By the seventh month of surveillance, money had become a serious problem. The Xuecheng Public Security Bureau's annual budget for the Criminal Investigation Team was a mere 100,000 yuan, and we had our hands full with other cases. While we were deep in the 1103 investigation, new cases kept flooding in—kidnappings, fraud, rape—forcing us to pull our core team away to handle these urgent matters. With resources stretched thin and our bureau chief reassigned, we had no choice but to put the 1103 case on ice. We even had to pull surveillance from the Deng Ligang and Song Hongyu families.
Then came another gut punch—I was transferred from Criminal Investigation to the Third Team, handling external coordination. My new job was basically being a local liaison for police departments from across the country when they came to Xuecheng to investigate. Just like that, I had to walk away from the 1103 case. Cheng Guo tried to put a positive spin on it, saying at least I wouldn't be away from home for weeks at a time anymore.
Sleep, once my faithful friend, had become a stranger. Where I used to pass out the moment I hit the pillow, now I'd find myself wide awake in the dead of night. Even when exhaustion weighed on my eyelids like lead, rest wouldn't come. More than once, Cheng Guo woke to an empty bed and found me in the living room, mindlessly watching TV while crunching ice cubes, one after another.
I'd tell her to go back to bed, promising I'd follow soon. She'd return to the bedroom, knowing sleep would elude her too, then slip into her workout clothes and head out.
The crisp dawn air hit my lungs like a wake-up call as I started my jog along the river. I wasn't Xuecheng's only insomniac—plenty of others were already exercising, men and women alike. As I ran, the tension began to seep from my body. I made my way to the morning market.
The market was already bustling, shopkeepers deep in their morning rush. Early rising was just part of life in Xuecheng, and our first meal was no light breakfast—it was a proper feast. My parents' generation would be up by five, making dumplings, stir-frying dishes, and cooking rice like clockwork. The vendors all knew me, greeting me as "Second Brother Xinqiao."
"How's business?" I asked a vegetable seller.
"These vegetables change hands several times before reaching my stall," he said. "Farmers are doing well this year. My in-laws planted an acre and a half of cucumbers, pulled in almost 20,000 jin. Imagine what that'd fetch at market prices here? But the middlemen take their cut—they drive right to the fields to buy, and we can't compete with that."
I made small talk at each stall, pushing thoughts of the 1103 case aside. A husband and wife ran the breakfast stand—him frying dough sticks, her serving soy milk and tofu pudding. The cold had turned her face red, her frostbitten fingers poking through her gloves like pale carrots.
"Chili with that, Second Brother?" she asked, smiling.
"One with, one without."
When I got home with my plastic bag of breakfast, Cheng Guo was already up, stirring a pot of preserved egg and pork congee.
I set the breakfast on the stove. "Got the first batch of fried dough sticks."
As we gathered at the table, I turned to my son. "What'll it be? Fresh soy milk, tofu pudding, or congee?"
Peng Cheng glanced between me and his mother. This was usually her territory. Seeing me waiting, he finally mumbled, "Tofu pudding. No chili."
I placed it in front of him, watching as he ate.
"You should try to sleep," Cheng Guo said.
"I'll nap after I take Peng Cheng to school."
Peng Cheng brightened at hearing I'd take him to school and wolfed down his breakfast.
The morning streets were packed with cyclists heading to work and school. I pedaled with my son on the back, merging into the flow. Peng Cheng couldn't contain his excitement, tapping my back and begging me to go faster. I picked up the pace, and we pulled ahead of the crowd.
We approached a bridge with a gentle incline. Peng Cheng called out, "Mom always makes us walk the bike across. Dad, can you ride it?"
"This isn't Mount Everest—of course we can!" I shouted back.
Standing on the pedals, I pushed hard as we climbed. Electric bikes and motorcycles streamed past us.
"Come on, Dad!" Peng Cheng yelled.
I doubled down, and we flew down the other side, passing the slower vehicles. My clothes were drenched in sweat, and the wind cut right through me. Peng Cheng held tight to my waist, whooping with delight. At the school gate, he joined his friends, stealing proud glances back at me as they walked in.
The morning's workout left me aching. That night, I winced as Cheng Guo worked the knots from my muscles.
"Pain means tension. Release it and you'll sleep," she said.
Her massage slowly worked its magic, and I drifted off. In my dreams, I saw Deng Ligang. We met on a staircase—him descending, me climbing. I reached for him, but suddenly the stairs turned vertical. I lost my footing and fell.
I jerked awake, sweating and restless. Quietly slipping into my workout clothes, I went running. I pounded the pavement and followed the river until sweat soaked through my clothes. Seeing the dark circles under my eyes, Cheng Guo got someone to watch the shop and took us to the ice rink. She watched from the sidelines as our son and I raced, bodies low and knees bent.
