Gu Hao stood silently in the kitchen, eyeing two porcelain plates stacked on the stove. He lifted the top one, revealing two fried eggs on the plate beneath. The eggs had gone cold, with congealed oil at the bottom of the plate, looking utterly unappetizing. Nevertheless, Gu Hao pried them off the plate and slowly chewed them. While the yolks were still somewhat soft, the whites were as tough as rubber. After finishing both eggs, Gu Hao’s mouth felt full of cold, burnt fragments.
He bent down, put his mouth under the faucet, took a sip of tap water, and spat it out. After repeating this several times, his mouth felt much fresher. However, having eaten such greasy leftover food on an empty stomach early in the morning, his stomach soon began to protest. The two cold fried eggs seemed to maintain their shape, stubbornly poking his insides and rubbing against his stomach lining with their rough edges. Gu Hao cursed under his breath, placed an iron wok on the gas stove, and began cooking.
After downing a hot bowl of noodles with shredded pork, the discomfort in his stomach greatly subsided. Satisfied, Gu Hao carried the empty bowl to the kitchen. He washed and dried the dishes, then put them away in the cupboard. Once finished, he stood in the kitchen for a few minutes before turning on the gas stove to boil some water.
While waiting for the water to boil, Gu Hao prepared the teapot and tea leaves. He retrieved today’s newspaper from outside and stood by the stove, reading it carefully. A few minutes later, the iron kettle began to whistle. Gu Hao put down the newspaper, turned off the gas, and brewed the tea. Then, tucking the newspaper under his arm and holding the teacup, he walked towards the door. Before leaving, he turned to look at Room 101 on his right. The dark gray metal door was tightly locked, with no sound coming from inside.
The usually noisy little boy seemed to be out as well.
Gu Hao thought for a moment, opened the door, and stepped out.
The girl from across the hall hadn’t come for fried eggs in two days.
Downstairs, there was a pavilion made of cement slabs, with a round table and benches of the same material inside. Gu Hao slowly walked along the damp red brick path toward the pavilion. He chose a relatively dry bench to sit on, placed his teacup and newspaper on the round table, and took out cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket, arranging them neatly.
Is this the standard equipment for a retired old man? Gu Hao thought, shaking his head with a bitter smile. He still couldn’t fully adapt to life after retirement; the sudden abundance of free time left him at a loss. He had never married, let alone had children. Gu Hao couldn’t spend his time doting on grandchildren like his other old friends, nor did he have hobbies like calligraphy, dancing, or fishing. All he could do was drink tea, read the newspaper, and sleep. Counting on his fingers, he realized he had been living like this for nearly half a year. If this was how he’d spend the rest of his days, Gu Hao felt he certainly couldn’t bear it.
The residential area began to buzz with activity, mostly workers from the fiberglass factory cycling to work. Those who knew him greeted the former security chief.
“Chief Gu, out for a stroll?”
“Chief Gu, have you eaten?”
“Old Gu, enjoying retirement?”
Gu Hao responded perfunctorily, his eyes fixed on the speeding bicycle wheels and busy figures. To himself, he thought, “What’s there to enjoy? I’m so bored I could grow moss.”
After the morning rush hour, the residential area fell silent again, with the paths becoming deserted. The occasional passersby were older folks with children, each quiet and awkward in their movements. Gu Hao sighed, reluctantly acknowledging that he was one of them and would eventually become just like them.
He lit a cigarette, picked up the unfinished newspaper, and patiently continued reading.
National leaders visiting Europe. AC Milan still leading the Serie A standings. The city’s labor union organizing an elderly yangko dance troupe for an arts performance. Last night’s heavy rain caused deep water accumulation on the east side of Culture Square, reminding citizens to be cautious.
Gu Hao’s eyelids grew heavier. The lead type on the newspaper blurred into tiny black dots. He yawned, took a sip of tea, and lit another cigarette.
He hadn’t slept well last night because he had dreamed of Tai Zhiliang again.
