The fire grew bigger and bigger.
Lin Jianguo held his mother, feeling the heat wave coming from behind, burning his back. His mother struggled slightly in his arms but didn't break free; she just let him hold her, gently patting his back.
"It's okay, Mom, it's okay," she kept saying.
But Lin Jianguo knew there was a problem.
He looked up and saw that the fire had reached the tree nearby. The branches were crackling loudly, sparks flying, falling onto the dry grass, which caught fire again. The flames were spreading, extending in all directions.
His father was still in front, beating the fire, the branches swaying with a whooshing sound. His silhouette was illuminated by the firelight, glowing red, like a burning sculpture.
"Dad!" Lin Jianguo shouted.
His father didn't turn around.
Lin Jianguo loosened his hold on his mother and took a few steps forward, then looked back at her.
His mother stood still, unmoving. She was watching the fire, her expression strange—not fear, but something else. It seemed as if she was waiting for something, or looking for something.
"Mom, hurry and go!" Lin Jianguo called.
But she still didn't move.
Suddenly, she lowered her head, touched herself, then raised it with an anxious look on her face.
"The ring," she said. "My ring."
Lin Jianguo was stunned.
A ring. The silver ring her grandmother had left her. He had clearly hidden it under the sole of his cloth shoes, deep inside the wooden cabinet. When had she taken it out?
"Mom, are you wearing it?"
His mother shook her head. "I lost it this morning. I looked all morning but couldn't find it. I thought maybe it fell on the road…"
She turned and ran back.
Lin Jianguo's mind exploded in a loud bang.
"Mom!" he chased after her. "Don't go! The ring is at home, I hid it!"
His mother had already run several steps ahead. Hearing this, she stopped and turned back.
"You hid it?"
Lin Jianguo nodded. "In the cabinet, under the sole of the shoes. I was afraid you'd wear it and go out, so…"
He hadn't finished speaking when he saw something flash behind his mother.
Fire.
He didn't know when the fire had already reached behind them. It wasn't coming directly at them; it was drifting with the wind, bending around, burning from the side. The flames shot up high, turning the sky red.
"Mom!" Lin Jianguo rushed forward, grabbing her hand and pulling her back.
But the fire was too fast.
In the blink of an eye, the flames had cut off their escape route down the mountain. Ahead was fire, behind was fire, on the left was fire, and on the right was fire. They were trapped.
Lin Jianguo's heart sank to the bottom of his stomach.
His mother was also stunned. She looked at the surrounding fire, her face shifting from anxious to blank, then from blank to something else—not fear, but a strange calm.
"It's okay," she suddenly said softly, as if comforting herself or Lin Jianguo, "It's okay."
She held Lin Jianguo's hand and moved toward the smaller flames. But everywhere was fire, with no small patches to hide in. The heat hit his face, burning painfully. The thick smoke made it hard to breathe, and his eyes couldn't stay open.
Lin Jianguo covered his mouth with his sleeve, looking around for his father.
His father was still over there, in the fire. The branches in his hands were already burning; he threw them away and beat at the flames with his clothes. His clothes were also burning, the cuffs smoking, but he kept beating at the fire, still fighting.
"Dad!" Lin Jianguo shouted.
His father heard him, looked up, and saw them. His expression changed as he saw the fire around them.
He dropped the burning clothes and ran toward them.
But he couldn't outrun the fire.
The flames had already reached them.
Lin Jianguo felt his mother's hand clutch his tightly, so tight that his fingers hurt. He clenched his fist back, gripping her hand just as tightly. The two of them held each other's hands, standing in the fire, unsure of where to run or hide.
Then he saw his father.
His father burst out of the fire, smoke billowing from his body, his face covered in black ash. He ran to them, without a word, wrapping both of them in his arms, using his body to shield them from the flames.
Lin Jianguo was held in his father's embrace, his face pressed against his chest, hearing his heartbeat—thump, thump, thump, fast and strong. He could also smell him—the scent of sweat, tobacco, and burnt flesh.
"Don't be afraid," his father's voice came from above, muffled but steady. "Dad is here."
Lin Jianguo buried his face in his father's chest, tears streaming down.
He wanted to say something, to shout something, but his throat felt blocked, unable to voice anything.
He was simply caught between his parents, one holding him, one embracing him, with their bodies blocking the outside fire.
The fire burned, the wind roared, and the trees crackled loudly.
But in their arms, he felt very warm.
Very warm.