18. It’s none of your business
With the arrival of winter, the temperature in Jiangming City dropped rapidly. While it wasn't freezing, being located on the riverbank, the cold wind brought dampness, making the air feel even colder. Zeng Xiasheng barely slept through the afternoon, even wrapped in two quilts, but it still didn't warm him up. He woke up sneezing several times.
He rented the top floor of a self-built house deep in an alley in an urban village. Technically, it wasn't a first floor; it was a prefabricated structure the landlord had illegally constructed on the rooftop, so it had no insulation and no heating. On his first day viewing, the landlord said there were no beds downstairs available. He told him to pay a fee and reserve a place to stay in the top floor utility room for a few days, then move down when someone else moved out. The rooftop had plumbing and electrical wiring, just not inside the house. Zeng Xiasheng had just been released from prison and was eager to find a place to stay, so he settled in. Initially, it was a mess. He cleaned and fixed the tables and chairs himself, and after finally managing to create a place to sleep, the landlord stopped talking about moving downstairs and treated it as a proper room.
In the past, Zeng Xiasheng would have rushed to demand an explanation, but he had received reform education day after day in prison and didn't want to have unnecessary conflicts with others over trivial matters. He had only paid two months' rent, so at least he didn't have to squeeze with others and listen to his roommates grinding their teeth and snoring at night. He could just leave after he had finished his stay.
When he returned that morning, exhausted as hell, he requested leave from both the logistics center and Chen Tianhao, intending to rest completely for the day. However, with his sleep schedule disrupted, he didn't actually sleep much. The north wind rattled the steel plates, and in his half-dream, he inexplicably recalled a brief period of depression in his childhood. Even after opening his eyes, he was still dazed. He subconsciously reached for his neck, imagining it was where he'd found the long-lost little conch.
Tang Sizhuo had personally woven the string around the conch shell, and she had also drilled the hole for the string herself in Hainan. She was weak at the time, and even with the help of a driller, she couldn't hold the drill steady, resulting in a crooked hole. When the string was threaded through the conch, the open end would rise, gently scraping against his chest skin as he moved. Zeng Xiasheng wasn't used to wearing it at first, but then he became uncomfortable without it.
He sat up, took out his cell phone and checked the time. It was already seven o'clock in the evening. A whole day had passed since he sent Tang Sizhuo to the hospital. He didn't know if her fever had subsided.
When he saw Tang Sizhuo at the park gate, he even suspected that he was hallucinating from exhaustion. However, she collapsed unconscious in his arms. Zeng Xiasheng could feel her burning body temperature through his sweater. He panicked for a moment and forgot that he was just a kind passerby.
When the nurse asked him to leave, Tang Sizhuo was still delirious from his high fever, shivering with cold, then ripping his clothes off with heat. Zeng Xiasheng hadn't wanted to leave, nearly starting a fight in the emergency room, when he suddenly saw the familiar car in the distance through the window. His anxiety, quenched by a bucket of cold water, fell silent, bowed his head, and hurried away.
The iron-enclosed space was less than ten square meters, and from the outside it looked like a place to live. Yet, inside, he had kept everything neatly arranged, and everything was clean. The only thing missing was the T-shirt and sweater he'd worn last night. He'd been too tired to wash them when he returned, so he'd just draped them over the back of a chair. Although no one was coming to the house, and it wouldn't matter if he left them until tomorrow, Zeng Xiasheng hesitated for a moment before finally standing up on his aching legs, placing the clothes in the basin, and reaching for the laundry detergent.
The electricity bill was not expensive, but he did not boil water. He immersed his hands covered with blisters in the icy tap water. In the sharp pain of the cold, he reminded himself again and again that Tang Sizhu was being taken care of, and he should not try to squeeze in to worry about him.
The next day, Zeng Xiasheng went to the repair shop as usual. Chen Tianhao asked him to inspect a used phone they had received. It was a task he could do with his eyes closed, but he nearly cracked the screen. After a brief nap at noon, he felt dizzy and had a dull chest ache. He might be feeling sick. Seeing his complexion worsening, Chen Tianhao took the initiative and asked the logistics center for another day off. He was sent back to bed just as the sun was setting.
Zeng Xiasheng felt dizzy as he walked down the alley. It was almost dinnertime, and the fumes of cooking oil were everywhere, making him nauseous. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he caught a glimpse of someone standing next to him in a white down jacket. The place was dusty and greasy, and white was difficult to clean, a rare sight. Zeng Xiasheng couldn't help but take a closer look and realized it was Tang Sizhuo standing there.
After she left the "cute" stage of childhood, Xiao Tong no longer allowed her to wear such baggy clothes that obscured her figure, so Zeng Xiasheng didn't think about her at all. When his eyes met hers, he was suddenly stunned.
Tang Sizhuo looked terribly cold, huddled tightly in his down jacket. She pursed her lips tightly as she stared at him, feeling just as aggrieved as when she'd come to the school gate to look for him. Zeng Xiasheng hadn't known how she'd sneaked out then, and now he had no idea how she'd found her way here.
He should take her back, either to the hospital or her home, but he knew she wouldn't agree. After a stalemate, Zeng Xiasheng was the first to give in, pulling his key from his pocket and unlocking the large iron door on the ground floor. Tang Sizhuo walked in on his own, climbed a few steps, and stood in a dim corner on the first floor, waiting for him to lead the way.