I leaned into the turns, left hand skimming the ice for balance. My son led at first, but I caught him on the outer curve. Peng Cheng chased hard as I adjusted my stance and picked up speed, eventually lapping him twice. Afterward, we stopped at a shop on Qingtan Street. I had ice water, Peng Cheng devoured a cream cake, and Cheng Guo sipped milk tea.
"Dad, how do you go so fast?" Peng Cheng pressed.
"On turns, take more crossover steps and lean into it—you'll keep your speed, maybe even gain some."
He nodded eagerly. They say when you lose something, you gain something else. I'd lost the 1103 case but won my son's respect.
In 2004, passing through Jibei City on business, I spotted the station sign and thought of Liu Xinyuan's parents. Liu Liang had called about the case a year ago. After my transfer, I'd heard nothing more. The unsolved case sat like a stone in my throat—impossible to swallow or spit out. On my return trip, I got off at Jibei to visit Liu Liang.
He lived in the suburbs, in a small courtyard with a young toon tree. When Liu Liang answered my knock, I barely recognized him. Not yet fifty, but his hair had gone white, and he'd wasted away, losing at least thirty pounds. He squinted before his eyes sparked with recognition. He grabbed my hand and pulled me inside.
"You're finally here. Don't tell me anything—tell my daughters."
My heart dropped. Liu Liang led me to the toon tree and pointed to a small grave beneath it. "They're both buried here. Speak—they can hear you."
"I was passing through for work and wanted to see you," I said.
Liu Liang's expression crumbled. "Two years gone, and my daughters wait beneath this tree. You can't give them even a shred of hope?"
I stared at the small grave before saying, "Let me see your wife."
Inside, the room was in disarray. His wife sat on the bed, hair unkempt, turning to face the wall when she saw me.
"Since learning how they cut up our Xinyuan, she's lost her mind," Liu Liang said. "She keeps trying to run to the moat. I can't work—have to watch her. Last year, I was bedridden for four months. If it weren't for my wife and getting justice for my daughter, I'd have let go already."
Guilt pressed down on me as I sat silent. Liu Liang knew we'd shelved his daughter's case for others. His anger nearly overwhelmed him, his thin hands shaking on his knees. Words felt useless, so I stood and took out the food I'd brought.
"Where are your plates?"
He pointed to the kitchen. Inside, the stove was cold, dirty dishes piled high in the sink. I rolled up my sleeves and started washing. Liu Liang slumped in his chair, head down, listening to me work.
I found noodles in the cupboard, some potatoes and cabbage in the corner. As the water heated, I chopped vegetables and cleaned.
Soon the table held white wine, pig's head meat, sausage, braised beef, peanuts, stir-fried potatoes, and vinegar cabbage—four cold dishes, two hot, plus a steaming bowl of scallion noodle soup.
Liu Liang's wife ate ravenously while he watched, eyes glistening.
"She hasn't cooked since getting sick," he said. "We gave everything to the kidnappers, borrowed more, but couldn't save our daughter. Now we're in debt. For two years, it's been just buns and pancakes with pickles."
I stayed quiet, filling our glasses. We drank without speaking. When Liu Liang tried to pour me more, I covered my glass. "Any more and I'll be drunk."
He didn't press, drinking alone. His wife, full now, pushed away her bowl and returned to bed, facing the wall.
Three drinks in, Liu Liang asked, "You've seen how we are. Tell me straight—will I live to see them caught?"
"I'm in a different department now. No matter how much I want to help, I can't. But I have an idea."
He froze mid-drink, eyes locked on me. "Tell me. I'll do anything."
"File a complaint. Say the Xuecheng Public Security Bureau did nothing."
Liu Liang set his glass down, stunned.
"And remember," I added, "when you accuse the bureau, include me."
"After all you've done for us? I can't do that to you."
"These criminals are still out there, hurting people. If I don't see this through and bring them to justice, I've failed at my job. We've put too much work into this case. We know who they are, we have solid evidence. Walking away now isn't an option," I said.
"What happens to you after I file the complaint?" Liu Liang asked carefully.
"They'll have to reopen the case. Maybe even put me back on it."
Liu Liang poured one last glass of wine. "Drink this, and I'll do it."
We clinked glasses, I drank, and left.
The next day, Liu Liang arranged care for his wife and started the complaint process. He didn't contact me during this time.
My new job left me with free time, so I went back to karate, asking the coach to push me hard.
He set the bar high: 3,200 meters in twenty minutes, fifty each of push-ups, leg raises, and squat jumps. I forced myself through it. Then came the combinations: left-right straights, straight-hook combinations, spinning strikes, kicks into knee strikes and hooks. Several times during training, I wanted to quit, but that wasn't who I was. When we sparred, the coach had me on the ground before I knew what hit me.
I stood up, sweat pouring off me.
