What does this mean?
A thought suddenly flashed through Jin Xiu’s mind: this wasn’t a random attack by a serial killer – there was a reason she was called here.
Biting her lip, she tremulously opened her eyes.
Below the water surface, facing her directly, was that… Zong Hang?
The woman released her grip.
Jin Xiu’s legs gave way, and she collapsed beside the bathtub. Unable to stand, she used her hands to support herself as she shuffled into the corner, asking shakily: “What… what do you want?”
The faucet was still running, water rushing noisily. She felt as if the water was splashing directly onto her head and face, chilling her bones inch by inch.
The woman didn’t look at her, her gaze floating into the water. Her words were strange, carrying a hint of admiration: “Isn’t it perfect?”
Jin Xiu felt nauseous. She wanted to vomit.
Wasn’t this just like preserving a corpse in formalin? This deranged woman had turned Zong Hang into a specimen in the water and was asking if it was perfect.
But when talking to a psychopath, one couldn’t become hysterical. One needed to remain calm and gentle, otherwise, she would be the next one submerged.
She asked again, shrinking back: “What do you want?”
The woman finally lowered her eyelids to look at her: “Nothing much, just asking you to take care of him.”
Nausea surged again. This time, Jin Xiu couldn’t hold back. She covered her mouth and rushed to the toilet, throwing up.
She couldn’t take it anymore: did she have to take care of a corpse, change the water like keeping fish? Or perhaps trim his hair and nails?
Her heart wasn’t strong enough. Living to endure such things – she’d rather die.
The woman seemed to know what she was thinking: “You haven’t understood clearly. Think it through, then come out and talk to me.”
With that, she left, closing the door behind her.
After finishing vomiting, Jin Xiu wiped her mouth with her hand. Hearing the running water, she mechanically went to wash her hands and rinse her mouth, then turned off the faucet.
As the water stopped, silence seeped in from all around. She involuntarily shuddered, goosebumps rising visibly all over her skin.
The shower curtain had been pulled down. In the mirror, the bathtub lay behind her like a lidless coffin.
The woman’s words had implied something.
– “You haven’t understood clearly.”
She wanted her to look again, to think more carefully.
– “Come out and talk to me.”
That meant the woman still had things to say to her, and wouldn’t kill her immediately.
But what more could she understand about a dead person?
Jin Xiu placed her hand over her chest, hesitantly walking back towards the bathtub, taking one step forward and half a step back. Her gaze barely touched the water’s surface before she quickly turned away.
A dead person, soaking in water – just thinking about such a scene was terrifying. But she couldn’t delay any longer, fearing the woman would lose patience. Jin Xiu held her breath, steeled herself, and once again leaned over the bathtub…
It was indeed Zong Hang, wearing only underwear. His expression was peaceful. Jin Xiu felt a bitter ache in her nose: at least it seemed he hadn’t suffered much when he died…
This bitter sensation surged halfway before suddenly dissipating with a boom. Jin Xiu felt all her blood rush to her head instantly, her chest alternating between cold and hot, freezing one moment and boiling the next.
She had no professional knowledge and didn’t know how to examine a corpse, but she understood common sense: shouldn’t a body soaked in water for a long turn pale and bloated? At the very least, the face should be deathly pale, the lips colorless…
Zong Hang didn’t match any of these.
Moreover…
She rubbed her eyes: she hadn’t seen wrong, his chest had moved.
Jin Xiu stumbled out of the bathroom.
The woman sat on the sofa behind the coffee table, paper, and pen spread before her.
Jin Xiu’s throat was dry, her tongue almost tied as she spoke: “What’s going on with Zong Hang? Is he alive or dead? Why is he in the water? Is he… still human?”
The woman pushed the paper and pen towards her: “Write down your annual income.”
The topic seemed too abrupt. Jin Xiu thought she had misheard: “What?”
The woman didn’t repeat herself, maintaining a wooden expression as she waited for her to write.
Jin Xiu realized: that the situation was still in the other’s control. Her own life hung in the balance – she had no right to ask questions, only to comply.
She half-crouched beside the coffee table, hesitated for a moment, then wrote a string of Arabic numerals on the paper.
20,000.
She added a “$” at the end.
Twenty thousand dollars, equivalent to over 120,000 yuan. Broken down monthly, it was 10,000 yuan – perhaps not much in China, just an ordinary white-collar salary, but given her education and profession, and being in Cambodia, it wasn’t bad.
The woman made a sound of acknowledgment, pulled the paper to her side, looked at it for a while, then picked up the pen and added a “0” to the end of the number.
“I’ll give you this amount.”
Damn! What game was she trying to play?
Jin Xiu’s chest heaved violently as she looked between the woman and the number.
The woman put down the pen and leaned back into the sofa, still expressionless as if deliberately giving her time to think.
