As the sun set and the entire canopy of the sky turned a faint crimson-purple, Zhang Mingsheng turned the car key and started the engine once more. I leaned against the window, silently watching the clouds drift farther away while the mountains gradually receded, rising distant and towering in the fading view.
It was only after my health declined that I understood where the human desire for “higher, faster, stronger” originated. Time is the enemy of all living things. The invention of cars and ships was all for the sake of reaching a desired destination more quickly within the narrow span of a hundred-year life.
In a speeding car, one gradually loses sight of the destination, feeling like a tiny fragment severed from time itself, moving forward soundlessly as though the journey might stretch on eternity.
In my few excursions, Zhang Mingsheng shared these brief eternities with me.
He rolled up the window.
Zhang Mingsheng once said that I only needed to maintain a hazy appearance; the larger the void, the greater the room for imagination. Outsiders would take it upon themselves to fill in the blanks, naturally drifting further and further from the truth.
To be honest, I really wanted to roll my eyes at him, but my contempt had no effect on this thick-skinned pervert. He would only smile and say, “Wife, if you were photographed looking like that, I would probably have to spend a million to get them to take the photo down.”
I didn’t care at all what others thought of Yu Huaiqing.
Besides, whenever I was with Zhang Mingsheng, I felt as though I were still the person I used to be; a police officer worn thin enough to carry dark circles year-round, with cropped hair, unshaven stubble, and clearance-rack clothes in an endless rotation of grey, white, black, khaki, and brown, lighting a cigarette whenever the pressure became too much. Zhang Mingsheng had changed me so forcefully, yet he had permanently intercepted and preserved my past.
The window slid shut, sealing the drifting clouds beyond the glass. Losing interest in the view, I leaned back into my seat.
Just as I closed my eyes, I heard Zhang Mingsheng say, “Your birthday is coming up. What gift do you want this year?”
I adjusted my posture to find a position that was more comfortable for my spine. With my eyes still closed, I said softly, “I want a gun.”
Zhang Mingsheng laughed. “You used to hold a gun every day; aren’t you tired of them yet?”
“If you won’t give me one, then forget it. Something else is fine, or nothing at all.” I replied, too exhausted to say anything more.
I hadn’t touched a gun in many years. Whether it was the service weapon assigned to me by the police station or the training pistols at the club, they had all drifted away from me. I wasn’t even sure if I still remembered how to adjust the sights.
As I was drifting off to sleep, I heard Zhang Mingsheng’s laughter again, followed by the crisp ‘shua-shua’ sound of him reaching for something. Finally, a heavy object dropped onto my lap.
I snapped my eyes open immediately.
It was an exquisite revolver.
No need to chamber around.
Without thinking, my left hand moved instinctively, snatching up the pistol and leveling it at Zhang Mingsheng’s head. I pulled the trigger without the slightest hesitation.
Click, click, click. The image of Zhang Mingsheng’s brains splattering did not manifest. He continued to drive leisurely and at ease. There were no bullets in the gun, only the mechanical sound of empty chambers.
Zhang Mingsheng said, “Officer Yu, you really are cold-hearted. You didn’t hesitate for even a second.”
Boring. I tossed the revolver back to him and closed my eyes, settling in to resume my nap. “Next time, remember to load the bullets.”
Zhang Mingsheng’s voice still carried a hint of a smile. “We’ve been husband and wife for eight years, we even have a son and a daughter together. And even that isn’t enough to make you hesitate; not even for a second, before killing me?”
I said, “They are them, and you are you.”
“It seems I always manage to make you look at me differently.” Zhang Mingsheng said.
I didn’t speak. He truly was shameless.
Zhang Mingsheng seemed to be in a good mood today. He didn’t mind my cold defiance and simply continued, “When I went to a meeting last time, I passed a mall and saw a pair of rings in a display window. They would suit you perfectly.”
Every year he gave me jewelry; all sorts of gems filled my drawers and safes, so abundant that they had long since lost any sense of novelty.
With my legs shackled, even my fingers were now about to be imprisoned as well. It was not something anyone would welcome.
I still said nothing.
“I know that no matter what I buy, you won’t like it. So, I had no choice but to buy what I like best.” Zhang Mingsheng said indifferently.
He always had his own justifications.
The car fell into silence.
By the time I heard the sound of rushing water, I knew our car had driven onto the bridge spanning the river.
At that moment, Zhang Mingsheng suddenly spoke. He said, “Actually, sometimes, I feel that we are very much alike.”