"You're not blocking anything," he said. "Don't just block and lift your knees—move your feet."
I nodded, still catching my breath.
"Another round?" he asked.
"Yes!" I said firmly.
The coach grinned. "Not afraid of losing?"
"I need to get used to losing."
Truth is, once you stop fearing defeat, what else is there to fear? Each time the coach threw me down, my frustration grew into determination. The harder I fought, the harder he threw me.
Later, I collapsed on the sofa, muscles screaming. Cheng Guo finished cooking and hauled me to the table. Spring pancakes, scrambled eggs with chives and bean sprouts, fish-flavored pork—the smell alone woke up my appetite. She rolled a pancake for our son, then one for me.
"Is the new director in yet?" she asked.
I grunted, focused on eating.
"Heard anything?"
"New bosses always want to make their mark. Let's see what he tackles first."
Director Jiang was built like a fireplug. First day in office, he called me in and cut straight to it: "Liu Liang's family is suing the bureau."
"I'm not in Criminal Investigation anymore," I played dumb.
"You're named as the second defendant," he reminded me.
"Then I should tell you everything," I said.
"I've read the file. Province wants this reopened. It's serious—we're on the hook."
"These guys are smart and brutal. We can't face the victims' families or the public if we don't catch them."
"What's your plan?" Jiang asked plainly.
"I led this case before. The family's right to accuse me. I won't make excuses. Put me back on Criminal Investigation, let me take the case again. I'll hunt these guys down and never let go."
"How sure are you?" the director asked.
"No percentages," I said. "Just one thing: without belief, we won't succeed."
I returned to Criminal Investigation, and the team welcomed me back. Yang Bo slapped my shoulder. "You owe us two meals—one for coming back, one for making team leader. Get your wife to cook us a feast."
Cheng Guo knew these guys well enough, and hosting wouldn't be a problem. But her fabric shop was slammed with year-end orders, leaving her no time.
"How about this—the usual hot pot and beer?" The guys jumped at that, heading straight for the old place on Qingtan Street, ready to drain my wallet dry. That day, through the restaurant window, I spotted Zhen Zhen. The fifteen-year-old was drifting along Qingtan Street. Catching the hot pot smell, she glanced inside and met my eyes. She looked away quickly and vanished. Three days later, her parents reported her missing.
Her father, Zhen Yuliang, worked as a construction quality inspector, often away at sites in other cities. Her mother, Hong Xia, worked in property management. Zhen Zhen was their only child. Like many mothers with limited education, Hong Xia used other kids' successes to berate her own daughter, pushing her to excel. The tension between a menopausal mother and a defiant teenager stretched like a rubber band about to snap. Hong Xia couldn't control her emotions, and Zhen Zhen, feeling trapped, pushed back harder. Whenever Hong Xia tried to brag about something, Zhen Zhen would deliberately ruin it. She didn't care if she hurt herself, as long as it frustrated her mother.
Zhen Zhen was small and slight, with cropped hair and skinny limbs. Blue veins showed through her pale forehead. Thick black eyebrows and large, slightly upturned eyes gave her a fierce look.
Before disappearing, her grades had tanked. Her teacher said she ignored lessons and skipped homework. She dropped from third in class to third from bottom. Hong Xia exploded, screaming at both husband and daughter. Zhen Yuliang knew a menopausal woman and rebellious teen were explosive together, so he escaped to his work sites. With nowhere to direct her anger, Hong Xia's gums swelled. Zhen Zhen avoided her mother completely, staying away from home and cutting school.
On Qingtan Street, she met Du Zhong. He was two years older, tall and pale-featured, with a few pimples on his forehead. He sat on a wooden stump outside a shop, drinking Coke when Zhen Zhen stumbled past with her backpack.
"Hey, why aren't you in school?" he called out.
Zhen Zhen looked around, saw no one else, and stopped. "You talking to me?"
"Yeah."
"Why aren't you in school?"
"Left that sea of suffering behind."
"Graduated?"
"Dropped out two years ago."
Intrigued, Zhen Zhen squatted beside him. "Why'd you quit?"
"Classrooms give me headaches. Bad ones make me throw up."
"What kind of sickness is that?"
"Got a bad blood vessel in my brain. Stress makes it spasm."
He pointed to the shop behind him. "My dad's place. I'm learning woodworking—not furniture, but fine art pieces. Ever read 'The Carved Boat'? That's what I do, though not as good."
"Doesn't woodworking hurt your head?"
"That's art. When I'm deep in it, I forget about the pain. But hey, you still haven't said why you're skipping."
"I'm skipping to cure my mom's sickness," Zhen Zhen said.
"What's wrong with her?"
"When I'm top of the class, no praise. When I'm at the bottom, she nearly kills me with yelling. She's the sick one, but I have to take the medicine. Is that fair?"
