Yu Zhile watched the clouds of flying dust and couldn’t help but chuckle, lightly tapping her own head. Turning her attention back to the screen, she checked the real-time monitoring; everything appeared normal. Consequently, she pushed the second message to the back of her mind and began focusing on the Small Window feature.
If her trip to the Armed Forces Department went smoothly, she could be back in the village by the afternoon and launch her first sales-oriented live stream tonight. However, the very first step—product selection—had her stumped.
She needed something available in large quantities, renewable, and something that wouldn’t cause irreversible damage to the current environment if collected. Simultaneously, it had to be attractive to her audience, and ideally, relevant to the day’s broadcast content. As she was calculating her options, the sound of screeching brakes interrupted her thoughts.
Looking up, she saw they had arrived.
The Armed Forces Department had been converted from an old landlord’s manor. From the outside, it looked somewhat dilapidated, with slogans painted on the walls flanking the entrance. Inside, the floors were paved with blue bricks, feeling heavy and steeped in history.
Ning Tan walked at the rear, with Yu Zhile in front of him, while the two men at the head of the group escorted Liu Mingcong. As they moved through the indoor corridors, the light dimmed and the space grew narrow. The quiet hallway was punctuated by Liu Mingcong’s pained groans, Zhang Caihong’s nervous breathing, and a rhythmic clack-clack-clack behind Yu Zhile.
It was the sound of Ning Tan’s wooden leg striking the blue bricks—sometimes near, sometimes far—beating like a metronome against everyone’s hearts.
The three were taken into separate rooms. Ning Tan took charge of questioning Yu Zhile. The interrogation room was dark and damp, filled with the pungent scent of rotting wood from the old furniture, which made Yu Zhile feel uncomfortable. Suddenly, a light flared to life, so bright it was blinding.
Yu Zhile instinctively closed her eyes to lessen the sting, and a wave of dizziness washed over her. Ning Tan’s voice echoed in the cramped space: “Yu Zhile, do you know Liu Mingcong?”
“Met him once. We aren’t close,” she replied, a memory of a market trip with Zhang Caihong surfacing. Calling it a meeting was a stretch; she had only seen his profile.
Ning Tan slammed his hands onto the wooden table with a loud thwack, his tone forceful. “Not close? Then why did Liu Mingcong identify you as his superior?”
“Director Ning, if he identified you, would that make you his superior?” Yu Zhile pinched her palm to regain her focus and countered.
A long silence followed. Yu Zhile could hear faint commotions from the other rooms—tables being slammed, chairs scraping, and the sound of sobbing. The lightbulb hanging mid-air flickered a few times before Ning Tan resumed his questioning, his tone significantly calmer.
“Do you have any close friends in the provincial capital?” he asked.
A blurry silhouette appeared in her mind, performing graceful and complex dance moves. “Yes, one. She’s currently in the military performing arts troupe in the provincial capital district.”
“Only one close friend?” Ning Tan pressed.
“Only one,” she answered, glancing up at him.
From then on, they maintained a steady rhythm of question and answer. They covered everything from her aunt and uncle to the most annoying neighbor in the cannery housing complex, and finally, her favorite teacher.
“Who was your favorite teacher?”
Yu Zhile paused. “Ms. Qiao, who taught Mandarin. She was an excellent lecturer.”
Ning Tan’s expression shifted slightly before he moved to the next question. “What is your impression of your father?”
“An anonymous hero,” Yu Zhile said, momentarily dazed.
Ning Tan had been waiting for this exact moment of distraction. He immediately asked, “What method do you usually use to contact your superiors or subordinates?”
“Director Ning, please mind your phrasing. I am merely a private citizen cooperating with your investigation,” Yu Zhile replied with a faint, indiscernible smile.
The lightbulb flickered between dark and light.
“Comrade Yu, thank you for your cooperation,” Ning Tan said, ending the session. Having already heard from Zhou Yuesheng about her formidable mental fortitude, this outcome was within his expectations.
“Director Ning, Zhang Caihong is suspected of attempting to take my life. If there is a need for an investigation, I am more than happy to cooperate,” Yu Zhile left him with those parting words.
