Chapter 33
After that, Zhou Yue didn't see Jiang Huai for a long time. It was probably because Jiang Huai had a confidante in Song Zhu. They were both from the south, and he liked to listen to Kunqu Opera. Compared with the little haunted building where she lived, the Su-style courtyard where Song Zhu lived was more like a golden house where a big boss kept his mistress. Considering all aspects, he probably wouldn't come to see her again.
In the fourth month, Aunt Liu found her and told her apologetically that Lan Hai could no longer keep her.
"Aunt Liu has to support her family too." As they said this, the two of them were sitting in the teahouse that Aunt Liu visited every day. Baskets of dim sum were laid out on the table. The fan squeaked as it turned its head, blowing the paper lining the steamer. The oil from the dry fried beef noodles was soaked into it, and it became stiff, just like Aunt Liu's face.
Zhou Yue seldom saw Aunt Liu during the day. Under the greasy and gloomy incandescent light of the morning teahouse, her face became greasy and slippery as if covered with a layer of wax, as if the wax would snap and crack if she smiled, and then her whole face would shatter into pieces. The fan turned over and blew the white hair at her temples. Zhou Yue now believed that she was nearly sixty years old.
"But you don't have to sing for those scoundrels anymore. Mr. Jiang likes you, that's a good thing!"
She bit a toothpick and smiled at Zhou Yue's belly, raising her chin. "Hurry up while he's still fresh! How can I not like having a child when a man says no?" As she spoke, she sat up from the armchair, one foot stepped on the plastic slippers on the floor, her red nails scratching with blood, and whispered across the table, "Do you think he's thirty? Almost forty!"
Aunt Liu mentioned a time for morning tea, and Zhou Yue only said one word: "Okay."
Zhou Yue returned to her composure and made dumplings for herself on New Year's Eve. Her cooking skills were not as good as Kang Xingxing's. Who could compare to Kang Xingxing? She sat there with an apron on like a male mother. On the coffee table was a bowl of meat dumpling filling. There was a chopping board and her big black hands were covered with white flour, even in the gaps between her round fingernails. She used a rolling pin to roll out a pile of round and thin dumpling wrappers with a few strokes. She made dumplings while watching NBA. But don't look at her with her eyes fixed on the TV. The meat filling she picked up with chopsticks was just right every time. She lightly dotted it in the middle of the dumpling wrapper. Her big, black hands deftly pinched it once or twice, and a dumpling came out, like a small ingot.
Every time Zhou Yue made wontons, the filling would show through, but Kang Xingxing would rush to take out the wontons she made and eat them, not giving her any chance at all. He would stuff his mouth full of them, making him sweat profusely. He would laugh while eating as if he could find coins in his food, and could only howl when she pinched his arms and legs, which was very disgusting.
She looked at the tray of wontons of varying sizes on the coffee table with annoyance, and muttered to herself in the empty living room, "You're so stupid."
The dumplings were put into the pot and boiling in the boiling water. Kang Xingxing told her that some water was needed when putting the dumplings in. Pour a little cold water every time the water boiled, and do this three times in total. One cup of water was just the right amount, and the dumplings were ready to be served.
Zhou Yue took a porcelain cup and poured cold water into the pot as soon as the water boiled. She watched the tumbling dumplings sink obediently after being poured with cold water. She also laughed, thinking of the open-air swimming pool in her hometown. When summer came, people would jump in, with their white bare chests, just like dumplings. But Kang Xingxing was not like that. He was a chocolate-flavored dumpling... The more she wanted to laugh, the happier she became. When she looked up, she saw a layer of mist on the window due to the steam, reflecting a face that was almost laughing, just like fireworks blooming in the night sky.
When she clicked the button for the third time, she heard the sound of a key opening the door. The cup was just hanging above the pot, and then it was placed on the stove with a soft snap. She supported the stove with one hand and held the handle of the cup with the other. The fireworks crackled for a while and then went out. After striking a cold spark in the night sky, it turned into ashes, fell to the ground, and disappeared in the wind.
"What are you doing?" The man's voice behind him was brisk. The keys were thrown on the keypad in the entrance hall with a clatter. The sound of slippers wiping the face came from far away. He passed the kitchen door and went straight to the living room without looking inside. The leather sofa made a muffled sound, and he sat down on the sofa again to wait for service.
"Put the dumplings in." Zhou Yue leaned against the stove, staring blankly at the boiling water in the pot. The water was boiling into a foamy white foam, which was rolling and struggling with the dumplings.