"Their generation can't climb hills but wants their kids scaling Everest. They're the sick ones," Du Zhong agreed.
"It's cold out here wandering around. You'll get sick. Want to play some games?"
"I don't know how."
"It's simple - if your fingers work, you're all set."
The internet cafe was dimly lit, computer screens casting a pale glow on the players' faces. None of them looked older than twelve, each lost in their own digital world.
Du Zhong set up a computer for Zhen Zhen, showing her the basics. She picked it up naturally - moving, shooting, jumping - finding her rhythm. In her first game, with Du Zhong coaching her, she won. Her forehead glistened with sweat from the thrill. As she dove deeper into the next battle, the cafe owner appeared behind her.
"You need to leave now - inspectors are coming!" he warned in a hushed voice before hurrying to alert others.
Zhen Zhen barely registered his words, too absorbed in the game. Then a voice boomed from the entrance: "Inspection!"
She froze, panic setting in. Du Zhong sprang into action, grabbed her collar, and pulled her toward the exit.
"There you are! I've searched everywhere for you. Mom and Dad work themselves to the bone for your education, and here you are skipping class to waste time online. Just wait until Dad hears about this!"
His face twisted with anger, and Zhen Zhen caught on immediately, playing along as she struggled against his grip.
"Please don't tell Dad! I promise I won't do it again!" she pleaded.
The inspectors watched the "siblings" as Du Zhong dragged Zhen Zhen outside. Once safely away, they burst into laughter in a quiet corner.
Du Zhong took her to McDonald's, claiming she needed something to settle her nerves. A Big Mac and hot chocolate brought warmth back to Zhen Zhen's body. Du Zhong wolfed down his food, sharing stories between bites, his slight stutter adding charm to his rambling tales that had Zhen Zhen doubled over with laughter.
Wu Li witnessed it all. Once Zhen Zhen's closest friend and desk mate, the petite girl harbored a jealous streak, resenting how she always ranked below Zhen Zhen. A minor incident had escalated, destroying their friendship. Though they'd grown apart, Wu Li couldn't help but track Zhen Zhen's movements. That day, she'd brought her younger brother for a Happy Meal when she spotted Zhen Zhen and Du Zhong in their corner, lost in conversation.
Du Zhong was saying, "Fish? Can't eat them - they die with their eyes open, full of regret. Rabbits are out too - those red eyes give me the creeps. And alcohol? No way. One drink too many and suddenly there's another, more obnoxious me running around."
Zhen Zhen collapsed onto the table, shaking with laughter. Du Zhong pulled out a walnut, sliding it across to her. "Craftsman's piece - it's yours."
Zhen Zhen studied it carefully. The surface gleamed, with intricate carvings of the Eight Immortals decorating the shell.
"Really? For me?" she asked, eyes bright.
"All yours! One day, when I'm a master carver, I'll make you a whole ship. But now it's getting dark - time to head home."
Wu Li crept to the door as they left, watching Du Zhong mount his Giant bicycle. He balanced with one foot down as Zhen Zhen hopped onto the back seat. Then they were off, leaving Wu Li standing there with a knot of complicated emotions in her chest.
Du Zhong pedaled swiftly, the winter wind sharp against their faces. Zhen Zhen tucked herself behind him, wishing the moment would last forever. Du Zhong seemed to read her mind, taking two extra loops around Qingtan Street before finally stopping at her neighborhood entrance.
"Better get inside," he said softly.
Zhen Zhen walked home, turning back once to see Du Zhong still there, one foot on the ground, watching her from a distance.
When she opened the door, she felt relieved to find her father home. Zhen Yuliang hadn't been around for two weeks. His hair was messy, his stubble grown out, and exhaustion lined his face.
"What kept you?" he asked.
"Homework. Where's Mom?"
"Kitchen. She's in a mood - watch yourself."
Hong Xia heard them talking and called out from the kitchen, "Got no hands or feet? Come help!"
Zhen Yuliang walked in. "What needs doing?"
"What do you think?" Hong Xia snapped. "Get these dishes out."
Zhen Yuliang carried two dishes while Zhen Zhen grabbed the rice cooker. Hong Xia's eyes followed her daughter like a factory inspector checking for defects.
"You're coming home later and later," Hong Xia said, her brow furrowed.
"Early's wrong, late's wrong. Just tell me when you want me home," Zhen Zhen mumbled.
Hong Xia's eyes narrowed. "I can't even ask?"
Zhen Yuliang took the rice cooker from his daughter. "Get the bowls and chopsticks."
As Zhen Zhen opened the cupboard, Hong Xia efficiently cleaned the stove and hood.
"My colleague's daughter - your age - cooks for her mother. But here I am, still cooking and feeding you."
Zhen Zhen's lips tightened as she carried out the utensils, her mother's complaints trailing behind her.
Dinner was simple: lamb with scallions, shredded potatoes, and egg drop soup.
