The great edifice of my life was about to collapse, but I steadied it with the posture of an adult, propping up my existence on my shoulders. Swallowing the secret of Zheng Chenggang’s release from prison, I panted all the way home after running four kilometers to eat breakfast. I heated up a bit of braised pork that Boss Lv had sent over yesterday, made some pancakes, rolled them up with cucumber strips and lettuce, and ate them together. I posted on my Moments, watching my appetite grow. Just as I finished eating, Gan Ling gave it a like.
I stared at Gan Ling’s silly wolf-head avatar, my heart filled with hatred for Zheng Chenggang’s existence.
How much effort does it take to maintain normal order? Yet to destroy it, all it takes is one thing, and everyone around you topples, collapses—life becomes a total mess. You have to painstakingly gather your own building materials to rebuild your home.
I’d finally rebuilt part of my order, but the destroyer had returned. He didn’t even need to show his face to stir up massive waves.
Carrying this secret, my pregnancy symptoms restarted—nausea, dizziness. Gan Ling said she wanted to come find me. I pressed down on my phone, pretending to be nonchalant as I thought for a moment, then replied that I was super busy job hunting lately and told her not to come.
It was a bit cold and harsh, shutting Gan Ling out, but I wasn’t lying—I really was job hunting.
But job opportunities in a small county town like this are scarce, especially for someone like me without any education. All that’s left for me are things like sales clerk, salesperson, kitchen hand, waitress, cleaner. I’m pretty introverted too. After picking around for three or five days, I settled on being a waitress at a newly opened grilled fish restaurant—2,000 yuan a month plus drink commissions. Work from 7 a.m. to 11 p.m., with a break from 2:30 to 4:30 p.m. Mornings aren’t too busy, evenings are the peak.
When Zhu Erting heard about the hours, she sighed deeply and asked why I didn’t go to the maternity center run by Principal Zhao’s friend in the city, learn some skills—maybe become a postpartum caregiver. With my natural affinity for kids, if not Beijing, Shanghai, or Guangzhou, then Hangzhou, Shenzhen, Chengdu, or Changsha would be great too. Monthly salary of seven or eight thousand take-home, how cushy! I had to come clean with her: right now, I still had to stay in Neng County. Just like Zhu Erting, who’d gone to university, had come back to Neng County—not everyone dreams of the big city.
I’d said half of it to Zhu Erting, but swallowed the rest. Zheng Chenggang’s matter still lingered in my heart; I wasn’t ready to leave Neng County yet. It felt like playing a game and running maps—if I didn’t complete all the tasks on this map, I couldn’t unlock the entrance to the next one.
I almost felt like I was borderline masochistic, yearning for something while rejecting it. Gan Ling’s messages—even when I saw them, I’d pretend I hadn’t. Late at night, when it was quiet, I’d hurriedly send an emoji, pretending I’d just seen it: “I really want to chat with you but I gotta wash up and sleep, busy tomorrow…” Just like that, Gan Ling’s messages gradually dwindled, back to how they were before.
Zheng Chenggang.
I wrote the man’s name on paper, circled it. Next to it, Zheng Ningning, circled again. Drew a line to Gan Ling in the corner, then wrote Jiang Xiaohui’s three characters even further in the corner. Staring at this family of three, isolated and alone, I suddenly thought of someone.
Shen Liu.
Gan Ling had learned from Shen Liu that Zheng Chenggang hadn’t flipped off the highway and died. She’d even gone to the lamb scorpion shop. Other places, I had no idea—Zheng Chenggang was out of prison. He couldn’t survive independently in this world; he must have some contact, more or less, with people he knew before.
I wanted to know where Zheng Chenggang was living now, mark his location highlighted on Neng County’s few streets, make Gan Ling’s movements like going up to the second floor, missing Zheng Chenggang entirely.
I’d made up my mind: I wouldn’t let Gan Ling know about Zheng Chenggang’s release.
