NB Chapter15

The newspaper clipping has also long since vanished.

I am an ordinary person; I have my weaknesses, and I am prone to regret. Whenever I think about how I misjudged him, I feel both fury and remorse.

I thought to myself: if I hadn’t saved Zhang Mingsheng on the day of his car accident, perhaps none of what followed would have ever happened. Or if I had left the banquet just a little earlier, he might never have had the chance to go drag racing in my jacket.

If I weren’t an orphan; if I’d had loving parents and a happy home, someone naturally would have set off fireworks for me. I wouldn’t have been like the Little Mermaid rising to the surface for the first time with her heart stirred as she watched fireworks dive through the night sky like countless glowing fish.

Falling for a romantic stranger who appears out of nowhere brings nothing but misfortune. In truth, fairy tales explained this lesson long ago.

I lowered my head, signaling that I didn’t want to answer. He already knew everything about the past; asking like this was meaningless. Besides, someone like Zhang Mingsheng could never truly understand emotions.

Seeing me avoid his eyes, Zhang Mingsheng didn’t press further. He had always just asked things casually, teasing me for his own amusement like teasing a dog. He reached out and wrapped his hand around the side of my neck to feel my pulse. His fingers circled my throat, tightening just enough to compel me to lift my chin.

He whispered, “Actually, I still think Officer Yu looked better back then.”

“So, you actually understand what ‘good-looking’ means.” I muttered without bothering to engage. I lowered my eyelids and squinted at him.

Zhang Mingsheng was not driven by mere lust toward me; his demands were never greedy or shallow. On rare occasions when things became intense, they were always mixed with heavy emotion and a kind of unrestrained madness. It was only a way of claiming possession. Zhang Mingsheng’s methods were never that one-dimensional.

“Of course, I understand, bb. I’ve seen plenty of cops, but only you look that ‘cool’ when you’re firing a gun.” Zhang Mingsheng leaned in closer, brushing his nose against my cheek until our humid breaths mingled.

I parted my lips slightly, trying to draw in easier breaths, and reached up with both hands to grasp his strong wrist. Amidst my shallow breathing, I began to count the seconds in my head. This was my way of coping with torment.

By the tenth second, I was trembling. Through the haze, I heard a tearful cry:

“Daddy! Mommy!”

It was Keke coming down the stairs.

Zhang Mingsheng released me at once, and I jolted, snapping my eyes open in alarm. In the same instant, we both turned toward the little girl, who was now crying uncontrollably.

I suffer from neurasthenia, and a child’s crying is the sound I dread most. Her wails filled the room, reverberating endlessly, and I closed my eyes as a sharp pain began to throb in my temples.

In this house, Zhang Yike was the most expressive one. She had loved to cry and laugh since she was a baby; I had no idea who she could have picked that up from.

Zhang Mingsheng walked over and scooped her up like a small animal. “Oyo, what happened, Meimei? Why are you crying?”

Whenever Zhang Yike cries, her speech becomes incoherent. I’ve corrected her many times by telling her that if she wants to speak, she must speak clearly; otherwise, even I cannot help her. I’m not sure if my impatience backfired, but now, whenever she cries, she always calls for “Daddy” first.

I’m certain Zhang Mingsheng didn’t understand a word she was saying either, yet he continued to smile and respond to his daughter, nodding from time to time.

Since capturing me, his acting skills have improved immensely. Aside from perhaps attempting a female lead, I doubt there is any role he couldn’t play. If the Zhang family ever went bankrupt, he could easily step into the entertainment industry and bring new glory to 21st-century cinema.

Watching their intimacy, a strange sensation gradually welled up in my heart.

In front of Xiao Yuan and Keke, Zhang Mingsheng has always been a “good father.” He has spent over twenty years acting like a normal human being; for him, playing a good father is like using a sledgehammer to crack a nut.

But I know that Zhang Mingsheng’s attitudes toward Xiao Yuan and Keke are fundamentally different. That subtle nuance in his behavior is something even Aunt Liu likely hasn’t noticed.

Since Keke was born, Zhang Mingsheng and I have slowly begun to resemble an ordinary couple. Zhang Mingsheng enjoys it, while I feel tormented by it. He is acting so convincingly that I can no longer tell whether there is even a hint of truth left in it; and I am acting as well, so thoroughly that it has become second nature, as though I live on a film set where the performance begins the moment I open my eyes.

