Drama Queen Reborn as a Top Student!-Chapter 685 - 287

"Grandma, when will Dad and Mom come back to pick me up?"

It was a summer evening, the remnants of the setting sun streaming through the balcony glass and falling on the little boy nestled in the rocking chair.

The old-fashioned fan struggled to rotate, but the wind it whipped up was still warm.

Grandma held a palm fan in her hand, gently wafting cool air onto his face—the only trace of relief in the stifling summer night.

"Aning, just wait a little longer, they’ll be here soon."

"Grandma, when they come, will you go with us? I miss Dad and Mom, but I really don’t want to leave you."

Bathed in the golden afterglow was Grandma’s gentle, smiling face.

In the years that followed, this scene often appeared in his dreams, except the golden glow turned into blazing flames—so hot, so painful.

Grandma smiled amidst the raging fire until she was completely swallowed up.

It became the nightmare he could never wake up from.

Sometime later, he fell asleep.

Grandma set aside the palm fan, draped a blanket softly over him, touched his slightly sweaty forehead, bent down to plant a gentle kiss, and then tiptoed away to the kitchen.

The world suddenly went quiet, only for the din downstairs to grow sharper. Some old men were arguing fiercely over a game of Chinese chess.

Children played make-believe superhero games, squabbling and fighting over who got to be Spider-Man.

On the kitchen stove, his favorite red bean buns were steaming. The hissing of steam escaping from the pot sounded like a lullaby, coaxing him into delightful dreams.

He dreamed that Dad and Mom came back to pick him up, buying him clothes, toys, brand-new stationery, and a backpack. They hugged him and said, "From now on, our family will never be apart."

In that moment, he felt like the happiest child in the world.

It was as if a light shone in, making him feel hotter and hotter, drenched in sweat, his skin burning as if scorched. Someone was shouting loudly by his ear.

"Aning... Aning, wake up quickly...."

It was Grandma calling him. What was happening?

Why did Grandma, who was always gentle and patient, scream with a voice cracked by fear?

He tried to open his eyes, but for some reason, his eyelids felt so heavy, impossible to pry apart.

"Aning...." Grandma’s voice was right above him, and a pair of hands shook his body.

He suddenly opened his eyes and was instantly choked by the thick smoke invading his nostrils, coughing violently.

A wet towel was pressed against his mouth and nose, allowing him to gasp for air.

What he saw first was Grandma’s face—those always-smiling eyes were now red with worry.

Grandma’s other hand pressed a damp towel against her own mouth and nose. She loosened the hand covering his and pointed toward the balcony window.

Sitting up, he finally realized their once-cozy home was engulfed in smoke so thick it stung his eyes.

His brain faltered for a moment, and then he heard a sharp sound near him. Turning to look, he saw Grandma wielding a small iron hammer, smashing at the security bars on the balcony window.

It was the hammer she had used to crack walnuts for him. Grandma believed in nourishing the body and insisted on feeding him walnuts every day to make him smarter.

In this old-style apartment building, the balcony windows were fitted with security bars. Having aged over the years, the building lacked fire escapes. In moments of fire, these security bars prevented thieves but also trapped anyone seeking a way out.

Grandma was frail and didn’t have much strength, and a single blow seemed utterly futile against the sturdy bars.

The door was already surrounded by thick smoke, the fire raging ever fiercer. The windows were locked by the immovable bars, leaving them with no way out.

He sat numbly in the rocking chair, still unable to fully comprehend what was happening.

Fearfully, he murmured, "Grandma, I’m scared."

Grandma dropped the hammer, hurried to the bathroom, soaked a bedsheet, and draped it over him. Without hesitation, she lifted him into her arms and charged toward the door.

He had grown taller, and Grandma could no longer carry him like she used to, but in this moment, she acted without a single pause, transformed into a figure of boundless strength...

She buried his head into her chest, held him tightly, and whispered, "Aning, don’t be afraid, Grandma’s here...."

He heard her let out a muffled groan, yet her grip on him only tightened.

The chandelier crashed onto her head, and blood began to stream down her forehead.

She bit her lip hard, telling herself she must endure. Her life—a life already old and worn—mattered little, but Aning was still young, and he couldn’t die here.

The instant she opened the door, flames surged through. Instinctively, she shielded the child in her arms, using her frail body to block the merciless blaze.

She cried out in pain, her arms consumed by the fire. She watched helplessly as Aning rolled onto the floor. Her voice cracked as she screamed, "Aning...."

He turned back in panic, witnessing a harrowing sight.

"Grandma...!"

There was no escape, no way forward, nor a path back. At this moment, their lives plunged into utter despair.

Holding onto the last thread of her sanity, she shouted, "Aning, find somewhere to hide! Until the very last moment, you mustn’t give up hope. Someone... someone will come to save you...."

He watched his Grandma collapse to the ground, and without thinking, he lunged forward.

He thought he would perish in the sea of flames too—until a figure emerged from the blazing inferno, rushing toward him.