June 7, 1994, Tuesday, Cloudy turning overcast
He brought me a newspaper, allowing me to know the date. Of course, I’m not certain it’s today’s paper, as it was used to wrap steamed buns. Still, living underground, I can’t ask for more. Having a date makes my diary seem more official.
Thinking back, I probably started keeping a diary in elementary school. Back then, daily entries were part of our homework, to be checked and graded by the teacher. I’ve always been an obedient child, so I wrote detailed accounts of everything, as diligently as any assignment. In middle school, we no longer had to submit daily entries, but the habit stuck with me until now.
A diary, of course, should be written daily. Over the years, except for the days I fumbled in darkness or was unconscious, I haven’t missed a single entry. So this diary is no longer complete. If it could speak, it would surely say, “Master, master, I’m no longer worthy of being a diary.” Ha! I’d tell it, “That’s alright, this way we’re a perfect match.”
What’s strange about someone unworthy of being a daughter, or even a human, having an “unworthy” diary?
Ma Na was right; I’m truly not fit to be a mermaid or a princess. That’s why I still don’t resent her. She merely exposed a truth I’d been unwilling to face – I’m not worthy of hating her.
It’s as if I instinctively dove into the sewer during that downpour, as though I naturally belonged there. It was only fitting. Besides, he showed no surprise at my return.
Then again, he doesn’t seem surprised by anything.
I don’t doubt there’s something wrong with his intellect. It’s evident in the simple and vague vocabulary he uses to express himself. To use a derogatory term, he’s an idiot. I don’t know where he’s from or how old he is, only that he’s lived in the sewers for a long time, even more familiar with the environment than the rats. He likely survives by scavenging, with the food he brings back daily being the fruits of his labor.
There must be hundreds or thousands like him in this city, but I’ve never paid attention to them before. Most of the time, they seem to vanish completely.
However, right now, only he and this “room” are willing to accept me. Perhaps he sees me as one of his kind. Or in his eyes, I’m no different from a water bottle, a piece of scrap metal, or an old tire.
I don’t care. A “dead” person probably isn’t much nobler than a water bottle, scrap metal, or an old tire.
Heaven knows how much I wanted to die on that rainy night!
Yet, I’m still alive. I still breathe, and feel pain and hunger. I can still fall into deep sleep when extremely tired. Worse still, I can wake up.
Yes. Consciousness is torture for me. It forces me to face that cruel question – what exactly am I?
Su Lin. The eldest daughter of the Su family. Su Zhe’s older sister. A student in Class 4, Grade 2 of the Fourth Middle School, student number 27. Maid C.
No. None of these.
In fact, from the moment I was driven into the sewer, I lost all these identities. Not a single one remained. This made me realize a fact: a person can disappear so thoroughly.
There’s a romantic saying that even if a person truly dies, as long as someone remembers them, they haven’t passed away.
But I think it won’t be long before everyone forgets me completely. Because they have no reason to remember me. I never had friends, and now I have no family. In their brief or long lives, my image will gradually blur and finally disappear entirely.
This is for the best. I was originally dispensable; vanishing without a trace is probably the best ending.
Zero should look like zero.
The name Su Lin will eventually become two unrelated Chinese characters, lying quietly in the dictionary.
Oh, right, I forgot to mention. I now live in the sewer with him. I don’t know what to call him, but he seems to call me Xiao Lan – I guessed this from his unclear pronunciation. I think it’s because of the blue and white school uniform I’m wearing.
Dear diary, hello, I’m Xiao Lan.
Wang Xianjiang knocked on the door a few times. Hearing “Come in” from inside, he pushed the door open.
There were still a few people in the office reporting to Deputy Director Hu, including two members of the special case team. Seeing Wang Xianjiang enter, those two averted their gaze, their expressions somewhat unnatural. Wang Xianjiang stood calmly at the door, waiting patiently.