They ate without speaking.
"Old Zhen, got that final payment yet?" Hong Xia asked.
"No."
"Project's been done six months. If I didn't work, what would you eat? Might as well sew your mouths shut."
Zhen Zhen glanced at her mother's face - dark like gathering storm clouds.
"Payment delays happen in this business. They'll pay eventually," Zhen Yuliang said.
Hong Xia set down her chopsticks and stared at her husband. "Tutoring costs money. Mortgage needs paying. Your parents need support. Which one can wait?"
"Mom, save your money. I won't go to tutoring even if you sign me up," Zhen Zhen said.
"Just eat!" Hong Xia snapped.
"I'm done."
"I slave away for both young and old, and this is my thanks?"
"Fine, I'll cook for myself from now on," Zhen Zhen burst out.
"Did I raise you to talk back to me?"
Hong Xia drew a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "You think I enjoy spending money on tutoring? How else will you get into high school?"
Zhen Zhen pushed her rice around silently.
"My colleague's son went from twentieth to ninth after one semester of tutoring."
Zhen Zhen rolled her eyes.
"Why are you rolling your eyes at me?"
"If you love other people's kids so much, why not just adopt them?" Zhen Zhen muttered.
Hong Xia slammed her chopsticks down. "How did I end up with such an ungrateful child?"
The soup rippled in its bowl. Zhen Yuliang took a spoonful and shot his daughter a look to keep quiet.
"I moved you from the twentieth-ranked school to the fourth. Do you know how much that cost us?" Hong Xia demanded.
That was the last straw for Zhen Zhen. "I was first in my grade at my old school. You made me transfer, and now I'm third in class. You're not happy because I didn't meet your standards. Is that my fault? These are your genes too. If I'm not smart enough, that's half on you. I weigh half a pound, but you hang ten pounds on me. Aren't you just setting us both up for disappointment?"
Hong Xia's eyes flashed. "What did you just say?!"
"You couldn't measure up, so now you use other people's kids as weapons against me. Of course I can't compete with someone who's first - I'm third. Just like Fourteenth Middle School can't compete with First Middle."
"Say. That. Again."
Zhen Zhen dropped her chopsticks, stood up, and slammed her bedroom door shut.
"Get back out here!" Hong Xia shouted.
Zhen Yuliang picked up the chopsticks from the table and offered them to his wife. "Eat. The lamb's getting cold."
Hong Xia's fury turned on him. "I must have been cursed for eight lifetimes to end up married to you and with her as a daughter. What sins did I commit in my past life?"
Zhen Yuliang kept his head down, taking tiny sips of his soup.
"Cat got your tongue?" Hong Xia demanded.
Zhen Yuliang slurped his soup loudly. "This soup is good and fresh."
"Your daughter disrespects me like this and you just sit there?"
"When she does well, she's your daughter. When she acts up, she's mine. You can't have it both ways."
"Stubborn and difficult - typical Zhen family."
Zhen Yuliang set down his chopsticks. "Every day is a war zone. How can anyone live like this?"
"Got somewhere else to go?" Hong Xia shot back.
"We were talking about our daughter. How did this become about me?"
"You brought it up."
In her room, Zhen Zhen lay on her bed, listening to her parents' voices through the wall. She pulled out the walnut from her pocket, turning it over in her hands until sleep took her.
The rumor about Zhen Zhen dating someone on Qingtan Street spread through her class like wildfire, growing more dramatic with each telling. Wu Li's deskmate, Li Yuan, was skeptical. "Really? She's skipping class for dates?"
"Saw it myself," Wu Li said. "Guy was good-looking too, quite tall. There was Zhen Zhen on his bike, arms around his waist, shameless."
"What were his eyes like?" Li Yuan asked dreamily. "Big or small?"
"Single eyelids."
"I love guys with single eyelids!"
Teenage gossip travels fast, and soon their homeroom teacher heard about Zhen Zhen skipping school for dates. Teacher Chang, forty-five with dark skin and a clear, pleasant voice, was troubled. Zhen Zhen had been a star student, but her grades were slipping badly. Dating during school hours - this called for a parent meeting.
Hong Xia was already in a foul mood from an argument with a neighbor. The woman owned three large dogs and let them roam unleashed. After complaints, Hong Xia tried reasoning with her. She started politely: "Sister Qi, we should really leash our dogs on walks."
Sister Qi barely looked up. "I pay my property fees. I'll walk them how I want."
"I'm not saying don't walk them. Just take basic safety measures. It's a public space - some people are scared of dogs. We need to think of others."
"Tell whoever's complaining to come talk to me," Sister Qi snapped.
Hong Xia felt her patience slipping. "This area is my responsibility. When people complain, I have to address it."
