When Qi Ran came back to her senses, she realized she didn’t know how much time had passed. The sky had even begun to lighten slightly, turning a fish-belly white. The street was empty. Only a passing sanitation worker glanced at her with some concern, probably mistaking her for a student who had run away from home.
Go home?
It was only then that she finally remembered she needed to ask Li Siwen to help make Tao Xiao forget about her. Her finger hovered over the screen for a long moment, but in the end, she turned off the phone. Just treat it as one last day, she told herself. Say everything she wanted to say, everything she needed to say, clearly to Tao Xiao. Thank her, apologize to her, and finally, say goodbye. Draw a complete and perfect full stop to this relationship that should never have existed.
What should she say? She walked slowly, pondering, weighing how to say that final farewell to Tao Xiao. “Goodbye” was far too simple. Wishing her career success… that felt too abrupt. She didn’t even know what Tao Xiao’s job really was. If all else failed, she’d give the most clichéd blessing of good health. As family, good health was the most universally safe blessing. Though it might be a bit odd… Tao Xiao wasn’t even thirty yet. Blessing someone with good health was more appropriate for an elder.
Wish her happiness. Maybe that was a good farewell blessing. Qi Ran lowered her eyelids, thinking slowly. No matter what, if it was Tao Xiao, she could surely live a happy life, right? She always did everything the best, handled people and matters flawlessly. Everyone liked her—no one could dislike Tao Xiao.
Perhaps Tao Xiao actually knew about those little convoluted thoughts of hers too. She might have just pretended not to know, to spare her some face. She had always been that gentle, Qi Ran thought calmly. Like a big sister who, when the neighbor’s kid says, “I’m going to marry this sister when I grow up,” would smile tenderly. A tolerant smile, because she knows it’s impossible. But she won’t refuse, because why shatter a childish child’s fantasy? Let her grow up a bit more, and she’ll understand there are many more young and pretty girls at school. Some outgoing, some gentle and reserved, all brimming with the fresh vitality of youth, who will grow up alongside her. Years later, when they meet again at a banquet, the sister who has become an aunt will smile and bring up that vow as a fond memory. She will smile awkwardly in return… The two can share a drink, commemorate the time that has passed, and then go their separate ways, walking their own paths.
Wouldn’t that be nice too?
She arrived at the stairwell and pulled open the electronic door that had been broken for who knows how long. Tao Xiao’s life was actually quite tight on money too, Qi Ran thought. She just worked very hard. Hard to live happily herself, and to let the people beside her live happily too. Almost like a saint. Thinking of this, she almost wanted to laugh. Tao Xiao indeed lived like a saint, liking to do thankless tasks. She even spent her spare time volunteering at a nursing home. If such a thing as accumulating merit and virtue existed, Tao Xiao was definitely going to Heaven. Starting with at least six wings.
It’s just that she shouldn’t have taken her in. That had to dock a huge chunk of merit. What was that saying? Nourishing a tiger brings calamity? Aiding the tyrant? Neither seemed quite right. Qi Ran thought about it carelessly. This was always her escape mechanism. As Liu Xu would say, spouting some abstractly crap nonsense could stop her from thinking too seriously, allowing her to approach thoughts with a mocking attitude. In clearer, more direct terms: as long as you have no shame, you won’t get triggered and break down.
That phrase was a bit Ah Q-spirited, but what else could be done? Living like a dog anyway, no matter what. Might as well be a dog that can make itself laugh. At least when people scold you while rummaging through trash cans, you don’t shed little pearls. Instead, you cheerfully think, “Ha ha, I’m just a dog, but I can disgust a human.”
Hell, why did thinking about it only make it feel more pathetic? Qi Ran sighed. She raised her head, and what met her eyes was that familiar door.
Taking a deep breath, she reorganized all her thoughts, silently rehearsing every word several times. After making sure there were no issues, she reached for the water meter box nearby. She remembered Tao Xiao’s habit was to hide a spare key in the corner of the box.