After the work reports were finished, Deputy Director Hu gave instructions for the next steps of the investigation. The previous few people stood up to leave, those familiar with Wang Wang XianJiang greeted him, and he nodded in response to all, still not saying a word.
Deputy Director Hu looked up at him: “Old Wang, do you need something?”
Wang Xianjiang walked to his desk: “Reporting for work.”
Deputy Director Hu frowned: “What work?”
“The ‘May 24’ serial murder case.” Wang Xianjiang lowered his eyelids, “I’m the deputy leader of the special case team, routinely reporting to you.”
Deputy Director Hu was stunned for a few seconds, suddenly sighed, rubbed his face, and pointed to the sofa in the corner opposite.
“Sit down first.”
Wang Xianjiang stood still: “It’s just a few words, no need to sit.”
“Old Wang, I know you’re upset.” Deputy Director Hu spread his hands, “What can I do? Cases keep coming one after another. We’ve been following this drug trafficking case for over half a year, the groundwork is good, and I can’t watch all that effort go to waste due to a lack of manpower. Pulling your people away was unavoidable.”
“I understand it all. Revolutionary work, no high or low, noble or base. We can’t let solvable cases slip away. My case is inherently flawed, no one’s to blame.”
“You’re an old comrade, please be more understanding.” Deputy Director Hu perked up, “How’s your case going?”
“We’ve made some progress.” Wang Xianjiang placed a few documents on the desk, “We’ve re-profiled the suspect and narrowed down his location.”
“Oh?” Deputy Director Hu seemed very surprised, picking up the documents and looking through them, “Any new leads?”
“No. Old methods combined with new thinking opened up a breakthrough.”
“Just you and Tai Zhiliang’s son? What’s that kid’s name again?”
“Tai Wei. That’s right, currently just the two of us working on this case.”
“Well done.” Deputy Director Hu nodded, “What do you need me to do?”
“Now we need to conduct surveys in these areas.” Wang Xianjiang pointed at the documents, “I don’t need manpower from the bureau, but I need you to issue cooperation notices to the branch offices and police stations. Better make the wording strict, I’m afraid the people below won’t take it seriously.”
He emphasized: “The killer will continue to act, we don’t have much time.”
“No problem.” Deputy Director Hu readily agreed, “I’ll do it right away.”
“Alright, that’s all.” Wang Xianjiang turned to walk towards the door, “I’m off to work.”
“Old Wang,” Deputy Director Hu called out to him again, “Solve this case, and before you retire, I’ll get you promoted one rank.”
Wang Xianjiang smiled: “It’s up to you.”
Ma Na still maintained a cold attitude towards Teacher Zhou, but at least she no longer actively caused trouble. As for Jiang Ting, at most, she cast malicious glances, without any excessive words or actions. Over the past few days, the rehearsal for “The Little Mermaid” had been going relatively smoothly. Jiang Ting’s performance was mostly just filling in, and if she ignored Ma Na, she could manage just fine.
After today’s noon rehearsal ended, Teacher Zhou turned off the camera, looking quite satisfied.
“Good work, everyone.” Teacher Zhou clapped his hands, “One more thing. Everyone take your costumes home to wash, and bring them back clean tomorrow.”
The actors all agreed. So when everyone came out of the changing room again, they each had costumes of various colors and styles draped over their arms.
After changing her clothes, Jiang Ting sat alone in the changing room for a while. She held the deep red long dress that originally didn’t belong to her, looking at the name on the tag.
She wasn’t familiar with this girl called Su Lin, only knowing she was in Class 4. And like herself, Su Lin was one of the most inconspicuous people on campus. Neither of them stood out in terms of appearance, family background, academic performance, or extracurricular activities. Therefore, they had no reason to be noticed by more people, and teachers could hardly remember their names. Most of the time, they silently entered the classroom, spent the day speaking little, and then silently left the campus. Even when bullied, they often choose to avoid or endure. Occasionally, they might have a few female companions they got along with somewhat, which prevented them from becoming that “who was it again?” person that no one could remember at class reunions years later. In short, they weren’t part of others’ passionate, colorful youth memories, to the extent that even their young days seemed unremarkable.
