Chapter 19: Me and Lu Jinshi

In the eyes of Lu Jinshi’s parents, he and I were a match made in heaven, a perfect pair. He’d pick up food with chopsticks while I peeled shrimp for him; he’d wash the pots while I wiped the bowls; he’d pull up his pants while I tied the belt. One was a kindergarten teacher who didn’t fight or scheme, without talent or ambition; the other was a strong, decisive businessman with talent and ability. With the man handling affairs outside and the woman managing things inside, we formed a picture of a harmonious and happy family.

When we started talking about marriage, Lu Jinshi’s mom slipped a heirloom jade bracelet onto my wrist and earnestly advised me. I’d lost my dad, so Lu Jinshi’s dad would be mine; I’d lost my mom, so she’d be my mother—and she’d treat me ten times better than she did her own son. All her jewelry would go to me; her cooking skills would be passed down to daughters, not sons; she’d teach me everything about embroidery, tailoring, sewing, and housework without holding back. If Lu Jinshi and I ever had conflicts, she’d unconditionally stand in front of me and scold her son for being wrong. Once I had a child, boy or girl, she’d take meticulous care of them. For my postpartum recovery, she’d draw up a comprehensive care plan considering nutrition, psychology, and physiology, ensuring that even if I gained up to eighty jin during pregnancy, I’d be back under one hundred jin right after confinement.

I still felt a mix of guilt and gratitude toward Lu Jinshi’s family to this day.

So when Gan Ling said she absolutely had to go harass Lu Jinshi, it was like the sky was falling in the northwest and the earth was caving in the southeast—I was at a complete loss for a moment. I dragged Lu Jinshi out from my WeChat contacts, racking my brain on what to say to him.

We hadn’t been in touch for six years. As his ex, starting a chat out of the blue with “How are you?” might spark wild thoughts if his wife saw it, disturbing their happy family life. I didn’t want to cause trouble for Lu Jinshi.

Moreover, this matter was connected to the kindergarten murder case from seven years ago—the very reason Lu Jinshi and I had broken up.

The direct cause was that Lu Jinshi noticed my mental state wasn’t normal and advised me to leave the kindergarten to avoid seeing the crime scene every day and deepening my psychological trauma. But Jiang Xiaohui, who had always obeyed him unquestioningly, suddenly threw a tantrum like a stubborn donkey and insisted on sticking it out at the kindergarten.

If Lu Jinshi had just watched from the sidelines, it might’ve been fine, but he was my boyfriend and took eighty percent of the damage from my breakdowns. I’d suddenly sit up in the middle of the night, get startled by loud noises and tremble all over, or burst into tears at night. In the end, I drove him to a mental breakdown. Finally, my conscience kicked in—I didn’t want to ruin his life plan of having two kids before thirty—so I suggested breaking up.

My encounter with Lu Jinshi had been at a fork in the road of my life. After my parents died, I was wandering lost when I met Lu Jinshi, who became my safe harbor. Later, when I encountered the storm, the harbor couldn’t hold me, and I drifted away. From then on, our paths diverged. I had my story, and Lu Jinshi had his. They were two lines that should never intersect again, but Gan Ling showed up and insisted on reconnecting them.

In the photo Gan Ling had, Lu Jinshi was coming out of a hotpot restaurant near his home—I didn’t know the exact location. If Gan Ling was determined, she’d find him quickly; in a small county town, no one’s address was a secret.

Lu Jinshi was three years older than me, exactly thirty this year. Because of his business, his WeChat name was Lu Jinshi plus his phone number. His profile picture was a selfie—he had a bit of a photography hobby, and it wasn’t bad. His hair was buzzed clean, revealing bluish scalp; he wore a Li-Ning athletic T-shirt and black shorts, black anti-UV arm sleeves on his arms, a string of sandalwood beads on his wrist, hands in his pockets, head slightly lowered, leaning against a black-and-white striped wall.

I anxiously rubbed the phone screen and opened Lu Jinshi’s Moments, trying to start a conversation through his son and daughter.

Lu Jinshi first had a daughter, then a son. The daughter was at a full-time kindergarten in the city, while the son still wore diapers, his soft hair plastered to his scalp, mouth wide open revealing a baby tooth.

His latest Moment was a photo of his son in a crib, round eyes cutely staring at the camera.

Posted twenty minutes ago.

I thought it over and couldn’t figure out how to break the ice. But I was really afraid Gan Ling would move too fast and show up at his door before I could react. In a rash moment, I went straight in: “How old is your son?”

A minute later, Lu Jinshi replied: ?

I thought, it’s really over. My fingers flew across the keyboard, planning to briefly explain the Gan Ling situation.

Lu Jinshi replied fast, tossing over an emoji.

A black guy pressing his temples in shock, saying “Oh my god.”

I was still typing when I saw Lu Jinshi typing…

Lu Jinshi: 5 months old, nicknamed Doudou. Cute, right?

I could only cut what I was typing, paste it into a memo, and reply in the chat: Cute.

Lu Jinshi: Why did you suddenly contact me?

As expected from an efficient businessman like Lu Jinshi—he cut straight to the chase, saving me a lot of worry.

