NB Chapter19

Until we moved into our new residence, I learned nothing more about those twin death-row inmates.

A cold case that had seemingly long since been laid to rest; its perpetrators, who should have died by gunshot years ago, had their lives extended in the shadows by some indescribable power.

I couldn’t help but wonder: if I had never met Zhang Mingsheng and if I had never become “Yu Huaiqing,” through what chance would I ever have perceived the truth? In the vast sea of people, even if I had brushed shoulders with those brothers and caught a glimpse of them in my periphery, would I have even suspected, let alone recognized, that they were the criminals whose skulls should have been pierced by two bullets?

Zhang Mingsheng called me Jingwei trying to fill the sea, but I am no deity. My life spans only a hundred years, perhaps even fewer. If time could turn back and I could avoid the catastrophe that is Zhang Mingsheng, how much suffering could I have prevented? How much evil could I have exposed? Would there be enough time? Could it ever be calculated? I have seen so much death, yet this was the first time I realized how ferociously time slips away. Living people exist in this world like mustard seeds; with the slightest lapse in attention, they can be crushed and erased by unspeakable forces, dissolving into nothingness.

I closed my eyes, trying to steady my thoughts. I heard the sound of rain between each breath.

Our family is going to attend a funeral. That child from the Zhu family is being buried today.

I I suspected Zhang Mingsheng must have conveyed some message to the Zhu family; perhaps as the Zhang clan’s eldest grandson, or perhaps as a father who shared their ordeal, having once nearly lost his own child. He likely told them that the perpetrator had already been dealt with, that nothing more needed to be said, and that everything had been done for the sake of the children.

The Zhang family’s influence spans both the legal and illegal worlds. When Zhang Mingsheng speaks such words, they carry weight.

The Zhu family was instantly moved to tears of gratitude, convinced that their long-standing vengeance had finally been avenged. They even sent over numerous gifts to celebrate our housewarming.

They congratulated us on our housewarming, and in return, we had to show them face by attending the funeral of that child who had died so senselessly.

This sort of social reciprocity was almost laughable.

According to Zhang Mingsheng, today was a good day for a burial. I didn’t understand his logic; if it’s a burial, how can it be a good day? On second thought, perhaps the Zhu family had consulted someone to pick an auspicious hour, hoping to let their long-suffering grandson rest in peace and secure a smooth path for his next life.

Zhang Mingsheng, of course, was dismissive of such things.

The Zhu family had been butchers for three generations, rising to prominence from behind meat stalls in wet markets. Having slaughtered countless livestock and worn through who-knows-how-many cleavers, they now found themselves clinging to notions of karma and the afterlife. They weren’t particular about the details either; whether it was a Taoist priest or a Buddhist monk, they believed whatever they were told. When people have fallen to rock bottom, even the blink of an eye can be interpreted as a sign from the gods.

Zhang Mingsheng believed in none of it; he simply found it ridiculous.

The old man who had once read Keke’s fortune was a well-known “charlatan” in Hong Kong. Ever since he declared Keke the “lucky star” of the Zhang family, his health had declined daily until he died shortly after. For a time, I suspected Zhang Mingsheng had played a hand in it, but I eventually reconsidered, Zhang Mingsheng has always been an atheist who scorns the supernatural; it likely wasn’t his doing.

He once said that if divine punishment or Hell truly existed, they were welcome to take him away; he wouldn’t even bat an eye. Seeing him so candid, I silently prayed that his wish might one day come true.

Yet here he was, outwardly living well with a wife and daughter, while beneath the surface he ruled with an iron fist. It was as if retribution didn’t exist in this world at all.

I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve left the house this month. Autumn had settled over Hong Kong bringing with it a faint, rustling drizzle. Leaning against the window, I watched pea-sized raindrops hit the tinted glass, then slide slowly downward, slipping away to somewhere I could no longer see.

Before leaving, Zhang Mingsheng picked out a pair of oversized sunglasses for me; they had brownish-tea-colored frames that covered more than half of my face. I didn’t like my long hair, and I was never good at taking care of it, so I just twisted it up and clipped it in place. Loose strands still slipped free and brushed against my neck, stirring a faint, persistent irritation inside me.

I said, “I used to hear from the elders that it isn’t suitable to arrange such a grand display for a child who died young, isn’t it?”