Appearing without a sound, disappearing without a trace. This was probably the most accurate description of them. For those youths who spent three years of high school life with them, the only clue might be that nervous, shy face in the graduation photo.
However, some people didn’t even leave this last trace.
Where are you?
Do you know I’m wearing the costume you left behind, inheriting the role of “Maid C”?
Given Jiang Ting’s personality, she would never actively provoke someone like Ma Na. Even now, she couldn’t clearly explain why she stood before the person who had slapped her, risking offending her again to play an insignificant role. Who knows when that mad dog might come to trouble her again? But Jiang Ting knew she had to do this.
Because in that dark red dress trimmed with white lace, another person’s soul seemed to be hiding.
She didn’t yet understand what a wondrous thing fate is, nor did she know how its careless tendrils would entangle what kind of people together until they took root and sprouted until they became flesh and blood.
She only remembered a line from “Hunter”: It’s God’s arrangement.
Jiang Ting shook her head, picked up the long dress, and walked out of the changing room.
Yang Le came out of the bathroom, shaking the water droplets from his hands, and walked along the corridor toward the classroom. Just as he turned a corner, he saw Ma Na leaning against the railing, looking down at the playground.
He lowered his eyelids, wanting only to quickly return to the classroom. Sure enough, Ma Na walked towards him, a smile on her face.
“Yang Le, I have something to tell you.”
Yang Le had to stop: “What is it?”
“About what I told you last time, have you thought about it?”
Yang Le blinked: “What thing?”
“About studying abroad, coming with me.”
“Oh.” Yang Le walked past her, “I don’t have such plans at the moment.”
Ma Na blocked his path, her smile fading. “Then what do you want to do?”
“What do you mean?” Yang Le furrowed his brow. “I’ll do what I need to do.”
“Stay in China and take the college entrance exam?”
“Yes.”
“Think carefully!” Ma Na’s expression darkened. “We’re talking about a top-ten university in the United States!”
“Thanks for your kindness,” Yang Le smiled, “but I need to get to class.”
“Yang Le!” Ma Na shouted, “Are you really stupid or just pretending?”
Yang Le sighed, looking at her silently.
“You don’t need to spend a penny, just accompany me.” Ma Na spread her hands as if he were an unreasonable idiot. “With your family’s situation, do you think you could attend a top American university?”
“I don’t care about any top American university!” Yang Le couldn’t hold back anymore. “And I don’t want to rely on your family’s influence!”
Ma Na’s eyebrows shot up. She was about to speak but held herself back.
Yang Le heard footsteps behind him. He instinctively looked back to see Jiang Ting walking along the corridor, holding a dress and looking straight ahead. As she passed by them, she quickened her pace.
After Jiang Ting had walked away, Ma Na spoke again: “Yang Le, don’t you know how I feel about you?”
“I know,” Yang Le was getting impatient, “but I’ve already made myself very clear.”
“Since childhood, there’s nothing I’ve wanted that I couldn’t get.” Ma Na bit her lip. “You’d better think it through. A top ten university in the US – not everyone gets such an opportunity.”
“No need to consider it.” Yang Le stared at Jiang Ting’s retreating figure and suddenly snorted. “Top ten in the US? Can you even spell the school’s full name?”
Ma Na’s face suddenly turned red. “You…”
Yang Le ignored her and strode forward.
Just as Jiang Ting reached the classroom door, she heard someone call her name from behind. She turned to see Yang Le running up, out of breath.
“Please wait,” Yang Le stopped in front of her. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”
Jiang Ting glanced into the classroom. Although the teacher hadn’t arrived yet, most of the students were already seated.
“Class is about to start.”
“Just five minutes.”
Jiang Ting hugged the dress to her chest. “Go ahead.”