Sister Qi raised her voice. "Who pays your salary? The residents do. We keep you employed, not to be pushed around. My apartment's been leaking for three calls now, no one shows up. But you're quick to police my dogs."
Hong Xia kept her voice level. "This isn't my department. Engineering handles water leaks. If they're not responding, you can file a complaint against them."
"You're all covering for each other," Sister Qi sneered. "Complaints never go anywhere."
"Who exactly are you calling corrupt?" Hong Xia snapped, her professional demeanor cracking.
The confrontation eventually reached the property manager, who urged Hong Xia to apologize. Sister Qi cut that suggestion short. "I don't want her apology."
"What do you want then?" the manager asked.
"I want her removed from this community. Permanently."
Hong Xia's face flushed with anger. "Since when did residents become gods and we their servants? Even actual household staff get treated with basic respect these days. Why should I let myself be walked all over?"
The manager fixed her with a stern look. "Is this how you handle resident complaints? The same situation could've gone very differently with a better approach. Cool off—we'll address this in tomorrow's meeting."
Just then, Hong Xia's phone rang. It was Zhen Zhen's homeroom teacher, requesting her immediate presence at school.
Heart pounding, Hong Xia rushed over. She found Zhen Zhen standing before Teacher Chang's desk, eyes down, fidgeting with her shirt hem. Teacher Chang gestured for Hong Xia to sit. "I planned to wait for the parent-teacher conference, but I'm worried that would be too late."
Hong Xia glanced between them, dread building in her chest.
"I don't know what's happening at home," Teacher Chang began, "but Zhen Zhen's performance has collapsed. She was one of our top students. Now she's distracted in class, missing assignments, and her test scores have plummeted from third place to third-worst. It's dragging down our class average, which reflects poorly on my teaching evaluation."
Hong Xia stared at her daughter, who refused to meet her eyes.
"There's worse," Teacher Chang continued. "She's started skipping classes—five so far. Someone spotted her on Qingtan Street with a boy."
The words hit Hong Xia like a physical blow. The room seemed to spin.
"Student relationships are strictly forbidden," Teacher Chang emphasized.
"Fine, my grades have dropped. Yes, I skipped class. But I'm not dating anyone," Zhen Zhen protested.
Teacher Chang leaned forward. "Were you or were you not at McDonald's on Qingtan Street with a boy the day before yesterday?"
Zhen Zhen froze. Hong Xia shut her eyes, drew a deep breath, and when she opened them, they burned with barely contained fury. She fixed her daughter with an unblinking stare.
Teacher Chang rapped her knuckles on the desk. "Answer the question. Were you there or not?"
"What exactly counts as a relationship?" Zhen Zhen challenged.
"You know exactly what I mean - dating when you're too young," Teacher Chang shot back.
Zhen Zhen's face flushed with indignation. "So sharing a burger at McDonald's is dating now? You were teenagers once. How did you become so rigid?"
"Watch your tone," Teacher Chang warned.
Zhen Zhen pressed her lips together, refusing to say more.
Hong Xia's voice quivered with rage. "Who is this boy?"
Zhen Zhen stood rigid, chin lifted defiantly, avoiding her mother's eyes.
"Answer me!" Hong Xia demanded.
"Who are you talking about? I have no idea."
Hong Xia felt ready to burst. She grabbed Zhen Zhen's arm and yanked her into the hallway. Students were milling about during break, and Wu Li and her friends lounged by the railing, laughing. When they spotted Zhen Zhen being dragged by her mother, they nudged each other and whispered. Burning with shame, Zhen Zhen wrenched her arm free. Hong Xia stumbled, nearly hitting the railing, rage coursing through her.
She whirled and slapped Zhen Zhen hard across the face. The hallway fell dead silent. Students and Teacher Chang, who had followed them out, stood frozen. Zhen Zhen stared at the shocked faces around her. Her vision swam, and she felt like she was drowning. If she didn't escape now, she'd suffocate. She fled the building. Hong Xia didn't follow - she could barely move, dragging herself down the stairs.
Outside, the sun blazed and people rushed past. The sky remained blue, the streets still bustled, but Zhen Zhen's world had shifted. She shivered as she walked, tears streaming down her face. When exhaustion overtook her, she collapsed onto a bench. She'd wandered to Qingtan Street.
Du Zhong spotted her and approached. "Hey, treating your mom again?"
Zhen Zhen broke down sobbing. Startled, Du Zhong pulled out a tissue.
"What's wrong?" he asked gently.
Zhen Zhen's story spilled out between sobs while Du Zhong listened quietly. People and cars moved around them. When she got no response, she looked up at him. The sky had darkened, and time seemed to pause - two figures, one tall and one short, standing in silence.
"Come on, let's game for a bit," Du Zhong finally said.
Zhen Zhen shook her head, but Du Zhong pulled her into the arcade anyway. Dozens of screens glowed in the dim room. Only one station was free. Du Zhong sat Zhen Zhen down, pulled over a keyboard, and logged her into the game.
