Water Lily

8

The neon lights of the bar dazzled the eyes, and the heavy metal music shook the floor beneath. Lin Yan, wearing a faded work uniform, weaved through the crowded booths with a tray in his hands, his fingertips pale from gripping it tightly. This was his second part-time job—working from 10 PM to 2 AM every night, earning an extra 200 yuan, enough to buy two days’ worth of imported medicine for Grandma.

The bow tie at his collar choked his neck, and the work uniform was stained with beer, reeking of a mix of alcohol and tobacco. He kept his head down, trying to make himself as invisible as possible, avoiding the stares of drunken customers—here, he wasn’t a hardworking top student, just a struggling server with no courage to look up.

"Hey Shen Ze, why didn’t your Miss Su show up tonight?"

When the familiar voice came from the VIP booth in the corner, Lin Yan’s steps froze abruptly. Glancing over, he saw Shen Ze surrounded by several boys in designer clothes, the table covered with expensive foreign wines, cigarette butts scattered everywhere. The speaker was a yellow-haired boy with a leering smile, twirling an empty wine glass in his hand.

Shen Ze leaned back on the sofa, a cigarette between his fingers. Through the curling smoke, his tone carried casual indifference: "She doesn’t like places like this."

"Tsk tsk, really delicate," the yellow-haired boy sneered, leaning closer to Shen Ze, his voice dropping but loud enough for Lin Yan passing by to hear clearly. "C’mon, are you sure she’s really into you? That Su girl was spoiled rotten since childhood—when has she ever cared about anyone else? She probably just thinks your family’s rich and is playing around with you."

Another boy with glasses chimed in: "Exactly. Last time at the art exhibition, I saw her chatting passionately with an old artist—she never looked at you that seriously. Besides, her family owns art galleries; she’s met all kinds of wealthy people. You’d better keep an eye on her."

"And hey," the yellow-haired boy’s voice turned even more lewd, "I heard when she studied abroad, she had a bunch of suitors around her. Shen Ze, could you be just a rebound guy?"

The booth erupted in laughter. Shen Ze said nothing, just picked up his wine glass and took a sip, a faint, ambiguous smile tugging at his lips—no refutation, no defense.

Lin Yan’s grip on the tray tightened sharply, his knuckles whitening, making the glasses on the tray shake slightly. Blood rushed to his head instantly; the music in his ears seemed to vanish, leaving only those harsh taunts, cutting at his nerves like blunt knives over and over.

He thought of Su Wan quietly flipping through books in the library, of her focusing on painting under the parasol tree, of her gentle smile when she handed him the album—in his heart, Su Wan was as pure and beautiful as moonlight. How could anyone mock her so recklessly? Every lewd word felt like a needle, stabbing fiercely at his heart.

Anger surged like a tide. He almost rushed over to question those people why they were smearing Su Wan. But just as he moved, reality pulled him back hard—he looked down at his work uniform, at the glasses on the tray, thinking of Grandma in the ICU, of the medical bills still unpaid, of the humiliation of the donation drive at school.

Who was he? Just a poor student working in a bar, barely able to afford his grandma’s medical care, too ashamed to accept donations. What right did he have to defend Su Wan? Those were Shen Ze’s friends—born into wealth and power, just like Shen Ze. If he dared to say a word, he’d not only lose this job but might even bring more trouble to Grandma.

Reason poured over him like cold water, dousing the anger in his heart, leaving only a biting sense of powerlessness. He stood there, his back stiff, feeling the occasional glances from the booth—contemptuous and disdainful. They probably recognized him, the poor kid who’d refused their casual donations at the school fundraiser.

"Shen Ze, say something!" the yellow-haired boy nudged Shen Ze’s arm. "Did I hit the nail on the head?"

Shen Ze flicked ash from his cigarette, his tone flat: "Stop guessing. Wanwan and I are fine." There was no trace of defense in his words, just perfunctory response to a boring joke, not even a frown.

Lin Yan’s heart sank further. He’d thought Shen Ze truly liked Su Wan, that they were together because of love. But now it seemed Shen Ze’s care for Su Wan was only superficial—he wouldn’t even bother refuting, letting others mock her freely.