“I’ll be brief,” Yang Le wiped the glistening sweat from his forehead. “How much do you know about Su Lin’s situation?”
Jiang Ting’s eyes widened. “Hm?”
“You asked about her in our class, and Ma Na keeps targeting you,” Yang Le spoke urgently. “So I think you must know something.”
Jiang Ting looked at him silently for a few seconds. “Why do you want to know?”
“I heard she dropped out,” Yang Le was momentarily at a loss for words. “I… I feel this might have something to do with me.”
Jiang Ting shook her head. “I don’t know about that.”
Yang Le immediately pressed on. “Then what do you know?”
Jiang Ting thought for a moment, then asked in return, “What do you want to know?”
“Hey! You…” Her response caught Yang Le off guard. “I want to know what exactly happened to her. She’s in her second year of high school, she couldn’t have just quit. So, is she on temporary leave, or did she transfer to another school? Just these things.”
Jiang Ting lowered her head and said softly, “Why don’t you just ask at her home?”
“I don’t know her home address,” Yang Le grimaced. “It’s strange, we’ve been classmates for two years, yet no one has ever been to her house.”
As Jiang Ting was still hesitating, the math teacher approached, carrying a stack of test papers. Seeing Jiang Ting and Yang Le standing at the door, the teacher immediately put on a stern face.
“Class is about to start. What are you two doing loitering here?”
Jiang Ting quickly nodded to the math teacher, then turned to Yang Le. “I need to go to class. Let’s talk another time.”
Yang Le resigned himself. “I’ll find you again then.”
As he turned to walk toward Class 4’s classroom, he heard Jiang Ting call out to him.
“Hey.”
Yang Le instinctively turned back to see Jiang Ting extending her hand toward him, a pack of tissues between her fingers.
“For you…” Jiang Ting pointed at her forehead.
Yang Le took the tissues, but before he could say thank you, the girl had already rushed into the classroom.
Jiang Yushu found the deep red dress her daughter brought home strange. After Jiang Ting explained, she finally understood and then gently scolded her daughter.
“You little one,” she tapped Jiang Ting’s forehead. “You joined an extracurricular activity and didn’t even tell me.”
“I’m just an extra, with barely any lines,” Jiang Ting said casually while eating an apple. “I didn’t think it was a big deal.”
“The rehearsals won’t interfere with your studies, right?”
“We only rehearse during lunch break.”
“Alright,” Jiang Yushu examined the deep red dress. “The fabric is quite nice. Wait, did you take someone else’s clothes by mistake?”
She brought the collar of the dress close to her eyes. “Su Lin?”
“No,” Jiang Ting was silent for a moment. “I’m replacing her.”
“Oh. Why isn’t this Su Lin performing anymore?”
“She dropped out.”
“Dropped out?” Jiang Yushu was surprised. “She’s in her second year of high school and still dropped out? Why? Was she struggling with her studies?”
“I don’t know,” Jiang Ting lowered her head. “She’s from Class 4.”
Jiang Yushu muttered, “What were her parents thinking? She should at least finish high school.” She took the dress to the desk. “Let me change the name to yours.”
“No need,” Jiang Ting looked up at her. “Just leave it as is.”
“We should change it. It’s odd to have someone else’s name on your clothes.”
“There’s no need,” Jiang Ting’s attitude was firm. “I’ll have to return it after the performance anyway.”
“Alright then.”
Jiang Yushu went into the bathroom and put the dress in the washing machine. As she was pouring in the detergent, she suddenly remembered the old man who was talking to Jiang Ting at the school gate.
The search for the unidentified body yielded no results.
There were no rescued individuals at the shelter matching the physical description, not even any female rescuees of a similar age.
Gu Hao held the pen, standing in front of the white paper, hesitating repeatedly, but still couldn’t bring himself to cross out the word “death.” Although he very much wanted to do so.
The investigation results Tai Wei brought couldn’t completely rule out the possibility that Su Lin was already dead. The city was so large, with so many dark corners, not to mention the river flowing through the city – it was too easy for a person to disappear without a trace.
