As Ning Shao set foot on the first step, she heard the faint, rain-muffled sound of suitcase wheels turning, accompanied by the soft shuffle of footsteps.
She instinctively looked back. The strange man who had been standing out in the rain was pushing his suitcase inside. Up close, Ning Shao’s brows slowly drew together. He was far too tall, broad-framed, his soaked trench coat clinging to his body. The smooth lines of his muscles showed faintly through the fabric.
The instant she got a clear look at him, she turned her eyes away.
A flicker of wariness rose in her. Ning Shao started up the stairs, taking two steps at a time.
Most of the residents in this aging apartment block were students. Since it was close to Jiangcheng No. 1 and No. 2 High Schools, many of the units were rented by parents who had come to live with their children while they studied.
The stairwell was quiet, and so were the residents on each floor. Notices on the first-floor wall reminded parents not to make too much noise at night, so as not to disturb the high school students’ studies.
That was why she could hear the footsteps behind her so clearly. They were steady and unhurried. Once he started up the stairs, the suitcase wheels fell silent. The strange man must have picked up the case.
Ning Shao lived alone and was unarmed.
Women were physically weaker than men.
Besides, a murder had taken place recently in one of the residential buildings nearby. The victim was a woman who lived alone. A criminal had broken into her home and raped and tortured her to death. Because she lived alone, no one discovered her body until it had decomposed into liquid.
She stayed alert. Though she lived on the third floor, she deliberately continued up to the fourth, watching the man through the gaps in the stair railing.
Rrrr.
He stopped on the third floor with his suitcase and didn’t come any farther. Its wheels rolled along the floor with a clear sound that Ning Shao heard perfectly.
At last, her tense body relaxed.
She waited on the fourth floor for several minutes before going back down to her apartment.
After taking a hot shower and changing into her pajamas, Ning Shao opened her door and went next door to Grandma’s[1]In Chinese forms of address, “Grandma” can be a familiar or respectful way to address an elderly woman who is not one’s biological grandmother. jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_3733352_1_1').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_3733352_1_1', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], });. The door was shut, so she had to raise her hand and knock.
She didn’t have a key. Usually, Grandma would leave the door open a crack for her; it was rare for it to be locked.
As Ning Shao’s thoughts ran wild, the door opened from inside. Her gaze met a wall of flesh. She lifted her eyes, and when she saw who was standing in front of her, her brows furrowed ever so slightly.
Only after she went inside did Ning Shao learn from Grandma that the strange man she had encountered in the stairwell was Grandma’s biological grandson, and that he would be staying with her for a while.
…
The bulb hanging from the ceiling cast a yellow-orange light. It flickered once with a bad connection, then steadied. Five dishes crowded the tiny dining table, around which the three of them sat.
Unlike the dark, rain-drenched stairwell, the narrow living room made the young man’s features unmistakable.
His hair was clipped short, and his skin was a healthy deep wheat-brown. His features were sharply defined, and several split cuts marked the corners of his eyes. Sitting opposite her with his back straight, he looked like some gang boss. His black eyes, made unfathomably deep by the lamplight, were fixed on her face.
Ning Shao had been exceptionally beautiful all her life, and it had brought her plenty of trouble. At school, her classmates were wary of the teachers and didn’t dare do much. But whenever she worked part-time, she was constantly subjected to all kinds of greasy, sickening stares.
There was no malice in the young man’s gaze, but it was blunt and unwavering. He made no attempt to look away. Just as Ning Shao was beginning to feel uncomfortable and was about to speak, the man in front of her spoke first.
“My name is Lin Yan. Hello.”
His voice was low and hoarse, as if he hadn’t spoken in a long time.
In front of Grandma, Ning Shao didn’t treat him as though he weren’t there just because his stare was offensive. Avoiding his fixed black gaze, she gave a brief reply.
“Ning Shao.”
*
Ning Shao pulled herself out of the long-ago memory.
