A woman in her forties sat at the hotel reception desk, munching on sunflower seeds and watching a TV series. Seeing two soaking wet women barge in, she lazily raised her eyelids and said, "A private room is 80, and a standard room is 120."
"Single room, one night." Zhang Shumin pulled out two damp hundred-yuan bills. "No registration required."
The proprietress raised an eyebrow, took the money, and took out a key from the drawer: "It's on the second floor, at the back. The water heater isn't working very well, so you'll have to make do with this."
The room was cleaner than expected, but it smelled strongly of mold. Feng Yulan slumped on the creaking bed, watching Zhang Shumin expertly check the doors, windows, wardrobe, and bathroom.
"That person said...that Zhang Shuo is in their hands." Feng Yulan finally said what she had been holding back all the way. "He showed me the photos..."
Zhang Shumin paused. "That's fake. My son wouldn't be caught that easily."
"What if it's true?"
"Then we have to hide even better." Zhang Shumin drew the curtains and turned on the bedside lamp. "They used Zhang Shuo as bait, which means they haven't found him yet."
Feng Yulan thought of the bloody face in the photo and her stomach churned.
She rushed into the bathroom and began to retch, but only vomited a few mouthfuls of acid. When she looked up, the woman in the mirror was pale, with heavy shadows under her eyes, like a female ghost.
Outside, Zhang Shumin was on the phone, her voice low. Feng Yulan, pressed against the door, could only catch a few fragments of her words: "...changed route... tomorrow... same place..."
"Who are you calling?" Feng Yulan asked as she pushed open the door.
Zhang Shumin quickly hung up and stuffed the phone back into her pocket: "Friend."
"Do we have any friends who can help?"
"You ask too many questions." Zhang Shumin's tone returned to its usual sternness. "Go take a shower, don't catch a cold."
The hot water was indeed hot and cold, just as the landlady had said, but Feng Yulan still showered for a long time, as if to wash away the fear and fatigue of the past few days. When she came out, Zhang Shumin had already bought food: two bowls of instant noodles and a few tea eggs.
"Eat." She handed Feng Yulan a bowl. "We'll move to another place tomorrow morning."
Feng Yulan mechanically swallowed her noodles, which tasted like chewing wax. The sound of rain outside the window gradually subsided, and the occasional sound of a motorcycle whizzed by.
She suddenly realized that this was the first time she and her mother-in-law spent the night alone, without Zhang Shuo and without that depressing home.
"Mom," she put down her plastic fork, "how much do you know?"
Zhang Shumin paused as she bit into her tea egg. Under the dim light, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes appeared even deeper, as if carved with a knife.
"It's more than enough," she finally replied. "And it's less than enough."
This riddle-like answer made Feng Yulan even more confused. She wanted to ask more questions, but was suddenly hit by a dizziness.
The scene in front of her eyes began to spin, and Zhang Shumin's face was distorted in her vision.
"It's coming out of the noodles..." Feng Yulan struggled to say a few words and then fell into darkness.
As she drifted in and out of consciousness, she felt herself being moved, heard an argument, and then the sound of breaking glass. Something cool pressed against her forehead, easing the burning pain.
After an unknown amount of time, she managed to open her eyes and saw Zhang Shumin wiping her face with a wet towel.
"Are you awake?" There was a rare hint of concern in my mother-in-law's voice. "You have a fever, 40 degrees."
Feng Yulan's throat was as dry as the desert: "The noodles... are poisonous..."
"It's not poisonous, it's expired." Zhang Shumin helped her sit up and handed her a glass of warm water. "I'm going to settle accounts with that shady shop."
Feng Yulan sipped the warm water and noticed that Zhang Shumin had abrasions on the joints of her right hand and a few pieces of melon seed shells on the bed sheet - it seemed that the so-called "settlement of accounts" was quite intense.
"Thank you," she whispered, unsure if she meant the water or something else.
Zhang Shumin snorted, dug out a small cloth bag from her bag, and poured out a few pieces of dried herbs: "Hold it in your mouth, it will reduce the fever."
The bitterness of the herbs made Feng Yulan frown, but her mind did clear up a bit. She noticed a plastic bag in the corner of the room, filled with fever-reducing medicine and fruit. When had Zhang Shumin gone out to buy them?
"Go to sleep." Zhang Shumin turned off the light and lay down on the other bed. "We have to travel tomorrow."
In the darkness, Feng Yulan listened to her mother-in-law's even breathing, her mind racing. This woman who had once beaten her with a rolling pin had saved her twice today—from the gold watch man's accomplices and from the haze of a high fever.
She didn't know whether she should trust this sudden protection, but at this moment, Zhang Shumin was indeed her only support.
In the wee hours of the morning, Feng Yulan was startled awake by a slight noise. Zhang Shumin stood by the window, checking her phone in the moonlight. The cold light of the screen reflected on her face, outlining a tense outline.
Feng Yulan pretended to turn over and squinted her eyes to see what her mother-in-law was deleting - a photo or a message?
"Mom?" she called out deliberately vaguely.
Zhang Shumin quickly locked the screen: "Go to sleep."
Feng Yulan closed her eyes and heard her mother-in-law tiptoe to her bedside and touch her forehead. The calloused hand was surprisingly gentle, reminding her of her mother.
At daybreak, they packed their bags and prepared to leave. When they went downstairs, the proprietress was dozing off at the front desk, with a bruise on her right eye – it seemed there had indeed been a conflict the night before.
Seeing them coming down, the proprietress seemed to want to say something but hesitated, and finally just handed over a plastic bag.
"Food for the road," she whispered. "Clean."
Zhang Shumin nodded and slipped her a fifty-yuan note. This small reconciliation surprised Feng Yulan, and even more surprised was her mother-in-law's next words.
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