Gu Hao sat on the edge of the bed, smoking while looking at the names on the paper and the criss-crossing connecting lines. Just as he was deep in thought, the phone suddenly rang.
Picking up the receiver, Gu Hao had barely said “hello” when he heard the slightly hurried breathing of the caller. His heart began to beat violently, and he immediately guessed the identity of the caller.
Sure enough, a few seconds later, Du Qian’s voice came through faintly: “You’re something, if I don’t contact you, you just won’t reach out?”
Gu Hao was momentarily at a loss for words. After coughing dryly twice, he stammered, “Something happened with the neighbors…”
“What does that have to do with you?”
“We’re all acquaintances,” Gu Hao explained haltingly. “If I can help, I should. Besides, I don’t have much going on anyway.”
“Mm, you’re such a helpful person,” Du Qian said, making sure Gu Hao couldn’t miss her sarcasm. “Yes, you’re so free that you leave your guest at home while you go eavesdrop at other people’s doors.”
“It’s not like that. I… I’ll explain to you when I get the chance.”
“Forget it, I’m not in the mood to hear all this,” Du Qian cut him off quickly. “Have you thought about it?”
Gu Hao was a bit confused. “Thought about what?”
“The senior university,” Du Qian’s volume suddenly increased. “You haven’t forgotten about it, have you?”
“No, no,” Gu Hao cradled the phone between his neck and shoulder, stretching the cord to reach for the stack of flyers at the foot of the bed, quickly flipping through them.
“The calligraphy class seems good, it’s good for cultivating oneself.”
Du Qian’s sigh came through the receiver. “Look at the start date. The calligraphy class only begins in the fall semester.”
“Then how about sketching? Chess would be fine too.”
There was only silence on the other end. Gu Hao didn’t dare speak rashly, only patiently waiting. Finally, he couldn’t bear it anymore and asked softly, “What do you think?”
“Ballroom dancing, it’s decided,” Du Qian said quickly. “There’s a class tonight, from 6:30 to 8:00, in the Peony Hall on the first floor of the Workers’ Cultural Palace.”
“Ballroom dancing?” Gu Hao panicked. “I haven’t danced in so many years. No, no, I can’t.”
“You’ll pick it up as soon as you practice, besides, you already have a foundation,” Du Qian’s tone brooked no argument. “I’m calling to sign you up now. 6:30 to 8:00, don’t forget.”
“Why don’t we wait? Don’t we need to register in advance…”
“Are you going or not?”
“I’ll go.”
Just then, there was a knock on the door.
“Coming,” Gu Hao called out to the door, then turned back to the phone. “Someone’s at the door.”
“You old thing, never a moment’s rest,” Du Qian’s tone held both reproach and joy. “Peony Hall, if you can’t remember, just think of Jiang Dawei.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t forget.”
“Alright, see you tonight.”
“See you tonight.”
Gu Hao hung up the phone and quickly walked to the door. He opened it to see a middle-aged man wearing glasses standing in the hallway, with a high school girl behind him.
The middle-aged man smiled at him. “Master Gu, sorry to disturb you.”
“You are…” Gu Hao hesitated for a moment, then immediately recognized him as the person from the Moral Education Department of the Education Bureau. “Director Xu, right? What brings you here?”
He stepped aside to let them in.
“The space is small, please make yourselves comfortable.”
Gu Hao pulled over two chairs and sat on the edge of the bed himself.
“Isn’t this about the matter you came to consult last time?” Deputy Section Chief Xu crossed his legs. “We contacted No. 4 Middle School. The school is also actively helping you find this student who did a good deed in the spirit of Lei Feng. However, we still haven’t found them.”
“Hmm.” Gu Hao thought to himself that it would be strange if they had found the student. He turned his gaze to the girl. She had long, curly hair dyed chestnut brown and a pretty face with visible makeup. Although she wore the blue and white school uniform, a thin gold necklace was visible at her open collar, and her sneakers were an expensive brand.
