Zhang Mingsheng’s good mood did not last long.
Ah Hai said that the Old Master had called, instructing our family to have dinner at the ancestral residence tomorrow. Ah Hai’s eyes flickered; he had likely hesitated for a long time before gathering the courage to relay the message to Zhang Mingsheng. Zhang Mingsheng didn’t speak, nor did he even nod; he simply brought a glass of water and handed it to me as if Ah Hai were nothing but air.
Even though Ah Hai had followed Zhang Mingsheng for so long, he still deeply feared his temperament. I gave him a look, and Ah Hai immediately straightened up as if saved before turning to leave.
Zhang Mingsheng still showed no reaction. He lifted the hem of my clothes with his palm resting on my thigh as he reached inward. A small key entered the lock cylinder, and with a soft click, my legs were free again. Every time I accompanied him to dine with his grandfather, he would not lock me up. It was as if that ancient, simple residence was an enemy we had to face together.
The discord between the Zhang grandfather and grandson was common knowledge. However, the version most people heard was that Zhang Mingsheng had been rebellious in his youth and had infuriated his grandfather to the point of being banished from the family, only for his aunt to step in and mediate, bringing the two back together.
This was especially true after the granddaughter Keke was born; Zhang Yaonian personally arranged her birthday party, a grand affair second only to his own birthday celebrations. Zhang Mingsheng had never received such treatment. Thus, the affection for the next generation seemed to have dissolved all the tension between the grandfather and grandson.
But I understood that the reality was far from what outsiders saw.
Zhang Yaonian and Zhang Mingsheng had not reconciled, and what Zhang Mingsheng’s aunt brought was not mediation, but a group of loyal subordinates. Ah Hai and Ah Shan were among those who came to Zhang Mingsheng’s side at that time.
Initially, I didn’t understand why Zhang Mingsheng’s aunt would do such a thing. The feuds of wealthy families are like the armed conflicts of several nations; even the closest kin must face each other with weapons. I once thought they were ungrateful for their good fortune; yet look at the Song family, where relatives remained closely bound, living in apparent harmony, and whose wealth and influence endured across time.
While I was at the police station, I had handled a few cases related to the Zhang family, but judging by the rank of the lawyers the family dispatched, what I had touched was actually just the tip of the iceberg.
Zhang Yaonian had lived to such an age that his wives and mistresses were mostly dead, his son and daughter-in-law had died in an accident, and his daughter had become a widow; even his grandson now had children, yet he remained glowing with health. Looking at his well-maintained face, I couldn’t even begin to guess his age.
Compared to the elders of the Song family, who devoted themselves to the long-term prosperity of their clan, Zhang Yaonian was clearly more concerned with himself.
Thinking about it this way, the men and firearms the aunt gave to Zhang Mingsheng seemed more like an attempt to help him gain autonomy.
She certainly doted on him.
I wondered if she had realized that Zhang Mingsheng was only treating it all as a game of “playing house.”
In Hong Kong, where land is as precious as gold, that residence sat nestled against the mountains and by the water, so meticulously designed in every aspect that it wouldn’t look out of place in a period drama. Zhang Yaonian kept a number of fierce dogs, each cared for by specialists; they were provided with food and drink and even had their own rooms; living more meticulously than the servants themselves.
I still remember the first time I went there. It felt only dark and damp, and the moment I stepped inside, a chill ran straight down my spine. Keke was one year old then. The instant we crossed the main gate, she began to cry heart-wrenchingly, frantically burrowing into my arms.
We stopped in the long corridor, unable to move forward or turn back.
Finally, Zhang Mingsheng pulled the jade pendant from his own neck and carefully tied it around Keke’s. Beside the corridor lay a deep, dark green lake. The lotus flowers in the center were a pink so deep they were almost red, drawing my gaze involuntarily. A breeze blew past, yet the surface of the lake did not show the slightest ripple.
Just as I was finding it strange, Zhang Mingsheng brushed his hand against my hair and said, “Don’t look anymore.”
Everything that followed was quite normal. Zhang Yaonian was very fond of Keke, did not mistreat Xiao Yuan, and even occasionally asked after my health. Zhang Mingsheng listened with a faint smile, the scene giving off a semblance of harmony.
It wasn’t until we were about to leave that a large dog rushed out from a corner with its bloody maw wide open as it lunged straight for Zhang Mingsheng. Ah Hai and Ah Shan had not entered the inner residence. In a flash, Zhang Mingsheng drew his pistol and shot the vicious dog in the leg.