The name “Lin Yan” was branded deep in her mind. No matter how she tried to avoid it, she couldn’t escape. Whenever she recalled those memories of him, she felt nauseated and afraid.
Fortunately, the light in the room was dim and yellow, so Grandma couldn’t see how pale—almost translucent—her face had become.
Ning Shao took a deep breath, lit three sticks of incense[2]Burning incense before a memorial portrait is a way to pay respects to the deceased in many Chinese funeral and remembrance traditions. Three sticks are common in some rites, though practices vary. jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_3733352_1_2').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_3733352_1_2', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], }); as instructed, and walked over to the portrait. Without looking at the refrigerated coffin or the portrait, she bent to pay her respects. At that moment, she suddenly heard the sound of glass shattering.
She lowered her eyes and saw the black-and-white memorial portrait that had been placed on a chair lying on the floor. The glass in its frame was cracked like a spiderweb, and by some strange coincidence, the photograph had landed right beside her feet—
Meeting the eyes in the black-and-white photograph at such close range, she stopped breathing. She stumbled back two steps, so violently that she nearly collided with Grandma behind her.
“Xiaoning[3]“Xiao” is a familiar prefix meaning “little” that can be attached to a person’s name as an affectionate form of address. jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_3733352_1_3').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_3733352_1_3', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], });?”
The old woman noticed that something was wrong and touched the back of her icy hand. She called to her at once, her voice full of worry.
All color had drained from Ning Shao’s face. She pressed her dry lips together and forced herself to stay calm. “Grandma, I’m fine. I’m probably just tired.”
After calming Grandma Lin, Ning Shao hurried back to her own home.
She hadn’t been back in a long time. A thick layer of dust covered the furniture, and the air was damp, cold, and stale. Though she was usually a neat freak, now she slumped onto the floor, her palms damp with cold sweat before she even realized it.
In the silent room, lit by a single lamp, the sound of her heavy breathing echoed.
Her mind was full of the moment she had just paid her respects and the frame had fallen. Maybe she was exhausted, or maybe the light had been too dim. She could have sworn she saw—
Lin Yan in the portrait smile at her.
“I must have imagined it,” Ning Shao told herself.
She had studied medicine and was a materialist; she didn’t believe in ghosts or spirits. Naturally, she couldn’t believe that what she had just seen was real.
Her thoughts drifted, and a scene from the past came back to her.
The young man, usually stiff and wooden, like a puppet or a machine, knelt before her.
Much of his tall body disappeared into the shadows. His face, handsome as a god’s, tilted up toward her with utter reverence. His pupils were dilated with excitement. His lips pressed against the raw wound on her heel, and the tip of his scarlet tongue slipped out to lick it gently.
A rapid, low, strange panting came from his throat.
…
Ning Shao’s stomach churned. Bracing herself against the wall, she got to her feet and rushed to the bathroom, leaning over the toilet to vomit.
The noodles she had eaten at Grandma Lin’s hadn’t had time to digest. The stomach acid broke them down, and she threw them all up.
After vomiting, she brushed her teeth and leaned against the wall. Shadows covered her brows and eyes, dark circles showed beneath them, and every strand of hair seemed to radiate exhaustion.
She was so tired.
Her workplace was in a remote township, where there were no taxis, so she had to take a bus into the city. She had bought a high-speed train seat ticket and spent more than ten hours on the train before finally getting back here.
She had been awake all night and had spent so long traveling. Her body was utterly exhausted.
Perhaps throwing up had cleared her mind. All the chaotic thoughts vanished, leaving her head completely blank.
She took a set of pajamas from her luggage bag, turned on the water heater, and went into the bathroom to wash up.
With her back against the cold tiled wall, she waited as water from the showerhead pattered down. As she waited for the cold water to turn hot, her eyelids drooped as if weighed down by a boulder.
When the hot water began to flow, clouds of steam rose, coating the mirror above the sink on one side with a layer of mist. A dark shape gradually emerged through it.
Tall and upright, the shadow stood motionless and silent, facing Ning Shao.
She had no idea.
References[+]