The girl didn’t appear nervous. Instead, she looked around the room curiously, seemingly unafraid of the new environment.
Gu Hao stood up, picked up the thermos, and placed it next to the TV, blocking the white paper on the wall covered with names.
“Don’t trouble yourself,” Deputy Section Chief Xu continued. “It’s normal that we didn’t find the student. After all, we’ve been consistently emphasizing moral education, and the overall quality of our students has improved. Everyone does good deeds now, so it’s understandable if they don’t remember, don’t you agree?”
Gu Hao nodded, “That’s right.”
“So, the Education Bureau and the school have discussed this. How about we handle it this way?” Xu seemed encouraged. “Our focus should be on promoting the spirit of contemporary middle school students. The specific individual who did the deed isn’t important. The key is to let society see that our moral education has indeed been very effective.”
“I understand.” Gu Hao pointed at the girl. “She’s a stand-in, right?”
“We can’t call her a stand-in,” Xu seemed dissatisfied with the term. “Let’s say she’s a representative. This child was recommended by No. 4 Middle School. She performs well in all aspects. Her image is also very good.”
“Yes, indeed,” Gu Hao just wanted to send them away quickly. “What do you need me to do?”
“Well, you should tell this child about what happened that day. Later, we’ll bring in people from the TV station to interview you and her separately. We’re aiming to get it on the news next week.”
The girl’s eyes lit up, seemingly excited about the prospect of being on TV.
Gu Hao smiled, “So we’re rehearsing, right?”
“You could say that,” Xu replied reluctantly. “As for the timing, let’s say it was a few days ago, on that rainy day.”
“Alright.” Gu Hao turned to the girl. “What’s your name? Which grade and class are you in?”
“My name is Ma Na,” the girl sat up straight, her voice clear. “I’m in Class 4, second year of No. 4 Middle School.”
“Huh?” Gu Hao was startled, his mind quickly processing the information. “Class 4?”
The girl nodded, smiling brightly. “Yes.”
Gu Hao suddenly leaned forward, staring at her intently. “Are there any other students with the surname Ma in your class?”
“What?” Ma Na was taken aback. “Just… just me. Why?”
Gu Hao’s gaze was filled with scrutiny. “What does your family do?”
“My dad is in business,” the girl bristled like a hedgehog, raising all her quills. “Why?”
“Just asking.” Gu Hao lowered his eyes, reaching into his pocket for a cigarette. “How do you get along with your classmates?”
Ma Na glared at him, silent.
Gu Hao lit his cigarette and turned to Deputy Section Chief Xu. The latter also seemed confused. “It should be fine, after all, she was recommended by the school. Master Gu, why are you asking these questions?”
“I need to play along, don’t I?” Gu Hao chuckled, pointing at Ma Na. “I need to understand this child.”
“Come on, it can’t be that different,” Xu waved his hand. “Just tell her clearly about the good deed of helping others.”
Gu Hao looked Ma Na up and down as if trying to etch her appearance deeply into his mind. Under his gaze, the girl became increasingly flustered, squirming in her chair, no longer daring to meet his eyes.
Deputy Section Chief Xu grew more puzzled. “Master Gu?”
“Let’s get to know her better,” Gu Hao continued to stare at Ma Na. “Otherwise, it wouldn’t be fair to that child, don’t you think?”
Ma Na lowered her head, muttering softly, “What’s this about? The school sent me here…”
“That was a girl about your age,” Gu Hao said slowly and deliberately. “About 165 cm tall, with monolids, very thin, pale face, speaking softly but very politely. Do you know her?”
Ma Na stood up abruptly. “What’s going on? Are you interrogating a criminal? It’s just appearing on TV, isn’t it? If you don’t want me to do it, fine!”
With that, she turned and stormed out of the room.
