When we returned home that day, everyone had already gone to bed.
Ah Hai was standing in the courtyard waiting when we arrived.
Ah Shan stepped forward and handed him the snacks he had been keeping warm in his arms. Ah Hai took them, giving Zhang Mingsheng and me a faint, slightly self-conscious smile.
Zhang Mingsheng didn’t pay much mind. Having spent so much time with them, he was long accustomed to the dynamic between these two brothers of different surnames; from the grand scale of risking their lives for one another, down to the small detail of Ah Hai picking the green onions out of Ah Shan’s food.
When people are young, they always think they’ll stay with their best friends forever, but growing up inevitably leads to drifting apart due to work and family. Even I had considered that if Li Yi ever got married, I might end up eating alone and grocery shopping alone. This was despite him and our junior, Shanshan, repeatedly insisting that even if the three of us each had our own partners, we would still live in the same neighborhood, the same building, and even the same unit.
And I was foolish enough to believe it. Until one time when we were all having hot pot together, Li Yi went to pick up some food for Shanshan, and as his chopsticks crossed over me, a drop of red soup landed on the back of my hand. He suddenly realized our master and mistress were also at the table and, feeling embarrassed, moved that fishball; now coated in a layer of red oil, into my bowl instead. Shanshan couldn’t help but giggle while Li Yi tried to act composed.
However, our master and mistress were still busy critiquing the soup base and didn’t care about their little interaction at all; only the back of my hand suffered.
From that day on, I knew Li Yi liked Shanshan very much, and Shanshan knew it too. The paper-thin wall between them was as thin as it could be, just waiting for a gentle poke of a fingernail to reveal eyes that hadn’t changed since their youth.
If I were to live on the same floor as those two, it would only be my lonely bachelor apartment facing their sweet, lively bridal home.
I always thought they would get married.
But during that last meeting, Li Yi said he was single.
I didn’t know what had happened between them. Five years ago, when Shimu passed away, I was consumed by grief and spent many days in a daze; even Keke couldn’t calm me. I tried to escape again, but the results were always disappointing. I also attempted suicide many times, only to be saved by Zhang Mingsheng every time.
Then, he took me to her memorial service.
To avoid drawing attention, we didn’t bring anyone else. Zhang Mingsheng pushed my wheelchair as we stood outside, both dressed in black, blending into the mourning crowd.
Shimu was one in a million; she loved nature, loved to laugh, and lived a life of contentment. Because of her, Shanshan was also lively and free-spirited, standing out brightly in any crowd. Looking back now, Keke is a bit like her.
That day at the memorial service, in addition to the grief, I discovered something else: Li Yi and Shanshan were not there. My mentor’s hair, however, had turned quite gray, and he looked incredibly weathered.
I guessed that Zhang Mingsheng knew the inside story, but our relationship was extremely strained back then. I hated him so much I didn’t even want to breathe the same air, let alone ask him for information.
In the days that followed, after Zhang Mingsheng allowed me access to the internet, I tried searching for Shanshan’s full name. The results were disappointing. She had excellent grades and a clear inclination toward scientific research, yet even at graduation age, she was like a ghost on the internet that normally preserved every trace of personal information.
I could never let it go.
As Keke grew older, my mindset shifted. Since I couldn’t leave this house, I shouldn’t refuse any of the benefits or information Zhang Mingsheng brought me.
Hunger strikes are always unwise; they only save the Zhang family rice. It was better to eat and drink my fill, perhaps I could even eat his mansion into bankruptcy.
So, I asked Zhang Mingsheng about Shanshan’s whereabouts. To my shock, Zhang Mingsheng also shook his head.
He said he didn’t know.
I was first surprised, then gave a cold sneer. I said, “You once threatened to keep Li Yi under surveillance, and now you’re telling me you don’t even know where my junior sister went? Do you really expect me to believe that?”
At that moment, I truly prepared for the worst; I thought Zhang Mingsheng had done something terrible to Shanshan.
