TSMLI CHAPTER 7

The Lin family’s house stood alone, a fifth-floor unit once built by a local construction company as staff quarters. It had never belonged to any formal residential complex. Years earlier the company boss, an old acquaintance of Lin’s father, had sold him the apartment because it sat close to the factory and made the daily commute easy. More than a decade had passed. The factory had changed hands, yet the neighborhood remained remote and thinly populated, a place where anyone out after dark needed to stay alert.

 

The iron gate at the entrance hung open. A few bicycles and motorcycles sat in the unlit courtyard. Beyond them the construction company’s offices occupied the hollowed-out ground floor, kept open so trucks could come and go. The shop front facing the street was a general store, already shuttered for the night. The staircase rose on the far right, right beside the gatehouse. Inside, an old man listened to a crackling opera broadcast; there was no television, so the radio was his only company.

 

The moment Lin Chu stepped out of the taxi a sharper noise cut through the opera. It drew closer. Under the full moon she made out a familiar silhouette and felt anger rise at once.

 

Jiang Jin pulled off his helmet and ran a hand through his wind-tossed hair. “Finally got you home, Miss Lin. Your place is harder to find than I expected. Out in the middle of nowhere.”

 

Lin Chu kept her voice pleasant though her smile was tight. “You’re very dedicated, Mr. Jiang. I almost mistook you for some pervert. We used to have an exhibitionist around here; they caught him, but for a second I wondered if he’d been released. Lucky it was only you. Thank you. Drive carefully on the way back.” She turned and walked off without waiting for a reply.

 

The night was dark, without streetlights, lit only by scattered moonlight. She could not clearly see the change in Jiang Jin’s face, but she heard the way he forced his breathing under control. The opera drifting from the gatehouse seemed to thin and scatter on the wind, its last notes impossible to hold.

 

He stepped forward and blocked her path. She could not stop in time and bumped solidly against his chest before quickly stepping back.

 

Jiang Jin gave a short laugh. “Let’s be honest, Miss Lin. Those neighbors aren’t silent because they know nothing. They’re silent because they know something and refuse to say it. Liu Hongmei and her husband fought constantly. Those fights alone could light the fuse for murder.”

 

Lin Chu’s expression stayed flat. “You sound like you’re trying to coach a witness in a television drama. Reporter Jiang, the dead woman and I were ordinary neighbors. Different backgrounds, different education, different jobs. How well would you know someone like that if you lived next door? What you’re doing right now is harassment. I can’t promise I won’t complain to the Nanjiang Evening News.”

 

She stepped around him and walked straight to the stairs. Her slight figure vanished into the dark stairwell almost at once.

 

Jiang Jin stood still, remembering the day she had taken the microphone. In a single sentence she had exposed the City Investment Group, then used twice as many words to declare her loyalty. Sharp-tongued and quick-witted, he thought. Nothing like the soft, harmless look she usually wore.

 

He glanced around. The place felt abandoned, all shadow and silence. Lights burned on the fourth and fifth floors, but he had no idea which window was hers. He smiled once, climbed back onto his motorcycle, and rode away.

 

Past the unlit stretch the road suddenly widened. Construction sites and new buildings rose side by side. Rolling hills stretched in the distance. Under the bright night lamps, patches of bare yellow earth still showed where the land had been scraped clean. Farther on lay the national scenic area. A black minivan came from that direction and passed him at a distance.

 

Lin Chu had barely stepped inside when her mother began scolding. The ride that should have taken ten minutes had stretched to fifteen. Lin’s father, still eating watermelon, muttered, “Couldn’t even manage five.”

 

His wife spun around and glared. “What did you say, you old fool?”

 

He immediately nodded, obedient, and turned back to his fruit, but not before throwing Lin Chu a quick wink. She bit back a laugh, clutched her stomach, and complained that she was starving. Only then did her mother relent.

 

Dinner came out of the microwave still steaming. Her mother sighed over the plates. “This house sits in the worst spot. Everything along the little road in front is marked for demolition, but ours is just far enough to miss it.” She told Lin Chu to put the apartment online and sell it without delay.

 

Lin Chu agreed aloud and disagreed in private. After the meal she spoke quietly with her father.

 

“Your mother’s the old-fashioned kind,” he said. “Long hair, short sense. Why sell a perfectly good place? It might still qualify for compensation if they expand the demolition zone.”

 

Lin Chu smiled. “Whether they demolish it or not is another question. The scenic area ahead is almost finished, and everything around it has already been torn down and rebuilt. We’re a little far from the main view, but property values still rise with it. Even renting it out would bring decent money.” She lowered her voice. “I can’t talk Mother around, so I’ll just tell her it’s already listed.”