“Hey! This child, how can she just leave like that?” Xu also became anxious, getting up to chase after her. At the door, he turned back to Gu Hao. “Master Gu, what’s this about…”
Gu Hao spread his hands. “I didn’t say anything.”
“This… what a mess.” Xu looked troubled. “Alright, I’ll come back to find you later.”
He closed the door and hurried away.
Gu Hao sat on the bed, quietly finishing a cigarette. Then he got up, walked to the TV, moved the thermos, and wrote “Ma Na” on the paper. He circled the name and drew an arrow pointing to “Su Lin.”
The Workers’ Cultural Palace, built in 1964, was located in the city center, adjacent to People’s Square. It was previously used for large-scale mass activities and artistic performances. After the reform and opening up, this massive building also began leasing space for external cooperation. Judging from the neon signs on the walls, there were more than a dozen establishments, including dance halls, coffee shops, bookstores, wedding photography studios, computer learning centers, and more.
Gu Hao stood with his mouth open, looking at the Workers’ Cultural Palace in the twilight, wondering where the sign for the Senior Citizens’ University was.
Checking his watch, it was already 6:25 PM. After some thought, he decided to go in and ask.
As soon as he stepped through the main entrance, a security guard approached him. “Old comrade, where are you headed?”
“Senior Citizens’ University, to learn ballroom dancing,” Gu Hao furrowed his brow. “Which hall was it again?”
He looked at the security guard. “Jiang Dawei?”
“What Jiang Dawei?” The security guard seemed confused. “You mean the one who sings ‘Ah ah ah ah peony, the most brilliant among all flowers’?”
Gu Hao slapped his forehead. “The Peony Hall.”
The security guard pointed to the right side of the corridor. “It’s at the end.”
The Peony Hall looked like a banquet hall, but the dining tables had been removed, and the chairs were arranged along the walls to create a rest area, with the central space serving as a dance floor.
The room was dimly lit, with soft music playing. Several couples were dancing gracefully on the dance floor. Gu Hao stood at the entrance, looking around, when a well-proportioned man in his sixties approached him. “Comrade, are you a student?”
Gu Hao nodded. “Yes.”
The man smiled. “May I see your student ID?”
“Student ID?” Gu Hao was taken aback. “I don’t have one…”
“Teacher Wu, he’s with me,” Du Qian walked over from the wall, waving at the man. “I have his student ID.”
“Ah, I see,” the man gestured for Gu Hao to enter. “Welcome, new student.”
Du Qian led the still-confused Gu Hao to sit on the chairs along the wall. Only then did he have a chance to examine her closely.
She wore a royal blue velvet long dress with a silver wave-shaped brooch on her chest. Her hair was tied up in a bun on top of her head. She looked elegant and refined.
Gu Hao looked at his beige jacket, black trousers, and old leather shoes, and asked softly, “Is there a dress code for learning to dance here?”
“You can wear whatever you like, as long as you’re comfortable,” Du Qian laughed. “I thought you weren’t coming.”
“How could I not come when I promised you?” Gu Hao took out his wallet. “How much is the tuition fee? I’ll pay you.”
Du Qian gave him a look. In the dim light, her expression was quite charming.
“We’ll talk about that later,” she pointed to the dance floor. “First, familiarize yourself with the environment.”
Several couples were dancing on the floor, all middle-aged or elderly. Some moved gracefully, others clumsily, and one pair couldn’t even keep up with the rhythm. The man Du Qian had called Teacher Wu moved among them, occasionally calling out the beat, correcting postures, or demonstrating himself. Dressed in a white shirt and black fitted trousers, Teacher Wu exuded professionalism in every movement.
“That’s our instructor, surname Wu,” Du Qian followed his gaze. “A retired professor from the Arts College of the Normal University.”
Gu Hao nodded. “No wonder. I thought they were all amateurs.”
“This is a proper Senior Citizens’ University,” Du Qian tapped the back of his hand. “There are even exams.”
Gu Hao chuckled.
