ninety-seven

Hu Yongnian was indeed suspected of attempted murder.

Back then, in the car accident that nearly killed the four members of the Zhang family, the truth was that before he even went to the airport to pick up Zhang Momo, he had taken advantage of a meal with Zhang Junru to secretly slip sleeping pills into his tea. The fact that no accident occurred on the way there was already a stroke of extraordinary luck amid disaster, and it was precisely this that explained why, when Zhang Momo saw her father at the airport, she found him drawn and haggard, his spirit visibly drained.

The police revealed this to Zhang Momo when they took her statement. They had already gathered ample evidence regarding the causes and consequences of what happened back then, or rather, Xiang Zuo had long since investigated in secret, gathering complete witness testimony and physical evidence, and handed it all over to the police. As for Hu Yongnian’s kidnapping of Zhang Momo this time, the moment he received the text message sent from her phone, he had already alerted the police. He did not know where exactly Hu Yongnian had hidden Zhang Momo, but he knew very well that Zhang Momo would never take the initiative to ask him to meet her.

Thus the criminal was taken into custody without surprise, and with the additional charge of kidnapping and holding a hostage, the outcome of his trial needed no anticipation at all. The only thing that puzzled the police was that the account Hu Yongnian gave of the kidnapping bore almost no resemblance to the actual extent of the injuries suffered by the hostage.

That sinner, steeped in wrongdoing, insisted that he had not done anything to harm Zhang Momo. Then where did the poor girl’s mild concussion, her severely fractured left leg, and the bloodied marks all over her forehead, mouth, and wrists come from? There was only one person who could answer that question, and yet she herself said nothing.

Zhang Momo said nothing. She only wanted to laugh; yes, only to laugh. Lying in the hospital bed, her body wrapped in white bandages in god knows how many places, the unlucky leg broken and bound up like a rice dumpling and propped high, every part of her aching so badly that sleep was impossible, Zhang Momo only wanted to laugh.

She did not know whether she ought to feel guilty. When she learned of the crimes Hu Yongnian had committed, what she felt most strongly was not indignation, but rather the sensation that a hell pressing down on her had been torn apart. The car accident had indeed happened because she had been driving; but since there was this chain of cause and effect, it was as if there had been an accomplice sharing her burden of guilt, and so the evil clinging to her had not seemed so heavy anymore. Such thoughts could not be spoken aloud, and even she despised them, yet she truly did feel, in a release of breath, that her chest was finally clear.

What Xiang Zuo had done for her was far, far more than she could have imagined; and that, too, filled her with a contented joy. Only she needed to know about that joy. No one else needed to understand. The kinder he was to her, the less she could allow others to know about everything between them. So she still could not say anything. Even though, when she first opened her eyes after waking, he was the first person she saw, and the faint stubble on his chin alone was enough to satisfy her beyond measure; beyond measure meant there was no need for more. Just like this was enough.

What had become the most futile rescue operation in history had been carried out by her as a process of self-inflicted cruelty; even that, she could say to no one. So she remained silent. This wretched state of hers had been brought about by none other than herself—how could she possibly tell a second person about it? Everyone said she was kind-hearted, that even toward such a filthy old man she could repay evil with good. Only she knew how absurd that conclusion was.

She was smiling, while Xiang Zuo was in pain.

No one knew how long he had sat at her bedside, receiving only her expressionless silence in return. Everyone thought the girl had lost her reason in this harrowing kidnapping, and whether she had been frightened into a nervous breakdown still seemed a matter for further examination. Xiang Zuo, however, could not think that far. He simply sat beside Zhang Momo’s bed, unable to think of anything to do. Whether he should contact the procuratorate in advance about Hu Yongnian’s sentencing so that the old bastard would receive the punishment he deserved, he had forgotten. Whether Zhang Momo’s only relative, Zhang Nianqing, who was abroad, should be informed of this news, he had forgotten as well. There was no question that Zhang Momo’s originally planned engagement had now been postponed indefinitely, and whether that should bring him even the slightest comfort, he had forgotten that too. He had even failed to remember to hire Dong Fei again as a caregiver to look after Zhang Momo’s daily needs.

This man, who had always been so thorough in his thinking, remembered nothing now; as if he had lost his memory, or his intelligence had regressed to that of a five-year-old. He simply sat there stupidly by her bedside, watching her wake, watching her drift in silence, watching her ignore him.

Three days passed. When Zhang Momo finally emerged from her stupor and called out, “Xiang Zuo,” he even suspected that his hearing might have been an illusion. So flustered he could not even speak fluently, his body reacted before his mind did, straightening up as he leaned toward her bed.

She looked at him, her eyes clear and bright, gazing for a very long time with an expression full of baffled amusement.

“I want to ask you a question.”

He lifted his brows.

“There is a girl like that. She has done many wrong things. For money, she lied to you to the point of death. In a muddled way, she also stabbed you who knows how many times. Her character is terribly flawed, and her nude photos are all over the internet. If she says she wants to come back to your side and make up for every wrong she ever did, one by one, would you be willing to give her that chance?”

He let out a long breath. For some reason, he remained silent for a long while. Only when her face had also gone pale did Xiang Zuo’s stiff features finally loosen with a trace of relief. He took her hand; on that slender arm were countless red abrasions, and he stroked over them one by one.

“I wouldn’t.”

Zhang Momo’s hand trembled, and a blade of ice pierced deep into her heart. Just as sour, wetness began to rise in her eyes, she heard the man before her say this:

“I wouldn’t be willing to give her a chance to make up for it. I’d make sure she could never repay it in this lifetime, never fully pay it back, until death and beyond.”

Before he had even finished speaking, he had already pulled Zhang Momo from the hospital bed into his arms. The movement tugged at her wounds, and she let out an “ouch” that she bit back at once. In pain, she smiled.

His embrace was too warm, too tight, and it hurt. But what did any of that matter? So long as he was still holding her, what else in the world mattered at all?

Song Jiakai stood outside the ward and quietly turned away. This room was too cramped to hold a third person.

And then the author has something to say: Brothers, this is where we say goodbye. Thank you to everyone who followed this story, and to everyone who once followed it. Come see my new novel in three months. For the new one, I’m going to finish storing the full manuscript before posting it, so I won’t do anything as cruel and self-defeating as leaving it unfinished.