Meng Yan's Transformation

Chapter 637 Mengyan's Summer Vacation

In the scorching heat of July, the campus, once ravaged by the cicadas' chirping, fell silent.

Zhan Mengyan was alone in her dormitory, feeling like a soulless shell. Even her breath echoed. She ran her fingers along the edge of the bed, but there was no coolness to be felt. It was as if she could touch the warm palm of her mother back home, a warmth that had been replaced by the silence of twenty miles away during this summer vacation, turning into a long, lingering sorrow in her heart: "Mom, I want to go home so much, but tuition and living expenses are like two mountains weighing me down. I can't let you worry about me anymore."

At 5:30 a.m., the alarm clock's "ding..." pierced the silence, like a distant call. Zhan Mengyan rolled out of bed like a pre-programmed machine; the splash of cold water on her face instantly dispelled the last vestiges of sleepiness, but it couldn't extinguish the glimmer of homesickness in her heart.

Outside the window, the morning light hadn't fully penetrated the shadows of the weeping willows. She grabbed her canvas bag and hurried towards the school gate. Her canvas shoes crunched over the fallen leaves, the soft sound echoing in the empty schoolyard, much like the footprints she left at home when she and her sister played. Each step resonated in her heart, stirring ripples: "Is Mom busy in the kitchen? Is my sister doing well working in that faraway city? Is Dad out on another house call?" These thoughts, like tiny needles, gently pricked Zhan Mengyan.

The metal gates of Hualian Cannery opened precisely at 6:00 AM. Zhan Mengyan changed into her blue overalls, a thin layer of sweat clinging to her rubber gloves. The sticky feel reminded her of her mother and sister's calloused hands from their labor. Glass jars streamed in on the conveyor belt. Zhan Mengyan's quality control duties required eagle-like focus: tilting the can at a 45-degree angle to observe the liquid surface, tapping lightly with her fingertips, listening to the sound to determine the quality. Unqualified jars had to be placed in the recycling bin. Each rejection felt like kicking away the longing for home, the soft desire to nestle at her mother's knees. Eight hours of standing made her calf muscles ache, but the most unbearable thing was the sweat sticking to her skin in the high-temperature workshop, and the ever-present, sweet aroma of tomatoes and peaches.

The sweet aroma of tomatoes and yellow peaches lingered, yet it couldn't mask the faint bitterness in her heart. Last night, in her dream, her mother called out in her ear, "Mengyan, why aren't you home? Mom has made you something delicious..." Zhan Mengyan held the bottle of cold water given to her by her coworker. She took a sip, and the coolness went straight to her heart, freezing the tears welling up in her eyes.

At 2:30 PM, the uniforms at the Crescent Cannery were a different shade of blue. Piles of metal cans awaiting labeling were always stacked there. Zhan Mengyan's fingers danced between the labels and the cans, the smell of glue mingling with the scent of ink, weaving an invisible net that trapped her thoughts. As the setting sun painted the conveyor belt orange-red, Zhan Mengyan began counting the remaining stock. Numbers lined up in the ledger like soldiers awaiting inspection, but no one knew the yearning for home that gnawed at her heart. The obsession with buying a gift for her mother and easing the burden on her family burned like a flame within her, searing her weary body.

As dusk settled, Zhan Mengyan dragged her weary body back to her dormitory. The moment she pushed open the door, a silence washed over her ankles, engulfing her. She turned on a small desk lamp, its warm light illuminating the timetable on the wall—those squares, suspended during summer vacation, now seemed exceptionally distant.

The moon climbed above the treetops outside the window, illuminating her open notebook. The latest page read: "Today I brought back 38 defective cans. Once the wages from Hualian Cannery arrive, I can pay off the debts of the photo studio..." A drop of sweat silently spread across the ink, like a tear that hadn't yet fallen in her heart, quietly blooming in a corner unknown to anyone, transforming into a ray of moonlight to light her path: "Mom, I will carry this perseverance towards a better future."