell on a fine autumn day.

The sky stretched high, and the clouds were thin.

It was the weekend, so Ye Ruoxi didn’t have to go to school.

But Ye Sanqi still had to work.

Before leaving in the morning, he deliberately changed into his cleanest work clothes.

He crouched down, meeting his daughter at eye level.

His hands were still rough, like cracked tree bark.

His smile was still warm, like the autumn sun.

"Xixi, it’s your birthday today. Dad promises to bring you a real cream cake when I come back tonight."

A cream cake.

Ye Ruoxi had only ever seen one in the display window of the town’s lone bakery.

The snow-white frosting looked like clouds in the sky.

Adorned with tiny red flowers made of jam.

She nodded vigorously, her eyes shining like they were filled with stars.

"Dad, come home early."

"Okay."

Ye Sanqi left.

His figure disappeared at the end of the alley.

Heading toward that perpetually dust-choked construction site.

Ye Ruoxi spent the whole day waiting.

She finished her homework.

Swept the house.

Even re-braided her little pigtails.

She sat in the yard, washing the small pebbles she’d collected, one by one.

Then she arranged them on the ground into a big circle—

The shape of a cake.

She plucked a few red petals from wildflowers on the wall.

And carefully placed them as decorations on her "cake."

Zhang Cuilan came out of the house carrying a basin of laundry.

Seeing her playing, she snorted.

"All you know is how to play! Can you eat the dust off the ground? Go sweep it again!"

Ye Ruoxi didn’t talk back.

She stood up, silently picked up the broom in the corner.

And swept every inch of the yard until it was spotless.

She thought, if the house was cleaner, Dad would be happier when he came back.

Then she carried a small stool to the front gate.

And waited.

For her father.

For her cream cake.

The sun slowly slid toward the western mountains.

The light shifted from a blinding gold to a soft orange-red.

Stretching her tiny shadow long, so very long.

The alley filled with the aroma of cooking.

Neighbors returned from work one after another.

The clatter of pots and pans mixed with parents calling their children for dinner.

Zhang Cuilan shouted from inside.

"Stupid girl! Get in here and eat! What are you waiting for?"

"I’m waiting for Dad."

Ye Ruoxi said softly, her gaze stubbornly fixed on the alley’s entrance.

"Waiting for him? By the time he gets back, the food will be ice-cold! Suit yourself!"

Zhang Cuilan grumbled, serving herself and sitting down to eat.

The sound of chewing was unnervingly loud in the quiet house.

The sky darkened completely.

Stars emerged one by one from the deep blue curtain of night.

The alley’s streetlights flickered on, one after another.

Their dim yellow glow illuminated only small patches.

The rest remained swallowed by darkness.

Ye Ruoxi still sat there.

She wasn’t hungry.

Wasn’t cold.

She just kept staring down the alley.

She wondered—maybe Dad was working overtime, maybe there was extra work at the site.

Maybe the bakery was crowded, and he was standing in line.

Maybe something had delayed him on the way.

She imagined countless possibilities.

Each one a reason why that familiar figure hadn’t appeared yet.

The night deepened.

The alley fell completely silent.

Only the occasional distant bark of a dog broke the stillness.

Zhang Cuilan had long since finished eating, washed up, and gone to bed.

Even the sound of light snoring drifted out.

Ye Ruoxi hugged her knees, resting her chin on them.

She felt like crying.

But she held it in.

Dad had said Xixi was a strong girl—she couldn’t cry so easily.

Finally, footsteps echoed from the alley.

Heavy. Uneven.

Not one person.

A group.

Ye Ruoxi shot up like a startled fawn.

Light returned to her eyes.

She thought it was Dad, coming home with his coworkers.

They always returned like this—laughing loudly, arms around each other’s shoulders.

But as they neared, she realized—

Dad wasn’t there.

At the front was Foreman Wang, a middle-aged man with a slight paunch.

Behind him followed several workers Ye Ruoxi recognized.

Their faces held none of their usual cheer.

Only something heavy and evasive—something she couldn’t understand.

One of them, a young worker called Little Ma—

Ye Sanqi often mentioned him, saying he reminded him of his younger self.

Little Ma’s arm was wrapped in dirty bandages.

His eyes were red and swollen.

He couldn’t look at Ye Ruoxi.

Foreman Wang stopped at the gate. The dim light carved shadows into the wrinkles on his face.

He looked at the small girl, frail in the night breeze.

His throat worked, but no words came out.

"Uncle Wang, where’s Dad?"

Ye Ruoxi asked, her voice trembling in a way she didn’t notice.

"Is he… still working? Did he drink too much? Do you need to carry him back?"

No one answered.

A silence like death.

Even the wind seemed to pause.

Foreman Wang pulled a bulging envelope from his pocket.

It was thick, made of kraft paper.

He held it out to Ye Ruoxi.

"Xixi… your dad… there’s been an accident."

In that instant, the world lost all sound.

Ye Ruoxi didn’t hear what Foreman Wang said next.

Didn’t hear the workers’ stifled sighs.

She only saw Little Ma suddenly drop to his knees.

With his uninjured hand, he pounded his own head.

Then let out a wail like a wounded animal.

"It’s my fault! Sis! It’s all my fault!"

"If Brother Ye hadn’t pushed me away, I’d be the one dead! Me!"

Zhang Cuilan woke to the crying in the yard.

She threw on a coat, storming out while cursing.

"Who’s wailing in the middle of the night? Shut up!"

Then she saw Foreman Wang.

Saw the obscenely thick envelope in his hand.

Heard Little Ma’s heartrending screams.

Her face turned ashen.

Several steel pipes had come loose without warning.

Ye Sanqi shoved aside Little Ma, who’d frozen in shock.

The pipes struck his head.

He was gone before he hit the ground.

This was the truth Ye Ruoxi later pieced together from hushed conversations among neighbors.

The sun of her life had set without warning.

On her tenth birthday.

She never got her cream cake.

Only an icy envelope stuffed with money.

And a cold, stiff body lying in the main room, covered by a white cloth.