“I know, I was wrong. Brother Cheng, please give me another chance. I truly know I was wrong. I was blinded by greed—I’m not even human. Please, for the sake of our past ties, don’t do this to me.”
Before he could finish, the searing pain on his skin rendered him speechless, leaving only intermittent sobs. The stench of cooked flesh filled the room as the cigarette butt was ground into his skin, twisted twice before fully extinguishing.
The scene fell into utter silence.
Then a basin of cold water was splashed onto Qiao Er Mazi’s face, jolting the half-conscious man awake. This process was repeated several times before they finally allowed him to speak.
Xiao Cheng stood by the window, listening to the answers coming from behind him. Beneath his eyes lurked a savage, bloodthirsty ferocity. The veins on his forehead pulsed violently before settling into a relaxed smile as he gave his ruthless order.
“Dispose of him cleanly.”
“Yes.”
Emerging from the alley where the Qiao family lived, Xiao Cheng used the moonlight to wipe the blood—he didn’t know when it had gotten on his fingers—onto his clothes. Black and red intertwined, blending seamlessly.
Below the clothes were a pair of powerful, long legs. Their owner casually stepped into the back seat and, through the still-open car door, beckoned to the man outside. The latter obediently knelt on one knee.
Xiao Cheng patted Jiang Yan’s shoulder. Seeming to think of something, he suddenly let out a cold laugh. “Well done. Nothing like your spineless father.”
With that, he carefully observed the other’s expression. Seeing no change, his smile deepened. But the next words out of his mouth made the man freeze in place, not daring to move.
“Didn’t I tell you? Stay away from the young ladies. Why won’t you listen?”
Jiang Yan, who had always been expressionless, now seemed like ice cracking on a frozen lake—gradually fissuring. He pressed his lips together and frowned, saying nothing—no explanation, no defense.
Seeing this, Xiao Cheng wasn’t upset. The other knew that his patience only lasted three times—whether he dared to test that limit was clear in his mind.
“Drive.”
The driver up front turned the wheel, steering the car onto the main road. Before long, it was swallowed by the darkness, its trail impossible to follow.
—
The star-speckled night glittered brilliantly. The crescent moon hung like a hook, quietly perched among the treetops. A gentle breeze rustled by, and the curtains swayed along.
Zhang Wenyue lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. Finally, she sat up abruptly, startling Ding Weidong beside her, who also propped himself up, turned on the light, and looked around groggily, confused about what was happening.
Under the dim yellow glow of the lamp above, Ding Weidong made out his wife’s anxious face. He put an arm around her shoulder in comfort, his voice husky: “What’s wrong?”
“What are these young people thinking these days? I really don’t understand anymore.” With someone to confide in, Zhang Wenyue’s emotions poured out like a valve had been opened. She clapped her hands in agitation: “Don’t all women get married? What difference does it make if it’s sooner or later?”
“Xiao Xu has such good conditions—hardworking, thoughtful, filial, and his family agrees too. What a wonderful match. All we had to do was nod our heads, and yet…”
“Tell me, what is this all about?” Zhang Wenyue sighed, her chest tight with frustration. She truly couldn’t understand Lin Aiyun’s decision—in fact, she was bitterly disappointed.
To put it bluntly, the Lin family was the one reaching above their station to match with the Xu family, and they were the ones who had proposed the meeting first. Now that the other side was willing, they were the ones backing out—wasn’t that just leading them on?
“Maybe Aiyun was caught off guard when she suddenly found out. She might just need some time to come around.” Ding Weidong scratched his head. Like Zhang Wenyue, he couldn’t fathom why Lin Aiyun had refused. He muttered: “But taking her to a blind date without telling her—that was indeed wrong of us.”
Zhang Wenyue also felt that was somewhat inappropriate, but…
“What’s so wrong about it? Her own parents asked me to do this, and now I’m the one getting blamed? I ran around doing everything, and for what? And what if Xu Hongjian holds a grudge and makes things difficult for you at work because of this?”
The more she thought about it, the more aggrieved she felt, and her voice involuntarily rose. Ding Weidong quickly covered her mouth. “Oh, honey!”
After a moment, when she seemed to calm down, he withdrew his hand and took hers instead, speaking gently: “Brother Hongjian isn’t that kind of person. Don’t worry.”
“The real issue is I need to figure out how to bring this up with him—the key is finding the right reason to decline.”
Hearing this, Zhang Wenyue remembered what Lin Aiyun had said a few days ago.
“Auntie, thank you for your concern. I know you and my mother mean well. But I’m not ready to think about marriage right now—it’s too early for me. I just want to focus on my current job first and give myself some time to prepare. That way, I’ll have more confidence when I do face marriage.”
Zhang Wenyue had tried to persuade her for a long time after that, but Lin Aiyun had remained firm—she didn’t want to go on blind dates and had made it clear she had no plans to marry within a year or two. Since she’d said that, what could her aunt do? She couldn’t force her into marriage at knifepoint.