Upon leaving the interrogation room, the fresh air filling her lungs made her feel much better. As she passed the room where Zhang Caihong was being held, a breakdown-induced scream escaped through the crack in the door. Scraps of words reached Yu Zhile’s ears, but she kept her eyes fixed straight ahead.
At the end of the corridor, Zhou Yuesheng was waiting.
“Why did you come after all?” The sun dazzled her eyes, and the suppressed discomfort hit back hard, making her face even paler.
Zhou Yuesheng supported her lightly. “I wasn’t at ease.”
He stared at her long, upturned eyelashes for a moment of distraction before the code on the envelope in his pocket pulled him back to reality, reminding him of the dangers of underestimating the enemy.
“Let’s go. This isn’t a place to linger,” Yu Zhile said, gripping his hand firmly and taking a deep breath to steady herself.
Zhou Yuesheng relayed the news provided by Ning Tan’s subordinate: “The Secretary took Zhang Yaozong to the police station and filed a report. He’ll be staying in a cell for fifteen days.”
“Oh,” Yu Zhile replied flatly.
After walking quite a distance, she felt recovered enough to pull Zhou Yuesheng toward the slaughterhouse. It was already noon, and the butcher blocks didn’t even smell like meat anymore. Yu Zhile ducked into an alley, smeared a few streaks of ash on her face, and told Zhou Yuesheng, “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
She vanished around the corner. Naturally, Zhou Yuesheng didn’t stay put; he followed her and saw her navigate several turns before entering a dilapidated thatched hut. Minutes later, she emerged carrying a tightly wrapped oil-paper bundle.
Zhou Yuesheng took a shortcut back to the alley to wait for her. The distinct, raw scent of fresh pork wafted toward him, and his gaze toward Yu Zhile grew even more inquisitive. She handed him the meat, her eyes lingering for a split second on the hem of his shirt.
The Old Secretary and the others were waiting for them at the Great Locust Tree where the market-goers gathered. Their path took them past the main gates of the Armed Forces Department.
“Stay far away from the Armed Forces Department,” Yu Zhile warned, walking along the opposite wall. As Zhou Yuesheng walked, he kicked small stones into the air; it seemed haphazard, but he was actually leaving behind coded signals.
“Le-ni, how did it go?” The Secretary smelled strongly of tobacco; there was no telling how much he had smoked.
Yu Zhile gave a brief summary of the process and told him about Zhang Caihong’s breakdown during the interrogation. The Secretary sighed, tapped his pipe against the cart frame, and said, “Old Second, let’s go. Back to the village.”
On the way back, Yu Zhile leaned against Zhou Yuesheng’s shoulder with her eyes closed, resting while she continued the difficult task of product selection. After much thought, she decided to remove her last constraint and lower the relevancy requirements for her first product. Ultimately, she decided to head up the mountain to harvest the mugwort that had been growing so vibrantly lately.
At home, the three people and two dogs had remained in the same positions since Yu Zhile had been taken away, staring blankly at the path leading from the courtyard gate. Seeing her unharmed, Yu Yue and Chen Zhao finally felt their hearts settle.
Yu Chi ran out with Crawly to greet them. Crawly barked excitedly, circling the two of them. Yu Zhile tucked the dog into Zhou Yuesheng’s arms and bent down to pick up Yu Chi.
“Has Xiao Bao been a good boy and listened to his brother?” Yu Zhile weighed him in her arms; he felt quite a bit heavier.
Yu Chi nuzzled her neck like a puppy, his voice soft and sticky as he called out, “Sister.”
“Eh?” Yu Zhile was delighted, immediately looking at Zhou Yuesheng to share the joy.
At that moment, Zhou Yuesheng was holding a wriggling, sniffing Crawly in one hand and a bundle of pork wrapped in oil-paper in the other. The image was somewhat bizarre, and Yu Zhile burst out laughing.
The heartwarming scene was interrupted by the loud rumbling of Chen Zhao’s stomach. Then, the courtyard gate, which hadn’t been closed tightly, let out a creak. Yu Zhile peered through the gap and saw a figure sprinting away, quickly vanishing around the corner of the path.
When she pushed the door open to look, she found two tender pumpkins, a handful of water spinach, and three wild eggs sitting on the ground.