Chapter 42: She Looks So Young

The alarm clock rang at six o’clock, and Gan Ling and I bounced away from each other like strangers who had just met by chance.

Last night, we had been tangled together in the same quilt like two mushrooms releasing their spores. When dawn broke, dust returned to dust, earth to earth—the two mushrooms hopped off on their own. I awkwardly smoothed my hair, recalling my impulsive actions from the night before. Suddenly, I felt just like that Teacher Wen who seduced a student’s parent—not exactly the faithful wife type.

The people at the supermarket let me charge my scooter without prying into where I’d come from. Gan Ling sat squinting by the roadside. The first bus didn’t arrive until 7:10. Across the street, in the farmland, farmers bustled about like ants with their pant legs rolled up. The electric scooter charger hummed noisily. I pulled out the yogurt and crackers I’d bought yesterday and shared them with Gan Ling.

Gan Ling took the yogurt and swiftly tore it open, slurping it down. I stared at her; she looked at me. We held eye contact for a few seconds before both turning away in unison.

We’d said a bit too much last night.

I borrowed a gourd of water and squatted by the farmland edge, gurgling and rinsing my mouth. Then I walked back and stared at Gan Ling again. She turned her head away, and together we gazed toward the end of the road. The bus was still a long way off.

When the bus finally came, my battery was less than twenty percent charged.

Suddenly, Gan Ling picked up my bag of snacks and sundries, waved to the supermarket boss, and steadied my back.

She pushed me onto the No. 2 bus. There were only two unfamiliar farmers on board, one at the front and one at the back, each hauling a half-person-high sack made of snake skin fabric.

“Hurry to get to the city. Tomorrow, I’ll ride your scooter and bring it home to you,” Gan Ling said.

So after work, I had no scooter to ride. Zhu Erting had rushed off early. I skirted around the bike shed when an engine roared behind me. Li Yongquan pulled up like a speed demon: “Sis, no bike today? Let me give you a ride.”

“No need.”

Li Yongquan wasn’t insisting on taking me home—it was just colleague camaraderie, nothing more. Just as he waved to signal he was leaving, our principal rode out on her bicycle. Spotting me and Li Yongquan, she waved her hand commandingly: “Oh, perfect! You’re going the same way. Give her a ride—go on, send her!”

The principal wobbled off on her bike. Li Yongquan chuckled: “Come on, hop on.”

He zoomed me all the way to the entrance of Jiaxing Residential Area like the wind. We didn’t talk much on the road. After getting off, he was polite as ever, just waving goodbye.

Our principal had her own art of managing people. After failing to introduce me to a job at her friend’s company, she started paying attention to me, Jiang Xiaohui, from all angles. One day, she pulled me aside for a talk, asking if I wasn’t getting along well with the other teachers. Besides Zhu Erting, she never saw me chatting closely with anyone else.

I was there to work, not as a lead teacher. With my low education level, the only people I could really chat with were the security couple, the cooking and cleaning aunties. When the teachers discussed national policies, I didn’t think it was “bad,” but not being that close sometimes made it seem off. The principal was determined, so afterward, I inexplicably started showing up at various events.

I’m an unqualified life skills teacher—teaching kids the eight detailed steps to wash hands, how to eat without smacking lips or being picky, listening to children’s troubles, proper toilet use, and how to resolve conflicts with friends. But the principal was set on reforming me. As a leftover from Plum Kindergarten, I needed to play my role. So my figure started shuttling through the auditorium, and my work on graduation photos became visible to parents.

All this changed because of Gan Ling’s appearance. Before her, I had no secrets—I was an open book.

Afterward, the principal was surprised to discover I was someone harboring secrets, low-key and unassuming. I’d witnessed a murder yet stayed silent, calmly resolving the issue of a lunatic’s entanglement.

That day, the principal asked me: The crazy one from before—has she come looking for you again?

Jiang Huixiang: No.

Principal Zhao: Good. Did you tell her? About the killer.

Jiang Huixiang: No.

Principal Zhao: How’d you do it? How could you persuade her?

It sounded like our principal harbored some wariness toward Gan Ling, even revering my ability to face her head-on and come out unscathed.

Jiang Huixiang: ……Hahahahahahaha

Jiang Huixiang: [Animated emoji]

I finished typing and opened the WeChat Gan Ling had sent—a short video. She used glue to reattach my scooter’s fender and even inflated the tire. The video had no sound, ending with Gan Ling turning the key with a click.

I stood at the entrance of Jiaxing Residential Area waiting for Gan Ling to ride my electric scooter over. It was getting hot, so I held up a parasol and leaned against the roadside. In Neng County, going out with an umbrella was practically synonymous with being pretentious. Gan Ling spotted me easily, swung her leg off, and stopped right in front of me, handing over the keys.

“How much?”

“What?”

“The supermarket—I charged there for another full day…”

I pulled out my phone to transfer money when suddenly darkness fell over my head. Gan Ling pressed down on the edge of my umbrella, covering me with it. I struggled a bit, and the woman bent her fingers, knocking on the umbrella—knock knock knock.

I lifted the umbrella and repeated: “How much?”

“So petty,” Gan Ling said.

I was about to say something when I remembered that two thousand yuan business. I kind of hated how she always brought up the wrong pot. Still, I transferred five yuan to annoy her, and Gan Ling promptly returned it.

The previous matter just passed like that. I didn’t hold a grudge. I got on my scooter—thirty percent charge left.