Zhang Mingsheng gave a hum of affirmation. He said nonchalantly while lowering his head to adjust his cufflinks, “The little one died, and the big one followed along as well.”

I froze upon hearing this. Before I had the chance to ask anything else, Zhang Mingsheng swept me up into his arms. Even past thirty, he was still very strong. Zhang Mingsheng had always been attentive to health; not just his own, but everyone’s. Even if Ah Hai merely coughed once, he would immediately grant him a long leave of absence, insisting he undergo a full medical examination before he was allowed to return.

Sometimes, I felt he was like some kind of wild beast on the plains; before the sun rose, he would strive to maintain his peak condition just to stay alive.

Mentally psychopathic, physically healthy, and full of vitality.

Ordinary people truly have no way of dealing with someone like this, and I am no exception.

He carried me as he strode out of the living room. Outside the door, Ah Hai held a black umbrella. As soon as Zhang Mingsheng stepped out from under the eaves, Ah Hai tilted the umbrella with great solemnity, completely shielding both Zhang Mingsheng and me.

Keke was already inside the car. Not far away, Xiao Yuan stood by the vehicle watching us, dressed in a black uniform, while Ah Shan held an umbrella over him.

As Zhang Mingsheng carried me into the car, I stole a quiet glance at the general exterior of our new home. Compared to our previous residence, this building looked slightly aged; it was a European-style structure with exterior walls painted a faint shade of red. I heard it was the former residence of Zhang Mingsheng’s parents and even had its own name; it seemed to be called the Red Residence. Supposedly, it was the only asset his parents had left him. Now, he had moved in with his own patchwork family.

For some reason, I suddenly felt like sighing.

But I didn’t have the time. This Rolls-Royce was considered spacious, Zhang Mingsheng had purchased it specifically for family outings; but for me, no matter how much space there was, it was always a hassle as long as I couldn’t move on my own. Zhang Mingsheng shielded my head and helped me settle into my seat. Amidst the flurry of movement, I caught a glimpse of my young daughter’s sprawling sleeping posture in the seat next to me. My head began to ache again.

“Does she really have to go too?” I asked, filled with worry.

While I wasn’t superstitious, she was simply too young. She shouldn’t be attending a funeral in the first place; the risk of “colliding with unclean spirits” was one thing, but explaining life and death was quite another.

Zhang Mingsheng said softly, “They were classmates after all.”

I looked at him, my face full of disbelief. I couldn’t believe those words had come out of his mouth; he clearly held social niceties and human sentiments in utter contempt.

He shrugged and took a heavy blanket from Ah Hai. He unfolded it, then leaned half his body into the car, draping the blanket over both my legs and Keke’s small body.

Once everything was ready, Zhang Mingsheng said, “Not everyone gets the chance to attend the funeral of someone they despise. Keke is lucky.”

I knew it! This psychopath!

He got into the passenger seat first, and Zhang Xiaoyuan followed behind him.

The boy sat down very carefully, taking up only a small corner of the seat. I absentmindedly brushed his sleeve and felt a thin layer of dampness clinging to his body. There was wind today, driving the rain sideways so that it struck people at an angle.

Ah Shan wasn’t as meticulous as Ah Hai, and he didn’t know how to tilt the umbrella properly to block the wind-driven rain. Zhang Xiaoyuan was also the quiet type, lacking Keke’s natural ability to order people around.

I held back the sigh I wanted to let out for Zhang Mingsheng, but in the end, I still sighed for little Zhang instead. I took out a handkerchief, intending to wipe his damp ears dry.

Like a sharp-witted animal, Zhang Xiaoyuan suddenly threw up his arm to block me before I could even get close.

I was startled by his reaction.

He also realized he had lost his composure. He slowly lowered his arm and sat up stiffly with his eyes fixed to the side while waiting for my next move.

I didn’t know why he would react this way.

Zhang Xiaoyuan wanted nothing in the Zhang household and was never made to suffer. Even though Zhang Mingsheng was temperamental, he was willing to put on the facade of a good father in front of him and Keke. Even if he had been bullied in the orphanage, he was very young then; he shouldn’t have retained such muscle memory.

I quietly glanced toward the front seat, only to meet Zhang Mingsheng’s eyes in the mirror, they were as cold as frigid stars.

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