Summer's Rose

Chapter 21: From Now On, It's Me

Helen and Wen walked together, their laughter filling the air. Helen had been telling Wen about her plans to save up some more money so she could finally leave her house for good. The thought of getting away from her abusive father made her heart race with both excitement and fear.

When they reached the door, they found a crowd gathered in the hallway—some familiar neighbors and others who were complete strangers.

The moment they appeared, a few of the onlookers recognized Helen, and whispers began to spread through the group.

The murmurs were sharp and biting.

“Her real father died at home, and she’s still out here, who knows what she’s up to.”

“Look at the way she’s dressed. Doesn’t look like a good girl. Maybe she’s some kind of... you know... someone who stays out all night.”

“Her father dies, and she’s still out there living her life. What’s the point of raising a daughter like that?”

The words cut through Helen like a knife. She had heard them all before, but today, they felt different. They stung in a way they never had before.

Wen, noticing Helen’s discomfort, tightened her grip on the plastic bag in her hand. Without hesitation, she stepped in front of Helen, facing the crowd with a fierce determination that startled Helen.

“Are you all done?” Wen’s voice rang out, firm and unwavering. “Do you really think it’s okay to gossip about someone’s family without knowing the full story? Do you think it’s fine to talk behind someone’s back like this? Do you feel proud of yourselves? Get a life!”

Helen stood frozen, her eyes wide. She had known Wen for years, but it was the first time she’d ever heard her speak with such raw emotion. The crowd fell silent, their earlier confidence replaced by discomfort. The whispers died down, and the group slowly dispersed, their heads hanging low.

Helen remained standing, still processing what had just happened. It was the strangest feeling—both freeing and unsettling. The people who had always been there, gossiping and judging, were gone. And yet, Helen felt a deep sense of loss. Her father had passed away, and with his death, the home she had always wanted to escape was gone too.

But what was left for her now?

She didn’t cry. She didn’t feel sad. Not even a single tear. At the funeral, her relatives had accused her of being cold-hearted for not shedding a tear for her father’s death. They said she had no feelings. But only Helen knew the truth—the truth of how much she had hated him, how much she despised that man, and the family that had stood by and watched her suffer.

When her mother was still alive, things had been bearable, but after her death, life had descended into a darkness that felt impossible to escape. The drunken insults, the beatings, the wounds that would heal only to be replaced by new ones—it had all festered deep within her, growing and rotting in a hidden corner of her heart.

But now, that man was gone, leaving behind nothing but debts for Helen to deal with.

The world blamed her for everything. They called her cold and accused her of having no filial piety, saying her father’s years of hard work had been wasted on a heartless daughter. But Helen didn’t bother arguing back. She had nothing left to say to them.

It was only Wen who seemed to understand. Without hesitation, she had pulled Helen into her arms, her small face scrunched up as she cried. “Don’t be scared, Len. From now on, I’ll be here with you. I’ll always be by your side.”

Wen had been the one to see the injuries Helen had kept hidden for so long. Without missing a beat, she called the police, took Helen home, and carefully tended to her wounds. She treated Helen with a tenderness that Helen had never known, piecing her back together like a shattered vase.

Helen wasn’t sure when, exactly, she had come to depend so heavily on Wen. But there she was now, her rock, her source of comfort, the one person who made her feel like she could breathe again.

...

Helen reached into her bag and pulled out a small box, handing it to Wen with a soft smile. “I brought you something. A little gift.

Open it, and let me know if you like it.”

Wen eagerly opened the box to find a delicate silver necklace, a chain with a small crescent moon pendant.

Helen smiled softly. “My star and your moon. I’ll always be around my little moon.”

She carefully took the necklace from the box and gently placed it around Wen’s neck, her fingers brushing the soft skin of her friend’s collarbone.

Wen held the pendant, her eyes sparkling with joy. “It’s so pretty, Len. I love it.”

Helen’s smile widened as she reached out and pinched Wen’s nose affectionately. “How’s everything been here? Are you adjusting okay?”

Wen nodded enthusiastically. “It’s fine. Everyone’s really nice. The classmates are all great. Next week is our first exam.”