"C’mon," the boy with glasses scoffed, "that Su young lady is so arrogant—how much ** could she have for you? I bet she’s just after your family’s resources, wanting to take her dad’s galleries to the next level."

"Maybe once she finds a better catch, she’ll dump you," the yellow-haired boy egged on, slamming his wine glass hard on the table with a harsh clatter.

Lin Yan couldn’t bear to listen any longer. He held the tray and fled the booth almost in a run, hurrying to the bar, his back soaked in cold sweat. The bartender glanced at him and asked casually: "You okay? You look terrible."

"I’m fine," Lin Yan’s voice was hoarse. He bowed his head to arrange the glasses on the tray, his fingertips still trembling slightly. The taunting words echoed in his ears, mixing Su Wan’s pure image with those filthy remarks, leaving his heart aching and stuffy.

He thought of Su Wan at school that day, wearing a cream-colored coat, the parasol leaf necklace around her neck, gently asking about Grandma’s condition. Such a pure and beautiful girl—how could she be slandered like this? But there was nothing he could do, just cower in the corner like a coward, letting others hurt her.

For the next few hours, Lin Yan wandered through the booths like a zombie, his gaze involuntarily drifting to the VIP booth. He saw Shen Ze drinking and chatting with his friends, occasionally mentioning Su Wan with the same lewd taunts. Shen Ze never refuted, just smiled occasionally and took a sip of wine.

At 2 AM, it was finally time to get off work. Lin Yan took off his work uniform, put on his own clothes, and hurried out of the bar. The night wind was cold, blowing against his face, sobering him up a little. He walked along the road, anger, heartache, and powerlessness tangled inside him like an airtight net, wrapping him tightly.

He thought of Su Wan smiling at him in the library, of her gentle tone when she helped him pick up sketches, of the parasol leaf necklace around her neck—the one Shen Ze had given her. Yet Shen Ze couldn’t even be bothered to defend her. Suddenly, he felt that Su Wan might not be as happy as she seemed; her gentleness and politeness might also be a disguise, just like how he always pretended to be strong.

But he could only keep these thoughts to himself. He had no right to care about Su Wan, let alone protect her. He was just an outsider, watching Su Wan get hurt, without the courage to stand up for her.

Back in his rented room, Lin Yan sat by the window, staring at the moonlight outside, his heart extremely heavy. He took out his phone and pulled up Su Wan’s WeChat—he’d secretly added her from the project group when the Fine Arts Department students invited him in after he delivered materials for the professor, never sending her a single message.

He looked at Su Wan’s profile picture—a photo of her painting under a parasol tree, sunlight on her, her smile pure and beautiful. He wanted to send her a message, telling her about those taunts, reminding her to protect herself. But his fingers hesitated on the screen for a long time before he finally put the phone down.

He had no right. He was just a poor student, barely able to support his grandma. What right did he have to remind Su Wan? His concern might seem like unnecessary disturbance to her, or even be mistaken for ill intentions.

Lin Yan lay in bed, tossing and turning. Those taunting words, Su Wan’s pure image, Shen Ze’s indifference—they replayed in his mind like a revolving lantern. The anger and powerlessness in his heart grew stronger, but he could only suppress them tightly, not daring to complain even once.

He knew what he needed to do now—study harder, work harder, quickly raise enough money for Grandma’s medical bills, and escape his current predicament as soon as possible. When he had the ability, when he was no longer so humble, maybe he’d have the courage to stand up and protect the people he cared about.

The sky outside gradually lightened. Lin Yan rubbed his bloodshot eyes and got out of bed. He picked up his postgraduate exam real questions, the scratch of his pen against the paper unusually clear in the quiet room. All that anger and powerlessness had turned into motivation to move forward. He needed to become stronger—strong enough to no longer endure such humiliation, strong enough to protect the people he wanted to protect.

But for now, he could only choose silence and forbearance, like an ant stepped on, silently accumulating strength, waiting for the day he could break through the soil.