Chapter 15

The murderer was the one I let into the kindergarten.

During the children’s rehearsal at Plum Kindergarten, the main gate was left open to the outside. It was already dismissal time anyway—kids not in the rehearsal were being picked up by their parents one after another, and it was inconvenient to keep opening and closing the door, so it was simply left open.

Moreover, our gate faced a narrow alley with no cars coming and going. Even if a child ran out a few steps, it wouldn’t be a big deal. Besides, the kids I was watching were all very well-behaved and didn’t run off, so no one saw anything wrong with leaving the door open.

Instead, parents on bikes at the entrance could just glance over, and their child would come flying toward them, shouting a quick “Bye, Teacher!” before leaving.

The murderer walked right in through the main gate, bold as brass. At the time, I was the only teacher in the courtyard.

I failed to stop him. I just followed routine and asked, “Whose parent are you?” as I walked toward him. His determination to kill was swift and ruthless—he ignored me completely, muttered something under his breath, and pulled a knife from the loose pocket of his pants.

I’m thinking now, if only I’d had the sudden idea to close the door that day—making parents crane their necks through the bars like prison visitors to call their kids’ names, or if I’d been surprised to see a dad picking up his child and run over to ask a bunch of questions—I lacked vigilance. In Neng County, it was already a lot if even one dad came to pick up his kid once a month. I didn’t notice anything unusual at all.

Zheng Ningning’s death—I bear undeniable blame for it.

In every way, I didn’t do a single thing right back then.

Gan Ling’s face was expressionless, her gaze fixed on my face, still that indifferent stare.

“Teacher Xiao Jiang… I have no right to sentence you.” Gan Ling’s lips moved, whispering like it was to herself, as she flipped open a new photo album. “Take another look.”

“I’m not looking.” I turned and grabbed my keys and phone, changed my shoes, and headed out. “I’m hungry.”

Without checking how Gan Ling was standing there, I dashed to the elevator. Her footsteps sounded behind me as she followed me in.

After a moment, Gan Ling silently pressed the button for the first floor. The elevator, this big box, carried us slowly downward. Gan Ling said, “I’ll treat you to a meal.”

I shot her a sideways glance.

This woman who ate my leftover pickled veggies, drank my untouched noodle soup, slept sprawled on the main road, and waited for me to open the door to turn her phone on to save battery—now she’d bought a new phone and wanted to treat me to dinner?

“Forget it.”

“I’m not a beggar.” Gan Ling stayed right behind me, using her height and longer legs to keep pace effortlessly, then suddenly grabbed my collar. The fabric tightened around my throat—this old trick again—and I finally stopped.

“I can’t say, Gan Ling. Stop following me. Who the murderer is doesn’t matter—he’s already in prison, the law has punished him. You took all those photos of men, I don’t recognize him. You won’t find him this way. Even if I cooperate, you won’t find him! Just drop it!”

Any hint of vulnerability about treating me to dinner vanished from Gan Ling’s face, weathering back into cold hardness. We stood side by side at the entrance of the building block, her messy hair flying wildly—that tangle of graying, withered grass tied back with a black rubber band. If it came loose, it would just reach her shoulders. Her face had few wrinkles, but she had a pair of strikingly bright phoenix eyes, always burning with anger, her lips pursed, cheeks sunken from thinness.

“Teacher Xiao Jiang,” Gan Ling’s voice grew even lower as she slowly placed her hand on my shoulder and patted it lightly. “I won’t drop it. I’ll come find you again.”

No threat this time—just calmly stating a fact. A stalker who could barge into my home to harass me anytime, saying it with such righteous conviction, backed by some brute strength. My door had lost twenty years of its life from her knocking. She was like a hyena, latching onto a blurry corpse and refusing to let go, her teeth sunk deep into a secret I couldn’t speak of, determined to dig the truth out from my heart, liver, and lungs.

Gan Ling failed to treat me to dinner, but later I ended up treating her. I bought her noodles with marinated eggs and cilantro. We sat face-to-face, neither starting first. Finally, Gan Ling said, “Teacher Xiao Jiang, eat.”

We both picked up our chopsticks and ate in silence, not a word spoken. I passed her the vinegar bottle; she poured some over the pickled veggies. Midway through, Gan Ling’s phone lit up—I saw someone had sent her a WeChat message. She glanced at it and kept eating, but her speed picked up noticeably. When only broth was left in her bowl, she splashed in a spoonful of noodle soup, then picked up her phone to reply.

I gripped my chopsticks, my curiosity about the secret plain as day. After Gan Ling sent her reply, she blew on the cilantro floating in the soup. Seeing me still staring, she said flatly, “Someone died.”

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. Gan Ling added, “I’m going to wail at the funeral. Good gig.”

“You’re making a living off that?”

“I wasn’t at Ningning’s funeral.” Gan Ling lifted her bowl and slowly sipped the noodle soup.

In my bowl, the noodles were chewy strand by strand, jumbled messily and wrapped in meat broth, topped with cilantro and green onions, the soy-colored base giving off a rich aroma.

I dipped in my chopsticks but couldn’t bring them up for the longest time.

“Why? Why weren’t you there?”

I laid my chopsticks flat across the bowl. Gan Ling didn’t answer, just reached over, took my chopsticks, and stuck them back into the noodles.

“Eat, Teacher Xiao Jiang. It has nothing to do with you.”

But I wasn’t letting Gan Ling off the hook. I picked out the cilantro and green onions to the side with my chopsticks and speared the egg on them. “The child died seven years ago, and you only just found out… Did you remarry into a new family and never check in again?”

Gan Ling just kept slurping her soup, her throat making gurgling sounds, impassively letting me finish my questions. She set down her empty bowl neatly, placed her chopsticks straight, stood up, patted my shoulder, and said, “I’m off.”

The noodle shop buzzed with voices. As soon as Gan Ling left, freeing up the seat, a burly guy plopped down across from me, ordering a big bowl of noodles with tofu puffs, egg, and sausage, plus a plate of pickled veggies. He lifted his arm for the vinegar and poured it in generously.

I paid the bill and left the steamy noodle shop. The night breeze chilled my body a bit.

Arms hugged around myself, I walked a few steps down the main road, past the alley into Jiaxing Residential Area, kept going—past the delivery station, the vet clinic, the auto repair shop—finally stopping, then doubling back. Past the seafood shop, the sundries store, the snack stall. I paced the whole street back and forth before calming down.

Turning around, I found Gan Ling had somehow ended up walking behind me. In her hoodie, she didn’t look cold at all. About ten steps away, not too close or far. When I stopped, she did too, nodding her chin toward the three buildings of Jiaxing Residential Area.

“Do you go take photos at night too?” I asked.

Gan Ling just pointed at Jiaxing Residential Area, her tone firm: “Go back.”

“What for? I’ll sleep on the street too. Mind your own business.”

“Drunks around.” Gan Ling said.

Of course I knew about the drunks. I also knew they pissed everywhere—the wall behind Jiaxing Residential Area was splattered with their urine stains, layer upon layer. If a man started belting out songs at midnight, it was no surprise someone was wasted. Neng County had its own liquor brand; every sundries shop had a massive vat of it. Drunks staggered through the nights, bottles in hand—no one let their daughters or wives go out after dark.

“Mind your own business.”

“I didn’t sleep on the sofa that night.”

I didn’t know what to say and had no choice but to head back to Jiaxing Residential Area. Through the door, Gan Ling finally turned and left. I stood there like a rebellious teen ordered by her parents not to go out after 9:30.