This wasn’t me protecting a murderer, nor reverence for the rule of law. It wasn’t even Jiang Xiaohui being timid and afraid of life’s changes—it was simply continuing that police officer’s will, begging for Gan Ling’s freedom.
I’d rather she never was Zheng Chenggang’s wife, Zheng Ningning’s mother. I hoped Zheng Chenggang would return to his mother’s womb with his sins; that Zheng Ningning would reset her clock that came to the world too early, reborn in ten years to a family properly prepared. I wanted to sharpen an axe that could sever karmic ties, swing it at Gan Ling’s back, make all those unwanted bonds scatter like spider silk.
Including the one tying me to her—it was gradually clarifying before my eyes, but I still couldn’t make out its shape.
I fantasized Zheng Ningning wasn’t Gan Ling’s daughter. Then I could carry my guilt through life without owing Gan Ling anything.
On the notebook, I’d circled Shen Liu’s name twice.
When I jogged past Shen Liu’s shack, the aluminum alloy panels refracted glass-like glints in the morning sun. I peered in—Shen Liu wasn’t at work yet. No one gets up at six a.m. to fix shoes, after all.
At three in the afternoon break, the autumn tiger was still ferocious. The few people in the shop had pulled down the wiped-clean chairs, tilting their heads and chatting. The ceiling fan whirred and creaked. I wiped tables, folded cloths, took off my jacket.
There was a young girl two months senior to me in tenure, just over twenty. I hadn’t memorized her name yet. Relying on being a bit older, and all of us being waitstaff, I hadn’t mingled much.
“Sister Jiang, heading out? Bring me back a little pudding! I’ll transfer you when I get back.”
I thought about it—she didn’t even have my WeChat. I didn’t really want to add her one-on-one either. A sudden idea hit me: “I can’t remember… come on, let’s make a group face-to-face. Whoever wants something, join the group, post what you want in there. I’ll collect payments in one group, easy.”
Perfect, our grilled fish shop didn’t have a group yet. I said, “0522, everyone join the group.”
“Is 0522 your birthday?” someone asked.
“Just random. Hurry and join, anyone else not in?” Suddenly I was acting like a social pro, ushering everyone in like a greeter. While calling them, I headed out. They all posted what ice cream they wanted, and several friend requests popped up. I pretended not to see them.
I went straight to Shen Liu’s repair stall. The guy’s whereabouts are unpredictable, lives it up—sometimes takes his wife traveling. Some folks get sour about it, muttering how a dwarf lives so freely, pursing lips like people born with hardship ought to be bitter and vengeful every day, practicing acrobatics under the blazing sun with his wife till blisters form on their feet.
Walking there, I started feeling like those people, hoping Shen Liu hadn’t gone off enjoying himself. Anxiously, I reached the aluminum shack and heard Guo Degang’s crosstalk playing inside.
I’d prepared my excuse beforehand. Couldn’t just outright ask about Zheng Chenggang—if Gan Ling found out, it’d be admitting guilt. Couldn’t suddenly cozy up to Shen Liu either—that was beyond my skills, would just backfire.
I’m no detective expert, no interrogation tricks. Just prepped a few possible topics. Sun-dazzled and dizzy, I could only shade my eyes and peek in, then pulled out my house key.
“Duplicate a key.”
“Fifteen bucks.”
“Ten, it was ten before.” This was my rehearsed haggle, or I’d have meekly paid fifteen.
Shen Liu suddenly poked his head out the small window, paused the crosstalk on his phone. His stubby fingers were surprisingly nimble, fiddling with my key and eyeing it. Undeniable: “Thirteen bucks.”
“Fine, thirteen it is.”
Shen Liu started rummaging for a similar-sized key, meticulously matching it to the mold. I pretended to casually scroll contacts, muttering, “Gan Ling… Gan Ling…”
Sure enough, Shen Liu perked up his ears, slowed his hands—but still clattered through other keys, comparing shapes. Finally found a match, slotted it into the mold, grabbed his tools.