"Hmm." He hummed noncommittally and said nothing more. Then Zhou Yue heard the sound of a lighter. She thought he didn't smoke. She tilted her head slightly and smelled the fragrance of flowers and the scent of incense burning in a temple.
"Did the Blue Ocean boss lady tell you?"
"Yes."
"Well, I'll do something else when I'm free. What do you want to do?"
"Go to college."
"No, change it."
Zhou Yue lowered her head. The water in the pot was getting less and less. The dumplings were squeezed together, and the edges were mushy. They scattered and floated in the water. A little bit of meat filling flowed out and floated on the surface.
“Buy painting books and learn to paint.”
"Well, that's fine," he said, a hint of laughter in his voice. "I'll have someone accompany you."
"good."
"But Xiao Yuan probably won't make it anymore. He's only hanging on by a thread. I'm worried too..." He sighed, dragged himself into the kitchen, took a plate from the cupboard and threw it on the dining table with a clang. He sat down at the table, crossed his legs, and while dusting the ashes into the plate, he said slowly behind her:
"Kids these days are so impulsive and rough around the edges. They're useless in a real crisis." He exhaled a puff of smoke, pondered for a moment, and then suddenly smiled. "And yet they dare to eat the bowl of noodles and turn the bowl upside down. (They dare to eat the bowl of noodles and turn the bowl upside down.)"
As she spoke, she smoothed her hair back all the way to her neck, covered her neck with her hands and sighed wearily: "But Xiao Yuan is different. He is meticulous and loyal. Without him, some things would be difficult to handle..."
He took another drag, squinting his eyes through the smoke, absentmindedly watching the water droplets flowing on the white tiles. It was a cigar, which he stubbed out on the plate after just a few puffs. His brows darkened, and after stubbing, he lost himself in thought for a moment. Suddenly, as if remembering something, he glanced at Zhou Yue's back and said irritably, "Are the dumplings ready yet?"
Zhou Yue turned on the gas stove and the kitchen became silent instantly. Looking at the bottom of the pot, there was only a drop of water left.
"Are you okay?" Zhou Yue lifted her apron to wipe her hands. While wiping, she put on her expression and turned back. When she turned back, she was stunned. He was still himself, but he was visibly haggard. His pair of sparkling willow-leaf eyes shone crazily, staring at people blankly, excited and cruel, like a wolf looking at sheep.
Zhou Yue opened her eyes wide in fear and swallowed several times before she could speak. She could only repeat what she had said like a tape recorder: "Are you okay?"
He seemed not to understand what she said. He tilted his head and stared at her expressionlessly for a long moment. Then he smiled, stood up, walked over and put his arms around her waist. His shirt was unbuttoned, pressed against her, making her feel hot even through his cashmere sweater. He murmured softly, "Don't worry, I've got a scapegoat. I'll be fine."
Zhou Yue lowered her head and could only see the scar on his chest, which was already very faint. He had built a flesh wall around everyone in front of him, so he couldn't die.
"Is this dumplings?" He held her in his arms and lowered his eyes to see what was in the pot, a big, mushy lump.
"Hmm?" He held her and swung her. The bloodstains on the cuffs of his shirt had dried into a dark red. He said coquettishly, "I've never eaten dumplings before. Can you teach me?"
"I can't make it right," she laughed dryly. "It turned into wontons the first time I made it. I couldn't control the heat well, so it's not really dumplings. Dumplings aren't like that."
When she spoke, he didn't even look at the pot. His eyes never left her face, carefully examining each of her eyelashes and muscles. Finally, he smiled appreciatively and nodded, "Oh..." He gave her a big kiss on the face, picked her up and sat her on the stove.
Zhou Yue subconsciously pushed back, and her arm knocked over the porcelain cup. The water splashed onto the iron pot and turned into a wisp of smoke with a sizzling sound.
He lifted her long skirt with one hand and reached inside, pulling off the small piece of cloth and throwing it aside. He placed his lips on her ear and murmured, "Are you still worried about Xiao Yuan?"
"I didn't," Zhou Yue supported herself on the stove with both hands, her legs hanging down limply. He held her knees and spread them apart, looking at the fireworks faintly reflected on the white tiles behind him, a blue one, then a red one, blooming one after another, lively and joyous.
"I just think he's a human being like us, not a dog."
"Tsk." He laughed and no longer wanted to pretend to be a gentleman. His hands kept moving, and in a blink of an eye, she was only wearing a half-removed sock, and the table and the floor were a mess.