I went back to the memo, copied the content, and pasted:

“Here’s the thing—do you remember the Plum Kindergarten incident seven years ago? The mother of the dead child suddenly found me and demanded to know who the killer was. I thought the killer was already in jail, so there was no point in her seeking revenge, and I didn’t tell her. She found out we knew each other seven years ago and wants to find you for clues about the killer.”

Lu Jinshi: Fine, let her come find me.

No way—that was a misunderstanding; he thought I was trying to throw the blame his way.

Jiang Huixiang: No, you don’t know the situation. This mother is crazy; she’ll find you by any means, maybe using some shady methods. I don’t really want her knowing about the killer.

Lu Jinshi: Didn’t the killer go to jail? Let her find me if she wants.

Jiang Huixiang: No, apparently… I heard… maybe he got out early? I don’t know.

Lu Jinshi: Oh, that makes sense. If someone killed my daughter, even if he got out of jail, I’d still want to kill him. Pretty reasonable—come on, I don’t know much anyway.

Jiang Huixiang: …

Lu Jinshi: I feel like I don’t get what you mean.

I’d deleted our chat history from six years ago. Now, Lu Jinshi and I were chatting in a blank window that quickly filled two screens. I didn’t know how to reply—the explanation was too complicated, or actually not, but I couldn’t sort my thoughts and was also cautiously maintaining boundaries with Lu Jinshi.

After a while, Lu Jinshi messaged again: “How about this—you free? I’m not too busy either. When do you have time? Let’s grab dinner, and you can explain in detail.”

Better to handle it sooner than later. I said tonight work? Lu Jinshi said yes and sent a location pin for a Sichuan restaurant.

Lu Jinshi: Their mapo tofu is especially good.

I felt a bit dazed, like we were back seven years ago, before the tragedy, when Lu Jinshi and I happily dreamed of marriage. He’d pick me up from work in his car. He couldn’t smoke around the kindergarten, so he’d suck on a lollipop. I’d buckle my seatbelt, and he’d tease me every time for being overly serious about safety, like a kid buckling a schoolbag for the first time. The car would slowly start, and only then would I ask where we were going today. Lu Jinshi would say, “Wherever, their this or that is especially good—you’ll love it.”

I paused for a bit, then Lu Jinshi added: Friend owns it—the douban sauce is carried over from Sichuan by people on their backs, super authentic taste.

Jiang Huixiang: Sounds great.

Jiang Huixiang: I’m the one bothering you this time, so I’ll treat—consider it supporting your friend’s business.

Lu Jinshi: You’re being too polite. You come, how could he not comp you?

Followed by several laughing emojis.

Why should Lu Jinshi’s friend comp me? Before, I could’ve been the “sister-in-law” or “little sis,” but what was I now?

Refusing on WeChat would just lead to Lu Jinshi arguing over who pays—he was competitive like that, and I couldn’t win against him.

I’d just have to haggle it out in person and pay quick and decisively.

That evening, I biked to the Sichuan restaurant. The red sign simply read “Sichuan Dishes and Snacks.” There were four or five tables inside—not big, and the aroma of butter hotpot wafted from within.

Lu Jinshi had arrived early, sitting at a table with an open beer, slowly peeling edamame. The counter behind had a cabinet full of baijiu; the boss, his friend, was leaning on the counter chatting with him.

I went in, and the boss came out, slapping the menu on the table: “No menu item we can’t make—order whatever.”

Big talk. I didn’t stare at the boss long, afraid of misunderstandings, just glanced at Lu Jinshi. Apart from changing T-shirts, he looked just like his profile pic. I lowered my head to the menu.

Mapo tofu, spicy chicken dices, and stir-fried oilseed rape.

The boss headed to the back kitchen. Lu Jinshi and I looked at each other. He touched the sandalwood beads on his wrist, saw I didn’t know how to start, and smoothly took the lead: “You seem pretty troubled. Tell me more about that mother.”

His directness eased some of my pressure.

“It’s like this—do you still remember Zheng Ningning?”

Lu Jinshi nodded, and I said: “I always thought Zheng Ningning’s mother had passed away, but later I realized it was a misunderstanding. Her mom, uh, named Gan Ling, came back from out of town. After hearing that the murderer might get out of prison early, she lost control of her emotions and wanted to track down that murderer for revenge. It had already been seven years, her family didn’t have many relatives or friends left, and the main cop handling the case back then had retired. She searched high and low and somehow ended up finding me. She kept pressing me for the murderer’s features, looks, name—anything she could get out of me. But I wouldn’t say a word, and she hounded me for days…”

“Then, with no other leads, she said she’d come find me, right?” Lu Jinshi wasn’t flustered at all. He held the glass and poured some beer into it.

I nodded, about to speak, when I suddenly looked up and spotted a woman in black peeking inside from the doorway.

Then, she saw me. Without hesitation, the woman strode right in.

I suddenly sat bolt upright. Lu Jinshi raised an eyebrow, sensing something was off, and glanced back.

Gan Ling’s gaze was sharp as an eagle. She scanned me and Lu Jinshi for a moment, then calmly sat at the table next to ours.

The boss came out with a friendly greeting, asking Gan Ling what she wanted to eat.

I suddenly snatched Lu Jinshi’s beer bottle and chugged two big gulps straight into my mouth.

Lu Jinshi: Whoa—

Gan Ling stared at me darkly. Buoyed by the courage from those two mouthfuls of booze, I glared right back at her.