APR 20

Xiao Lao Dao hugged the trash can and made a fuss while dry heaving for a while, but couldn’t vomit anything.

He stood up from beside the trash can, walked over to Zhong Su, glanced around the surroundings, and with a tone still somewhat weak but full of disdain, wrinkled his chubby face and said, “Zhong Su, seriously, who exactly are you looking for? Such a low-class place, only ghosts could live here. Over the years of Yan Port’s development, this street has been completely left behind, it’s just packed with poor folks.”

“Is that so?” Zhong Su shot him a sidelong glance and said indifferently, “The person I’m looking for and I used to live here.”

“If you look down on this place, then go home. No one asked you to tag along in the first place.”

He was lost and irritated right now, with no mind to care about a stranger’s attitude.

Xiao Lao Dao hadn’t expected Zhong Su to be so blunt and was left speechless, nearly biting his own tongue in surprise.

Just then, a small-time boss with a mohawk happened to walk out of the mahjong parlor.

In a fiery temper, he slapped the back of the head of a young man blocking the doorway and scolded, “Idiot, can’t you see me walking out? Standing there like a mute.”

The young man who got hit didn’t dare utter a word upon seeing him. Flustered, he pulled out a cigarette from his pocket and offered it to the boss with both hands. While lighting it, he fawned, “Brother Ji, you’re absolutely right. I was too dumb. Have a smoke to calm down.”

“That’s more like it.”

Brother Ji took a blissful drag of the cigarette, smacked his lips, then suddenly his expression changed. He flung the cigarette to the ground and started yelling again, pointing at the underling’s head, “Damn it, you give me a crappy brand like Pagoda? Has your brain been chewed by a dog? When have you ever seen me smoke such trash? No class at all.”

Still not satisfied after his outburst, he kicked the other in the rear and said, “Go buy two packs of Golden Pegasus. So damn stupid, no brains at all.”

“Yes, right away, I’ll go immediately!”

Zhong Su watched the scene coldly, his heart sinking with a bad premonition: although he hadn’t expected everything to remain unchanged after seven years, he never imagined that even the person in charge of the mahjong parlor had been replaced by a complete stranger, no longer one of Chen Huan’s men. In this situation, could he still find Chen Huan here?

Perhaps Zhong Su’s gaze was too icy, as Brother Ji keenly sensed his stare. He stopped harassing his underling and turned to size Zhong Su up.

Seeing Zhong Su’s dark-circled, sleep-deprived, and feeble appearance, Brother Ji immediately snarled, “Hey, punk, what are you looking at? With that unlucky face of yours, are you holding back a laugh at me?”

Before Zhong Su could respond, Xiao Lao Dao beside him planted his hands on his hips and retorted with full vigor, “Who’s looking at you? Take a piss and look at your own face, covered in ugly pockmarks, it’s an eyesore just to see.”

“What? Say that again if you dare.”

“My mouth, my rules. I’ll say what I want.” Xiao Lao Dao, with his stout build and being a gangster himself, showed no trace of his earlier timidity at the bar when facing a scrawny poser like Brother Ji.

He stepped forward, chest-bumping Brother Ji like an aggressive rooster, forcing him to stagger backward, and fired off verbally, “You’re nothing but a little punk, and you dare tell people where to look? My buddy here isn’t bothering with you, but you think he’s easy to bully?!”

Brother Ji was shoved hard against the mahjong parlor’s glass door, his face turning purple with rage. “I’ll fuck your ancestors!”

Zhong Su knew the type all too well, petty troublemakers like Chicken Brother who loved stirring up trouble but had zero actual skills. He and Chen Huan had dealt with plenty of them in the past. But right now, rather than shutting the punk up, he was more concerned about Chen Huan’s situation.

So Zhong Su gave Xiao Lao Dao a slight nod and said, “Stay here and argue with him if you want. I’m going up.”

“Huh? Just me? But there are so many of them—” Xiao Lao Dao stared blankly, but before he could finish, Zhong Su had already stepped through the open iron gate of the unit building, his figure quickly disappearing into the dimly lit stairwell.

The stairwell, perpetually untouched by sunlight, carried a damp, musty smell. Zhong Su felt his way familiarly to the light switch on the wall and pressed it. The light flickered on, casting a murky yellow glow that barely illuminated the concrete steps ahead.

