Chapter 4 Cracks · Gears in the Storm
The Lin Guang Middle School campus in the plum rain season was like a sugar cube soaked in water, with even the air feeling sticky and heavy. As Lin Yan secured the last gear into the base of the mechanical clock, a dull thunderclap rolled through the sky outside. He fished out the mechanical watch from his school uniform pocket—the copper iris flower on the dial glowed faintly in the dim laboratory light, the only relic left by his mother.
"Lin Yan! Someone's here to see you!" The duty student popped his head in, wearing an odd expression.
At the end of the corridor, a man in a dark suit frowned at the honor roll on the wall. Lin Yan froze mid-step, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the watch chain. It was his father, and they'd barely seen each other since he'd remarried three years ago.
"Transfer procedures will be ready next week," his father said bluntly, slamming his briefcase onto the teacher's desk. "I've already spoken to the school about the competition. You're coming back to Beicheng with me tomorrow."
"Why?" Lin Yan's voice tightened as he noticed the new gold watch on his father's wrist—the exact same model his mother had once repaired.
"Because it's time you grew up!" his father snapped, the teacup on the desk cracking from the force of his voice. "If it weren't for you begging to go to that stupid clock exhibition back then, your mother would—"
"Bang!" The glass door flew open. Su Wantang, arms full of homework, froze in the doorway, papers spilling to the floor. She saw Lin Yan's hand trembling around the mechanical watch, the chain cutting into his palm, blood trickling out.
"You can't decide his life for him!" Su Wantang rushed forward, her ponytail brushing Lin Yan's hand. "He's been sleeping only four hours a day for this competition. Do you even care?"
His father sneered. "And what do you know? His mother died in a clock shop—those rusty scraps killed the person who loved him most!"
Lin Yan's head snapped up, his pupils contracting violently. It was the first time his father had ever spoken directly about his mother's death. Memories tore open: at eight years old, he'd thrown a tantrum to go to a traveling clock exhibition; his mother had rushed out in the rain to buy tickets and collapsed at the antique clock repair table...
"Stop!" Lin Yan barked. The mechanical clock's parts box toppled over, copper gears rolling across the floor. "I'm not going anywhere."
When his father stormed out, he knocked over a corner cabinet of specimens. Su Wantang knelt to help Lin Yan pick up the gears and noticed a tiny "Y" engraved on the inner side of one—it was the abbreviation of his mother's name.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Her voice was as soft as raindrops. "About Auntie..."
Lin Yan didn't answer. He turned and dashed into the downpour. The rain instantly soaked through his uniform as he hid in the ruins of the observatory, curling up beside a rusted telescope. Water poured through the leaky roof onto his mechanical watch, the gears inside gradually grinding to a halt.
"Lin Yan!"
Su Wantang's shout cut through the storm. She stumbled in holding a convenience store plastic bag, her hair dripping, an iron box clutched to her chest. "Your parts... I didn't want them to get wet..."
The moment he opened the box, Lin Yan's eyes stung. Every gear was carefully wrapped in soft cloth, and at the bottom lay a lychee candy, the edges of the wrapper damp from rain.
"My dad says people always hide their regrets in their most cherished things," Su Wantang said, wiping rain from her face, water droplets clinging to her lashes. "But look." She held up a gear to the flash of lightning. "Sometimes cracks can let the light in."
As thunder boomed, Lin Yan suddenly remembered his mother's hand squeezing his before she died, her palm warm like this. Trembling, he pressed the gear into Su Wantang's palm and whispered, "I never blamed her... I just fear time will fade her face."
Su Wantang stood on tiptoe and used her school uniform sleeve to wipe the mix of rain and tears from his face. The gesture was so natural it left both of them startled. In the distance, they heard Chen Ye shouting, but through the rain, Lin Yan heard his own heartbeat—louder than any clock.
"Actually..." Su Wantang began, but her phone vibrated in her pocket. It was a photo from Chen Ye: Lin Yan's father walking into a hotel with a young woman, an iris flower brooch pinned to his collar—the same one his mother had loved.
"He has a new family," Lin Yan said, staring at the photo, his fingers slowly curling into a fist. "But I—"
"You have us." Su Wantang clasped his bleeding hand, the gear's edges digging into their palms. "Chen Ye's guarding the door, saying he'll be our 'crack protector'."
The storm peaked at that moment, the observatory's broken windows rattling in the wind. Lin Yan suddenly laughed, picking two gears from the box—one engraved with "Y," the othe