But Zhang Mingsheng answered me like this: “I truly do not know where she is now, but I know for a fact she is alive. Her disappearance has nothing to do with me. Perhaps she left Hong Kong.”
Zhang Mingsheng was never one to offer self-justification, and he did not admit to harming Shanshan. Perhaps he also understood that if even one more person I cared about disappeared from this world, I would shatter completely. He used to use them as leverage against me; now, they had become my only remaining leverage in return. Zhang Mingsheng wanted me alive.
I am alive, yet I have disappeared.
Shanshan has also disappeared, is she still alive?
Every moment my thoughts drift to her, I become somewhat lost.
Like right now. I gave Ah Hai a small smile but didn’t strike up a conversation. Seeing that I wasn’t teasing Ah Hai today, Zhang Mingsheng simply pushed my wheelchair directly into the living room.
In the end, the two of us didn’t have a big meal outside. My health is poor, and the way Zhang Mingsheng demanded ingredients lists and certifications from the shopkeepers was as terrifying as a horror movie. For the sake of the mental health of every snack stall worker in Hong Kong, I compromised, stating I was willing to go home and eat Aunt Liu’s steamed eggs.
The continuous drizzle had dampened our clothes slightly. Zhang Mingsheng first helped me out of my coat, then unbuttoned his own.
For some reason, we always ended up talking more on the way home from an outing. It was as if the outside world and our residence spoke entirely different languages. Outside, one had to be performative, loud, and wear the most exhausting of masks. Coming home was different. Sometimes I feel that even if one lives in the same place for a long time and uses only one language, the way of speaking at home and outside is still completely different. The words spoken at home can be considered a kind of mother tongue in their own right.
And at this moment of transitioning back into our “mother tongue,” Zhang Mingsheng always likes to drop a few bombshells, scaring me out of any sense of peace.
“Your mentor is coming over as a guest tomorrow.”
He said it as naturally as one would say, “You have to get up tomorrow.”
I didn’t even know what kind of expression I was making; I only felt uncomfortable pressure where my eyebrows met.
I looked at him and asked, “…What did you just say?”
“Your mentor is coming. He said he wants to apologize on behalf of his apprentice, so I assume Li Yi will be coming too.” Zhang Mingsheng said while arching an eyebrow with a meaningful glint in his eyes.
It was probably about the funeral.
“They want to come, and you just agreed?” I suppressed a surge of inexplicable fury, trying my best to remain calm.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Why *would* you?”
“Because it’s fun.”
Fun, fun, fun, fun my foot. The Zhang family is so rich, can’t they buy their eldest grandson some toys? Even I had a triangle to play with in the orphanage. Was Zhang Mingsheng’s childhood spent locked in a vacuum-sealed bag with nothing to do? Is that why he’s so obsessed with “fun” now that he’s grown?
I didn’t want to deal with him. I turned my wheelchair myself and rolled away, leaving him behind.
If you won’t allow me to escape, why give me hope?
Behind me, Ah Hai was reporting to Zhang Mingsheng about what had happened while we were out.
It was all trivial matters; things like Keke crying over being a picky eater, or Xiao Yuan sulking because he couldn’t beat a level in a game.
Finally, Ah Hai said, “Mr. Song said he wants to visit tomorrow.”
Mr. Song? Could it be the current successor of the Song family?
Hearing the name “Song,” Zhang Mingsheng’s level of focus naturally sharpened far beyond hearing about his daughter being engrossed in cartoons or his son’s gaming frustrations. His voice turned grave as if he were mentally preparing for an answer that hadn’t yet arrived, “Which Mr. Song?”
“Song Yixing.”
So it was him, the young starlet.
Zhang Mingsheng said to Ah Hai, “Don’t call him ‘Mr. Song’ in front of others in the future. ‘Mr. Song’ usually refers to his father.”
The Song family was different from others, and as a result, even the most ordinary forms of address became a kind of unique badge of honor.