"But I think..." She retracted her gaze to look at his face. Brother Jiang, handsome Brother Jiang. She and little Kang Xingxing were lying in bed and talking at night. At that time, he was just an ugly little black boy, but he became more energetic when talking about the young, promising, kind and patriotic Brother Jiang. It turned out that when one grows up and becomes an adult and has a lot of money, he does not necessarily become a cunning and cold-blooded bad adult.
"What do you feel?" He pierced her without mercy, tilted his head back, closed his eyes, sighed, and then remained still. He waited until a large patch of bright red spread in his eye sockets, then he lazily lifted his eyelashes, raised his chin and looked into her eyes with interest.
She tilted her head and looked at his face carefully. She didn't know what had happened in the past few months or who had pushed him to this point, but she knew that he urgently needed to vent his excessive desires, as well as his unbearable hatred, fear and anxiety in her.
She laughed, "I think Xiao Zhou, Xiao Yuan, and whatever little thing you have are all dogs in your eyes, they just have different uses."
"Ha!" He was delighted and hugged her tighter. "Do you know why I like you? Because you know yourself. Unlike other dogs, you think you're special and nobler than the dogs that eat leftovers just because you're given a little meat. You're even asking me for my love and undivided attention. Isn't that ridiculous?"
Zhou Yue nodded sincerely, "ridiculous."
"You're so smart, but remember," he gently poked her chapped lips with his fingertips, "the sympathy of the weak is the least valuable, because she can't do anything. She can't give him enough money to last him a lifetime, nor can she save his life. And yet she stands on the moral high ground and accuses me. Do you know how many people I support? And how many people rely on me to support their families?"
"So don't be so moved." He brushed her hair aside and held her head, which seemed more like pinching her neck. He looked at the fireworks blooming outside the window and smiled intoxicatedly. "It's New Year's, so be happy."
…
The fireworks on New Year's Eve were brilliant, but she could see nothing but water droplets on the tiles. The air was hot and humid, and the water droplets condensed there and did not drip down. Occasionally, they were shaken off by the man's high-pitched groan. The gritted groan and the dull and rapid impact sound came one after another, mixed in with the crackling sound of firecrackers and the laughter of children.
"Hold on." He stared at her face, and his movements became more and more violent. Her hands were sore and numb that she lost consciousness.
Unable to hold on any longer, she stared at the lights on the ceiling, which had become shadows. He hated flaws. If her back got burned, she would be completely free. With this thought, he let go...
There was a sizzling sound and the smell of burning flesh, followed by a crisp slap. She flew out and slammed into the other wall. There was a dull thud, and a sweet and fishy smell spread between her lips and tongue. A warm and sticky liquid flowed down her forehead, blurring her eyes...
Her pain filled him with ecstasy. He pressed her against the wall, a trembling moan escaping his teeth: "You bitch, you get horny just by seeing a man." His face wrinkled with gnashing teeth, sweat pouring down his face. A pool of sweat formed on his collarbone, swaying and rolling down his chest as he violently thrust...
"Go make me a bowl of noodles. I want plain noodles." He took another cigar, looked out the window with his back to her, and tucked his shirt into his trouser waist with a weary movement.
Zhou Yue sat on the ground, covering her body with a cashmere sweater, dazed as if she couldn't hear him. He didn't call her again. He put on his clothes with his back to her, turned around and walked over in slippers, picked her up and threw her on the dining table. He glanced at the burn on her back. There was a small bowl of leftover flour on the table. He took it from the tap and added some water. He stirred it with his fingers and rubbed it on her body, laughing with a cigarette in his mouth, "It's left a scar, Miss Zhou..." He leaned over to look at her face, "Don't you want this skin? I'll find someone to help you?"
Her eyes were open, but her eyeballs were motionless. He looked at her for a while, then stood up, holding the bowl high, and poured the wet flour all over her. He threw the bowl aside with a clang, took out his cigar and flicked it, and the ash wrapped in sparks fell in the stuffy air.
Just then, a bunch of blue fireworks shot up into the night sky, like a tree of ice flowers in full bloom. He sat down in a chair, looked at the cold blue night sky, and sighed deeply, "Your mother opened her eyes, but she didn't respond when I spoke to her..."
He lowered his eyes to look into hers, and blue fireworks surged in her eyes like broken ice and slid down from the corners of her eyes.
"It's New Year's Eve, go check on her, call 'Mom' in her ear and see if she wakes up!"
A buzzing sound filled the silent air. He pulled his phone out of his trouser pocket and took a look. He laughed so hard that he couldn't even hold his cigarette in his mouth. "What a lucky guy!" He stood up and patted her face. "Xiao Yuan can play with you again, baby!"
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