Using the faint light, Zhong Su climbed to the third floor and immediately spotted the rental unit he had shared with Chen Huan.

A fresh pair of couplets celebrating the Year of the Dragon adorned the familiar door, their vibrant red hue particularly eye-catching.

Aside from that, the doormat and the potted pothos plant by the door remained in their usual spots. It seemed someone had been trimming the plant regularly, it hadn’t grown much taller and looked hardly different from when he’d left for Seven Rocks Island to lay low.

Zhong Su bent down and moved the plant aside. The spare key was still safely tucked in its place, though the edges of the teeth were slightly rusted and coated with a fine layer of dust.

A faint smile touched his lips as he murmured, “Lucky. He actually didn’t move out.”

If Chen Huan had moved, Zhong Su would have had nowhere to look for him.

He picked up the key, inserted it into the lock, and turned it a few times. With a click of the bolt retracting, the door swung open.

The apartment was dark and silent.

Uncertain what state Chen Huan might be in, Zhong Su called out nervously, “Chen Huan? Are you home? I’m back…!”

The moment he flipped on the main light in the living room and saw the scene inside, his hopes were completely dashed.

The entire layout of the room had changed: the shelves once crammed with videotapes were gone, the bulky old TV replaced by a sleeker model, even sporting a cozy beige dust cover.

The familiar, sharp scent of “Blue Mist” cigarettes was absent from the air, replaced by an unfamiliar fabric softener fragrance.

Clearly, Chen Huan couldn’t possibly still be living here.

Zhong Su scanned the living room and noticed a photo frame on the small square table.

“Is this… a family photo of the new tenants?” Hesitating for a moment, he still picked up the frame to examine it.

Inside was a family portrait: an elderly couple with kindly faces sat in the front row, while two young men stood behind them. On the left was a boy of about fifteen or sixteen with youthful features, and on the right, a straight-backed young man wearing a crisp police uniform.

Each had a hand resting on their parents’ shoulders, warm smiles lighting up their faces, the picture of an ordinary, happy family of four.

Zhong Su’s gaze lingered on the police uniform for a couple of seconds.

A… police officer?

Just as a sliver of doubt crossed his mind, a sudden, abrupt sound of a lock turning came from behind him.

Zhong Su turned around to see a sturdy young man in police uniform entering through the door. The man had handsome, sunny features and clear eyes, but marring this appearance was a vicious circular scar around his neck—as if someone had once slashed a knife brutally along his throat, the scar so large it couldn’t be concealed by his collar.

The moment their eyes met, Zhong Su immediately recognized him: this was the young man in uniform from the photograph, and also the new tenant of this apartment now.

“Hm?” Yu Zizhuo looked up, surprised to see the dripping wet, rebelliously dressed Zhong Su. He tilted his head and asked, “Who are you? Why are you in my home? Are you a homeless person or… a thief?”

The instant the word “thief” left his lips, a chill shot up Zhong Su’s spine, and he felt an overwhelming terror toward this seemingly harmless young man. “This is a misunderstanding, I can explain—”

Before he could finish, Yu Zizhuo gave him no chance to explain, grabbing a small rattan basket of odds and ends nearby and hurling it at him.

Coins, keychains, and other small items scattered everywhere. Zhong Su instinctively raised his arms to block, but in that split second of hesitation, Yu Zizhuo closed in swiftly, clenched his fist, and delivered a heavy blow to Zhong Su’s stomach.

“Thief!”

“Ugh!” Zhong Su grunted in pain, and the next moment, his neck was brutally seized as a powerful force slammed him to the ground.

Yu Zizhuo pinned him down with a knee pressed firmly against Zhong Su’s lower back, his voice gentle yet unnervingly menacing: “Young and not learning to do good, just breaking into houses. Didn’t your parents teach you not to steal from others?”

“Don’t even think about running. You’re going to spend a few days in jail today to fix this bad habit.”

“Damn you! I’m an orphan with no parents, I don’t need your lecture!” Zhong Su spat through gritted teeth, veins bulging in his neck from the chokehold. “I told you it’s a misunderstanding, let me go!”

