At 2:17 in the morning, Feng Yulan was awakened by a slight vibration.
She opened her sore eyes. The bedroom was pitch black, with only a ray of pale moonlight coming through the gap in the curtains.
Zhang Shuo beside him was carefully lifting the quilt, his movements as gentle as if he was defusing a bomb.
His phone buzzed and vibrated on the bedside table, the screen lighting up and going out like a glowing firefly.
Feng Yulan immediately closed her eyes, slowed her breathing, and pretended to be still asleep. This was a survival skill she had learned since getting married—ignorance was safety in front of Zhang Shuo.
The mattress sank slightly as Zhang Shuo's body heat left her. Feng Yulan opened her eyes a crack and saw her husband grab his phone and walk barefoot quickly to the bathroom.
His back looked particularly thin in the moonlight, and his shoulder blades were like two sharp knives.
The bathroom door was closed gently, but not completely, leaving a gap two fingers wide.
Feng Yulan counted to thirty, and after confirming that Zhang Shuo would not suddenly come out, she slowly sat up.
The May night breeze came in through the window cracks, blowing on the back of her sweaty neck, causing her to shiver.
She should lie back down and continue sleeping. Last week, because she got up in the middle of the night to drink water, Zhang Shuo spilled a whole cup of hot tea on her leg, leaving a coin-sized scar.
But tonight, a strange intuition tugged at her stomach, telling her she had to know what the call was about.
Feng Yulan got out of bed barefoot, the coldness of the tiles running up her spine from the soles of her feet. She moved silently like a cat to the bathroom door, her ear pressed close to the crack.
"...This batch won't do. The purity is too low..." Zhang Shuo's voice was so low that it seemed to be squeezed out from between his teeth. "Old Jin will not be satisfied..."
Old Jin? Feng Yulan frowned. She had never heard Zhang Shuo mention this name before.
Zhang Shuo's breathing suddenly became rapid after hearing what was said on the other end of the phone: "Impossible! We agreed on more than 90%... Now it's less than 70%..."
There was a fierceness in his voice that Feng Yulan had never heard before. "You know Lao Jin's rules."
There was a moment of silence. Feng Yulan could hear the throbbing of her own temple and the rhythm of Zhang Shuo's fingers tapping on the tiles—tap, tap, tap, like the countdown of a time bomb.
"Okay, tomorrow... no, tonight at three o'clock, the same place." Zhang Shuo's voice suddenly calmed down, a calmness more terrifying than anger. "Bring what you need... Don't forget the lesson from last time."
Feng Yulan's nails dug unconsciously into the paint on the door frame. "The lesson from last time?" What did that mean?
Zhang Shuo sneered at what was said on the other end of the phone: "Is Jason's matter settled? ...That's good...Remember, Lao Jin hates leaving any traces behind."
Jason? Who is this? Feng Yulan's thoughts were interrupted by a sharp pain - her nail was broken, a small barb stood up, and a drop of blood oozed out.
She subconsciously put her finger in her mouth, but at this moment she heard Zhang Shuo say something that made her blood freeze:
"If all else fails, we'll just do it the old way...sink it to Donggang, where the water is deeper."
Feng Yulan's knees went weak and she accidentally hit the door frame, making a slight creaking sound.
The noise in the bathroom stopped abruptly.
Feng Yulan froze in place, forgetting even to breathe. Time seemed stretched to a thin line, and she could hear the thump, thump, thump of her heart against her ribs.
The bathroom door flung open, and Zhang Shuo's face appeared before her. Moonlight shone from behind, casting shadows on his features. Only his eyes shone frighteningly, like two clusters of dim fire.
"What are you doing here?" His voice was terribly soft.
Feng Yulan's lips trembled: "I...I want to go to the bathroom..."
Zhang Shuo grabbed her wrist with such force that it made her cry. His thumb pressed right on the burn scar, maliciously increasing the pressure.
"What did you hear?" He leaned close to her ear, his breath spraying on her cheek, with the minty smell of toothpaste and some indescribable sour smell.
"No... I didn't hear anything..." Feng Yulan's voice was as soft as a mosquito, "Really..."
Zhang Shuo stared into her eyes for a full ten seconds, then suddenly let go of her hand, a strange smile appearing on his face: "Go ahead, don't you want to go to the bathroom?"
Feng Yulan rushed into the bathroom as if she had been pardoned, and only dared to breathe deeply after locking the door. The woman in the mirror was pale, her eyes wide open, as if she had seen a ghost.
She turned on the faucet, letting the sound of the water drown out her sobs.
When Feng Yulan finally mustered the courage to come out, Zhang Shuo had already returned to the bed, his back to her. She lay down quietly, trying not to touch him, her body pressed against the edge of the bed, as if there was a bottomless abyss on the other side.
"Yulan." Zhang Shuo suddenly spoke, frightening her so much that she trembled all over.
"...Um?"
"Turn around."
Feng Yulan slowly turned around and saw Zhang Shuo's eyes glowing in the darkness. His expression was surprisingly gentle, even with a hint of warmth that she hadn't seen in a long time.
"Have you been tired from work lately?" he asked softly, caressing her cheek with his fingers. The hand that had just been pinching her wrist like an iron clamp was now as gentle as a feather.
Feng Yulan's stomach tightened. This sudden "concern" frightened her more than violence. She knew Zhang Shuo too well—whenever he was particularly "gentle," it often meant something more terrible was about to happen.
"It's...it's okay..." she answered cautiously.
Zhang Shuo's fingers slid to her chin and gently lifted her face: "Is that Manager Li from the supermarket still giving you trouble?"
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