In the dream, they were both in their twenties, full of vigor, just as they had been in the army. They seemed to be at some kind of social gathering with dozens of men and women. Tai Zhiliang and Gu Hao were each dancing with a girl. Tai Zhiliang and his partner spun and jumped, their movements skilled and in perfect sync. Gu Hao watched them, inwardly amused. Finding an opportunity, he approached Tai Zhiliang and called out, “Monkey, be careful or Du Qian will twist your ear when you get back!” Tai Zhiliang appeared unconcerned, nodding towards Gu Hao’s dance partner. Puzzled, Gu Hao looked down to find that the girl in his arms, dancing with flushed cheeks, was none other than Du Qian. Embarrassed, Gu Hao quickly released Du Qian’s hand.
In that instant, the dance hall transformed into a war-torn mountaintop. The young men and women who had been dancing became snarling enemy soldiers. Gu Hao hurriedly warned Du Qian to find cover, only to realize she had already disappeared. Finding himself unarmed, Gu Hao panicked. He saw Tai Zhiliang firing a submachine gun at the enemy troops and quickly crawled to his side, reaching for the pistol at Tai Zhiliang’s waist. Just as he released the safety, Gu Hao saw a smoking hand grenade flying towards them. Without time to think, he shouted “Get down!” and pushed Tai Zhiliang away…
The hand grenade from 1962 didn’t explode, and Gu Hao of 1994 opened his eyes in his bed. Drenched in sweat and breathing heavily, he lay there for a good ten minutes before managing to get up. He drank some cold water, collected himself, and his racing heart finally began to calm down.
Maybe it’s time to visit that old fellow, Gu Hao thought. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he lit a cigarette and put it in his mouth, then lit another and placed it on the windowsill, watching the pale blue smoke slowly dissipate into the heavy rain outside.
As the sun rose higher, steam began to rise from the rain-soaked ground. Gu Hao’s face grew hot, and fine beads of sweat appeared on his temples. This deepened his drowsiness. He rolled up the newspaper, pocketed his cigarettes and lighter, picked up his half-finished tea, and prepared to go back for a nap.
After taking just a few steps, he heard the distinctive roar of a Beijing Jeep behind him. Without turning around, Gu Hao knew that Tai Wei had arrived again.
“Old Gu! Old Gu!”
Gu Hao ignored him, slowly walking towards the residential building.
“Grandpa Gu! Grandpa Gu… Dad Gu!”
Gu Hao slowly turned around, watching Tai Wei park the Jeep crookedly by the roadside.
“Who are you calling ‘Old Gu’?”
“Dad Gu! Is that better?” Tai Wei’s face was covered in sweat as he jumped out of the car. He went to the back, opened the trunk, and pulled out a bag of rice and a jug of soybean oil.
“You’re quite petty for an old man,” Tai Wei said, hoisting the rice onto his shoulder and picking up the oil jug. “Why didn’t you stay outside longer? Have you eaten?”
“What are you doing here again?” Gu Hao frowned. “Didn’t you just come last month?”
“My mom asked me to bring you some stuff,” Tai Wei grinned mischievously. “Taking care of a retired old comrade.”
“Unnecessary!” Gu Hao glared at him, reaching out to take the oil jug.
“No need, no need.” Tai Wei sidestepped Gu Hao and squeezed past him. “Got any cold water at home? I’m dying of thirst.”
Gu Hao watched him stride towards the building, the 50-kilogram bag of rice on his shoulder not affecting his gait at all. From behind, his figure did resemble Tai Zhiliang somewhat. It seemed the police force still kept people in good shape. Remembering how scrawny Tai Wei had been as a child, Gu Hao couldn’t help but smile.
They entered the apartment. Tai Wei put away the rice and oil, then began wandering around the room, finding a towel and soap. He washed his face thoroughly, then poured himself a large glass of cold water and gulped it down.
Satisfied, Tai Wei let out a burp and plopped down on the bed, fanning himself with a magazine he picked up.
“What kind of weather is this? It rained all night but didn’t cool down at all,” Tai Wei looked around the room. “Aren’t you hot? I should get you an electric fan sometime.”
“No need,” Gu Hao said, his eyelids drooping as he pulled up a chair and sat down. “How’s your mother?”
“She’s fine,” Tai Wei leaned back against the headboard, finding a comfortable position. “If you care about her, why don’t you go see her yourself instead of always asking me?”
“Mm, when I have time,” Gu Hao replied.
“You’re a retired old man, what could you possibly be busy with?” Tai Wei smirked. “You were so domineering when you were young, but now you’ve become a coward in your old age.”