“No, you can’t tell the Xu family yet. I need to have her mother talk some sense into her first.” Zhang Wenyue said as she threw off the covers, got out of bed, and rushed to the desk to find paper and pen, starting to write a letter.
Life is like a game of chess—once a move is made, there’s no taking it back. To just stand by and watch Lin Aiyun let such a good opportunity slip away—she couldn’t accept it.
“Are you really going to keep meddling?” Ding Weidong slumped back on the bed, rubbing his forehead in resignation. But he knew it was useless to argue—with Zhang Wenyue’s temperament, once she got involved in something, she would see it through to the end.
“She’s my own niece, and she’s staying with me right now. If I don’t look out for her, who will?” Zhang Wenyue didn’t even turn around, mulling over her wording as she thought about how to tell Zhang Wenhua everything that had happened recently.
As the saying goes, an ordinary woman has two chances in life to change her fate. The first is her birth—arranged by heaven, beyond her control. The second is marriage. When the carp’s leap over the dragon gate is right in front of you, anyone who doesn’t take it is a fool!
But Lin Aiyun was determined to be that fool. If Zhang Wenyue hadn’t seen it, she wouldn’t have cared—but since she had, she was going to stop it.
“Fine, whatever you say. Can I go back to sleep now? I still have work tomorrow.” Ding Weidong let out a big yawn, so sleepy he could barely keep his eyes open.
“Go ahead and sleep. I’ll come to bed after I finish writing.” Zhang Wenyue hadn’t expected him to stay up with her anyway. She waved him off and let him go.
With matters weighing on her mind, Zhang Wenyue barely slept that night. She got up early and cleaned the house from top to bottom. She’d just put the sweet potato porridge on and was about to head to the bathroom when she nearly collided with Lin Aiyun, who was the second to wake up, right at the door.
“Good morning, Auntie.”
Zhang Wenyue was caught off guard at the sight of Lin Aiyun, and the “letter of complaint” she’d written last night inevitably came to mind. Her expression flickered with unease. She cleared her throat and smiled back: “Morning.”
Lin Aiyun rubbed her eyes and, catching sight of the smoke rising from the kitchen out of the corner of her eye, said in surprise: “You’re up so early today—is something going on?”
“Haha, nothing really. I just woke up, so I got up.” Zhang Wenyue instinctively touched the tip of her nose and hurried into the bathroom. “Let me use the bathroom first—wait a moment.”
“Alright.” Lin Aiyun nodded, then frowned. Her intuition told her something was off about her aunt today, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was.
After breakfast, Lin Aiyun went to work as usual. When she reached the mouth of the alley, she saw a woman standing with Niu Wenshan, chatting about something. The woman was beaming, clearly in high spirits.
How unusual—a woman who wasn’t avoiding Niu Wenshan.
But surprised as she was, Lin Aiyun kept her expression indifferent and tried to walk past them without a second glance. Just as she was about to leave the alley, someone called out to her.
“You forgot your lunchbox.”
At that, Lin Aiyun instinctively looked down at her hands. Aside from a bag full of mulberries, there was nothing else—she really had forgotten it. But…
Unless he’d been observing her for a long time, how would he know she brought a lunchbox to work every day?
The thought sent a chill up her spine, making the hairs on her arms stand on end. Her teeth clenched, her fingers curling inward. Only then did she realize her palms were already slick with sweat.
Forcing a smile, she turned back and said: “Thank you—I’ll go get it now.”
“You’re welcome.” Niu Wenshan returned the smile, but his dark-rimmed eyes gave him an oddly sinister air.
“You’re the niece from the countryside staying with Mrs. Ding, aren’t you?” The woman looked young, standing there lazily with her arms crossed, fingers twirling the long hair hanging over her chest. Her unabashed gaze raked over Lin Aiyun without a hint of politeness—she seemed very much like an improper sort.
“Mm.” Lin Aiyun treated others the way they treated her. She gave a perfunctory response and quickened her pace to leave. After retrieving her lunchbox and stepping out the front door, she saw the woman again.
She was using a key to open the door of the house diagonally across, her back turned, so she didn’t see Lin Aiyun.
Watching that curvaceous figure disappear through the door crack, Lin Aiyun matched her to a name—Su Xiaomei.
Another person to keep her distance from.
Since they were unlikely to have any real interaction, Lin Aiyun didn’t dwell on Su Xiaomei. But Niu Wenshan was a different matter—she took notice of him, though it was out of fear and unease.
Passing through the alley entrance again, her heart still raced. She kept her head down, hurried through, and only relaxed after reaching the main road where there were more people. From now on, she’d better walk with her aunt and the others. Better safe than sorry.
The feeling Niu Wenshan gave her was deeply unsettling—especially his eyes. What they held was a suppressed, predatory hunger.
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