Chapter Eighty-Five

Rain Xingyue laughed, but her laughter was tinged with desolation. “If you ask me that, I really don’t know how to answer. All I can say is, it’s because of his existence that I came into this world. Even now, I still hate him, but his death is proof enough of his promise. This time, I’ll forgive him—and it’s the last time. From now on… ha.”

Yang Shuting could already see that Rain Xingyue was reluctant to let go. All the past bitterness was merely a quarrel with Rain Chun; now, knowing she would never see that person again, Rain Xingyue felt as though a heavy stone had fallen from her heart. Perhaps the tears she shed today would make her stronger in the future. At this moment, except for sorrow, Rain Xingyue had nothing left to say.

Maybe she had cried herself out, for she fell asleep in Yang Shuting’s arms. Yang Shuting’s lips curled into a gentle smile as she watched Rain Xingyue sleeping. In this state, Rain Xingyue had reverted to the child she once was, innocent and ignorant. This was the age when she relied most on her mother. In those early years, Yang Shuting had endured hardships so Rain Xingyue could eat well, working in the homes of wealthy families. She would come home with trembling hands and legs. The young Rain Xingyue was pained by her mother’s suffering but could do nothing, being only a child.

Now their life had improved, and there was no need to relive those days of hardship. Yang Shuting silently vowed that these days would change; she hoped that, in the future, they would have a home of their own, no longer living in a rented room. She believed the day would not be far off.

…

Rain Li arrived at a film set as the martial arts coach. The director actually wanted someone from the Tianyuan Squad to guide the main cast and stunt doubles. Taekwondo is considered part of martial arts culture, and martial arts are rooted in combat, so there was a reason for inviting Rain Li.

At first, Rain Li declined the invitation. If she went alone, no one would understand her meaning, since no one in the crew knew sign language. It would be better to find someone else. Recently, the Tianyuan Squad had rarely gathered, owing to the matter with Huang Feifan.

However, the director promised to provide a dedicated sign language interpreter for her. Rain Li communicated this to Coach Tian Nan, who deliberated for a long time before allowing her to go. The reasons were twofold: first, Rain Li had lived too long in isolation, and it would harm her not to see the world; second, he hoped she would make new friends, though the six members of Tianyuan Squad were already her friends, new blood was needed.

The film was called “One Year of Youth,” directed by Wu. The title alone made clear it was a youth drama, with several scenes of intense fighting. The actors and extras had never fought before; for those who’d never been in a fight, actions like punching and kicking felt impossibly difficult. Some extras who had never exercised would cramp up just by raising a leg.

The lead actor was the controversial Cai Haizi (unrelated to real celebrities). His name sounded like a girl’s, and whenever people heard his surname, they’d think of that dancing, rapping, basketball-playing star. Cai Haizi was talented in both acting and singing, but the rumors that he relied on his looks or backstage deals to get ahead annoyed him greatly. The haters never stopped.

He performed all the songs in the film himself. Being male, his lung capacity was naturally good, but sometimes he was unreliable. During a shoot requiring him to shout as the protagonist, he went hoarse after four takes. He was supposed to break his voice with every shout, but it was too hard on his throat, so filming stopped for the day.

When filming ended, Rain Li prepared to leave, her work done. Cai Haizi caught up to her and tapped her shoulder. Rain Li turned to see him, his face full of confusion, and signed, “Do you have something to ask me?”

Cai Haizi didn’t understand sign language, which made things tough for Rain Li. Without a way to communicate, he had to type his message on his phone and show it to her: “Are you really a member of the Tianyuan Squad?”

Rain Li looked at him in puzzlement. Of course she was a genuine member—if he didn’t believe her, there was nothing she could do. Many martial arts schools used the Tianyuan name to recruit, which was why the real squad rarely accepted new applicants—the requirements were simply too high.

Rain Li typed on her phone and showed it to Cai Haizi: “If I weren’t, Director Wu wouldn’t have sought me out personally. I don’t have much fondness for you; I’ve never liked celebrities or the entertainment industry. Stars only develop entertainment, but their contribution to the country is minimal.”

Her words struck a chord with Cai Haizi. Indeed, most people in showbiz were there for money and contributed little to the nation. Only a few would step up in times of crisis, and such good people were now rare, as scandals sooner or later silenced them.

Rain Li typed more: “Don’t claim I taught you the basics—remember, I hope you don’t tarnish the name Tianyuan. The entertainment industry is forever dirty!”

Rain Li didn’t want to linger with Cai Haizi, knowing it would be bad for herself. In such a remote place, a man and woman together would easily provoke suspicion. There might be paparazzi nearby; if they captured a photo, tomorrow’s headline would surely read: “Cai Haizi seen in the woods with mysterious woman, romance revealed!”

Rain Li quickly distanced herself from Cai Haizi. No matter how he called out, she never looked back. Everyone said Rain Li was deaf and mute, unable to hear others, but whether she accepted someone depended on her heart.

She hadn’t gone far when Rain Li stopped. This was a park—usually lively, now deserted like a ghost town. Apart from her, there was no sign of anyone.

Rain Li’s senses were extremely sharp; she relied on the vibrations felt through her skin to judge her surroundings. Since childhood, unable to hear, she had honed this survival skill, which served her well. Even in competitions, she used her skin’s sensitivity to anticipate her opponent’s next move.

Through this sense, she quickly discerned someone was approaching her. It wasn’t Cai Haizi—she recognized his frequency, which was calm, whereas this new arrival’s frequency was more erratic, with large strides.

Rain Li turned to confront the follower. It wasn’t exactly stalking; the man had merely noticed her walking alone and decided to act on his wicked impulse—to take advantage of a woman.

If Lin Zimo were here, he would have beaten this man senseless, not allowing him a moment to breathe. Rain Li, on the other hand, would only stop once her opponent was completely defenseless, giving him a chance to repent; if he refused, she’d send him to the hospital.

The lecherous man said, “Hey, little girl, why are you walking home alone? Want Uncle to give you a ride?” His laughter was full of malice. Rain Li couldn’t hear him, but she sensed the danger and knew she must act quickly.

Just then, Cai Haizi unexpectedly appeared, interposing himself between Rain Li and the man. He said, “Hey, buddy, isn’t this a bit much? Flirting with a young girl—how shameless can you get?”

“Who are you, sticking your nose in? If you know what’s good for you, get out of my way, or you’re in for trouble!” the man warned Cai Haizi. He didn’t know Cai Haizi was a celebrity; if someone filmed him beating up Cai Haizi, he might face online backlash.

Rain Li couldn’t hear their exchange, but from their mouths she caught one word: “little.” Rain Li hated being called little. Aside from Xiao Jian, who affectionately called her “Little Raindrop,” anyone else who called her little was asking for trouble (her version of trouble was a beating so severe the offender ended up hospitalized).

Whenever she caught them saying the word “little,” regardless of who it was, Rain Li would make sure to teach them a lesson.