Chapter 3178: Camellia Tree Lane Bitter Summer 20

Jin Chen took a careful bath at Chenshu's house, then slipped into Chenshu's quilt.

He pulled the quilt up to his chin, curled into a ball, and drew his knees up to his chest.

He felt a little sad, a little longing, and an inexplicable calm. It was strange—he actually felt calm.

Human courage and emotion are probably limited; he could no longer pile all his unease and fear onto his aunt as before, unable to speak harshly to someone he cared too much about, and the emotions he had accumulated over the years had all been given to Chenshu, leaving none left, so he no longer needed to fear being abandoned by Jin Xiumei.

Sunset leaked through a gap in the curtains, a narrow warm gold band, falling on the sheets beside his pillow. Jin Chen lifted his face slightly from the pillow, reached out, and his fingertips lightly touched that patch of sunset. Light fell on his fingers, passing through the pads to make his skin a translucent warm hue. He turned over, letting his whole face bathe in that lingering glow.

The afterglow shone on his face; Jin Chen lay still and vacant, gazing upward, his pupils reflecting the gold light, shimmering.

In a fraction of a second, Jin Chen's expression subtly overlapped with that of the sculpture in the Living Room, as if his soul had left his body, hovering mid‑air, looking down on the world slowly darkening.

He closed his eyes; drowsiness welled up, weighing heavily on his eyelids. Half‑awake, half‑asleep, Jin Chen thought, If only I were merely a sculpture made by my brother—I wouldn't have to think, eat, breathe, or feel those dull, aching emotions.

Being human is so exhausting. So annoying.

Jin Chen curled further into the quilt, burying the tip of his nose in the faint scent left in the pillow, and fell into a deep sleep.

——

Thursday afternoon.

Zhang Yue's tutoring center was investigated, classes suspended for rectification, and she finally had a few days of proper summer vacation.

Although the end of the month was near and school would start soon, this little break seemed insignificant, yet she was very glad—having the days usually spent cramming in class from morning to night suddenly free up a few days was clearly a gain.

Zhang Yue passed the Riverside Market carrying a bulging bag of materials, lingered long in the boutique, and, using the refund from the last few days of her tutoring class, intended to buy a birthday gift for Jin Xiumei.

Leaving the shop, she was drawn to a roadside fruit stall where a watermelon had been cut in half, revealing red flesh and black seeds. She stood before the stall, felt the change in her pocket, and wondered whether to buy half to take home.

The stall owner, a man in his forties, seeing her linger, began to greet her enthusiastically.

Zhang Yue asked the price, eyes wide: 'Half a watermelon for forty dollars? Don't try to rip me off.'

'Little miss, this variety is different—it's expensive! And sweet!' The vendor shoved the cut watermelon toward her.

Zhang Yue: '…Then I'm not buying it!'

Zhang Yue, both angry and flustered by his attitude, pulled her hand back and stepped back; the boss's face fell at once, he reached out to block her, saying, 'If you're not buying, what are you picking for? It's all cut open—who am I supposed to sell it to if you don't buy?'

Zhang Yue flared: 'I didn't tell you to cut it—I just pointed at this one, you picked it up and cut it yourself—how can you blame me?'

The boss refused to back down, his voice growing louder, and he reached out to grab her arm.

The taxi pulled up at the Riverside Intersection.

The air was hot and humid; Chenshu opened the car door and stepped out, a blast of hot wind hitting him. He narrowed his eyes, turned to get the luggage from the trunk. Another young man got out of the back seat, wearing round‑frame glasses and shouldering a huge camera bag, and immediately began to complain.

"Lingcheng is hotter than Didu—I'm about to melt."

Chenshu laughed at him: "You insisted on coming here to gather inspiration—how can you not endure it?"

Wen Anhe sighed: "Artists always have to forge ahead under burden."

Just as he finished speaking, Chenshu saw a girl in a pink T‑shirt at the fruit stall across the road being grabbed by the vendor's arm; she looked somewhat familiar. He took a closer look and recognized Zhang Yue, then frowned and crossed the street.

Wen Anhe made a sound, quickly took hold of his luggage, and slowly followed.

"I've never seen a watermelon seller get so hands‑on."

Chenshu stood in front of Zhang Yue, blocking the vendor's line of sight: "If someone doesn't want to buy, just forget it—forcing a sale isn't right."

The vendor looked up and saw a tall, slim young man in a white shirt standing before him—appearing neat and polite, but his gaze was unfriendly. Feeling intimidated, he grudgingly released his grip and muttered, 'If you can't afford it, don't come look…'

Zhang Yue stared blankly at the person before her, then after a moment realized: 'Chenshu… Chenshu‑ge?'

"Oh, you know each other." Wen Anhe finally dragged the two suitcases over and curiously sized up Zhang Yue.

Chenshu turned to the neighboring stall, picked a watermelon of just the right size, paid, put it in a plastic bag and handed it to Zhang Yue, then took a gift box from his own bag and placed it inside that watermelon bag in her arms.

"Please do me a favor—take this gift back to Jin Chen and tell him I'll return this evening."

Zhang Yue glanced up at Chenshu again, her ears slowly turning red. 'Um… okay.'

Chenshu suddenly remembered something and added: 'Don't let him eat too much watermelon—your brother's stomach isn't good.'

Zhang Yue nodded, held the watermelon and gift box steady, said another 'okay,' then turned and walked slowly back. After a few steps she couldn't help glancing back—Chenshu and the youth in sunglasses were saying something; sensing her gaze, he slightly turned his head, waved at her, signaling her to hurry home.

Zhang Yue withdrew her gaze, quickened her pace, and recalled Chenshu's earlier remark, feeling puzzled—she didn't even know her brother couldn't eat too much watermelon.

Wen Anhe slipped his arm around Chenshu's shoulders and asked curiously, 'Hey, who is this little lady?'

"Jin Chen's cousin."

"Ah…" Wen Anhe drew out his tone, smiling meaningfully, 'That little muse, eh? Quite the tangled connection.'

He pushed up the sunglasses on his nose, sighed again, and said, 'Really sorry to take up half your day—I need to accompany you to visit the master.'

Chenshu glanced at him: 'You know well enough. Let's go—wasting more time really won't be smoothed over.'

Wen Anhe burst out laughing, hauled his two suitcases, and kept pace with him.