Zeng Xiasheng stood at the stairs, looked up at Tang Sizhuo, wanted to ask her what she was doing there, wanted to say that his room was too cold and not suitable for her to go in, but the words turned around in his throat several times and he couldn't make a sound.
Tang Sizhuo followed him upstairs, gloomily, past the takeout garbage piled at the doorsteps of several shared apartments. He nearly tripped over the flickering sound-activated light, then stumbled up to the rooftop and finally into his shabby bedroom. Zeng Xiasheng felt uneasy, only feeling a sense of relief when he saw the clothes swaying around outside. Fortunately, they had been washed yesterday.
He brought a stool for Tang Sizhuo, but she didn't sit down. After looking around, she said in a hoarse voice, "You live here and don't come back with me."
She was stating a fact, not asking a question, so no answer was required. Therefore, Zeng Xiasheng didn't know what to say in response. He stood in front of her with his head down, like a student waiting to be criticized.
Tang Sizhuo's breathing became heavier. She tried her best to control her emotions, but she couldn't hide the trembling in her voice.
"How much money do you need? I still have 50,000 in my current account, and the rest needs to be withdrawn in installments."
Zeng Xiasheng was stunned, almost not understanding what she meant. He stood there for a long time before stammering, "No, no, it's not because I'm short of money."
"Why would you take a part-time job at night if you don't need money?"
How should he answer this? He didn't even dare to look at her. After a long while, he said, "It's... the money for my grandfather's illness. I think you should help..."
The heavy breathing paused for a moment, and Tang Sizhuo repeated in disbelief, "The money for your grandfather's illness?" Then, her surprise turned into anger. Her chest heaved violently, and she gritted her teeth and roared, "—Did I ask you to pay it back?!"
Zeng Xiasheng glanced away and stopped talking.
Tang Sizhuo was getting more and more angry and started coughing violently. He subconsciously stretched out his hand, but was slapped away.
She coughed so hard that she almost vomited. After a long time, she stood up and stared at him with red eyes.
"Zeng Xiasheng, I know what you're thinking. You want to pay me back and have nothing to do with me anymore." She coughed as she spoke, accusing me intermittently, "I'm telling you, you can't pay me back! What exactly happened ten years ago? Tell me the truth if you can!"
Zeng Xiasheng felt a sudden pain in his heart. He looked up and saw Tang Sizhuo wiping away the tears, taking out a note from his pocket, and slapping it on the table.
"You left it for me. Explain to me why you left me this note out of anger."
That afternoon, she went to the police station with Lin Feng. In the interrogation room, speaking through the body camera, she heard Lin Feng say that Liu Dong's superior's nickname was "Brother Hai." Tang Sizhuo's intuition was confirmed. She had often heard this nickname in Sun Changming's submissive phone calls over the years, including in the days before the incident.
Does this mean there's a hidden story behind the murder? Does it mean everything Zeng Xiasheng did was indeed connected to her?
The note was tucked into her school uniform pocket. However, after Sun Changming's death, Tang Sizhuo never went to school again. It wasn't until several years after Zeng Xiasheng had served his sentence that she discovered it while sorting through old belongings. With the passage of time, there was no way to prove, other than her knowledge, that Zeng Xiasheng had slipped it in on the day of the murder.
Zeng Xiasheng traced her arm and saw his own handwriting. The note was well preserved, and although the paper was slightly yellowed, there was not a single crease or stain.
He couldn't deny it, and he didn't have the energy to argue. His heartbeat grew heavier, his ears began to buzz, and he felt a growing panic well up in his chest. He didn't know how to respond, so he tried his best to suppress it, to prevent it from turning into anger as usual. He whispered, "I told you, the murder caused by the grudge has nothing to do with you."
Tang Sizhuo was so angry that he was shaking all over. "Say it again?"
“It has nothing to do with you!”
Zeng Xiasheng clenched his hands tightly, veins bulging, and his remaining rationality made him take two steps back to avoid losing control.
"The case has been decided, and I've been in jail. What else do you want? What's the point of investigating it?" The tinnitus in his ears was getting worse and worse, and he could hardly hear his own voice. In his excitement, he spoke without thinking, "You don't want me to pay you back, so why do you have to meddle in my affairs? Did I ask you to meddle?!"
From the time they met as children to the time he was convicted and imprisoned, he had never spoken so harshly to Tang Sizhuo. Even when he would resort to violence over a disagreement with someone else, he always spoke softly to her. Tang Sizhuo was startled by his yelling, unable to believe her ears, and froze in silence.
She was still running a low fever and sweating profusely. She came to him immediately after getting a little clue, but was accused of meddling in other people's affairs.
After a long silence, Tang Sizhuo suddenly picked up the note she had treasured for many years from the table, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it hard at Zeng Xiasheng.
The door slammed shut, echoing throughout the entire cabin.
Zeng Xiasheng stood there for a long moment before slowly coming to his senses. His trembling legs could no longer support him. He tried to hold onto the edge of the table, but he still fell heavily to the floor. The note, crumpled up by Tang Sizhuo, fell before him. Zeng Xiasheng took a slow breath and let it out with a painful sigh. He braced himself on the floor with one hand and reached for the note with the other.
The note was as thick as a finger and was torn into pieces. There were some numbers printed in the grid on the back, and on the front was his beautiful handwriting written with a fountain pen, each stroke as beautiful as he could.
"Fly out and go wherever you want."
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