“If you have nothing to say, then don’t speak.” I wrapped my overcoat tighter and shifted my position.
He gave a small laugh and truly didn’t say anything more.
By the time we returned to the Red Residence, the sky had turned completely dark.
It was Ah Hai who opened the door; he said they had already finished dinner.
Zhang Mingsheng gave a hum of acknowledgement, handed him his coat, and carried me out. Sitting in the wheelchair, I was suddenly struck by a wave of exhaustion. Lately, it felt as though my mental energy was draining away far too easily.
Zhang Mingsheng pushed me into the living room.
The villa’s decor was somewhat dated, and the lighting was dim, which always made Keke feel uneasy. Zhang Mingsheng had sent people to renovate it, trying as much as possible to make it resemble the “home” we were used to living in. However, the Red Residence had more rooms, including an attic above the fourth floor.
After Zhang Mingsheng finished coaxing Keke, he came to tease me, asking if I would be afraid since the attic was unoccupied.
I knew what he meant.
For a long time, I was terrified of having no one by my side; sometimes I would even nestle into Zhang Mingsheng’s embrace amidst the panic and chaos. Those were days of shame. One’s will cannot always fend off a breakdown. I consider myself strong, but I am not indestructible. It is different now. Having been on the verge of death many times, I understand better how much strength it takes to live and how much energy that can bring.
I shook my head.
But Zhang Mingsheng still made a show saying he would find a way to fix up the attic so that if he ever made me angry in the future, he would voluntarily go up there to sleep.
Hearing this, Aunt Liu smiled happily; she had always thought our relationship was excellent.
Zhang Mingsheng went to order dinner for me, while I turned on the television out of boredom.
With Zhang Mingsheng present, the disturbance at the funeral would likely not be widely reported or broadcast. On the screen stood a red-haired woman of indeterminate age, dressed fashionably and vibrantly, exuding energy in her speech and mannerisms. I remembered her name was Guan Yihong, a perennial pop star with more classic hits than one could count on both hands. Li Yi had liked her for some time, even buying her albums to listen to every day. She had been famous for more than twenty years, and though now in her fifties, her appeal remained undimmed as she prepared for yet another concert tour.
Zhang Mingsheng walked over and glanced at the TV. Looking at the woman, he asked, “Do you recognize her?”
“Andrea, Guan Yihong, right? Who doesn’t know her? Am I that out of touch?” I picked up my water glass.
“Song Yixing is her youngest son.” Zhang Mingsheng said.
I hadn’t even swallowed my water before I choked, coughing violently.
I knew Guan Yihong had married into a wealthy family, but I hadn’t realized it was that kind of family.
The Song family was involved in the pharmaceutical industry. The older generation consisted mostly of highly educated intellectuals; with generations of academic excellence paired with business acumen, it would be difficult for them not to make money. The Song family was raised under exceptionally strict discipline; every member appeared refined and well-mannered, and couples lived in apparent harmony. Even among numerous siblings, there were no overt conflicts over interests. They seemed firmly convinced that only by remaining a tightly bound unit could the Song family continue to prosper across generations, providing lasting shelter for their descendants. Combined with their passion for charity and low-profile conduct, their reputation had remained excellent over the years.
If I remember correctly, Song Yixing’s father was the eldest son and had practically taken over the family business. He was reserved and understated, accompanying his family to church every week.
Such a man had married a red-haired pop singer who specialized in love songs, a woman who had been somewhat eccentric in her youth and, even in her fifties, still performed rock music with her eyebrows drawn high and sharp in a fierce, distinctive style.
For a moment, I couldn’t tell who was more ill-suited for whom.
Even more shocking was that their youngest son, Song Yixing, had actually become a movie star and filmed yogurt commercials.
“……”
My coughing wouldn’t stop. Zhang Mingsheng looked away from the TV and knelt down to pat my back.
While his hands were moving, his mouth didn’t stop.
He said, “Children and grandchildren will have their own fortunes. I wonder what kind of person Xiao Yuan will become when he grows up.”
Keke was beloved by Zhang Mingsheng’s grandfather and would presumably inherit the family business. Zhang Xiaoyuan was an adopted son and was naturally excluded from the Zhang family fortune.
But when it came to the future, no one could say for sure.
I finally stopped coughing and looked up, meeting Zhang Mingsheng’s eyes.
He said with a smile, “Perhaps he’ll want to be a policeman.”