I flipped through my sparse contacts several times, acting like I was searching through hundreds or thousands of friends before finding her. Tapped it open, glanced at Shen Liu, deliberately turned off silent mode so he’d hear me typing, then delete with a clatter. Raised it to my lips and sent a voice message: “You coming over this week?”
Last chat with Gan Ling was three days ago. She’d replied to my emoji with goodnight.
After a bit, Gan Ling sent a voice back—perfect, saved me mumbling to myself. I quietly turned up the volume, played it. Gan Ling said: Saturday this week? Aren’t you busy?
Then a little video. I played it: Gan Ling holding her phone, filming freshly delivered seafood still wriggling in the box. “Want shrimp? I remember you have half a bag of tomato hotpot base in your fridge.”
I voice messaged back: “I used that half bag for veggies. I’ll buy some more.”
Gan Ling typed: Then no shrimp, this batch isn’t great. Don’t look at your phone on the street.
I replayed my voice—background had car horns. Gan Ling wasn’t in a noisy supermarket? How’d she hear that clearly! Forgot I was duplicating a key for a sec, hammered out a message to cover for her sharp ears. Halfway typing, Shen Liu started grinding away with his little tool. Soon he grunted: “Hey, hey, key’s done.”
My message went out too.
Jiang Huixiang: Come Saturday night, I’ll line up a movie ahead of time. What genre you want?
Jiang Huixiang: Your ears are sharp! You caught that? Don’t play out loud too much, my voice isn’t pretty.
Gan Ling replied irrelevantly: “I’ll grab some scraps of braised beef to make curry when I get back.”
Jiang Huixiang: “Okay.”
Shen Liu was already holding the keys, leaning forward with a drawn-out sigh for ages, then straight-up climbed onto the stool to poke my shoulder. His mask was worn especially sloppily. I took the keys and held up my phone to scan the code.
“Fifteen yuan, right?”
I heard Shen Liu let out a heavy sigh, like he was venting frustration: “Ten yuan!”
“Ai.” I’d already forgotten I’d haggled, and happily scanned the ten yuan. Shen Liu propped himself up on his elbow: “I just heard you mention Gan Ling—is that the Gan Ling?”
“Which one?”
I hadn’t expected it to go so smoothly. It was like once you make up your mind to do something, everything just flows effortlessly toward the goal.
“You know, that woman who used to live at the shantytown end—around thirty, pretty tall, kinda rustic.”
I hadn’t expected Shen Liu to use a word like “rustic” to describe Gan Ling either, even after she’d been in Neng County for so long. To the locals, she was still this total misfit from out of town.
“Yeah, that’s her—the one whose man is surnamed Zheng. Their family elders live over there, picking through trash.”
I pretended to have only a casual connection to Gan Ling, tossing out a few descriptors to sum her up—none of them actually about her—but they pinpointed her perfectly for Shen Liu.
“Yeah, I know her too.”
A look of pride spread across Shen Liu’s face, like Gan Ling was some big shot that made him look good by association.
When it came to Gan Ling, I suddenly turned chatty: “Yeah, I know her man too. Didn’t he go to jail?”
I took a bold shot, and Shen Liu slapped the table with a grin: “Your info’s way outdated.”
“What do you mean?”
A bad feeling surged in my chest.
“You don’t know?”
“I really don’t.”
Shen Liu teased me, and I was burning with anxiety—my face gave me away instantly. Shen Liu made up his mind in a flash and retreated to his little desk: “Then guess! I don’t know either.”
“Tell me.” I practically thrust my upper body through the window.
“Don’t know, don’t know. Why do you need to know this? Take the keys and scram.” Shen Liu slammed his little window shut with a click. From the crack came Yu Qian’er’s voice, followed by audience laughter. Shen Liu sank down, hiding under his workbench. I couldn’t see him anymore—just the fan shaking its head and spinning nonstop.