"Games help with anxiety," he explained. "They're good for processing fear, anger, frustration. Remember - this isn't solo combat. Three teammates are fighting alongside you."
But Zhen Zhen couldn't focus. Within minutes, her character was repeatedly stabbed and killed, blood pooling, while her opponent's character danced over the corpse. Furious, she jumped up, scanning for her rival. She spotted him - a teenage boy hunched over his computer, smirking at his screen. She lunged forward, grabbing his collar. "What's your problem?" he yelped. "What are you doing?"
Du Zhong rushed over, pried her hands loose, and dragged her outside. The freezing air - minus twenty Celsius - cooled her anger.
"Games are fair," Du Zhong said. "The strongest win."
"I'm done playing," Zhen Zhen muttered.
Du Zhong brought his bicycle over. Zhen Zhen perched on the back rack. The bike wobbled as he pushed off, then picked up speed. He didn't announce their destination, and she didn't ask.
They wound through streets and alleyways. Night had fallen completely, streetlights flickering on. Du Zhong finally stopped beneath Zhen Zhen's building. She climbed off, legs numb from sitting.
"Still upset?" he asked.
Zhen Zhen stayed quiet.
"Sleep it off. Tomorrow's another day."
She nodded and headed for the building entrance.
"If you need a break from school, come find me," Du Zhong called after her. "I'll teach you walnut carving."
Zhen Zhen walked into the house and caught the smell of her mother's cooking. Her father was at the construction site. Two dishes and a soup sat on the table. She headed straight for her room, appetite gone. Her bookshelf was empty - her treasured "Rose Girl" series and fantasy novels had vanished. Panic rising, she searched everywhere, but they were gone.
She found her mother in the kitchen. "Where are my books?"
"Sold them," Hong Xia said flatly.
"I spent years building that collection."
Hong Xia carried two bowls of rice to the table. "I bought those books with my money. They were mine to sell."
"You're being ridiculous."
"There's no talking sense with you."
Hong Xia wouldn't even look at her, just sat down and started eating. Zhen Zhen slammed her door shut, stood against the wall for a long moment, then collapsed onto her bed.
The night sky was absolute darkness, not a star in sight. Where had all the stars gone? Had they run away too? The thought of running made her shiver. She turned to face the wall. Her mother was like this wall now - once her protection, now crushing her. She sat up, staring at the empty bookshelf. November 25, 2004 - the darkest day in her fifteen years. She'd known darkness before, but never this complete. She yanked out her textbooks and tore them apart, page by page. She dumped the fragments in the trash can, dragged it to the balcony, and set it ablaze.
Zhen Zhen skipped dinner. Hong Xia didn't call her to eat. What dignity did she have left as a mother? She wouldn't enable this behavior. Though she had no appetite, Hong Xia finished her rice.
She saved Zhen Zhen's portion in the rice cooker. Too exhausted to clean up, she dragged herself to the sofa and switched on the TV. Through the window, she caught a flicker of flame on the balcony. She rushed out to find Zhen Zhen burning something, deliberately ignoring her mother's approach as she fed paper into the flames. Seeing her textbooks burning, Hong Xia grabbed Zhen Zhen's arm and yanked her back. Zhen Zhen fell hard. Hong Xia grabbed an old washbasin and smothered the fire.
"What the hell are you doing?" Hong Xia's face was red with fury.
"Helping you purge the house of anything with words," Zhen Zhen said coldly.
"Say that again! I dare you!"
"I can't face school anymore. These are worthless now."
Hong Xia's voice shook. "Is this how you repay me for raising you?"
"You didn't have me because you wanted me. You had me to channel your hate. A mother can hit her child all she wants - as long as she doesn't kill them, the law doesn't care. No one can interfere."
"What did you say?!"
"I'll never meet your standards. That slap at school changed everything. From now on, I'll do what I want. You can't control me anymore."
Hong Xia's hand cracked across Zhen Zhen's face, spinning her around. One ear went deaf. The train whistle from the bridge faded to nothing, her mother's words becoming distant buzzing: "Get out... go as far as you can."
Somehow Zhen Zhen left with a beer bottle in hand. The road's packed snow made her stumble with every step. She alternated between drinking and crying. It felt like she'd walked forever, but when she looked back, home loomed behind her.
Her anger spent, Hong Xia sat in a daze on the sofa. Like every other day, she thought, the storm would pass. Exhaustion pulled her into restless sleep.
Zhen Zhen returned, chilled to the bone. She went straight to her mother's room, took 500 yuan from the dresser, packed clothes into a suitcase, shouldered her backpack, and left without looking back.
She bought a platform ticket and boarded a train. She got off after three stops, afraid her mother would catch her at Xuecheng station.
