Chapter Seventy-Four: A Single Word

A question is asked in the hope of receiving a reason, but more often than not, what comes back is merely an excuse that misses the point.

Jinyue stared at the photo stained with blood, carefully pulling out a tissue and wiping it clean. Pointing to the colorful pixels in the image, she said, “After all, I lived in Lvteng City for many years. I know a lot of places very well... Every winter, the community park behind Ziyan Elementary School would be filled with pansies in bloom—it's quite beautiful...”

Lvteng City covers 11,819 square kilometers, with nine districts, eighty-four streets, and fifteen parks. No one can truly remember every corner of a city; what they remember are the secret corners of their own heart.

After Jinyue finished speaking, she fell silent, carefully pondering whether her words contained any flaws, trying to recall why this photo had become a loophole all those years ago.

She had always been cautious—careful in speech, careful in taking photos. From a young age, Jinyue rarely kept any portraits, whether of herself or others, let alone intimate group photos like this one.

Photographs serve to record scenery and human affairs—the landscapes one passes through, the people one doesn't wish to miss. Jinyue had no one she didn't wish to miss, so her camera was filled only with scenes, both natural and unnatural.

After a long while, she finally remembered: she hadn’t taken this photo herself. Of course she hadn’t—because the girl standing hand in hand with the boy in the photo was indeed her.

The location was behind the elementary school, but she was no longer a child; she was already a graceful young woman. She had left Lvteng City years ago, long enough that there were few acquaintances left.

The sentiments of youth can be troublesome, always producing inexplicable thoughts. Whenever she read poems about her hometown, heard stories of home, she would want to revisit old places. Now, looking back, Jinyue felt such impulses were sheer foolishness.

Everyone grows up with a collection of rebellious and embarrassing “black history.”

Her short hair at the time, for instance, was inspired by a pop singer she admired. At that age of fervent imitation, she sang, “Hearing the winter depart, I wake up in some year, some month,” and snipped her hair herself.

To start over—call it rebellion, but it was also subconsciously a way to protect herself.

After the disaster, Jinyue was quickly adopted by a kind-hearted middle-aged couple. She thought she would finally live happily ever after, only to discover later that after a natural disaster, human disaster followed.

The couple who adopted her didn’t have an easy life: the man was idle, spending his days getting drunk with unsavory friends; the woman was addicted to gambling, glued to the card table and often spending nights away from home. Their main reason for adopting Jinyue was their inability to have children themselves. The cost of assisted fertility treatments was exorbitant, and after the major disaster in Lvteng City, there were countless orphans. Adoption procedures became incredibly simple, and they could even receive a subsidy—truly killing several birds with one stone.

Their childlessness wasn’t due to the man’s impotence, but because the woman had lived recklessly in her youth, changing boyfriends more often than changing socks. Jinyue learned this truth one day, hiding in the wardrobe and overhearing their intimate conversation.

Slap, slap, slap.

Jinyue couldn’t tell whether it was the sound of the man slapping the woman or something else; all she knew was that his movements were violent and his emotions agitated.

“Which man doesn’t want to have his own child? It’s all because of you, you wretch... Every time I step out, I hear people laughing behind my back.”

“Boo hoo... You said before that you didn’t mind, you liar... Pretending to be honest, but you’re full of filth.”

“The pot calling the kettle black. You dare call me a liar? You said it was childhood illness that made you infertile, yet whenever I go out to buy cigarettes, I run into seven or eight guys who’ve slept with you! And look at your face—without makeup you look like a ghost. If goods bought online don’t match the description, you can return them; the fact I haven’t returned you is already more than generous.”

“Then let’s divorce! I’ve had enough of this life for ages!”

“Divorce is fine—just give back everything I gave you: the betrothal money, the gold, all those handbags, the holiday red envelopes...”

“These are gifts, why should I return them! You want to freeload? Not a chance!”

“Then forget about divorce,” came the sound of tearing clothes. “I won’t lose both money and face. As long as we’re not divorced, you can’t shirk your duties!”

The woman’s cries and curses followed, then gradually ceased, leaving only the couple’s heavy breathing.

Fighting at the head of the bed and making up at the foot—Jinyue knew the man and woman had reconciled.

If only it were just this. A family living by acting, each with their own agenda, but as long as everyone got what they wanted, the days passed.

But days have their darkness, and hearts their deception.

The woman eventually took all the money from the house and eloped with a fellow gambler. Even as Jinyue held the woman’s leg and begged, she wouldn’t take Jinyue along. To her, Jinyue was like the heavy television she couldn’t carry—occasionally entertaining, but now just a burden.

That night, the man came home drunk, saw the chaos, and, unable to reach his runaway wife, turned his predatory gaze toward the budding Jinyue...

After that night, Jinyue cut her long hair and, battered and bruised, found Wang Chao. Smiling, she asked, “Will you come with me to Lvteng City? I heard that the park behind my old elementary school is filled with pansies in winter; let’s go see it together...”

She knew the answer before she finished the question; the passion in Wang Chao’s eyes could not deceive. In truth, what Jinyue wanted wasn’t to visit, but to escape. People want to leave a place when all that’s left is disappointment. It’s like climbing a mountain only to find another mountain beyond.

