Lu Ruoxi Side Story - Thorny Rose - Clumsy

The three of them stood in the courtyard like that.

Zhang Cuilan and Lin Dongmei exchanged idle small talk about everyday matters.

Strangely enough, the atmosphere in the yard carried an eerie sense of harmony.

Only Su Yang remained hidden behind the crack of his door, watching in secret.

His heart was still pounding wildly in his chest.

Earlier, he had just finished his homework and was about to read for a while when he heard Zhang Cuilan’s shrill screams from next door.

Then came the harsh, tearing sound of paper being ripped apart.

His chest tightened. He dragged a stool over and quietly peeked over the wall.

He saw it.

He saw Zhang Cuilan tear apart that certificate—the one he had gazed up at countless times on the school’s honor board.

He saw her raise her hand and fling the shredded pieces into Ye Ruoxi’s face.

He saw her grab a rolling pin, her expression so vicious it looked like she wanted to devour someone alive.

In that instant, all the blood in his body rushed to his head.

He wanted to charge over.

Wanted to shield Ye Ruoxi.

Wanted to snatch that rolling pin away.

But he knew he couldn’t.

He was just a half-grown kid.

If he interfered, it would only make Zhang Cuilan angrier, and Ye Ruoxi would suffer even worse.

He was frantic, pacing like an ant on a hot pan.

Then, he spotted his mother returning from outside.

It was like grasping at a lifeline.

He rushed over, grabbed Lin Dongmei’s arm, and in a hushed, hurried voice, spilled everything he had just witnessed.

"Mom, you have to save her! Aunt Zhang is going to beat her to death!"

His voice trembled with unshed tears.

Lin Dongmei’s face darkened the moment she heard.

Without a word, she picked up the sweet potatoes she had just brought home and knocked on the neighbor’s door.

Now, watching the temporarily calm scene in the courtyard, Su Yang let out a long sigh of relief.

His gaze lingered on the girl who kept her head bowed the entire time.

Her back was so thin, so frail—like a gust of wind could knock her over.

Yet there was a stubbornness in her posture, straight and unyielding.

Like a tiny pine tree clinging to the edge of a cliff.

His heart ached with a dull, heavy pain.

...

That home visit, that knock on the door—

It was like a stone tossed into the stagnant waters of their lives.

The ripples faded quickly, but beneath the surface, something had begun to shift.

Zhang Cuilan’s abuse of Ye Ruoxi didn’t stop.

But now, she hesitated.

Because Lin Dongmei’s visits became more frequent.

Sometimes, she brought over a jar of homemade pickled vegetables.

Other times, it was a few of Su Yang’s outgrown but still clean clothes.

"Give them to Ruoxi," she’d say. "She’s tall—I think they’ll fit her."

She always seemed to appear at just the right moment—when Zhang Cuilan’s fury was at its peak.

Her gentle, smiling voice doused the flames before they could spread.

Zhang Cuilan despised her for it.

A nosy, broke neighbor, meddling where she didn’t belong.

But with gifts came obligation.

She couldn’t very well beat her own daughter in front of an outsider like Lin Dongmei.

Gradually, Ye Ruoxi was hit less often.

She became even more of a ghost in that household.

Zhang Cuilan couldn’t even be bothered to yell at her anymore, let alone raise a hand.

As long as she did the chores on time and helped at the night market,

she was treated like air.

This kind of neglect—this icy indifference—

was, ironically, a rare peace for Ye Ruoxi.

Because when Zhang Cuilan couldn’t be bothered with her stall, she went out to gamble.

Sometimes, she wouldn’t come home for a day or two.

The money she worked so hard to earn would vanish in just a few days.

But when Zhang Cuilan wasn’t home, there were times when even rice ran out.

And on those days, Ye Ruoxi went hungry.

...

Soon, the new semester began.

Teacher Li never visited Ye Ruoxi’s home again, never tried to reason with Zhang Cuilan.

She must have given up entirely.

The only thing she could do was treat Ye Ruoxi a little better at school.

Sometimes, Teacher Li slipped her an extra workbook.

Sometimes, she tucked fruit from the teachers’ lounge—the kind she couldn’t bring herself to eat—into Ye Ruoxi’s bag.

Ye Ruoxi never refused. Never thanked her.

She only repaid the kindness with even better grades.

Su Yang’s goodwill, too, became more tangible.

He no longer just watched from the shadows.

Now, he acted.

His desk always seemed to have something extra in it.

Sometimes, it was a still-warm egg, freshly boiled by his mother that morning.

Sometimes, a meat bun he had saved from his own lunch.

Sometimes, a bar of chocolate he’d scrimped and saved his pocket money for.

During breaks, when no one was looking,

he’d quickly slip those things into Ye Ruoxi’s desk.

Then, he’d pretend to nap, face down on his own desk—

though the tips of his ears burned so red they could’ve dripped blood.

The first time Ye Ruoxi found an egg in her desk, she froze.

She thought someone had misplaced it.

She left it untouched on the corner of her desk all day.

The next day, another egg appeared.

On the third day, a bun.

Finally, she understood.

She turned and glanced at the boy with his back to her, feigning sleep.

Her heart churned with emotions too tangled to name.

She hid the food deep inside her schoolbag.

Only when she brought it home, to this empty, icy room,

would she take it out under the dim yellow light and eat it in small, careful bites.

Her cold stomach filled with the warmth of the food.

The feeling was unfamiliar.

And also... dangerous.

She once asked Su Yang,

"Why?"

That day after school, she blocked his path and asked softly.

Su Yang froze, his face instantly flushing red.

He scratched his head, avoiding her gaze.

"Has Auntie Zhang Cuilan been away from home again these past few days?"

"I... my mom said it seemed like no one’s been cooking at your place lately."

Stammering, he blurted out the excuse he’d rehearsed all the way.

"She said, since we’re neighbors and classmates, helping each other is only natural."

"Don’t overthink it—it’s all my mom’s idea."

Ye Ruoxi looked at him.

At those clear, flustered eyes of his.

She seemed to understand something.

She knew that Lin Dongmei, that kind-hearted woman, might have indeed told him to do this.

But more than that, it was the boy’s own clumsy, selfless tenderness.

Yet she couldn’t respond.

Her life was a swamp.

She was still struggling, sinking deeper.

She couldn’t—dared not—grasp any warm vine extended to her.

Because it would make her grow attached.

Make her weak.

Her only way out was to keep climbing.

Out of this suffocating mire.

"Don’t do it again."

She left those words behind and walked away, her small frame rigid with resolve.

Su Yang watched her retreating figure, a pang of disappointment in his chest.

But the next day,

he still quietly placed a steaming roasted sweet potato in her desk.

He thought, Your refusal is your choice.

My giving is mine.

As long as you don’t go hungry—that’s enough.

That night, after finishing all the chores,

Ye Ruoxi dragged her exhausted body back to her tiny room.

She took out her textbooks and the now-cold sweet potato.