Hong Xia never imagined her daughter would run. She woke at midnight, neck stiff from the sofa, and moved to her bed until dawn.
Morning came. Hong Xia bought breakfast and set it out. She went to Zhen Zhen's door. "What time do you think it is? Aren't you getting up to eat?"
Silence. Hong Xia pushed the door open to an empty room. Worried, she called Teacher Chang.
"Zhen Zhen hasn't come to class," Teacher Chang said. "If she keeps skipping, we'll have to expel her."
Only then did the weight of yesterday crash down on Hong Xia, and panic set in.
Zhen Zhen bought a ticket to Luancheng from a small county three stops past Xuecheng. She chose Luancheng because of her childhood friend Ding Yachun. In the 1980s, Ding Yachun's parents had moved there, leaving her with her grandmother, who lived next door to Zhen Zhen. Though three years older, Ding Yachun always played with her. When her parents finally took her to Luancheng at the end of the '90s, Zhen Zhen was devastated. She'd dreamed of her often. Two years ago, when Ding Yachun returned for her grandmother's funeral, she treated Zhen Zhen to dinner and left her Luancheng address, telling her to visit. Now her mother's slaps had driven her onto this train. The landscape changed from snow to yellow earth to green fields as she made her way to Luancheng, her money nearly gone.
She found Ding Yachun's place easily enough. After knocking repeatedly, a woman in her early twenties answered, wearing pajamas and looking exhausted. She told Zhen Zhen that Ding Yachun's parents had moved to Australia, and Ding Yachun herself was at university in Shanghai since August. The house was now rented to her. Zhen Zhen felt like she'd been doused in ice water. She stood there, lost, as the woman went back inside.
The woman, Qiu Feng, gave up on sleep. She showered, dried her hair, carefully applied makeup, dressed, and headed out. Zhen Zhen was still there, huddled on the doorstep.
"You're still here?" Qiu Feng asked.
"I've got nowhere else to go."
Qiu Feng locked up, ready to leave.
"Please," Zhen Zhen begged, "you must have her contact information since you're renting her place."
"A Shanghai phone number won't help you right now."
"Please give it to me anyway."
Reluctantly, Qiu Feng wrote it down.
Zhen Zhen called from a payphone. Hearing Ding Yachun's voice, she broke down crying. After hearing what happened, Ding Yachun told her not to worry. There was a spare room where she kept her things - Zhen Zhen could stay there temporarily. "I left keys with a friend. I'll call her so you can get them."
Zhen Zhen thanked her through tears. Ding Yachun urged her to call her parents, either for them to pick her up or send money home. Zhen Zhen agreed, but had no intention of doing either. She planned to find work, save up travel money, then leave Luancheng. She had no idea where she'd go next.
Hong Xia searched frantically for days. The police had no leads. Zhen Yuliang rushed home from the construction site. Learning why Zhen Zhen left, he couldn't ignore things anymore. For the first time, he threatened divorce if they couldn't find her. They called everyone they knew, but never thought of Ding Yachun. The police asked about money. Hong Xia mentioned the stolen 500 yuan, and they assured her the girl would return when it ran out.
Ding Yachun's apartment was spacious - two bedrooms, living room, kitchen, bathroom, over a hundred square meters, nicely decorated. Zhen Zhen found her room clean and bright. Seeing the soft bed, she couldn't resist bouncing on it. After a hot shower, she crawled under the covers - her first real bed since leaving home. She was asleep instantly.
Qiu Feng had no idea Zhen Zhen had moved in. Right then, she was with a drunk middle-aged man, both singing "Two Butterflies" into microphones. Song Hongyu opened the door, noticed Qiu Feng's grace, and quickly left when the man asked who she was looking for.
Deng Ligang's gang moved south, never staying long anywhere. In Luancheng, Song Hongyu spotted Qiu Feng at a club. She was striking - light brown skin, high nose, deep-set eyes, full lips, dark eyes - almost Southeast Asian looking. Originally from Beihai, Guangxi. She dressed differently than other workers - shoulder-length hair, chunky sweater, tight jeans, brown boots. Clients found her sophisticated and specifically requested her, earning her top money. Song Hongyu watched her constantly, learning her routine.
The clients were difficult tonight, worse drunk. Qiu Feng got home at 3 AM. She headed straight to wash off the smoke and alcohol. In her robe, she slipped on the wet bathroom floor, barely catching herself on the sink. Water everywhere, short hairs scattered about. Toiletries cluttered the sink, underwear soaking in a basin. Qiu Feng froze - someone had broken in and used her bathroom. Leaving, she noticed the answering machine's blinking light. She pressed play.
Ding Yachun's voice filled the room: "Sister Qiu Feng, it's Ding Yachun. My friend Zhen Zhen is staying in my old room temporarily. Please look after her." Qiu Feng's mood darkened instantly.
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