Chapter 25: “Pandemonium – P” Part 1

The woman didn’t care what pattern went on her face, so she left the decision entirely up to Fu Tingli.

Fu Tingli flipped through the options carefully and finally chose a clown for the woman and a little fox for herself.

The face paints at this stall weren’t overly exaggerated; they followed a style that blended with the contours of the face.

Fu Tingli finished hers first. She rubbed at the colors on her cheeks and found they didn’t smudge. She thought the quality was better than she’d expected.

Glancing at her reflection in the mirror, she admired the sultry, vibrant upper half of her face before setting the mirror down with satisfaction. She gave the busy stall owner a thumbs-up.

Propping her head on her hand, she watched lazily as the woman beside her had color added to her face.

The woman had her eyes closed, waiting for the stall owner to paint the eye area. Her thick lashes resembled vines from another world.

Fu Tingli watched for a while, unable to get enough of the sight. But when the woman’s lashes fluttered, as if she were about to open her eyes, Fu Tingli abruptly looked away.

Her attention was caught by two people at a nearby stall.

They looked familiar. She narrowed her eyes and realized they were that lovey-dovey couple they’d run into before. Both had changed clothes, but they were still the leather-jacket woman and the hoodie girl.

The motorcycle was gone, probably parked somewhere. The two held hands, munching on snacks as they strolled by, not too close but not too far from their stall.

Fu Tingli overheard their high-spirited chatter mixed in with the surrounding music, making it hard to catch every word.

But she could vaguely hear them ignoring onlookers’ stares—sometimes one walking forward while the other backed up, or vice versa—shouting each other’s names even more boisterously amid the lively street.

It turned out the leather-jacket woman was named Amanda, and the hoodie girl was Zhu Muzi.

Fu Tingli listened for a few moments, completely captivated, her eyes curving into smiles. She was about to wave and say hi to the couple when a voice came from right beside her.

“All done.”

In the blink of an eye, the pair was gone.

She looked around but couldn’t spot them, so her gaze turned regretfully to the woman next to her.

She’d been a bit lost in thought, bummed about not getting to chat more with that couple. But with that face suddenly right in front of her, she couldn’t look away.

The woman’s features combined bold and subtle tones—strong bone structure softened by gentle contours.

Right now, her left eye socket bore an upright cross star, her right eye corner was dotted with black patterns, a white Band-Aid below, and the tip of her nose sported a perfectly shaded red smudge.

Fu Tingli stared at the designs. The more she looked, the more those hazy, lush lines seemed to expand endlessly in her vision.

Like some mysterious red flame, slowly burning, exuding an intense yet detached aura.

Even the light and shadows seemed drawn into this person.

Her gaze drifted down to the woman’s strikingly alluring lips. She saw them part slightly under the play of light and shadow, as if smiling.

Then the woman reached over and gently patted the back of her head—a habit they’d developed.

“What are you thinking about?”

Fu Tingli snapped back, her eyes meeting the woman’s once more. She smiled and said,

“Beautiful.”

The woman rested her chin lightly on her hand, her gaze a bit distracted. But it lingered on Fu Tingli’s face for a moment before she asked,

“Is it me that’s beautiful, or the patterns?”

Fu Tingli paid the bill, flashed a grin, and delivered the flattering line with utter sincerity.

“Nothing’s beautiful except you.”

She felt like she was telling the truth. At least in that moment, she believed it.

The woman tilted her chin up slightly, seemingly pleased by the words. She looked at Fu Tingli for a bit longer, then said,

“Take a photo of me.”

It was the woman’s usual request. Even yesterday, with her nose buried in Fu Tingli’s collarbone, she’d said the same thing.

After a full two days and nights, Fu Tingli was no longer surprised by “Take a photo of me.”

She raised her phone. The woman didn’t strike a pose, just sat calmly amid the complex lights and shadows, letting the lens focus or blur, letting the shots turn out good or bad.

Sometimes, Fu Tingli thought the woman asked for photos not to keep them, and she sought compliments on her looks not for the words themselves.

She couldn’t figure out what this woman wanted or didn’t want, why she’d stopped her car in the first place, why she was tagging along to Nicole’s exhibit now, or why she was joining her on this journey.

This woman was too novel, too fresh to her.

But Fu Tingli understood that people weren’t all the same—not everyone needed a reason for everything they did. Rather than questioning why, she preferred to embrace what she witnessed firsthand.

She just went with the habit, indulged without restraint, and savored the novelty.

The camera captured the woman shrouded in light and shadow. Fu Tingli reached one conclusion:

This woman was actually her ideal travel companion—even in that department, they clicked instantly.

Too bad it was a one-time journey only.

On some level, though, precisely because it was limited to once, it made the trip all the more intense and unique.

“All set.” She shoved aside her jumbled thoughts, lowered the phone, and said, “Want to see?”

“No need.” The woman stood from the stall. “Don’t hold up the owner’s business.”

Fu Tingli knew the woman wasn’t interested in the photos. She’d never met anyone so indifferent to their own image. But for someone like that, what could make her say something like “I’d die without it after three days”?