Gradually, Jin Xiu’s mind became consumed by the thought of two hundred thousand dollars.
She had run from China to Southeast Asia, working from sunrise to sunset, rushing about, for what? For food, for sustenance, for survival – not just her, but most people in this world were the same.
With these two hundred thousand, she could return to China, could open a proper massage parlor. So this wasn’t just money – it was security, a stable future life, hope.
Jin Xiu suspected she was dreaming: everything she had seen and heard, scene by scene, was bizarre and dramatic, with extreme ups and downs.
She reached out to pinch her thigh.
It hurt.
Jin Xiu looked up: “Are you telling the truth?”
The woman didn’t even lift her eyelids: “I could kill you with a flick of my finger, why would I bother lying to you?”
True enough.
Jin Xiu thought for a moment: “I won’t do anything illegal like murder.”
The woman spoke mockingly: “You? Capable of murder?”
Jin Xiu was stumped.
“Then why give so much money? What do you want me to do?”
“Did you bring your phone? Give it to me first.”
Jin Xiu took out her phone from her bag and handed it over.
The woman took it, examined it for a while, then suddenly clenched her fist and with a crack, broke it – plastic fragments scattered, making Jin Xiu jump back in fright.
It wasn’t over yet – the woman continued to apply force, then more force. The perfectly good phone was twisted beyond recognition. Only then did she throw it away, carefully picking out the small component fragments embedded in her palm.
“First, no more outside contact.”
Jin Xiu instinctively shook her head: “No, I have work…”
Halfway through her words, she realized – in the face of two hundred thousand dollars, that job wasn’t even worth considering. Though she still had a deposit with her boss, that small amount of money wasn’t worth keeping.
She changed her words: “My colleagues and boss will worry about me.”
The woman jerked her chin toward the bathroom: “Are his parents worried?”
Jin Xiu was speechless. In Cambodia, she had no relatives or friends, plenty of colleagues, yes, but colleague relationships weren’t worth mentioning.
She suddenly realized this woman was formidable – she didn’t say much, but each word cut like a knife, striking right to the core.
She tried to phrase it more diplomatically: “If I suddenly lose contact like this, they’ll report me missing to the police.”
“If they can’t find you, they’ll stop looking. Even if they do find you, you’re an adult – it’s not illegal if you choose to disappear.”
Jin Xiu gritted her teeth: “One year?”
“At most a year, maybe not even half a year.”
Well, alright then. One year, four seasons, a cycle of thin clothes and thick clothes, and it would pass.
Jin Xiu nodded.
“Second, during this year, what you do and where you go – I decide.”
This was reasonable too. Working for someone meant following the boss’s directions anyway.
“Third, when you see something strange, don’t ask unless I tell you. There are still many things in this world you don’t understand.”
Jin Xiu remained silent, her gaze passing over the woman’s palm.
This woman had been injured but showed no blood, and Zong Hang was still alive despite sleeping underwater for a long time.
Indeed, there were many things she didn’t understand, but it wasn’t too difficult to accept: Southeast Asia was a place of belief in gods, Buddha, ghosts, and black magic. Having stayed here long enough, she’d been influenced by the environment and felt anything was possible.
“Finally, take care of Zong Hang. My health isn’t good, I don’t have the energy. You’ll need to work tirelessly, and wholeheartedly. You might need to stay up late – basically, you need to be able to endure hardship… As for how to care for him, I’ll tell you after he wakes up tonight.”
Understood – it was like being a caregiver. Given Zong Hang’s condition, who knew what strange illness he had? He might have limited mobility and need close care.
With such high pay, any amount of hardship would be worth it. Besides, Zong Hang was her friend – she was willing to care for him.
Since entering the door, the situation had been so turbulent – from thinking she would be murdered to suddenly being offered high pay – the contrast was too great. Jin Xiu almost didn’t know what expression to show this woman.
She said somewhat awkwardly: “Actually, you could have told me this from the start. Then there wouldn’t have been any misunderstanding.”
The woman spoke flatly: “Hit with a stick first, then give a date. Without the stick, how would you know the sweetness of the date?”
Jin Xiu said uncomfortably: “If you can afford this money, many people would fight to do this job…”
The woman ignored her.
Jin Xiu remembered her saying “Don’t ask unless I tell you,” and quickly stopped herself. But some things still needed to be asked: “Then… what should I call you?”
“My surname is Yi, Yi Xiao.”
Jin Xiu said: “That’s a nice name, chosen thoughtfully.”
This casual compliment caught Yi Xiao’s attention: “Why?”
Jin Xiu said: “Because at your age…”
She hesitated, feeling her words might be inappropriate. Women were usually sensitive about age, and this woman was at least in her forties. Moreover, due to her poor condition, she looked older, which might make her even more sensitive.
