Chapter 31: Typing…

Gan Ling took my challenge as a joke. She chuckled lightly and walked ahead.

I persisted in shouting, “So you’re accepting it, right? You have to keep your word!”

Gan Ling slid her leg forward, nimble like a gecko clinging to a wall, quickly putting a body length’s distance between us.

The two stone walls pressed close on either side, like two seaweed fronds stuck to a pot wall. Only after I went down did I see that the bottom of the stone wall protruded by the width of a brick. It was slippery, but I could cling to the wall and stand steady.

Below me, the water flow gleamed crystalline white in the night, emanating a strange, eerie silence amid the chorus of insect chirps. It made my bones go soft, nearly unable to stand. Gan Ling calmly shifted another step forward, as steady as if on flat ground, using her lithe body to mock my determination.

My determination was like a warrior in the clash of two armies, receiving a desperate order at the critical moment. I gripped my entire fortune and spurred my horse to face the taunting enemy. But to Gan Ling, all this was worthless. I was a paper warrior, surrounded by laws and regulations, only coming alive with a stroke of Mo Liang’s brush. Gan Ling had long drunk her fill of reality’s blood, so she naturally scorned it and didn’t accept my challenge.

Caught between a rock and a hard place.

Ahead was pitch black, as if countless ink bottles had been overturned and half-diluted by the water flow. There was no path behind me, and the slope I’d come down looked impossibly high and steep from below.

Might as well go check it out.

It was as if Gan Ling never looked back, and I was always just tailing her. What right did a stalker have to complain about the rough, twisting path of the person they were following? Even if it meant crawling over knife edges or fire mountains—what of it? I laboriously shifted my leg forward a step. My foot caught and stumbled beneath me, nearly slipping off with every snag.

And it snagged every time. How did Gan Ling know about this eerie place? Even as a train attendant, she couldn’t have jumped off the train, climbed over a barbed-wire fence, and dashed straight to this long aqueduct, right?

One more step.

I gradually adapted to the rhythm. The moss in the stone crevices might have already been scraped off by Gan Ling. I followed her traces forward. After a dozen steps, I’d covered a third of the distance. It felt like webs had grown between my fingers, and barbs on my palms. I quickened my pace.

Gan Ling suddenly turned her head. “Slow down a bit.”

It turned out she’d also been slowing down as she passed this spot. I paused my steps, closing the distance to Gan Ling to about the width of a person. She pursed her lips, and I saw it—a thick steel pipe jutting out from who-knows-where above, like a hair sprouting suddenly from the stone wall. But half the pipe was buried in the soil, hanging low. Gan Ling hurried a few steps, hugged the pipe, dangled in midair, then lifted her body and drew up her legs.

I immediately plastered myself to the stone wall. “I can’t do it, I can’t, I can’t…”

But Gan Ling climbed up along the pipe, leaving me stuck in place.

I hesitated, reached out to touch the pipe. It was pitted with rust, which actually gave good friction…

“What are you doing? Telling it, ‘Please carry me up yourself’?” Gan Ling had somehow come back. She stood at the seam between the pipe and the wall, extending a hand to me.

“Don’t mock me…”

Gan Ling hauled me up bodily. Above that was an extremely steep little path. I truly had no idea who had first discovered this bizarre route. It was like a kid adventuring in unfamiliar territory, stubbornly avoiding the main road to take some detested, dog-hated little trail to some weird place… But after that, things got much smoother. It wasn’t long before we reached that barbed-wire fence.

If Gan Ling wanted me to climb over the barbed-wire fence with her, I would’ve cursed her out fiercely.

“This… um, is this the destination?” I clung to the barbed wire, fingers gripping the mesh.

“Did you see that sign?” Gan Ling pointed to a wooden plaque hanging on the other side of the fence.

I squinted. Gan Ling had already read it out for me: “Life is precious; lying on the tracks is prohibited. Railway safety, safeguard it together.”

“We’re going there?” I still couldn’t make it out clearly. Gan Ling said, “Every year, a few Neng County folks come here to lie on the tracks and seek death. Later, they hung up this sign. This path is hard to walk, but all the older Neng County kids played around here in their childhood. Some kids have even drowned in the reservoir…”

I didn’t know why Gan Ling suddenly brought this up. We’d finally reached the end, and all I could think about was that bet, churning in my mouth, ready to spill out at any moment.

“Whenever I feel like there’s no way out, I come here. Worst case… in the end, I just climb over, lay my neck on the tracks. But every time I get near here, after all that effort, it’s just for a chance to lie down—and then I get defiant again. I can come up with another solution.”

I finally understood. So she had come here to seek death.

This stubborn, mad woman acted to extremes, never considering others’ thoughts, utterly unafraid of death—I was truly glad I’d impulsively mustered the courage to follow her.

Even without me, maybe after this ordeal, standing on the other side of the fence, she’d think it through and turn back like before.

But testing the gates of hell, wringing every ounce of strength out of one’s own death like a towel—someday, it would run dry.

“This… is too dangerous! You…”

I couldn’t care about the bet anymore. This person always had to fight life-and-death with others. I wanted to say something, but words jammed up in my mouth like rush-hour traffic. No coherent sentence would come out.