The back sank down—Gan Ling had hopped on the rear seat, her legs planted on the ground. I noticed she’d changed into canvas shoes and was genuinely surprised. I got off, and Gan Ling leaned forward to hold the handlebars. I gave her a good once-over.

She’d finally changed clothes!

In this weather, she’d finally switched to an ashtray-gray short-sleeve that screamed promotional giveaway, with “Jiaxing Supermarket” printed on the arm. Paired with light-colored jeans that were similar to before but noticeably thinner and softer fabric, and plain but clearly brand-new white canvas shoes.

With the black hair I’d dyed for her earlier, she looked so young now!

When Gan Ling and I first met, her hair was like withered grass, her figure ghostly. The gray-white hair and tense back made her seem fifty. Now, no one would bat an eye if you said she was in her early twenties. I gaped in astonishment, not knowing where to start praising her. Her body was clearly much more relaxed, showing the softness and lines of someone who exercised regularly.

For a split second, I almost fully believed she’d given up on the killing business. But I didn’t impulsively bring it up. Pretending there was no Zheng Ningning-like issue between us, I pinched her arm: “Oh my god!”

My reaction was as over-the-top as some brainless big-boobed blonde. Gan Ling leaned against my scooter and laughed: “What kind of face is that?”

“It’s just… really good. Feels like… how do I put it? I’m no good with words…”

Gan Ling waved me over, then lifted her butt from the rear footrest onto the seat: “I took the day off today and got a lot done.”

“Like what?” I climbed onto the back seat.

“I moved out of that dangerous building… Didn’t have much stuff anyway. Just went empty-handed to rent a place on Dadong Street, next to Hongzhi Elementary School, that street with all the cram schools. It’s a small house in the back—standalone yard. Wanna go see it later?”

“Yes.”

“I bought a few clothes at employee discount. Summer’s here, it’s getting hot.”

“You knew it was hot too, huh.”

“What kinda talk is that?”

On the electric scooter, I held onto Gan Ling, squeezing out the last bit of battery. It crawled along slowly.

We turtle-paced past the dilapidated old Hongqi factory, then another hundred-plus meters to an old bridge arch. The liangpi stall underneath had been set up for a while, with disposable chopsticks scattered on the ground, stained red with chili oil. Gan Ling and I sat on little stools eating liangpi. The plastic bag was over the stainless steel bowl; I picked out the cilantro.

Gan Ling suddenly said: “I noticed you don’t seem to have much social circle.”

“Huh?”

“I beckoned you, and you just came. Like you don’t need to say goodbye to anyone.”

“I live alone,” I slurped a mouthful of liangpi, then got up to ask the boss for an extra spoonful of garlic water before sitting back down. “You make it sound like I’m super gullible. You call, and I come running.”

Gan Ling got up for a spoonful too, kicking away the disposable chopsticks by her feet. A hot wind blew through the bridge arch, sweat beading on our backs. I grabbed a napkin to wipe mine and kept eating. Gan Ling said nothing, just ate while watching pedestrians on the road. The scooter was parked beside us, like it was eyeing our eating manners. Gan Ling finished hers in a few bites, lifted the plastic bag, rolled it up, and tossed it in the trash. Elbow on her knee, she casually looked at me.

What’re you looking at? I kept picking out cilantro, then shoved a chopstickful of liangpi into my mouth.

“Nothing.” Gan Ling looked away, back to the road. When I finished, she rode me to her new place on Dadong Street.

After two dangerous dumps, I was braced for Gan Ling to have found some shack. But this was genuinely standalone with its own yard—a proper house. The gate had a proper iron lock, painted bright. The bricks were solidly laid, no skimping, and there was even a drainage ditch outside with an AC outdoor unit.

“Two thousand a year.”

“Nice!” I walked through the clean yard. Under the eaves, several empty flower pots were neatly lined up.

After entering the room, Zheng Ningning’s photo was right in front of me. It was a black-and-white photo framed in color, hung large on the wall like a stylish black-and-white art shot. Beside it were a few other photos, including one I’d given her of Zheng Ningning in kindergarten. She hadn’t cropped out the other kids but had circled Zheng Ningning’s outline with a red pen and hung it next to the main one. There were a few more I’d never seen before, all in color but very low resolution.

One was of a tiny infant with a red dot on her forehead, dressed in a cow-print onesie, her socks pulled super long, soft hair sparsely and messily clinging to her scalp, drooling blankly at the camera.

Another was Zheng Ningning at four years old—I spotted the date in the corner—holding a cotton candy and standing between her parents.

Gan Ling was holding one of her hands, her lips pursed in a smile for the camera, her long hair adorned with a hairpin, wearing a floral long skirt that gave off an unfamiliar gentleness.

Zheng Chenggang wore a light blue shirt, his pants ironed to sharp creases, and a pair of brownish-gray sneakers.

Seeing me linger on this photo, Gan Ling pointed at it. “This is my husband, Zheng Chenggang… though he’s a rotten guy… but the man’s dead now… so I’ll just pretend we were a happy family.”

She tapped the photo with her finger. Zheng Ningning’s other hand was holding Zheng Chenggang’s as she grinned happily, one leg planted on the ground, the other kicked up to show off her white socks and bow-tied sandals. She leaned toward Zheng Chenggang, pulling Gan Ling’s arm up with her.

I tried my best to act natural, so Gan Ling wouldn’t notice anything off about my expression.

But she spotted it anyway, her eyes flicking between my face and the photo. “What’s up?”