A hard object met her fingertips. She slowly took out the key and inserted it into the lock.
Just as she was about to turn it, her movement paused. She noticed a sliver of light coming from the gap under the door. Listening carefully, there was also the faint, subtle sound of a television. It was clearly the wee hours of the morning. How could Tao Xiao be watching TV at this hour?
A burglar? Or something else? Had something happened to Tao Xiao? Her heart felt as if it were suddenly clenched by a large hand. The more urgent she felt, the calmer she became. She stopped her motion, carefully listening for any sound inside. She wasn’t sure if the sound of her inserting the key into the lock had drawn the attention of whoever was inside. Her movements hadn’t been loud, plus the interference from the TV noise. Maybe the person in the room didn’t know she was there.
She stepped back a few paces, took out her phone, attached the listening bug to her collar, and then sent a message to Li Siwen. The content was that she had discovered an uninvited guest at home. Li Siwen replied very quickly, saying he had already called the police and that Jiang Zhique would arrive soon. He told her not to act rashly, and absolutely not to open the door until Jiang Zhique arrived.
Qi Ran replied that she understood. She knew that being anxious now was useless. She quickly spotted Jiang Zhique’s van. Jiang Zhique’s speed in arriving was indeed fast, the kind of speed that probably racked up traffic tickets, braking to a sudden stop right below the building. After getting out, Jiang Zhique waved at her. Qi Ran waved back. After confirming the floor and Qi Ran’s safety, Jiang Zhique quickly and silently ran up the stairs. Her first words upon seeing Qi Ran were: “Did you confirm how many people are inside?”
Qi Ran shook her head, her voice very low. “I only saw the TV in the room is on. No one should be awake at this hour.”
Jiang Zhique hesitated for a moment, then said quietly, “Let me take a look first, see how many people are in the room. Another possibility is some Circle faction came to show you who’s boss, to scare you a bit.”
Qi Ran nodded. Jiang Zhique unbuttoned the cuff of her right sleeve. Her long-sleeved shirt had clearly been altered. Below the button was a zipper, allowing the entire sleeve to be opened, exposing her whole arm. Countless Black Snake Markings twisted and writhed on her pale, slender arm. They weren’t still, but moving, making one’s scalp tingle just looking at them. With a natural expression, Jiang Zhique pressed her fingertip against the gap under the door. A few slender snake markings trickled out from her fingertip, slithering through the gap inside. Only after a while did they crawl back, returning to Jiang Zhique’s fingertip.
Jiang Zhique paused on the spot for a moment, seeming to process and identify the information. Then she spoke. “There’s only one breathing sound. Sounds like a man, in his forties, ordinary person. I think we may have misunderstood.”
“No woman’s breathing?” Qi Ran said in a low voice. That feeling of unease exploded in her Mind Lake. She couldn’t bear even one second longer.
“Woman?” Jiang Zhique was puzzled, but still answered the question. “No, none in any room.”
Before she finished, Qi Ran turned the key first, pushed open the door, and then froze dead in place.
The living room was dim, only the glow of the television illuminating the surroundings. A thick, acrid stench of smoke filled the air, a heavy white haze hanging in the room. The walls that should have had wallpaper were bare, showing only yellowed, aging walls and countless scuff marks. Stubborn mildew stains and spider webs were visible in the corners. The man sitting in front of the TV swayed slightly, wearing a sweat-stained tank top that clearly hadn’t been washed in who knows how long. It was obvious that before it yellowed, it had been white. The coffee table was piled with beer cans and glass bottles, along with several disposable paper cups stuffed full of cigarette butts. Even so, the man still had a half-smoked cigarette between his fingers. He smoked continuously, each drag clearly inhaled deep into his lungs before being exhaled in a long stream. His eyes were slightly bloodshot as he stared intently at the picture on the TV. It looked like a soccer match.
“Qi Jianguo?”
