At the foot of Daqingshan in Anning, West Qin Province sat a quiet, tucked-away place called Zhuyuan Village. Mountains wrapped around it on three sides, and a river cut past the fourth. The view was stunning—but the roads? Barely worthy of the name. Folks kept moving out.

Early that morning, just as the sun peeked over the ridge, Michael Smith slipped into the rear forest. As he walked, he pulled out his phone and sent a message to Emily Johnson.

“I’m already here. Where are you?”

“I can’t slip out. Dad’s watching,” she replied instantly.

“No worries. Try to sneak away—I'll wait.”

Not long after, Michael saw Emily running toward him.

She wore an open-front jacket over a snug white v-neck sweater that wrapped tightly around her curves. Every step made her chest bounce slightly, catching Michael’s eyes and not letting go.

Breathless, she squatted in front of him and complained, “I’m exhausted! I swear, next time we meet somewhere closer.”

With her squatting down, those full curves stood out even more, pale skin and shadows forming a deep ravine that made Michael’s blood boil. His chest tightened, and breaths came short.

“You okay?” Emily asked, raising an eyebrow at his stunned silence.

Snapping out of it, Michael stammered, “Oh—uh—Emily, how about we head to the city in a few days? Just us?”

Emily stiffened a little but grabbed his hand. “Mike, I'm here to say something.”

“What is it?” he asked, surprised. She rarely initiated contact like this.

Right then, a middle-aged man charged out from nowhere. Face red with fury, he bellowed, “Michael Smith! You damn bastard! Touch my daughter again and I’ll kill you!”

Michael jumped. Richard Johnson—Emily’s father—was the last person he expected to run into. And he’d done nothing wrong!

Before he could speak, Johnson swung a stick at him. Michael dodged and bolted. Behind him, the stick smacked into Emily’s arm with a sickening thud.

“Ah!” Emily cried out, clutching her arm as a red welt bloomed on her skin. Her eyes welled up. She hadn't expected her father to show up like this, and fear mixed with anger twisted her face.

Seeing he’d struck his own daughter, Richard Johnson grew even more furious. “Shameless girl! I knew you were sneaking around—out here cuddling at sunrise? You got no pride?!”

Emily’s tears finally spilled. Whether from the pain or the shame, she wept.

“And you’re still standing there? Get back home before I really teach you a lesson!” Richard snapped, not even glancing again at her.

Spotting Michael’s shadow slipping away farther into the woods, the man roared and gave chase.

“Michael, you worthless dog! If I don’t beat you half to death today, I ain’t no Johnson!”

Michael glanced back—Emily was on the ground, sobbing. His heart clenched. Gritting his teeth, he shouted, “Emily and I are serious! I’ll marry her!”

Richard spat and barked, “You think you're good enough for my Emily? Dream on, you filthy daydreamer!”Michael Smith shouted in frustration, “Why can’t I marry Emily? I love her, she loves me! Why the hell do you get to say no?”

Richard Johnson didn’t answer — just picked up a rock and chucked it with all his strength. Michael barely dodged in time.

With a stick in hand, Richard charged forward, cursing as he chased. “What makes you think you’re worthy of my daughter? You don’t know how to farm, got no education, no skills, no job, no house — you’re nothing! That rundown shack of yours? Sending Emily there would be sending her into hell! I’d rather die than watch her marry a loser like you!”

Michael froze for a second, hit where it hurt most. Every word was a knife. He had nothing — not now — but he was still young, still had a fight in him. Hearing that kind of contempt hit deep.

“I may not have money now,” he yelled back, fists clenched, “but I’ll earn it! I’ll make sure Emily lives a better life than anyone else!”

Richard sneered. “Earn it? You? Don’t make me laugh. You’re a waste of space. Trash. Worthless piece of shit!”

Michael stopped in his tracks. Those words — "waste," "trash," "shit" — they burned. His blood started to boil. Even a stone has pride — how could he swallow this?

Alright, if that’s how you see me, then one day, I’ll rise from the filth you buried me in. One day, I'll make you eat those words, one coin at a time. Someday, I’ll have enough money to bury you in it — make you kneel in front of me and beg.

But he didn’t say any of that out loud. Didn’t throw a punch either. Because if he touched Richard, he and Emily would be over for good.

Richard read his silence as weakness. Eyes cold, he rushed him with the stick. One heavy swing cracked across Michael’s back. Pain shot through him like fire.

Michael turned and bolted, too hurt to stay and take another hit.

Richard didn’t slow down. He chased, stick in hand, hate in his eyes.

They ran until the path thinned, trees gave way to cliffs. Michael’s foot slipped — loose dirt, wet moss — and down he tumbled, pitching toward the edge.

He grabbed at the thorn bushes, tore them from the ground. His body spun, weightless. Air rushed past. Then nothing but open sky under him.

This is it… Is this how I die?

The cliff was endless. No bottom, only blackness waiting. Should’ve stayed. Should’ve let him beat me. Would he really have killed me?

I’m only twenty. Haven’t even lived yet. What about my parents? Emily?

Thoughts flickered before his mind went blank. Regret didn’t matter now. There was no turning back.

Richard lunged forward, too slow. His hand brushed empty air as Michael vanished from view.

“Shit—no!” he gasped, face drained of color. “He fell… I made him fall…”

Panic hit like a storm. “If he dies, I’m screwed! Even if the local guards don’t do anything, George Smith will tear me apart!”

Should’ve hit him a couple times, scared him straight. Why chase him like a mad dog?

Richard dropped to the ground, legs collapsing under him. He stared into the void, breath caught in the mountain wind.

A single gust rushed past, then silence.

Michael shut his eyes as the world fell away. A crunch, then darkness — nothing more.