Chapter 7

Thunder and Lightning

It was Saturday.

That afternoon, the sky had been bright and clear, but by nightfall, heavy clouds had gathered overhead.

Soon, rain poured down in sheets, pounding against the ground with sharp shhh-shhh sounds.

Wearing only a thin sweater, Ning Xuechu stood by the window, lifting the curtain slightly to stare expressionlessly at the downpour outside.

Suddenly, a sleek luxury car appeared outside the window. From it stepped a strikingly elegant woman.

A servant, already waiting at the entrance, immediately rushed forward with an umbrella. No matter how fiercely the rain poured from the heavens, not a single drop touched the woman’s body.

In Ning Xuechu’s dark eyes, a flicker of envy—and bitterness—flared.

On rainy days, no one ever held an umbrella for her. She didn’t even own a proper one herself. She used to cover her head with leaves and run through the storm as fast as she could.

Sometimes, when her aunt was in a bad mood, she would lock her outside at night during the rain.

She would curl up under the eaves, hugging herself tightly, enduring the cold that seeped into her bones.

While she had been left helpless and shivering in the darkness, this woman had always been surrounded by people, pampered and adored, living the life that should have been hers.

Ning Xuechu clenched her jaw, her fingers gripping the curtain so hard that her knuckles turned white. The resentment in her heart grew heavier and darker.

When the woman’s gaze seemed to turn toward her window, Ning Xuechu instinctively let go and ducked behind the curtain.

Her heartbeat sped up for no reason.

After about two minutes, there was a gentle knock at her door.

She hurried to her bed, quickly mussed up her hair with her hands, and pulled the blanket tightly over herself.

“Xuechu, it’s me. I’m coming in,” came An Jianqing’s calm voice before the door opened.

She scanned the room and walked swiftly to the bed. Seeing the trembling lump beneath the blanket, her heart instantly softened.

She had been working overtime at the company that evening when the servants called to say that the girl hadn’t left her room all day and had skipped dinner. Worried, she had rushed home immediately.

Now, seeing this sight, her fears were confirmed. “Xuechu, sister’s here. Don’t be afraid,” she said gently.

Just then, a flash of lightning streaked across the window, followed by a deafening boom that shook the air.

The body under the blanket trembled harder, curling up even tighter.

An Jianqing’s chest ached at the sight. She sat down on the edge of the bed, her voice soft as silk. “Xuechu, don’t be scared. Sister’s right here.”

“…Sister…” came a tiny, tearful voice from beneath the blanket, fragile like a frightened kitten.

“Yes, it’s me,” An Jianqing answered softly, waiting patiently.

After a long moment, a pair of dark, glistening eyes peeked out from under the blanket—wet and shiny, like a child who had been abandoned. The sight was heartbreaking.

“Sister, I’m scared…” Ning Xuechu whispered, her lips trembling before she quickly ducked back under the covers. Her body shook uncontrollably.

Another clap of thunder rumbled outside.

Even An Jianqing flinched this time.

The storm tonight was fierce—lightning, thunder, heavy rain all crashing together. It really was frightening.

“Xuechu, why don’t you eat a little something? You haven’t eaten all day,” An Jianqing coaxed, gently tugging at the edge of the blanket.

Her small movement made the girl panic even more; the blanket was pulled tight like armor.

“I’m not hungry… I don’t want to go out. It’s scary outside…” Ning Xuechu’s teeth chattered, her voice thick with fear and sobs.

An Jianqing sighed softly, torn between pity and helplessness. “Don’t worry, Xuechu. With sister here, lightning won’t hurt you.”

Ning Xuechu shook her head violently, the blanket trembling with her. “I’m scared…”

Her crying grew louder, rawer.

After a moment’s thought, An Jianqing lowered her eyes and gently wrapped her arms around the trembling figure through the blanket. Her voice turned even softer. “Do you feel a little better now?”

The warmth of another person seeped through the thin fabric.

Ning Xuechu froze, her eyes widening slightly in shock.

She hadn’t expected this—An Jianqing hugging her.

In her mind, she had always imagined that the woman would grow impatient, maybe even scold her for being childish. But instead… she held her, so tenderly.

Feeling the trembling calm, An Jianqing smiled faintly.

Her voice was as light and musical as a lullaby, chasing away the fear in the room.

Ning Xuechu had to admit—this woman’s voice was beautiful, carrying a warmth that seemed to melt through her defenses.

She bit her lip and pushed away those strange thoughts.

“Xuechu, are you still scared?” An Jianqing asked gently.

Ning Xuechu hesitated for a moment before loosening the blanket slightly. She peeked out, her tear-filled eyes glistening.

“The rain has stopped. There won’t be any more thunder or lightning,” An Jianqing said softly, her eyes full of warmth.

Ning Xuechu blinked, momentarily dazed—as if under a spell—before glancing toward the window.

She listened carefully. The pounding rain really had stopped. Her eyes brightened. “You’re right! It’s over.”

“Yes,” An Jianqing chuckled. “Now come eat something. You’ll go to bed hungry otherwise.”

A blush crept across Ning Xuechu’s pale cheeks. She bit her lip nervously and lowered her head. “I’m sorry, sister. I caused trouble again. I’m so cowardly…”

“It’s alright. You were very brave,” An Jianqing interrupted softly, brushing her messy hair back with a gentle hand. “Next time you’re scared, you must tell sister, okay? Don’t keep it bottled up inside.”

Hearing the tenderness in her voice, Ning Xuechu’s nose stung. Tears threatened to spill.

“Alright now, brave girls don’t cry,” An Jianqing said with a teasing laugh. She stood up and added, “I’ll bring the food here.”

Ning Xuechu sniffled and nodded obediently.

As the door closed, she reached up to pinch her nose.

When she felt the tear trickling down her cheek, her expression stiffened.

Just now—because of a few gentle words—she had really wanted to cry.

For a fleeting moment, even she couldn’t tell whether those tears were real or just part of her act.

She wiped her eyes firmly, the cold resolve returning to her gaze as if she had never cried at all.

After sitting quietly for a while, the door opened again, and the comforting aroma of food drifted into the room.