Chapter 13: Are You Afraid of Me?

I didn’t personally witness the murderer being released from prison, nor did I know if it was due to good behavior or some other reason that allowed him to get out early. To be honest, I didn’t even know if this news was true or false. It was only that retired old policeman who told me that if the murderer got out, he might seek revenge on me, and to be careful.

So, I inferred that the murderer had been released early, that he’d shown good behavior.

What else could it be? What other reason could there be for early release?

Though my words rang with conviction, deep down I wasn’t so sure. Even as Gan Ling got her answer from me and left, I almost wanted to grab her and stress again that I didn’t know, and not to guess.

Where had she gotten the idea that the murderer had been released early, enough to come verify it with me? Why was she so sure I’d know? Were there rumors going around? Did the rumors point to me or the murderer? That incident had been diluted among countless gossipy events in Neng County over the past seven years—who would remember the details?

I knew nothing about Gan Ling.

I’d made up my mind: the next time I saw Gan Ling, I’d just lie down slowly with my eyes closed. That way, I wouldn’t give away any information.

I tore open a new face mask and applied it, but no matter how low I set the AC temperature, sweat kept pouring out of my back nonstop.

I’d made progress—I was no longer gripped by a night of fear because of Gan Ling. I fell asleep without realizing it, the mask drying on my face like a silver mask, stiffly outlining the shape of my features. When I woke up, I crumpled the mask and tossed it in the trash. Gan Ling briefly surged through my cerebral cortex before quickly sinking back down.

A moment later, she churned back up like a tidal wave in my thoughts.

Sofa, utility knife, noodle soup, black hoodie, electric bike—Gan Ling was a ghost that haunted everywhere. Whenever I looked in the mirror, I always felt like she might suddenly appear behind me at any moment, staring eerily. My throat gurgled a few times, and I spat spat to banish the thought, spitting it right into the sink. Toothpaste foam splattered on the mirror, which I wiped away viciously.

A persistent ghost.

I slammed the towel into the sink with a splat. After a while, looking at the drooping, dripping rabbit ears, I tugged them back up and rubbed them anxiously.

Li Yongquan and his girlfriend started chatting outside the parking shed. I’d deliberately parked my bike a bit farther away.

Later, I heard that Li Yongquan and his girlfriend had broken up, and he was in a bad mood.

In the afternoon at the auditorium, I saw the kids standing on stage in all sorts of outfits, singing and dancing. Li Yongquan lifted the hem of his tank top to wipe sweat, then looked toward the kids and waved his fist amiably at a little boy: “If you lift that little girl’s skirt again, I’ll beat you to death.”

Right after threatening the kid, Li Yongquan spotted me walking by with a box in my arms. He looked a bit embarrassed and took the initiative to explain, “Just messing around, didn’t mean it. I don’t hit kids.”

I nodded and said it was good, then kept walking. Unexpectedly, Li Yongquan suddenly came up behind me: “Sis, sis, let me carry that for you. I’ve got nothing else to do anyway.”

There wasn’t a trace of “bad mood” on Li Yongquan’s face. I figured he was one of those people who thrived after a breakup—his face was ruddy and beaming with joy. I couldn’t compete with him for the box, so he carried it beside me, calling me “sis” nonstop. I calmed down too, responding a couple times, and like a big sister, probed into his love life, trying my best to seem annoying.

“I heard you broke up with your girlfriend. You looked all gloomy before—do you feel relieved now?”

“Yeah, really. My girlfriend was great in every way, but she was too controlling, just like my mom. I didn’t even want to go home. I’d either go to the billiards hall or hang around the kindergarten. I was scared of her.” Li Yongquan grumbled on and on, not too loudly. With an “ouch,” he set the box down, and I started taking things out piece by piece.

“You’ve been living with your girlfriend all this time?” I asked casually.

I don’t pry into others’ private affairs. To this day, I still don’t know who Zhu Erting’s boyfriend is or what he looks like, nor what the principal’s husband looks like. I don’t ask, others don’t tell. A few polite exchanges, and they can tell my interest is fake.

But Li Yongquan was still young and inexperienced, just twenty, thinking I really cared. He immediately started counting on his fingers, telling me his love stories with past girlfriends. No matter how coldly I responded with “oh,” I couldn’t shut him up.

In the end, it was a kid who wet her pants that saved me. She got nervous while singing and cried loudly when she peed herself. I rushed onstage, picked her up, and carried her off. The kid knew to find Teacher Xiao Jiang when she wet her pants, so she stopped crying right away, clinging to my shoulder with the scent of baby formula, like an oversized infant.

Once the kid stopped crying, she started talking to me. Teacher Xiao Jiang, I get nervous when I sing, and I can’t control my bladder.

I told her: Raise your hand before going onstage, and I’ll take you to the bathroom. Even if you’re nervous onstage, you won’t pee yourself.

I’m the ever-smiling, never-angry Teacher Xiao Jiang. I don’t teach lessons—instead, I show up to sharpen pencils for everyone or hand out stickers, adding flowers to their joy with gifts and smiles. Or when things get awkward, I dash offstage. Everything can be resolved that way.

I love hearing the vibrant sounds of kids growing. When a kid doesn’t know to hide while changing out of wet pants, I drape a blanket over her. Through the fuzzy blanket, I can hear her joints growing, her cells and tissues buzzing with activity, her internal organs reacting sensitively—which is why she pees herself, can’t control her snot or tears, can’t rein in her voice. Life bursts and wriggles wildly; her little body stretches bit by bit, growing, turning into an adult.

When I was a kid, I often saw a painting on the wall: a flock of little sheep and a boy. My mom said it was the young King David, who as a mere shepherd boy could defeat the giant Goliath with a slingshot, facing the massive enemy without flinching. Everyone encouraged kids to be like King David. Later I realized kids are just kids—even the most mature ones panic and lose their footing against a giant, and adults don’t always have a solution.

When Zheng Ningning died, a bunch of kids scattered around me like startled lambs. The most level-headed ones ran behind me; the least ran and leaped from the top of the two-meter slide. In the instant I rushed forward to catch that kid, I heard a crack—the deadliest stab wound was the second knife embedded in Zheng Ningning’s neck. The murderer stood there, hands covered in blood.

I turned back. Three meters away, blood splattered right up to my feet. Zheng Ningning looked at me; I held another crying kid, and the world froze still.

From then on, I could hear the sounds of kids growing—then snap, breaking off.

I pity the kids—they have no power, don’t know how to resist the bad people in this world. Adults don’t know either.

The adult was scared half to death, nearly peeing her pants, unsure how she even shuffled to Zheng Ningning’s side. Zheng Ningning only managed to shout, “Teacher Xiao Jiang,” before the adult collapsed helplessly, grabbing the murderer’s pant leg. The murderer looked down, face to face with the adult.

The murderer slowly raised the dripping knife and pointed it at me.

Finally, I remembered I needed to subdue him. I yanked hard on his pant leg; the murderer knelt to the ground without a struggle. His blood-smeared face suddenly split into a drunken grin.

“Are you afraid? Are you afraid of me?” Blood seeped from the murderer’s teeth; his smile was a grid of crimson lines.

I was terrified.

Adults get scared too.

Adults remember that smiling face.

Just thinking about it sends chills down the spine.

I had no doubt that if Gan Ling fished that bloodied needle out of the ocean and placed it in front of me, I’d tremble uncontrollably.