“What do you know?” Gu Hao reached for his cigarettes. Seeing this, Tai Wei quickly pulled out his pack: “Have one of mine.”
Gu Hao looked up at him: “Who taught you to smoke?”
“Everyone at the station smokes,” Tai Wei skillfully shook out a cigarette and offered it to Gu Hao. “Zhonghua brand, try it, old man.”
“Get lost!” Gu Hao waved it away. “How old are you to be smoking already?”
“I’m already 24, Dad Gu!” Tai Wei wasn’t upset, lighting the cigarette for himself and taking a deep drag. “In your generation, I’d already have kids by now.”
Gu Hao couldn’t help but laugh: “Has your mother been trying to set you up with anyone?”
“No, I’m not in a hurry.”
“It’s good to get married early. Having someone to keep you in check will stop you from bouncing around like a monkey all day.”
“You’re one to talk,” Tai Wei grinned. “My dad got married at 32 and had me at 36. What about you? You’re still a bachelor at your age.”
“Watch your mouth, you brat!”
“But seriously,” Tai Wei winked, “Dad Gu, my dad’s been gone for years now. I know about what happened when you were young. How about it, have you considered my mom? I wouldn’t mind dropping the ‘Gu’ from ‘Dad Gu.'”
“What nonsense are you spouting?” Gu Hao exploded in anger. “Say another word and you can get out!”
“See, you’re getting all worked up,” Tai Wei said sheepishly, muttering, “You two care about each other, what’s there to be embarrassed about…”
Gu Hao said nothing, getting up to fetch the broom from the corner. Seeing the old man was truly angry, Tai Wei quickly jumped up to stop him, apologizing profusely.
“I’m sorry, Dad Gu. Please calm down.”
Gu Hao dropped the broom, still fuming: “You little bastard, is this how you honor your father? Go visit him when you have the chance!”
He took a few deep breaths, his voice suddenly lowering: “I dreamed about your father last night.”
Tai Wei paused: “Alright.”
The atmosphere in the room suddenly became heavy. Gu Hao sat down on the chair, head lowered, while Tai Wei stood beside him with his hands at his sides, both silent. After a long while, Gu Hao’s breathing became more even. He looked at the awkward-faced Tai Wei, faintly catching glimpses of Tai Zhiliang in his features.
Tai Wei carefully observed Gu Hao’s expression. “Dad Gu, you’re not angry anymore, right?”
“Get lost,” Gu Hao replied.
“Well, then… I’ll be going?” Tai Wei said tentatively. “I have work back at the station. Oh, right…”
He pulled out a notebook from his pocket, scribbled a line on a blank page, tore it out, and handed it to Gu Hao.
“Our station just got new pagers,” he said, lifting his jacket to reveal a small black device clipped to his waist. “Call me if you need anything. 127 call 2031736—I wrote it down for you.”
“Call you? I’d rather boil your pig head,” Gu Hao glanced at the paper and stood up. “Don’t leave yet. It’s lunchtime. I’ll make you something to eat. How about noodles?”
“No, thanks,” Tai Wei waved his hands. “I have work to do.”
“No matter how big the job is, you still need to eat,” Gu Hao pointed to his bed. “Sit down and behave yourself.”
“It’s truly urgent,” Tai Wei was already walking towards the door. “I can’t delay.”
“What’s going on?” Gu Hao sensed his genuine urgency and felt concerned. “Is there a case?”
“Yes,” Tai Wei opened the door and turned around, his face uncharacteristically serious. “Last night’s heavy rain washed up dead bodies in the Weihong Canal.”
Seeing Gu Hao’s suddenly grave expression, he added, “Female corpses. Three of them.”
Ma Dongchen had just inserted his key into the lock when he heard Ma Na laughing in the living room. Anger immediately surged within him. He twisted the lock open and yanked the door violently. The heavy iron door slammed against the corridor wall and bounced back, creating a tremendous noise. Almost simultaneously, he saw Ma Na leap up from the sofa and dash into her bedroom like a startled animal, locking the door behind her with a click.