Fu Tingli believed that even if losing this necklace wouldn’t literally shatter the heavens after three days, it was still extraordinarily important to the woman.

On impulse, she reached for the necklace in her pocket to examine it, but she stopped herself short.

Because as the woman rose, she casually grabbed the Buzz Lightyear balloon they’d picked out. She held it firmly, unbothered by the glances from passersby.

Buzz Lightyear’s purple head bobbed high in the sky, just as the stall owner had said—it could really soar.

The woman looked at her, Band-Aid still on her face, and asked, “You hold it, or should I?”

Fine, better not break the game rules.

Fu Tingli curled her fingers back, reining in her curiosity at the last second. She stood up with the woman. After one step, she halted abruptly, remembering something.

“What is it?” The woman turned back, the Buzz Lightyear balloon in her hand spinning comically.

“I think… I just saw Nicole.” Fu Tingli wrinkled her nose, unsure.

She pulled out her phone, opened the camera, and checked the direction she’d photographed earlier. Sure enough, in a quiet alley hidden from the bustle, there was someone who really looked like Nicole.

She zoomed in. Once the image sharpened, her eyes widened.

It was definitely Nicole—but she wasn’t alone.

Several gaunt blond men surrounded Nicole, their arms covered in blurry patches of blue—tattoos, or maybe bruises from a recent fight.

Even from this distance, through the fuzzy video, Fu Tingli could see the black-T-shirted men slouching around, talking crudely to Nicole.

Nicole seemed to try slipping away, but the men blocked her. As she zoomed further, the view grew blurrier and shakier.

But faintly, Fu Tingli saw one of the blond men shove Nicole.

She pocketed her phone, grabbed her bag, and bolted that way. “Something’s wrong.”

“Hm?” The woman frowned too and hurried after her with quick strides.

The alley visible through the phone lens vanished once she put the phone away, swallowed up by the town’s clamor and lights despite being so close.

Fu Tingli felt a surge of panic. In recent years, Down syndrome children had become more visible, with anti-discrimination voices growing louder. They could walk openly on the streets and receive plenty of goodwill and smiles.

Nicole was always sharper than most kids with Down syndrome, so her insistence on going out without a guardian this time—to prove herself as a “real model” not to be underestimated—had probably reassured her parents.

But Fu Tingli never imagined something like this happening the day before the exhibit.

Her steps grew erratic.

The woman beside her stayed calm, holding the balloon in one hand while guiding her through the thronging crowd toward the alley.

She hadn’t walked far when she spotted a dim alley amid the dense crowd of bobbing heads. The entrance was too shadowy to make out any figures clearly, just a few wavering silhouettes.

Fu Tingli didn’t dare let her guard down and quickened her pace. Before she even reached it, harsh jeers and profanity drifted out from within, punctuated by the occasional “cunt.”

Then came the sounds of shoving and cursing, along with several sharp female voices that sounded vaguely familiar. Fu Tingli didn’t have time to figure out who they belonged to.

Her foot had just touched down at the alley’s mouth.

When she saw a man inside raise his hand and slap one of them across the face. The young woman standing next to the slapped girl lunged forward and kicked him, her voice shrill with fury.

“You fucking asshole!”

Was that Zhu Muzi’s voice? Then the one who’d been slapped must be Amanda. How had they all ended up together like this?

Fu Tingli didn’t have time to think. She charged straight in and shoved the man who’d slapped her hard away. He hadn’t noticed her coming from behind and stumbled back against the wall.

A dense cluster of shadows surrounded them. She pushed her way through and finally saw Nicole shielded in the middle, along with Amanda and Zhu Muzi protecting her in front.

The alley was dim, and with Nicole’s head bowed, Fu Tingli couldn’t quite make out her expression. Amanda’s cheek was flushed red, still reeling from the slap. Zhu Muzi looked furious, her face beet red as Amanda held her back by the arm, as if she might roll up her sleeves and throw down any second.

“Are you guys okay?”

Fu Tingli asked. Before anyone could answer, she whipped her head back warily. A gust of wind brushed her nape, and she sensed something wrong, dodging to the side just in time.

The man who’d tried to kick her missed and crashed hard to the ground with a pained yell. His face twisted in rage as he rolled once, struggling to get up right away.

Fu Tingli let out a breath of relief.

She looked up and spotted the woman who’d been tailing her all along. She had a face mask yanked from who-knows-where clutched over her face, leaving only her eyes visible.

The woman had just kicked the man who’d gone for Fu Tingli squarely to the ground. Even after the kick, she didn’t seem calmed down.

The sole of her brown Martin boot scraped the pavement a few times, as if she were itching for another go.

But seeing no injuries on Fu Tingli’s face, she pivoted instead, seizing the moment while the scrawny men were still caught off guard. With her vantage point, she planted a solid kick on each of their asses.

Zhu Muzi was the first to snap to action. She roared as she stomped several more times on the leg of the man who’d slapped Amanda.

“Payback’s done! We can’t take ’em! Run!”

With that, she decisively grabbed Amanda and Nicole behind her, slung her wobbly guitar case over her shoulder, and bolted out with a mighty clamor, kicking off the chase.