The gray-haired woman in the black hoodie was perfectly warm against the night chill. She calmly gazed into the barbed-wire enclosure. The tracks were like two noodles draped over countless short chopsticks.

“Dangerous things have to be done to achieve your goal.”

“…That’s not how it goes. Testing danger will bring danger to you. I still… I can’t agree. When you think there’s no way, maybe others think there is. Why not talk to friends, family? Or have everyone help brainstorm…” I awkwardly tried to persuade her. Sometimes, when parents got upset, they’d vent to me, and I’d deploy some trained lines to cope.

But these words didn’t seem to work on Gan Ling. Out alone in the dead of night, running to the railway side with a resolve to die at any moment—such a person was beyond my life experience, a ball of spikes rolling over the bubble gum I blew.

“Doing dangerous things lets you achieve your goal,” Gan Ling emphasized, smiling at me again. “Giving up revenge… is hard. I’ll try.”

Huh?

Suddenly…

This surprise from the heavens dazed me. Gan Ling was giving up? Gan Ling wasn’t seeking revenge anymore? That meant I didn’t have to tell her who the killer was? Life was back on track—the torrential flood turning to a trickle, days becoming gentle breezes and fine rain?

Was I dreaming or something?

I stood stunned for a while. Gan Ling still stared ahead, that earlier smile like an illusion.

After a moment, she said, “Giving up revenge isn’t precise… Better to say giving up killing. I won’t kill. But I… still want to know who the killer is. Why did he get out of prison early? I want to ask him, what right does he have to go to the kindergarten and kill my daughter Zheng Ningning? It might not make sense, but I still want to know—or see for myself what kind of face he has. Even slapping him a couple times to vent would do. Death can’t be undone… I just hate it. If I’d left a few days later, or just knocked her out and stuffed her in a sack to take away… it was all my fault.”

The dead were gone forever. Gan Ling and I could never bring back a life lost too soon.

Gan Ling and I drifted aimlessly on the same boat called self-blame, sitting deep in the water, surrounded by a gloomy sea of bitterness.

But today, Gan Ling had opened up honestly to me—not harsh mockery, not evasive lies, but real talk, like confiding in a friend. Even if she hadn’t fully given up finding the killer…

“Teacher Xiao Jiang, I won’t kill anymore. Tell me, who is the killer?” Gan Ling still pressed.

“Ah… speaking of the early release…” I hurriedly latched onto Gan Ling’s earlier topic. “Actually, I’m not sure about that. I’m not brushing you off… It’s like this: because I’m a witness… a friend told me the killer might get out early and to be careful. I don’t actually know for sure that he got out early… It’s not precise.”

“Who told you the killer might get out early?” As expected of Gan Ling, she immediately seized the key info in my words.

“Gan Ling…” I was a bit at a loss, could only softly refuse. That lady had retired, her home wasn’t even in Neng County. I didn’t want to disturb her myself, let alone have Gan Ling do it.

Seeing a faint light spark in the woman’s eyes, I couldn’t bear it.

Suddenly, a train whooshed past without warning, a gust of wind yanking us toward the fence like two sheets of paper slapped against glass.

I closed my eyes, unsure how much time passed.

Insect chirps and water sounds blew past my ears. When I opened my eyes again, Gan Ling was gripping the barbed wire, leaning back repeatedly, having climbed halfway up, dangling there and making it rattle clamorously.

“I should head back. Gotta work tomorrow.” I said that and turned to retrace our steps, leaving Gan Ling and this whole night behind.

I was like a tamper-proof seal—before an exam, not even the teacher could pry me open to peek inside. Gan Ling was now a wayward examinee, subjected to my layers of tests. Come on, Gan Ling. Are you truly giving up on revenge and murder, or just using sweet talk to coax out the killer’s name? On knowing the killer’s name, you have more standing than me—you’re the child’s mother. I could tell you; I was about to.

I was afraid I’d blurt it out early.

The name hung in a lantern, waiting for Gan Ling to claim it herself.

“Jiang Xiaohui—” Gan Ling called from behind.

I turned my head, rubbing my chilled arms, very worried I wouldn’t wake up in the morning.

Gan Ling flew into a rage out of humiliation, pointing at me and yelling, “If you’ve got the guts, hold it in for the rest of your life and never spill it! If you won’t say, I’ll find out myself! You’ve got the guts! You’re really something! I thought you were just a cowardly goody-two-shoes, but damn, you’ve been sitting on this all along! Who the hell are you to tell me to give up on revenge? Who are you, anyway? The Virgin Mary? If I kill someone—what’s that got to do with you!”

I couldn’t tell if she’d only just realized it or if she’d been playing dumb all along and was now using it as an excuse to vent.

I realized she wasn’t really cursing me; she was just furious. She climbed down from the barbed wire fence and grabbed my arm without another word, as forceful as ever. Gan Ling was manic and crazy at night, silent and gloomy during the day. Her face, which never looked pleased, was now full of anger at my ingratitude as she dragged me straight away.

“You said it yourself—no killing…” I emphasized.

