A young girl is ignorant, unknowing due to limited experience.

As she grew older, Li Yaqing increasingly found truth in these words.

If it were today, after walking many difficult paths and coldly observing many events, mountains becoming mere stones at hand and rivers nothing but water underfoot, the Li Yaqing who could now smile gently while guiding newcomers would never have lost her head over a scoundrel like Zhang Guanghua.

But back then, it was different. In her eyes, Zhang Guanghua was handsome and well-spoken. The commonplace corduroy pants and jacket looked perfectly fitted on him. His name, meaning “radiant glory,” suited him well—he naturally emitted a brilliance that reduced everyone around him to mere shadows.

Before turning twenty, she became pregnant.

Zhang Guanghua coaxed her to terminate it, taking her to a black-market clinic in a small alley. Upon entering, she saw bloodstained white cloth on the operating table. The old woman didn’t even wear surgical gloves, grabbing dilators and abortion scissors from a drawer, swirling them in hot water as a makeshift sterilization before gesturing to her: “Lie down.”

Having received a good education since childhood, her mother had taught her to wash her hands frequently, saying, “Daily life is full of invisible viruses and bacteria.” How clean were those abortion tools? How many people had they been used on?

Li Yaqing turned pale, fled out the door, and, after much deliberation, tearfully sought her mother’s help.

She remembered how her mother, after hearing everything, collapsed onto the sofa, clutching her chest, saying: “I can’t breathe.”

Her mother was a cultured intellectual, dignified and polite even when angry.

Her parents discussed it all night. By the weekend, the three of them—like thieves with scarves wrapped around their heads and masks covering their faces—took a bus to a neighboring county to find her mother’s long-unseen friend who worked in obstetrics. Her mother told them, “She’s a relative’s child, a young girl who quit school early and was deceived by someone from society.”

After the procedure, her parents’ attitude toward her plummeted, though they maintained appearances. In public, they showed paternal love and filial piety, but once home, it was cold as an ice cellar, with barely a word spoken for days.

Later, she learned this was a form of violence—domestic cold violence.

Once, her parents’ bedroom door wasn’t fully closed, and she overheard their conversation, revealing their utter disappointment in her with harsh words: “How could she do such a thing,” “moral corruption,” “can’t show our faces,” “it’s a bitter fate—one daughter can’t be found, the other brings shame to her parents,” “if only we had kept that one and sent this one away.”

She knew about this early family history. During difficult times, her parents couldn’t afford to raise twin daughters, so they gave one to kind-hearted people in the countryside. Later, when order was restored and intellectuals’ status greatly improved, they tried to find her, but that family had moved to an unknown location.

She secretly paid attention, thinking that if she could find her twin sister, perhaps her relationship with her parents would be somewhat healed.

Days passed uneventfully, but interspersed with subtle changes.

First, not only did Zhang Guanghua fail to get promoted, but he was also transferred to Lingbao City in Henan for “exchange and learning” for six months.

Second, her mother, through connections, introduced her to an older boyfriend named Li Tan, who managed documents at the police station.

Li Tan fell in love with her at first sight. Like all young men newly in love but experiencing first romance, he lent her books, took her to parks, and occasionally drew pen-and-ink landscapes, nervously asking for her critique.

She didn’t like Li Tan. With Zhang Guanghua as precedent, Li Tan seemed worthless in comparison. But to please her parents, she politely acquiesced. Li Tan naturally treated her well, always bringing gifts when traveling—silk scarves, medium-heeled leather shoes, machine-knitted sweaters—and presents for her parents too: seafood, cured meat, thick black fungus.

Back then, she didn’t see this as affection, only finding his entire person vulgarly mundane.

Perhaps also because, at that time, she still secretly corresponded with Zhang Guanghua.

Zhang Guanghua’s beautiful handwriting flowed freely, telling her about Hangu Pass’s origin—”a pass in the valley, as deep and dangerous as a box.” He often went on small excursions with friends, reminiscing about ancient battlefields where war horses once neighed. In his letters, he enclosed a red bean, stirring her heart with anxiety.

The symbol of deepest longing.

She counted days on the calendar, waiting for Zhang Guanghua’s return. When the day approached, her mother announced, “You and Li Tan seem pretty stable. Let’s have dinner someday to set a date, at least get engaged first.”

Her mother knew Zhang Guanghua was returning and, fearing her lingering feelings, moved to cut off her retreat.

On the dinner day, Li Tan wore shiny polished leather shoes, his hair slicked to one side with styling gel, constantly saying “yes, yes, good, good” during the meal, his face creasing with smiles.

Did she have to marry such a person?

After dinner, she excused herself with a headache, took half a day off, sat on the sofa, and vindictively picked at Li Tan’s landscape drawing, one scratch after another.

Just then, the phone rang abruptly.

Full of anger, she answered fiercely: “Hello?!”

The caller seemed frightened, timidly asking: “Is this Professor Li’s home?”

That call truly became the turning point of her life.

The caller was Huo Zihong.