At that moment, the song ended. Teacher Wu stood among the couples, commenting on their movements. Then he walked to the sound equipment on the right side of the hall and selected a tape to play.
As the melodious music started again, Du Qian tapped her foot to the rhythm.
“How about it?” She extended her hand to Gu Hao. “Slow foxtrot, shall we dance?”
Gu Hao looked uncomfortable. “Why don’t I just be a spectator today?”
“Old Gu,” Du Qian gave him a meaningful look, “it’s not gentlemanly to refuse a lady’s invitation.”
Reluctantly, Gu Hao stood up and took Du Qian’s hand. She gracefully followed him onto the dance floor, and they faced each other. Gu Hao lowered his head, not daring to meet her eyes. His left hand held her right, while his right hand rested on her waist. Du Qian’s left hand was on his shoulder, and as the melody began, she gently guided him to start dancing.
Indeed, she was leading him. Gu Hao’s entire body was as stiff as an iron board, especially his right hand on Du Qian’s waist, which was almost cramping. Under her guidance, Gu Hao danced with faltering steps, sweating profusely, and stepped on Du Qian’s feet several times.
He apologized repeatedly, but Du Qian just smiled. “It’s okay, take it slow.” Then she winked at him. “You can buy me a new pair of shoes later to make up for it.”
Gu Hao smiled too, gradually relaxing. His muscle memory began to awaken, and his dancing became smoother.
As his mind relaxed, various thoughts flooded in. The events of that afternoon replayed in his mind.
Su Lin’s disappearance was related to someone surnamed Ma, and there was only one girl with that surname in her class. It was evident that this Ma Na was a pampered child, vain and temperamental, probably used to bossing others around. Moreover, judging from her clothes and jewelry, her family was quite wealthy. Therefore, Ma Na was likely the culprit behind Su Lin’s disappearance.
What she had done to Su Lin was unknown, but it must have been some serious harm that left Su Lin trapped somewhere, unable to return home.
Unconscious?
Unable to confirm her identity and thus being treated in a hospital? This possibility was slim, as hospitals would immediately report to the police, and Tao Wei would certainly have news.
Trafficked to another place? This was even more unlikely. A high school student couldn’t do such a thing, and besides, the wealthy Ma Na had no reason to do so.
Where are you?
Gu Hao’s mood grew heavier. He knew well that the longer Su Lin was missing, the more likely it was that something terrible had happened.
Du Qian noticed his increasingly grave expression and asked, puzzled, “What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”
Gu Hao snapped back to reality and hurriedly denied it. “No, just trying to get the feel of it.”
“That’s more like it,” Du Qian relaxed and said softly, “You used to dance so well.”
Yes, the last time he danced with her was thirty years ago. Back then, he and Tao Zhiliang were young men in their prime, and Du Qian was in the bloom of youth. They danced tirelessly then, one song after another, laughing endlessly.
He suddenly remembered a dream he had recently and unconsciously looked up at Du Qian, finding her staring at him intently, her gaze seemingly filled with a thousand words.
Gu Hao became flustered again and quickly averted his gaze, only to meet the eyes of Teacher Wu standing by the sound equipment. He also seemed to have been watching Gu Hao and Du Qian, his gaze equally meaningful.
Du Qian led him in a turn. As Gu Hao’s body rotated 180 degrees, he looked back at Teacher Wu. The instructor had turned to watch other students, his demeanor somewhat dejected, his cheeks seeming to have sunken.
“What are you looking at?” Du Qian asked.
“Teacher Wu,” Gu Hao smiled. “He seems very interested in you.”
Du Qian made a strange sound, something between a light laugh and a sigh.
“Don’t mind him,” she leaned closer to Gu Hao, almost nestling in his arms. “Let’s just dance.”
Gu Hao felt the tickle of her hair bun on his chin, and the fragrance emanating from her warmth filled his nostrils. He suddenly understood why Du Qian had asked him to come learn ballroom dancing.