Chapter 37

Opening the truth is like opening a gift box, with another gift box inside. The truth Zheng Ningning sees is different from what Gan Ling sees.

After finishing the noodles, Gan Ling and I walked along that north-south street. Over the past few years, it had plainly been called Southeast Street, but now it had been given a name with two obscure, cultured characters that everyone automatically blurred over, still calling it by its old name.

At the southern end of Southeast Street, a new park had opened. On summer nights, crowds went there for strolls, but it was too late. When we arrived, facing the people heading back, the park attendant said he was about to get off work and had blocked off everything beyond the entrance. I said I just wanted to take a quick look around, and he said okay, but you can only wander at the gate.

Inside the gate was a large plaza, as unremarkable as any park, fenced off with railings to mark paths. In one corner of the small plaza was a facial recognition payment vending machine; on the other side was a row of long benches, behind which some kiddie bumper cars were chained together in a row.

The streetlights shone on the benches, mosquitoes swirling in flight. Gan Ling and I sat side by side, and suddenly it felt like a cheap date.

Gan Ling, meanwhile, gathered her thoughts. She looked up, swatted a mosquito dead, and showed me the fresh red smear of its corpse in her palm before continuing: “Ningning liked Elsa because she went to someone else’s house to see it. Back then, Neng County had no movie theater. Everyone watched it, talked about it, sang it. She hadn’t seen it and wanted to, but she wouldn’t say so outright—she just stubbornly insisted on going to Cuicui’s house. I told her Cuicui’s mom wasn’t a good person, a glamorous monster, and to stay away from Cuicui. Ningning wouldn’t listen and went anyway.”

I pictured Gan Ling calling someone a glamorous monster and couldn’t help but want to laugh. Gan Ling shot me a look and went on: “Then she wanted to watch it again after one viewing, got all excited. She and Cuicui weren’t even that close usually, but that day they suddenly became best friends. And that was fine, but she stayed for dinner at Cuicui’s—I’d told her so many times, kids need to be polite and read the room; if you’re playing at someone else’s house and they start cooking, you say goodbye and leave. But no, she shamelessly stayed to eat, didn’t even call home. I searched everywhere, frantic. Her dad yelled at me for losing the kid, said she might as well be dead. Finally, she came back stuffed, lied and said she hadn’t been with Cuicui. But that night she kept humming and kicking the dog. Only Cuicui’s house had a computer back then—how could I not know where she’d gone? I was furious.”

Gan Ling’s telling sounded just like an adult griping about a child.

Raising a kid means adults weathering who knows how many storms. Gan Ling had been driven mad with rage, but now recounting it, her eyes just held tears, she smiled uncomfortably, her rough hands rubbing together, her gaze fixed on the empty air as if Zheng Ningning were manifesting in the lamplight. In the end, no matter how much she complained, it boiled down to: “It was my fault. I was prejudiced against Cuicui’s mom. She’s actually nice, specially made good food for Ningning. I just thought she was an old hag.”

“Old hag…” I repeated, and Gan Ling smacked my arm hard.

I yelped and jumped up, lifting my arm to see the red handprint. Gan Ling opened her palm to show me the mosquito again.

I shut up. Gan Ling stood too, and we left the park, walking down the street to Jiaxing Residential Area.

She pushed me at the entrance: “Go in. I’m heading back.”

“It’s so late…”

“Go home.” Gan Ling waved me off like herding a sheep into the pen.

It was deep night. This woman had walked home alone at night before, even stumbling out from the sofa at some hour. She had some fight in her, but the drunks’ singing drifted from the street, waves of it lapping over. Neng County’s night air floated with the stench of booze.

I stood inside the gate, holding the open iron door: “Come in.”

“I’ve got work tomorrow.”

“My place is close.”

“Mine is closer.” Gan Ling argued like she was bickering, stepped forward once, then back twice, waved, stuffed her hands in her pockets, and wobbled off, leaving no room for more coaxing.

It was all over, Jiang Xiaohui. Don’t say it.

I talked myself out of rushing after her. Gan Ling’s figure was swallowed by the dark. I really wanted to chase her down and walk with her on the street, but Jiaxing Residential Area felt like a safe cage enclosing me. Outside, the she-wolf hunted alone. I endured the pain of some nameless beast gnawing my ass, staying silent, an invisible trickle of blood flowing from beneath me. Moonlight filtered through clouds like hazy, drifting plastic bags.

As a kid, someone would tie a clean, intact plastic bag to a long string and fly it like a kite. They’d run past my house dragging it, the bag floating in the air to the right rear of their head, like a slowly rising IV bag. I’d watch through the window as they ran until their sandal straps broke, then barefoot holding their shoes, the bitter taste of almonds in their mouths.

I stared at the moon like an IV bag transfusing me, tilting my head up for so long my brain went oxygen-starved and dizzy. The moon seemed to drift farther, as if the string I’d been holding had long snapped, carried off by the wind.