 

Her father nodded and promised to keep the secret.

 

On Saturday Lin Chu visited her grandparents, then stopped at a fruit stall near their house. The vendors stood in a cluster, talking about the latest demolition rumors. Once the area was properly planned, they said, street stalls would no longer be allowed.

 

She was waiting to pay when she noticed every vendor looking the same direction. Curious, she turned. Five men in suits were walking slowly toward the stall. Shen Zhongxun stood on the left, pointing at a row of houses and apparently explaining something to the official beside him.

 

When the group reached the busiest stall they paused. One of the leaders sent a subordinate to buy fruit, then smiled at Shen Zhongxun. “Prices are low here. Buy plenty before you head back tomorrow night.”

 

Shen Zhongxun nodded, smiling, yet his eyes stayed fixed on Lin Chu. She started, then smiled back. For a second his own smile stiffened, looking almost startled. While the vendor counted change Lin Chu kept glancing at him and said, “Boss, you’re still short two cents.”

 

The stall owner glanced at her open hand, dug two coins from a tin, and laughed. “You’ve got sharp eyes. You can tell without even looking.”

 

Lin Chu grinned at him. “Who said I wasn’t looking? I was watching from the corner of my eye.”

 

She set off for home with the fruit. As she passed the group one of the leaders remarked, “That young woman looks familiar.”

 

The street was noisy; she caught none of the words. She simply kept her head down and hurried through the heat. Fresh mosquito bites dotted her calves. She bent to scratch them, then hopped a step and rubbed the itch with the other foot.

 

Shen Zhongxun followed the movement with his eyes, glancing at the leg she held off the ground. “That’s the girl who helped pull people out at South Lake that day.”

 

The leader’s face lit with recognition. “Ah, now I remember. Old Wang spoke highly of her. Up close she’s smaller than I expected. Young women these days have both brains and courage.”

 

The phrase “good ideas” almost made Shen Zhongxun laugh. By then the subordinate had finished buying fruit, and the group moved on toward the demolition site.

 

Lin Chu spent two quiet days at home. After dinner on Sunday she had to return to the city. Her mother insisted on packing a heavy bag of fruit. Lin Chu waved it off. “I can buy fruit there. This will be too heavy, and I still have three buses to catch.”

 

Her mother scolded her at once. “How heavy can it be? I can carry a gas cylinder. Take it all. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you hardly buy fruit in the city. You came home constipated. Next time I’ll send honey as well.”

 

Lin Chu felt a flicker of embarrassment. When her mother pressed her about the recent blind date, she offered only a few vague replies before she was finally allowed to leave.

 

The neighbor on the second floor drove a tricycle for a living. Lin’s mother knocked on his door and asked him to take her daughter to the station. She held out a ten-yuan note. He refused it at first, waving the money away with repeated protests. Only after a long back-and-forth did he reluctantly accept.

 

Lin Chu climbed down from the tricycle, the heavy bag of fruit pulling at her arm, and hurried to claim a seat in the front row of the bus. On clear nights Chuqian was always wrapped in stars. Once the road entered Nanjiang City everything changed. In five years of living there she had never seen more than a solitary moon. Now and then a plane would cut across the sky, its lights blinking, only deepening the sense of loneliness.

 

By nine in the evening she reached the final stop and set out toward Guanjin Garden. The bag of fruit made every step a labor. Near the intersection the traffic thickened. On her side of the road the streetlights were dim and the pavement empty. Across the way a large supermarket glowed brightly, and not far beyond it an overpass arched over the street, the contrast sharp against the quiet around her.

 

The moment the light turned green the waiting cars surged forward with a collective whoosh and vanished into the distance.

 

Lin Chu halted at the zebra crossing and looked down, adjusting her grip on the plastic bag. The air was as heavy and still as always. She had no idea that danger had already slipped close and begun to stir.

 

The soft rustle of the plastic masked the nearly silent footsteps behind her. A shadow fell across her back, and the ghostly steps stopped.

 

In the next instant a powerful shove sent her stumbling forward. She cried out as the bag tore open. Fruit spilled across the asphalt in a series of dull thuds. Cars raced toward her from every direction and she could not stop her forward momentum. Behind her the sudden roar of a motorcycle closed in fast. More vehicles poured down from the overpass in a continuous stream, black minivans among them, bearing down without pause.

 

The shadowy figure slipped away at once, yet the motorcycle that had appeared out of nowhere suddenly veered and charged straight toward the spot. Lin Chu’s scream tore through the quiet road. Vehicles from both directions slammed on their brakes in panic. Tires screeched against the asphalt in a harsh, drawn-out cry, and a blast of hot exhaust from the motorcycle washed over her. Lin Chu crumpled to the ground and could not rise.