Ma Dongchen stood in the entryway, panting heavily. He tore off his tie and flung it to the ground. The cartoon was still playing on the TV, it’s saccharine dialogue and shrill laughter only fueling his agitation. He grabbed the remote from the coffee table, turned off the TV, and slumped onto the sofa, feeling as if his head might explode.
Han Mei hurried out of the kitchen with a cup of warm water. Ma Dongchen took the cup and drained it in one gulp, feeling slightly less agitated. He unbuttoned his shirt collar and saw his wife watching him anxiously.
“It’s fine,” Ma Dongchen turned away, staring at the blank TV screen. “I asked around. The bodies found in the Weihong Canal aren’t that girl.”
Han Mei pressed her hand to her chest, breathing a sigh of relief. “Thank heavens!”
“Don’t celebrate too soon,” Ma Dongchen’s face remained gloomy. “That child is still missing. Any news on your end?”
“Song Shuang’s mother said the girl didn’t go to school today. Zhao Lingling’s parents are still searching with the Su family,” Han Mei glanced at her husband. “The homeroom teacher just called—should we ask for a few more sick days?”
“Take a week off,” Ma Dongchen leaned back wearily. Han Mei quickly tucked a cushion behind his back.
“Do you want to rest?”
“No need. I’m waiting for a call,” Ma Dongchen looked at his wife’s bloodshot eyes and the wrinkles that seemed to have deepened overnight. “You should go rest.”
“I can’t sleep anyway,” Han Mei sighed. “I’ll go make dinner. We need to eat, no matter what.”
Ma Dongchen glanced at the tightly closed door, his anger rising again. “Damn it! We feel like the sky is falling, and she’s fine, watching cartoons!”
“Don’t talk about her like that,” Han Mei gestured for him to lower his voice. “Na Na must be very scared right now…”
“She’s scared? Didn’t you hear her laughing just now?” Ma Dongchen was still fuming. “This is all because you’ve spoiled her!”
Han Mei was about to argue but thought better of it and returned to the kitchen.
Ma Dongchen felt thirsty again. He picked up the water glass from the coffee table, found it empty, and managed only a few drops. He was about to get up and go to the kitchen when the phone rang.
Ma Dongchen leaped to answer it, his voice trembling slightly as he swallowed. “Hello, Old Liu?”
The call lasted a few minutes. Han Mei emerged from the kitchen, clutching a ladle and watching her husband anxiously. Ma Dongchen’s brow remained furrowed, responding with only “mm” and “ah” to the person on the other end. Finally, he uttered a complete sentence.
“So you’re saying there’s still a possibility, right?”
After the reply, Ma Dongchen said “Thank you, Old Liu” and hung up. Han Mei watched his face, her unease growing.
“Old Liu from the Urban Management Bureau?”
“Yes,” Ma Dongchen leaned weakly against the wall. “He found the blueprints for the underground culverts.”
“What did he say?”
“The culverts have many exits. One leads to the Weihong Canal, and the other to the Weidong and Weigong Canals,” Ma Dongchen’s legs were shaking slightly. “And one leads to the Litong River.”
Han Mei thought for a moment, then suddenly covered her mouth, dropping the ladle with a clatter.
“Yes,” Ma Dongchen smiled bitterly. “If that child was washed into the Litong River, things will get serious.”
“What do we do?” Han Mei grabbed her husband’s sleeve, her voice hoarse. “What about Na Na? If that child dies, Na Na is finished!”
“It hasn’t come to the worst yet,” Ma Dongchen, though equally distraught, tried to comfort his wife. “The police will thoroughly search the culverts. They might still find the girl.”
“What if they don’t? Will the police search the Litong River?” Han Mei had fallen into frantic imagination. “If they find the girl’s body, they’ll take Na Na away, I’m sure of it! She’s so young, people in prison will bully her…”
“Calm down!” Ma Dongchen reached out to hold his wife, but Han Mei had already collapsed on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.
His wife’s complete breakdown made Ma Dongchen even more flustered, but her words had given him an idea.
“So,” Ma Dongchen pulled Han Mei up from the floor, “we absolutely cannot let the police get involved in this.”
Han Mei’s crying stopped abruptly. She stared at Ma Dongchen, her face tear-stained. “But how is that possible…”
“It is possible!” Ma Dongchen gritted his teeth, his tone brooking no argument. “I’ll go talk to the Su family.”