As he struggled, his fingers suddenly brushed against a cold metal ornament. Almost without thinking, he swung it backward with all his strength, smashing it into Yu Zizhuo behind him.

The blow landed squarely on Yu Zizhuo’s shoulder, jolting his body violently. The gentleness on his face vanished instantly, replaced by a dark scowl.

“Resisting even when caught red-handed?” His tone turned icy as he viciously grabbed Zhong Su’s hair and slammed his head against the floor. “Absolutely hopeless!”

After just a few slams, Zhong Su couldn’t take it anymore. This body really couldn’t handle a beating.

His hands dropped weakly, a gash on his forehead bleeding profusely and obscuring his vision with sticky blood.

All he could see was a haze of crimson, and he clearly realized: this cop showed no mercy—a violent maniac who saw no humanity in street punks.

Seeing that Zhong Su could no longer resist, Yu Zizhuo pulled out handcuffs, preparing to restrain him.

But at this critical moment, suddenly—

A loud crash echoed as excruciating pain shot through the back of his head. Yu Zizhuo turned to see a panting, heavyset man holding half of a shattered vase, its broken edges smeared with blood from his own head.

Xiao Lao Dao glared wide-eyed, roaring, “Let go of my brother, you damn cop! He used to live here! He’s just back looking for someone, you’ve got the wrong guy, you bastard!”

Though Xiao Lao Dao appeared fierce on the surface, seeing Yu Zizhuo drenched in half his body in blood made his heart pound: Was this cop’s head made of iron? How could he not be knocked out by a vase?

A trail of blood dripped slowly from Yu Zizhuo’s jaw. He wiped his face, stared silently at the blood on his palm for a moment, and then, as if struck by a sudden thought, murmured softly, “I understand now. The two of you are home-invading robbers trying to kill me and steal my police gun to commit crimes.”

This left Xiao Lao Dao utterly confused. He instinctively stammered, “What robbers are you talking about?”

Before he could finish speaking, Yu Zizhuo had already drawn his service weapon, aiming the barrel directly at Xiao Lao Dao’s forehead. “Drop the weapon and raise your hands! Otherwise, I will shoot immediately.”

“I was wrong, I was wrong! Please don’t shoot, Officer!” Xiao Lao Dao was easily intimidated. The moment he saw the gun, he raised both hands high, and the half-broken vase he was clutching clattered to the floor.

Yu Zizhuo stood up, tilted the gun slightly, and coldly gestured toward the entranceway. “Walk over to the entrance, put your hands behind your back, and kneel facing the wall. If you make any sudden moves, I will shoot.”

Xiao Lao Dao met Yu Zizhuo’s emotionless, mechanical amber eyes and didn’t dare hesitate for a second. “No need for you to trouble yourself, I’ll kneel right now.”

He dropped to his knees with a thud on the entranceway tiles. The sound of metal scraping followed, and then a cold weight clamped around his wrists, a pair of heavy handcuffs tightly securing his hands.

Xiao Lao Dao’s body was all flabby flesh, and with the handcuffs digging in, he could only awkwardly curl into a ball.

He forced a dry smile and pleaded, “Officer, it’s fine if you cuff me, but my friend is really innocent. He just came back to visit an old friend and had no idea someone else was living here now.”

“Please, send him to the hospital first. His head is still bleeding badly. If this drags on, he could die!”

Yu Zizhuo had always despised listening to criminals’ excuses, especially from those who had caused him trouble.

“Save your explanations for the station. Assaulting an officer is a clear-cut fact.”

Xiao Lao Dao grew frantic. “My friend’s name is Zhong Su. If you don’t believe me, call the landlord right now and ask! If we’re not lying, then you’ve wrongfully injured an innocent citizen! I’ll definitely report you to your superiors!”

The phrase “wrongfully injured citizen” struck a chord with Yu Zizhuo.

—If what this person said was true, that young man earlier hadn’t run away at the first sight of him. Instead, he had stood his ground, trying to explain something.

Yu Zizhuo glanced back. Zhong Su lay in a pool of blood, half his face submerged in it, his complexion deathly pale. Excruciating pain had twisted his brows into a tight knot, his long eyelashes fluttering weakly. He looked utterly fragile, even pitifully innocent.

His grip on the gun wavered slightly. Could it be… that he had truly misunderstood?