She tried to gloss over it: “Names from before had certain era characteristics, like ‘Hong,’ ‘Juan,’ ‘Min’ and such. ‘Yi Xiao’ is quite special, must have been carefully chosen by your parents.”
The woman smiled, her gaze scattered, seeming somewhat absent. When she spoke again, it wasn’t clear if she was speaking to Jin Xiu or herself.
“My father loved reading Qu Yuan’s ‘Nine Songs.’ There’s a line that goes ‘Wind rustling, trees sighing (feng sa sa xi mu xiao xiao),’ so he named me Yi Xiao.”
“But he later said the name was chosen wrong. Had he known I would have a younger sister when I grew up, he should have followed the order – given me ‘Sa’ and her ‘Xiao.'”
Jin Xiu smiled: “Oh, you have a younger sister? She must be… grown up now.”
Yi Xiao’s already faint smile suddenly vanished, her face becoming as rigid as plaster, her gaze cold and hard.
Jin Xiu’s scalp tingled, thinking she must have said something wrong, but not knowing exactly what.
After a long while, Yi Xiao said: “Dead. She died when she was just over three years old.”
Jin Xiu’s back broke out in cold sweat.
Yi Xiao didn’t look at her. She raised her hand, gesturing at the height of the sofa armrest, hesitated, then lowered it slightly.
“The last time I saw her, she was about this tall. Very mischievous, not particularly likable.”
She fell silent for a moment, slowly withdrawing her hand. The skin on her hand was somewhat loose, hanging on the bones like an old woman’s hand.
Then she smiled again.
“I told my father not to bring her along when handling important matters. What a pity, he didn’t listen…”
She lowered her head, her voice dropping to a whisper.
“If he had listened to me, now… she would indeed be grown up.”
Around ten o’clock, Yi Sa’s motorcycle arrived at the hotel entrance.
She approached the glass doors with a stern face. As she reached to push them open, behind her came a crash – the motorcycle’s kickstand hadn’t been properly set, and it fell over.
The helmet rolled toward her, but she ignored it. Someone would pick it up and right the motorcycle and someone would bring in her luggage.
Entering directly, she walked straight to the front desk. Along the short path, service staff, porters, and reception ladies all greeted her.
“Isa!”
“Isa’s here!”
“Haven’t seen you in a while, where have you been making money?”
She ignored them all.
This hotel was her regular accommodation in Siem Reap. Though small, not even qualifying as a proper hotel, with all sorts of guests coming and going, she preferred this environment, feeling it matched her character. She had even become a shareholder after becoming familiar with the place, making her a minor owner.
Reaching the front desk, she could no longer contain herself. She slammed her palm down on the counter, lowered her head, and cursed: “Damn it!”
For two days and one night, she had rushed like a fool from Siem Reap to the floating village, only to be met with bad news, then back to Siem Reap. She had booked a star-rated hotel, but that massage girl had stood her up, not responding to texts or answering calls.
Following the ringtone information, she found that the massage parlor was filled with women of various nationalities – Chinese, Thai, and Cambodian. Seeing she was Chinese, they sent out a compatriot to deal with her. That woman wore green eyeshadow, smoked cigars, with flowers painted on her red nails, and spoke confrontationally.
“Standing someone up, who doesn’t have emergencies sometimes? Another day then, or would you like someone else?”
“How would I know where she went? Her legs are her own. You’re not the only one who stood up… the previous client stood up too…”
As she left, the woman had made snide remarks behind her: “Wow, coming here looking for her, did you fall in love with her? Are you a lesbian?”
…
It was like being cursed – nothing was going right lately.
Yi Sa leaned on the front desk, looking down at her feet. Below was polished marble, worn smooth by footsteps, vaguely reflecting her face.
Above her, the front desk clerk cautiously asked: “Isa, what’s wrong?”
No, she couldn’t get angry. Anger was bad for health. She needed to smile, the sweeter the better.
She took a deep breath, and when she raised her head, she was smiling coquettishly: “Nothing, just teasing you.”
The clerk rolled his eyes at her.
Yi Sa said: “The usual – give me a clean room, bedding must all be newly changed. If you dare give me unwashed ones, I’ll have your life…”
Before she finished speaking, she suddenly exclaimed: “Oh? What’s this? Not bad looking, this is…”
On the front desk stood a literature rack, thick with glossy single pages. From her angle, she could only see the part with photos.
She reached out to turn the rack around.
The clerk said: “It’s just some rich family’s son. The PR department from Angkor Grand Hotel came to negotiate and paid some money to put a rack on our front desk, like renting advertising space for missing person notices. I heard they put them in all the main hotels in Siem Reap, especially those catering to Chinese guests…”
He suddenly stopped, looking curiously between Yi Sa and the stack of missing person notices: “Isa, you know him?”
Yi Sa said: “No.”
After a pause, she added: “The reward attracts me.”
She pulled out a sheet from the rack.
So this is what he looked like.