The plot resembled a clichéd TV drama. After Huo Zihong’s parents took her away from the countryside, they learned about Professor Li’s search for his daughter. But with a petty mentality, they felt reluctant to return her after raising her for so many years. Besides, Huo Zihong was the family’s main laborer—washing clothes, cooking, selling vegetables at market stalls—so they deliberately avoided responding.

Until that fateful day when disaster struck and the couple met with a car accident. As Huo Zihong wept bitterly outside the operating room, her father suddenly had a change of heart. With his last breath, he told Huo Zihong about her birth father’s native place and full name.

But it was all so rushed, without solid proof. After the funeral, Huo Zihong hesitated repeatedly before finally tracing Li’s family phone number and nervously calling to inquire.

This was wonderful news! Li Yaqing was so excited that she forgot her troubles. She instructed Huo Zihong to keep quiet for now, took leave the next day, and boarded a bus to the countryside.

Huo Zihong met her at the station. Upon seeing each other, both were stunned—no solid proof was needed; their faces told everything.

Li Yaqing happily held Huo Zihong’s hand, swinging it back and forth: “We look like we came from the same mold!”

Huo Zihong felt somewhat inferior. Same appearance? She didn’t think so. Li Yaqing was dressed like a city person—leather shoes, wool coat, leather handbag. Unlike herself, with a scarf on her head and vegetable peelings stuck to her trouser legs, looking like someone who dug food from the soil.

She hesitantly asked Li Yaqing: “Is our… family very well-off?”

Longing for wealth is human nature. Huo Zihong also wanted a good life with parents who could be strong pillars of support.

A thought suddenly flashed through Li Yaqing’s mind: If only she could replace me and marry Li Tan.

She shook her head vigorously, laughing at her absurd notion.

Li Yaqing stayed at Huo Zihong’s home all afternoon. Being sisters, they had a natural familiarity. The two whispered and giggled several times, laughing uncontrollably. She said, “Mom and Dad have been looking for you for so long. Let’s not rush to tell others this news. Let’s plan carefully, and when the time comes, I’ll formally introduce you, giving them a surprise!”

The family had been gloomy for a while; it was time for a surprise to lift everyone’s spirits.

Huo Zihong dealt with her old house, telling others she was going to the city for work. After arriving in Luoma Lake, she deliberately chose a place far from Li Yaqing’s home to rent, to avoid meeting the Li family before the “surprise.” To neighbors, she only said she sold vegetables, and when occasionally asked about vegetable varieties, she spoke knowledgeably.

Li Yaqing visited her every two days, always with her face masked and hat brim pulled low. Once inside, the two sisters sharing the same secret would burst into laughter. Li Yaqing brought her own clothes, shampoo, cold cream, taught her to repeatedly apply lotion to her hands to make the skin look softer, helped style her hair the same way, taught her to speak with the same intonation, even mimicking the same coquettish expressions perfectly.

Their father’s birthday was coming up in a few days. She and Huo Zihong planned to wear identical clothes. Huo Zihong would attend while she would hide in the wardrobe. When Huo Zihong could no longer maintain the ruse or had completely fooled their parents, she would suddenly appear.

A big surprise—perfect!

Huo Zihong was still worried: “Shouldn’t we tell Mom and Dad in advance? I’m afraid it might be too sudden, and they won’t recognize me.”

Li Yaqing reassured her: “Mom and Dad have been looking for you all along. No problem. I’m here, I’ll stake my life to prove your identity!”

Just thinking about it made her happy.

Only one thing troubled her: Zhang Guanghua hadn’t contacted her again. When they occasionally met, he quickly avoided her, without even a hint in his eyes.

The day finally arrived. Watching for when her parents weren’t paying attention, she secretly let Huo Zihong in, then sneakily smiled as she crawled into the wardrobe. Before closing the door, she winked at Huo Zihong, as if to say: It’ll be fine.

Li Tan had work at his office and called to tell everyone to start without him.

The wardrobe was a bit stuffy. Li Yaqing was bored but quite curious about Li Tan’s first meeting with Huo Zihong: perhaps with an identical face, he might prefer Huo Zihong’s type.

The room seemed lively. The dishes must have been served—sounds of chairs being pulled, plates and bowls clinking, and then… a sudden knock at the door.

Had Li Tan arrived early after all?

She heard her father say with extreme displeasure: “Why have you come…”

Before he finished, there was a sudden dull thud, followed by momentary chaos, overturning wrists and pots. Li Yaqing was certain she heard her mother’s brief scream and what sounded like Huo Zihong’s struggling kicks and pulls, but at some point, everything fell silent.

Li Yaqing’s mind went blank.

Something terrible had happened. She desperately covered her mouth, trembling uncontrollably in the wardrobe, her mind flashing with one bloody scene after another.

Outside, there were continuous noises—dragging chairs, stepping high, pulling. Hadn’t the killer left yet?

With extreme caution, holding her breath, she pushed the wardrobe door open just a crack, barely perceptible.

Huo Zihong lay on her side on the floor, a pool of blood beneath her. Her mouth was slightly open, her eyes wide, but her pupils no longer had any light.

—”Is our… family very well-off?”