Zhang Mingsheng could soothe Keke’s tears, but he couldn’t soothe her anxiety.

Eventually, Keke crawled into my arms, resting quietly against my shoulder. No matter how much she usually fears me or clings to Zhang Mingsheng, the moment she is sad or afraid, she burrows toward me like a tiny, lonely island in this vast sea. And I am the only other island that makes her instinctively feel safe. Our bond is complex, like a rainbow bridge spontaneously generated by the Earth. She loves me and relies on me; it is an instinct she cannot change.

I feel safe because of this, yet I also feel utterly exhausted by it.

A child who was never supposed to exist has somehow become my stumbling block and my chain.

The most critical thing is that I cannot bring myself to stop loving her entirely.

By the time Keke’s tears had dried, breakfast was already being served.

Zhang Mingsheng lifted me into my wheelchair, and before pushing me to the table, he made a show of pulling out a chair for me. Seeing this, Aunt Liu beamed again. She had always thought the two of us shared a deep affection; for a middle-aged couple, she considered this quite rare.

“Pull it further away,” I said irritably. “It’s in the way.”

Zhang Mingsheng let out a low chuckle, and with a single glance, he summoned Ah Hai to carry the chair off entirely.

Everyone had gathered; even Ah Hai stood to the side munching on a piece of red bean toast. Aunt Liu had made it herself, using Ah Hai as a test subject over twenty times before finally succeeding.

I have no idea exactly how much money Zhang Mingsheng pays Ah Hai to convince him to stay. Ah Shan, of course, needs no convincing; he is simple and silent, always following Ah Hai and obeying his every word.

I used to think they were biological brothers, though they didn’t look much alike; Ah Hai is lean while Ah Shan is brawny. The two of them used to stand outside my private hospital room like a pair of door gods.

Everyone was eating breakfast, yet Zhang Xiaoyuan was nowhere to be seen.

Even his perverted father could sit down peacefully for a morning meal, yet this elementary schooler was dragging his feet, refusing to come downstairs.

I grew a bit impatient. I could guess exactly what Zhang Xiaoyuan was doing. To make it up to his son, Zhang Mingsheng had bought him a computer. He’d been tinkering with it for days, reportedly playing some game. He stayed up late every night, the dark circles under his eyes making him look like a perpetually grumpy little panda.

I occasionally caught a glimpse of the game interface and discovered that Zhang Xiaoyuan’s ID was “Moon is Brightest over Home.” It’s a fine line of poetry, but it made him sound like a forty-five-year-old man trying to be trendy while reminiscing about his youth in a video game. I don’t know why my children go to such extremes; one a born princess, the other aging before his time.

Ah Hai and Ah Shan’s IDs were simpler: just “Ah Shan” and “Ah Hai.” Their two IDs were lined up neatly, and their character models were plain and orderly as if they were undergoing military drills within the game.

I called Ah Hai over. “Get Zhang Xiaoyuan down here for breakfast. Tell him if he doesn’t come down now, he can forget about using that computer ever again.”

Zhang Mingsheng was busy slicing a cold piece of broccoli. Hearing my words, he lowered his eyes and gave a soft laugh. His knife slid across the vegetable and hit the bottom of the plate, producing a loud ‘clank’ and a piercing scraping sound. “If he doesn’t want to come downstairs, just putting the food on a tray and sending it up to him makes no difference.”

He certainly knew how to play the “good cop.”

Aunt Liu was feeding Keke, who was wearing a little bib. The little spoon kept chasing after her mouth, bite after bite, leaving Keke barely able to keep up. After she had swallowed three spoonfuls of rice cereal mixed with oats and apples, Aunt Liu paused for a moment. Keke finally found her chance and suddenly said, “I saw Gege just now.”

“Did you go to your brother’s room to play?” Zhang Mingsheng lowered his head, meeting the gaze of Keke, who was sitting in her highchair.

“Mm-hm,” she nodded emphatically. She spoke quite frankly, her face full of innocence. “Gege was the one who led me downstairs just now.”

Neither Zhang Mingsheng nor I had seen him at all.

Why would he suddenly lead his sister downstairs?

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