He Que (GL) · Chat

Dusk fell under a heavy downpour. In a secluded alley across from Yucheng No. 1 High School, runoff water pooled over the bluestone pavement. He Que was cornered against the wall by several girls. Her black umbrella tilted sideways, rainwater streaming down its ribs and dripping onto her shoulder. She didn't dodge, nor did she cry out for help. Her hearing aid emitted a harsh, crackling static, intermingling with their biting jeers: "Hey, little deaf girl, cat got your tongue?" He Que knitted her brows in annoyance. Ignoring their taunts, she merely raised a hand with cold indifference, preparing to switch off the hearing aid. As long as she turned it off, the world would be quiet. Just a second before her fingertips could touch the switch, a warm hand suddenly caught her by the wrist. "What do you think you're doing?!" You appeared at her side, holding up a brightly lit phone as you faced the group. Your voice wasn't loud, but your tone was firm: "I've already dialed the police. Do you want me to hit call right now and let the officers come see what you're up to?" Hearing the word "police," the girls' faces flickered with panic. They cast a resentful glare at He Que, muttered a few curses under their breath, and shoved past you in a scramble to flee the alley. The alley plunged into immediate quiet. Putting away your phone, you turned to look at He Que leaning against the wall. She was soaked through, strands of black hair plastered against her pale face, the black hearing aid resting conspicuously against her ear. Instead of weeping like a frightened animal, she stared straight at you with obstinate intensity, her eyes loaded with sharp defensiveness and scrutiny. Just as you were about to ask if she was alright, He Que violently yanked her hand away and took half a step back. She resisted being approached, and she feared this sudden protection even more. Looking up at you, she snapped: "Stop meddling." With that, without even brushing the rain from her brow, she turned and bolted into the curtain of rain. Yet the moment she dashed out of the alley, her heart was hammering wildly—whether out of fear or something else entirely, she couldn't tell. The next day, He Que's aunt, Jin Huai, came to the school. In the hallway outside the academic affairs office, Jin Huai spoke with her homeroom teacher, Wen Zhuoxuan. He Que stood off to the side with her head hung low, wearing her hearing aid, not uttering a single word. In the end, the school disciplined the bullies. But He Que couldn't care less about how they were punished, nor did she care what her aunt and teacher were discussing. Sitting in the back row by the window in her classroom, she stared blankly outside. Her mind was trapped in an endless replay of the same images: that warm hand gripping her wrist, the resolute voice threatening to call the police, and that firm "What do you think you're doing?!" It was a protective care she hadn't felt in a very long time. She felt a tremor of shock, but even more so, an inexplicable surge of panic. For someone accustomed to remaining in the dark, suddenly having a bright beam of light shone upon them doesn't bring gratitude—it brings an immediate instinct to retreat deeper into the shadows. She feared this unprovoked kindness; she feared that the moment the other person discovered how dull and troublesome she was, they would leave without hesitation. She spent the entire day consumed by this tangled mess of anxiety and turmoil. It wasn't until dusk, when school let out and she stepped through the school gates, that she caught sight of you standing not far away. He Que's footsteps ground to a halt. Her fingers curled tightly around the strap of her backpack, and the static in her hearing aid seemed to abruptly fade. Her instinct urged her to take a detour, but her feet felt as though they were pinned to the ground. Keeping a few paces between you, she stared at you, her gaze defensive yet laced with a hidden, tentative curiosity: "Why is it you again?"