Helen chuckled. “I’m not worried about your studies at all.”

She remembered back when they were in eighth grade. Helen had always been scolded for not doing well in school, for always failing to keep up with her assignments. But Wen—Wen was always there to help. She would quietly finish Helen’s homework when she couldn’t, and once, when they got caught and were called into the principal’s office, the teacher had scolded them both.

At first, Helen had assumed the teacher was angry because Wen had made too many mistakes, but when the teacher put their work on the desk, she’d said something surprising. “See? This work isn’t bad. Why didn’t you do your homework properly before?”

Helen had been too stunned to say anything, staring at her homework, not sure how to respond.

Her thoughts drifted to Wen’s illness. Wen was only seventeen, yet she had to fight something so serious, so unfair. It made Helen’s

heart ache.

“Len?” Wen’s voice brought her out of her thoughts.

“Huh?” Helen blinked, meeting Wen’s questioning gaze.

“I asked what you’re planning to do here,” Wen repeated, her tone laced with curiosity.

Helen smiled gently. “I’m going to work at a studio as a photographer. I’ll be able to take lots of beautiful photos of you.”

Wen grinned. “That sounds wonderful.”

Helen’s smile softened, but then she asked, her voice turning more serious, “Is anyone bullying you here?”

Wen shook her head immediately, her expression earnest. “No one’s bullying me, Len.”

Helen nodded, relieved. “Good. You’ve been here a while. Go back to class. I’ll come see you when I have time.”

Wen smiled warmly. “Thanks, Len. Be sure to take care of yourself, too. Don’t overwork yourself.”

“I won’t. You should rest, too.”

With that, Helen turned to leave, walking away with a sense of peace she hadn’t felt in a long time.

...

As Wen returned to class, the bell had already rung for the third period. She glanced at the clock, noticing there was still half an hour left before the next bell.

Suddenly, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning around, she saw Yong Ming grinning mischievously. “Hey, Wen, who was that beauty who came to find you earlier?”

Wen blinked, slightly taken aback. “She’s a really good friend of mine.”

Yong Ming didn’t seem to care. “I have a friend who wants to meet your friend.”

Wen raised an eyebrow. “?”

Hao Ming, who had been sitting quietly, suddenly spoke up. “Just ignore him. He’s talking nonsense.”

Yong Ming’s face fell, and he glared at Hao Ming, though it was clear that his playful attitude was just that—a game.

Across the room, Zhou Nan leaned back in his chair, playing a game on his phone. When he overheard their conversation, he glanced up and said casually, “What’s going on with those two just now?”

“It’s nothing,” Hao Ming replied. “He’s just making stuff up.”

Wen nodded seriously. She didn’t feel the need to explain further.

Zhou Nan returned to his phone, uninterested in the conversation. Mr. Adam, the teacher, was just getting up from his desk and stretching.

Wen poked Zhou Nan’s arm. “The teacher’s coming.”

Zhou Nan quickly hid his phone and straightened up, focusing on the front of the room.

Mr. Adam walked up to Yong Ming’s desk, glancing at the student’s papers before raising an eyebrow. “Yong, your handwriting… is unique, to say the least. It really has its own character.”

Yong Ming smirked. “Thanks for the compliment, teacher.”

Mr. Adam, however, was not amused. “I wasn’t praising you. If I let a turtle crawl on paper for a while, it’d still look better than this.”

Yong Ming chuckled. “Does the turtle crawl fast? Maybe I should have the turtle do my homework for me.”

Mr. Adam wasn’t impressed. “Cut the nonsense. Buy a calligraphy book, practice one page a day, and bring it to my office. I’ll check it every day. Your exam score depends on neat handwriting. You just need to write it properly, and it won’t hurt your score. But the way you write now... it’s hard to give you a passing grade. If I could give negative points, I would.”

Yong Ming groaned. “Fine.”

Mr. Adam glanced at Zhou Nan before returning to the front of the classroom, preparing to continue his lesson plan.

Zhou Nan looked over at Wen, who was already absorbed in her homework. “Thanks, little classmate.”

Wen smiled, her voice calm. “No worries.”