Chapter 43: I Really Didn’t Know

Gan Ling was very perceptive about people and sharp about everything. If I showed even a hint more of panic on my face, I had no doubt she could guess the truth.

But wanting to hide a secret was like an instinct for me. This secret might not be a secret to me, or to anyone else—it could be out in the open for all the world to see, for all I cared—as long as Gan Ling didn’t know about it.

She had already changed clothes, moved into the new place, and cleaned up the yard!

So I surprisingly calmed down and twisted my complicated expression into something else: “Is a harmonious family that important? This guy… wasn’t he bad to you?”

It was as if I were just indignant about Zheng Chenggang’s violence toward Gan Ling.

Gan Ling glanced at the photo again, leaned against the wall, and smiled: “He’s dead. I’m too lazy to dwell on it.”

I didn’t say anything, nervously adjusting my facial expression as I followed Gan Ling on a tour of her newly rented place.

It was near Hongzhi Elementary School, after all—even the flat-roofed house had air conditioning, heating, a toilet, everything you could want. Gan Ling had suddenly moved from that waterless, powerless haunted house to a place fit for humans. I still walked a few extra laps, unable to resist going back for another look at the photo on the wall.

Gan Ling grabbed my shoulders and twisted me toward the inner room. On a small single bed were neatly folded new quilts, with fresh sheets laid on the mattress. She didn’t mind that we’d been sitting on those little roadside stools with our clothes probably dirty, just pressed me down to sit on the edge of the bed.

What she poured from the thermos wasn’t water, but sour plum soup. Holding the cup, I felt like I’d discovered another side of Gan Ling—even though I’d long known she had all sorts of life skills, seeing her seriously set up her living space still made me a bit envious.

My home was like a model room; if you didn’t pull open the drawers and see my handmade stuff, it’d feel utterly boring. But Gan Ling would hang curtains in this rented flat, wipe the windows clean, lay out a striped tablecloth, set the cups upside down in spotless porcelain saucers on a white towel. The thermos was old, but scrubbed clean; the double happiness characters on it had faded, but it still didn’t look dirty.

I couldn’t help straightening my back and sitting politely, even finding the sour plum soup tastier than the stuff at Bright Kindergarten.

Sipping the sour plum soup, I lifted my eyes to survey the surroundings, mulling over Gan Ling’s words “too lazy to dwell on it,” which didn’t sound like her at all.

She soon brought it up again: “Actually, I wanted to scrape that guy off… but wouldn’t that just make it seem like he still affects me, like I’m still hung up on him? No, he doesn’t affect me at all anymore. Let him rot in death while I live well. I can ignore him, pretend he doesn’t exist. Looking at his photo doesn’t hurt me anymore.”

Standing in front of me, Gan Ling suddenly showed a somewhat childish expression, passionately making her case as if trying to convince me. I nodded, not daring to chime in.

“Sometimes, it’s not really about forgiving him… it’s more like, how do I put it, letting myself off the hook. I think about the happy stuff, like how elated I felt eloping with him. Why dwell on the painful crap? Why make myself miserable, thinking it only counts as ‘moving on’ if I’m crying every day?”

Had she really let it go? I wasn’t so sure—the more emphatically she spoke, the more I felt she was just convincing herself.

“I hate him,” I couldn’t hold back.

“Who? Zheng Chenggang?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s it got to do with you? You don’t even know him.” Gan Ling smiled and took a sip of sour plum soup from another cup.

I thought on my feet: “That old man at the entrance to Jiaxing Supermarket told me.”

“Oh.”

“He said you had a good job going… and then he…”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m back at work now. What’s so great about being a manager at a little supermarket?”

That was what she said, but Gan Ling took a big gulp of sour plum soup, swished it around in her mouth, swallowed with a gurgle, her expression not quite natural.

“Guys like that are just… trash,” I chose a cautious word, so my emotions wouldn’t come off too strong and tip her off.

“Right, you’re spot on,” Gan Ling nodded in agreement. “He’s a total scumbag.”

“He’s in the photo with you, and Ningning’s leaning so close to him. It pisses me off just looking at it.”

That was getting dangerous. My chest filled with rage. I rarely brought up Gan Ling’s husband of my own accord, but once I did, it was like opening the floodgates, unleashing a torrent that swept away my reason and made me blurt out things I shouldn’t.

“That was at the zoo… How do I say it? Right after Ningning was born, he wasn’t that messed up yet.”

Gan Ling didn’t notice my expression was off, or maybe she’d sunk into her own memories.

The surroundings turned into animal cages with iron bars. She stood in front of the big rock at the zoo entrance, posing for a photo—fifteen bucks a pop. Gan Ling pulled out her little purse. Zheng Chenggang took off his jacket and draped it over his arm. After she paid, he pocketed the change, bought a huge cotton candy, and handed it to Zheng Ningning.

The kid clutched the massive puff of cotton candy, not knowing how to eat it, licking until melted sugar was all over her clothes.

Gan Ling bent down to wipe the child’s chest: “Eat it from that end, don’t get it all over yourself…”

Zheng Chenggang stood with arms folded, chuckling: “It’s fine. Worst case, we wash it. If it gets dirty, it gets dirty.”

“You’re not the one washing it.” Gan Ling wiped with a tissue. Zheng Ningning was still gamely shoving her mouth into the cloud-like cotton candy.