Before bed, I habitually checked my phone and saw Gan Ling had messaged fifteen minutes ago: “Home yet?”

“Yep.” I typed back, going to grab the charger by the bed. As I rolled over, WeChat popped up her reply: “Open the door.”

Huh?

Gan Ling stood outside, arms crossed, visibly impatient, glaring at the peephole with her usual sullen look, shoes tapping restlessly. I flung the door open in a hurry, straightening my rumpled sleepwear, a bit embarrassed like I’d been caught: “What are you doing here?”

“Took you thirty minutes to get home?”

I thought, what if I just hadn’t checked WeChat? But Gan Ling had already shut the door, turning to eye me like an interrogation, scratching her head, eyelids drooping: “Oh, never mind.”

“No, I was spacing out downstairs… didn’t check my phone.”

I couldn’t figure why Gan Ling had doubled back so inexplicably. Worried about me? But I’d already entered Jiaxing Residential Area—even a drunk couldn’t climb the iron gate to harass me precisely. Compared to me, Gan Ling walking back and forth on the street drew more eyes, especially with her dyed hair, right at her most alluring age. I couldn’t understand how the one being worried about had suddenly become me.

Gan Ling seemed to look at me, or maybe through me at something else, clearly suppressing anger that vanished in a flash like morning dew, turning to indifference. Her gaze swept my place, then she just tiredly rubbed her eye sockets: “Don’t call me out so late next time.”

“It’s safe inside the complex.”

“Who knows if you’ll suddenly run out and tail me.”

I had no rebuttal. Gan Ling at least had the strength to run; I was weak and untrained—any trouble, and I’d probably just curl up crying. Plus, I had the precedent of sneaking out at night to follow her. Being suspected was my own fault. I hung my head like a quail: “Won’t happen again.”

I omitted my urge to chase after her.

“Neng County is full of drunks,” she said.

I nodded.

“Girls shouldn’t go out at night.”

I nodded again.

Gan Ling waved her phone: “Next time, I’ll assume you didn’t see it and ignore you.”

WeChat—no prompt reply—led to Gan Ling’s misunderstanding, thinking something happened to me, rushing over to knock. What about me warranted her worry? Oh, right—the agreement for next year. I at least had to stay alive and honest till then.

“Sorry.” I could only apologize, thinking I’d set a special notification for her later.

“I’m sleepy.”

I hurried to turn on the bedroom light. Gan Ling just waved, kicked off her shoes, wiped sweat from her neck, and crashed onto the sofa like a stone, sprawling motionless.

I fetched a winter blanket to cover her. Gan Ling waved it off: “Hot.”

I hit the AC with a ding, rolled the blanket, and draped it over her waist. This time she didn’t push it away, lying face-down like a corpse I’d stabbed in the lower back from behind. I stooped to twist the sofa knobs, folding down the backrest into a simple bed, then dug a pillow from the closet depths. I lifted Gan Ling’s head and set it on the pillow.

Lu Jinshi had slept here before when he stayed over. My bed was roomy for one but cramped for two, and back then we weren’t engaged and he hadn’t drunk—I upheld propriety between man and woman, keeping him in the living room.

But Gan Ling—I left the bedroom door open and lay down. In the middle of the night, I got up to check if she’d fallen asleep. Face-down wasn’t good for breathing; her snores came in fits, muffled deep. I boldly went to adjust her cap bunched at her neck—it looked suffocating—but as I tugged lightly, Gan Ling’s arm shot up alertly, grabbing my wrist.

She half-opened her eyes, turned her head, saw it was me, and silently closed them again. She’d pinned me there like a capture hold, but I couldn’t squat awkwardly or lean—thinking, I let her arm’s grip pull me down to crouch on the sofa bed.

I rolled over to face her. The sofa bed wasn’t big, about the size of mine, 1.3 meters? Time had blurred it. Gan Ling’s fingers hooked like claws on my arm, refusing to let go. After shifting, no more snores—she frowned, dreaming something, then suddenly gripped tight.

I kind of wanted to turn my back on the past—even in the pitch darkness, Gan Ling’s breathing outlined her silhouette. But then I thought about how tonight she had come to see me because I’d made her worry, so in the end, I didn’t turn my head. With my other hand, I tugged at the blanket, pulling it up over my stomach, and closed my eyes.

Gan Ling quickly fell into a deep sleep and let go of my hand. I lay on my back on one side, tossing and turning until midnight, unsure whether I should sit up and return to bed or pretend to be asleep—just like how I agonize in the morning over whether to go to the toilet. In the wastage of time, I eventually drifted off into a deep sleep. When I woke up, the blanket had been shaken out and draped over my entire body, and the air conditioner was already turned off. Beneath my head was a soft pillow, and the phone in the bedroom had rung its second alarm, chirping noisily for quite a while.