I stood to the side while clutching the two children tightly. They were terrified and buried their faces in my arms and refused to look. Perhaps because I had become desensitized to sociopaths, I wasn’t particularly afraid; I felt only a jolt in my heart and a light cold sweat on my back.
Seeing that the dog still intended to lunge forward, before Zhang Mingsheng could fire again, a whistle rang out.
It was Zhang Yaonian.
By all rights, he was already very old, yet he still had the strength to blow a whistle.
The dog immediately became submissive. Its tongue hung out as it dragged itself toward its elderly master, limping heavily and leaving a trail of dark stains across the carpet. When it finally reached him, he suddenly raised his cane and struck it down.
As he struck, he shouted, “You’ve dirtied the floor! What use are you?”
From across the table, I could not see the dog’s gruesome state.
However, I suspected his cane was specially made and incredibly hard; I could almost hear the sound of bone fracturing.
My head began to thrum in sync with the noise as my fists clenched.
Sick. Truly sick.
Zhang Yaonian seemed more concerned about whether the carpet was dirty than the fact that Zhang Mingsheng had almost been bitten to death. Meanwhile, Zhang Mingsheng had arrived at the banquet with a loaded gun and moved with such predatory swiftness.
This grandfather and grandson shared the same lineage of inhumanity.
Zhang Mingsheng didn’t stay to watch the rest of the show. He quickly contacted Ah Hai and Ah Shan, telling them to come and take the children away. Zhang Mingsheng then pushed my wheelchair and followed behind them.
When we passed that long corridor again, I didn’t look at the lotus flowers.
Up ahead, Keke, who was perched on Ah Hai’s shoulder, was staring at me. I suddenly felt the urge to sigh while looking into her large, grape-like eyes.
Is it possible that my daughter is the only normal person in the Zhang family? At least for now, she gets along well with small animals and shows no great interest in open flames; her biggest hobby is watching cartoons about little animals jumping in mud puddles. Surely, she won’t grow up to be a psychopath.
This incident left a deep impression on me. It’s normal for people to become eccentric as they age. But who wouldn’t become a little twisted after facing the daily approach of death?
I thought of a common game on variety show: ahead is a wall with holes cut into it in various shapes, and the contestants must twist and contort their bodies into awkward positions to slip through, without being shoved back by the wall.
I think living is just like facing walls like that rushing toward us. We spend our whole lives twisting ourselves into different shapes just to survive a little better. But no one expects the final wall, which is Death, to have no openings at all.
Anyone would break down.
Still, throughout the year, I only see Zhang Yaonian a few times. Compared to him, Zhang Mingsheng is the greatest threat in my life.
It brings me joy to know there is still someone in this world willing and able to make things difficult for Zhang Mingsheng.
“If you don’t want to go, you can sit this one out.” Zhang Mingsheng said.
“I don’t care either way.” I replied, sniffing the air as I caught a faint, savory aroma.
I relished the idea of watching Zhang Mingsheng suffer a setback.
Aunt Liu had prepared a bowl of seafood congee for me; she walked toward me with a beaming smile while carrying the bowl. Her cooking was excellent, and we were always happy to praise her for it. In the Zhang household, the relationship between Aunt Liu and her loyal diners was perhaps the healthiest and most wholesome dynamic that existed.
Just as I reached out to take the bowl, I saw Aunt Liu shift direction and place it into Zhang Mingsheng’s hands instead.
Zhang Mingsheng smiled faintly before stirring the surface of the congee with a spoon. “Thank you for your hard work,” he said. “If there’s nothing else, you should head off to rest.”
Aunt Liu acknowledged him and headed downstairs.
Zhang Mingsheng continued stirring the congee at an unhurried pace. I waited patiently, but he showed no intention of feeding me yet.
“If you don’t want me to have it, just pour it out.” I spoke.
“How could I?” Zhang Mingsheng replied. “Aunt Liu worked so hard; we shouldn’t make her sad. But I simply feel that someone who gloats over others’ misfortunes should stay hungry a little longer.”
I thought to myself: Was it really that obvious?
Instead, I said, “Then I’ll just go on a hunger strike.”
“Hunger strikes make for a very ugly death,” he said as he lifted a spoonful of congee and bringing it to my lips with a pleasant smile. “Better to eat more while you can, lest you lose your appetite tomorrow when you see that old man’s hideous face.”