The photographer signaled they were good. Zheng Chenggang grabbed Ningning and dragged her over. Gan Ling tugged the kid along too, wiping her mouth with a tissue. The child yelped as her arm was yanked, struggling to break free.

Zheng Chenggang frowned: “Hurry up! You done? People are waiting!”

Gan Ling was about to snap, but the photographer called out, and there was a line behind them. She could only let out a breath.

The family of three smiled at the camera. Gan Ling felt the sticky sugar on the kid’s hand, glanced at Zheng Chenggang—also sticky—and tried to pull away from the child, but Zheng Ningning clung tight, so she ended up leaning close to him involuntarily—

Eggplant.

Frozen in that moment.

Gan Ling let out another breath, as if some stifling feeling had wormed into her chest.

I warned myself repeatedly: Don’t ask any more. No mentioning it. Too dangerous. Zheng Chenggang was like gunpowder to me, ready to ignite at any moment. No one within three hundred meters was allowed to flick the lighter on that topic.

So I said: “This place is pretty nice. You found such a good spot right away…”

“I’m not an idiot. I wasn’t gonna keep living in a death trap. Been looking for a while.”

I nodded, thinking that made sense. But in my heart, I wondered: if this “while” was before we climbed the reservoir, then her traces of trying to live a normal life didn’t prove she’d given up on murder.

I cradled my nearly empty cup, pretending to sip the sour plum soup while my eyes darted around, searching for any telltale signs.

Every frown and smile from Gan Ling was overanalyzed by me, looking for hidden barbs in her glances or murderous intent in her smiles. I was a startled bird, clutching a secret I could barely contain, desperate to seize the chance to confirm Gan Ling had no intention of murder.

“You… uh… um…” I opened my mouth, but the words ran away. I stuttered, and Gan Ling smiled down at me: “What’s up?”

“So after that, you went to work at Jiaxing Supermarket?”

“Yeah.”

I suddenly felt a wave of relief. It was getting late; I stood to say goodbye. As I left, I avoided looking at that wall full of photos, avoided looking at Zheng Chenggang. My acting was one-use only—I had no doubt that if I came back, I’d panic and expose the secret outright.

Gan Ling walked me to the alley entrance. I got on my electric bike, feeling like I’d survived a disaster.

Back home, I WeChatted Gan Ling that I’d arrived safely. She replied with an “OK” emoji.

I kept feeling something was off… After washing up, I lay in bed replaying the day’s events over and over, finally figuring out what was wrong.

Gan Ling had taken the day off to tidy her place, so she should’ve dropped the car off with me in the morning, not the evening—and she’d even sent a little video of her fixing it for me.

I immediately scrolled back through our chat history and scrutinized it closely. Only then did I see my car wasn’t parked in front of that tobacco and liquor shop.

So where was this? I downloaded the video, cast it to the TV, trying to make out every detail.

Zooming in, I realized it was nighttime in the video, just bright lighting made it look like day. Amplify the sound—amplify again—and I heard faint music with a thick accent in Mandarin: Good news, good news, shop at Hongqi, wholesale prices inside Hongqi…

A repair stall near Hongqi? I jumped out of bed. The electric bike hadn’t charged much, so I had to walk.

Behind Hongqi was a shoe repair stall that also fixed bikes, watches, made keys—under an aluminum alloy roof with a window cut out, a wooden sign nailed outside listing services in tiny print: everything from cockroach extermination to chimney cleaning. Through the sliding glass window, I saw strings of keys and iron tool bits I didn’t recognize. A bobbing electric fan sat on the table, unsure if it was even working. No one inside.

The boss was a dwarf, and everyone in Neng County called him Shen Liu. Shen Liu had a short stature, and his wife suffered from polio, walking like a spring. The couple was like two mismatched parts pieced together. Shen Liu dabbled in everything a little, but because he was a dwarf, many people didn’t take him seriously. I’d heard this man had a hobby of drinking, and once I ran into him at a nearby noodle shop. His wife was eating noodle soup while he ordered a bit of baijiu, a dish of peanuts, and a dish of pig ears, smacking his lips and savoring it slowly. While I was eating my noodles, a few mischievous men crowded over and said drinking alone wasn’t fun. He waved his hand to brush them off, but they wouldn’t let up and kept teasing him and his wife.

He should be asleep by now, and me rashly running out like this—

Suddenly, I heard Shen Liu’s voice: “No, no… he’s not dead. They’re just fooling you. That day, a bunch of them… sigh, they insisted on saying my wife’s head was too big and her butt too small, that she couldn’t bear children, teasing that I had no ability. They said I only deserved to drink with Zheng Chenggang. I said I’d heard Zheng Chenggang had died falling off while running a long haul. They said no such thing—he was still at the (gambling) table placing bets just the other day… After that, after that, I don’t know. Haven’t seen him for years…”

Another voice: “Then do you know where he went?”

“You’re asking, asking a hundred times… and I still don’t know. I really don’t know.”

“I’ll come again tomorrow.”

“I really don’t know… Don’t believe me, ask my wife. I’m always at home… don’t dare go out. You know I have no skills—if I go out, I just get bullied… I don’t even leave this street!”

Between the noodle shop and the bathhouse was a small alley, from which stretched the shadows of two people—one tall, one short.

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