Jinyue brought Wang Chao back to Lvteng City, filled with both anticipation and anxiety. She hoped for new scenery, but feared encountering old acquaintances.

New friends, old ghosts—she met both as fate dictated. Sometimes life is strange: the more you fear something, the more likely it is to happen.

She made new friends without Wang Chao knowing; the old ghost crept close without Jinyue noticing.

This photo must have been secretly taken by the old ghost. Jinyue had no idea how Zhang Xiaoman obtained it—she had never seen it before. Wang Chao had dealt with the old ghost years ago and never mentioned the incident, so she was genuinely shocked at first.

Later she and Wang Chao returned to City A, realizing that being in Lvteng City only brought more trouble. “A true hero dares to face the bleakness of life, dares to face the blood that flows.” She read this line in a book and resolved to live by it. The first step was to return to City A and face that beast in human skin; only then would come the blood.

There’s a poem: “The person’s face is gone, but the peach blossoms still smile in the spring breeze.” Perhaps it was a different flower, or a different season. In that bleak winter, Jinyue buried a yardful of pansies. The next winter, they never bloomed again.

Zhang Xiaoman cleared his throat, snapping Jinyue out of her reverie. With a calm air, he said, “Is that so? I happen to have a friend in Lvteng City. I’ll call them right now and ask them to visit tomorrow. Perhaps besides enjoying the pansies, they might ask about some local affairs.”

A strange smile curled on Jinyue’s lips. In truth, someone as cautious as her wouldn’t expose a flaw so easily.

True to his word, Zhang Xiaoman pulled out his phone and dialed a number in front of Jinyue, giving concise instructions before hanging up. He squinted at Jinyue, saying, “I feel like you were just waiting for me to make this call... Well, whatever comes, I’ll handle it. My defenses are strong—I can handle any flood.”

“Speaking of earth...” Chang Ping glanced at a message on his phone and suddenly interjected, “I really need to go back. The forensic team just confirmed the identity of the decomposed body. I have to analyze the evidence at the scene soon...”

Zhang Xiaoman raised an eyebrow and cast a meaningful glance at Jinyue. Facing Chang Ping, he asked, “Who is it?”

“The deceased is the missing housekeeper Cai Feng, that is...” Chang Ping stood up, staring at Jinyue and pronouncing each word deliberately, “Your Aunt Cai.”

Jinyue covered her mouth, feigning surprise. “Are you saying... some body is Aunt Cai’s? How come... Didn’t she go home for the New Year?”

Chang Ping tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. “You didn’t know?”

“What could I know...” Jinyue pouted, looking aggrieved. “Even you’re starting to suspect me? Aunt Cai and I only had a simple employment relationship. She doesn’t need to report her whereabouts to me.”

Zhang Xiaoman peeled another sunflower seed and placed it on the table, lips pursed. “Looks like your home’s feng shui is bad—two deaths already... And that’s just the named ones; who knows how many nameless ones there are...”

“What do you mean by that?” Jinyue frowned, her voice cold.

Zhang Xiaoman shrugged, turned to Chang Ping, and changed the subject, “Since you’re going to play with mud, I’ll go rest. Anyway, all this talk circles around and around—tedious.”

Jinyue glared at Zhang Xiaoman, her expression dark. “What, don’t you want justice for your cat anymore? Do you think a widow is easy to bully—ask when you want, leave when you please... If you have nothing more to ask, I should be able to go home, right? I’m not the only one with work to do.”

Chang Ping shrugged, pointed at Zhang Xiaoman to indicate it wasn’t his concern, and walked out of the interrogation room.

“Going home is out of the question,” Zhang Xiaoman smiled, his tone mild. “Earlier, you were cooperating with the Yang Hai case. Now, there’s a new case—your housekeeper died under unclear circumstances. You’ll need to assist with the investigation. According to regulations...” He showed two rows of yellowing teeth. “We can detain you for another forty-eight hours.”

“You’re outrageous!” Jinyue gritted her teeth. “I want to see a lawyer!”

“Of course...” Zhang Xiaoman instructed Bai Chi, “Give her the phone later. If she wants to see a lawyer, let her—but all procedures must be followed, everything by the book!”

Bai Chi immediately understood, chuckled, and nodded, “Got it!”

With that, Zhang Xiaoman yawned and slowly walked out of the interrogation room.

Bai Chi handed the phone back to Jinyue, glanced at the pages of testimony, sighed, and began tidying up the table.

Jinyue took her phone, turned it on in haste, opened the browser, and entered a website. Seeing an unread message in her inbox, she glanced at Bai Chi out of the corner of her eye and secretly opened it, staring at the single character on the screen, a sense of foreboding rising within her.

Just then, Bai Chi picked up the white paper covering the sunflower seed, exclaiming in surprise as he tilted his head to examine it. “What’s this character?”

Jinyue looked over at the sound, and cold sweat broke out on her back. The character Zhang Xiaoman had spelled out with sunflower seeds was facing her directly, upside down to Bai Chi, and matched exactly the message she’d received on her phone—the same single character: Seal.