Gan Ling opened her mouth, incredulous. She pointed at me, frowning and twisting her face for a long while before finally laughing in exasperation. “Fine.”

“A deal’s a deal.”

“Deal.”

I finally relaxed, exhaustion surging over me like a fountain, soaking me through. All the energy and courage I’d mustered for this lifetime was spent. Retrace our steps? I was sleepy, tired, and cold. I plopped down on the ground.

Gan Ling pointed at her knee, saying the bruise from helping me up last time still hadn’t healed, and now I was going to make her fall again—I was a porcelain vase turned spirit.

I didn’t dare argue. Squinting, I replayed this bizarre, absurd holiday—including this silent night—in my mind at double speed, from start to finish.

Children’s Day holiday, June 1st. I’d successfully convinced Gan Ling to give up killing.

But she still needed to know the killer’s name.

Once I was sure she really wouldn’t become a killer herself, I’d tell her.

Zheng Ningning’s spirit in heaven would have celebrated Children’s Day and been surprised to see her cowardly, useless Teacher Xiao Jiang finally do something useful. And I’d discovered that Gan Ling truly wasn’t crazy, just as she’d claimed.

I didn’t understand her yet. I didn’t know what kind of person Zheng Ningning’s mother was—and I wanted to learn about Zheng Ningning through her.

Maybe she wasn’t a well-behaved kid, without a lively and cheerful personality, without a cute and pretty appearance, without a pitiable situation that drew teachers’ sympathy, without any special talents that caught my eye. But she surely had her own thoughts: defying her mother, obeying her grandma, making a major life decision…

It was as if the scenery beyond prison walls was finally showing its true face to me. I could see the secrets outside.

Gan Ling wanted to know the killer from me.

And wasn’t I treating her as a key back to the past, to see that child on my behalf seven years ago?

I barely managed to stand. I don’t know how we retraced our steps; I only know that at 4 a.m., Gan Ling clutched my phone in one hand while half-supporting, half-dragging me with the other, then tossed me into the bedroom. I crawled onto the bed on all fours, kicked off my shoes, burrowed into the covers, and closed my eyes.

In my haze, it seemed like Gan Ling whispered something in my ear—too unclear to catch. Something about thanks.

I mumbled not to mention it, lock the doors and windows… sit wherever…

Not sure if I actually said it. When the alarm went off, I swiped my arm and knocked the phone away. I slept like the dead and woke up at 11 a.m. Gan Ling was gone. The Principal called once, Zhu Erting three times, and WeChat messages poured in like winged letters fluttering out of a stuffed mailbox.

Rubbing my pounding head, I grabbed my phone and recalled how I’d gone nuts last night tailing Gan Ling, getting lured to the wasteland. I’d walked so much my whole body ached now, like I’d been evenly beaten with a rolling pin a dozen times.

What had she said? Give up revenge?

At the bottom of WeChat was Gan Ling’s message:

Long time no exercise—you probably can’t make it to work now. Just take the day off. Sorry.

She’d insisted on taking me to see the tracks yesterday, to share her rail-suicide thought process—what was there to be sorry about? She was clearly thrilled, using my stalking as leverage to do whatever she wanted.

I sent an angry emoji.

One minute later, Gan Ling replied with a photo. I rubbed my eyes and looked closely—it was a Jiaxing Supermarket employee’s red vest. She was standing in front of two tall stacks of Jianlibao, holding up her phone to snap her uniform.

Jiang Huixiang: You found a job this fast!

Gan Ling: Got connections. Shelf stocker.

Her connection was probably that lame-legged old man who watches the cars at the gate.

Jiang Huixiang: You killed me. I hurt so bad I can’t walk now. Everyone’s looking for me, and I overslept.

Gan Ling: …You followed me.

Jiang Huixiang: How was I supposed to know you’d go that far.

Gan Ling: Don’t exercise normally. Your fault.

Jiang Huixiang: Typing…

I typed a string of words, then had a sudden idea—this was a good chance to fish for info: Not many women in Neng County work out. Who’s got muscles like yours.

Gan Ling: I trained in martial arts.

Jiang Huixiang: Shaolin Temple? You’re from Henan?

Gan Ling: No.

Gan Ling: Heading to work. Later.

Gan Ling: Make more money.

Who’s delaying me from going to work and making money! I frowned at my phone, replying to everyone’s messages one by one. My legs weren’t mine anymore. Based on past PE tests, they’d hurt even more tomorrow.

After typing it up and waiting till afternoon, another message came.

Gan Ling: Daily question: Who’s the killer?

Jiang Xiaohui: …I’m not saying.

Gan Ling: What’ll it take for you to say?

Jiang Xiaohui: I will say.

Gan Ling: When?

Jiang Xiaohui: …

Gan Ling: When?

Gan Ling: When will you say?

Gan Ling: You finally budged.

Gan Ling: I’ll wait.

Gan Ling: Screenshot taken.

Then, bam—a voice message came through.

My phone buzzed and rang on the bedsheet. Gan Ling latched on at the slightest whiff of blood and wouldn’t let go.

I was helpless against this she-wolf. I steeled myself, muffled the phone with the blanket, then quickly lifted it and hit accept.