Luo Yang’s hand was still resting on the taxi’s door handle, his entire body frozen in place as if his pressure points had been struck.
“Where’s A-Zhi?”
His mind flashed through the chaos of that night at high speed: the South Viaduct, the industrial park, the aberrations, the armored personnel carriers, and the sandbags at the assembly point.
Then there was the hospital ceiling. The blank space in between was so large it felt like an entire page had been rubbed out with an eraser.
Qiu Shubai was about to pull her own car door open, but she paused and tilted her head slightly when she heard him.
“You only just realized?”
“I…” Luo Yang opened his mouth. “I’m a bit groggy from all that sleep.”
“Li Xin sent her back,” Qiu Shubai said, pushing her door shut and turning to face him. “That night at the assembly point, you fell asleep leaning against the sandbags. No matter how much we tried, we couldn’t wake you. After Li Xin arrived and checked your injuries, he said you were just exhausted and not in any life-threatening danger.”
She paused for a moment.
“So, he sent you, Li Qiang, and Tang Xuan off in the ambulance first. Yan Zhi was crouching right beside you the whole time and wouldn’t leave, no matter who tried to pull her away. Later, when Li Xin asked where she lived, she gave him your address.”
Luo Yang choked on his words. His address was that villa on the Third Ring Road. Yan Zhi had lived there for quite a few days now, and she had actually managed to memorize the house number.
“Li Xin was the one who took her?”
“Yes. He said it was on his way, so he dropped her off.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.” Qiu Shubai’s voice was flat, but the corners of her mouth held a very faint curve. “Are you worried about her? She’s much safer than you are. Every single one of us was covered in wounds, yet she didn’t even have a wrinkle in her clothes.”
Luo Yang was silent for two seconds before his hand slid off the door handle.
“Fair point.”
Although it was the first time he had met Li Xin, the man had charged into the industrial park through a hail of bullets to retrieve every single wounded member of the Third Combat Section. With that kind of grit, there was nothing to worry about leaving someone in his hands.
The taxi driver poked his head out of the window, his scruffy beard flecked with cigarette ash. His voice was anything but polite. “Sonny, are you getting in or what? Can’t idle here long; the cameras are watching.”
“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Luo Yang pulled the door open again. He stepped one foot inside before turning back to Qiu Shubai.
“Where are you heading now?”
Qiu Shubai opened the door of the taxi behind her. “I told you before, I need to find some materials to assist with my breakthrough. I plan to check out the commercial districts in Yuanxing City, and then head over to the Punisher Association later.”
Luo Yang nodded and sat down in the car, resting his arm on the lowered window.
“Go ahead then. If you run into something good but can’t bring yourself to spend the money, remember to give me a call.”
Qiu Shubai was already in the back seat, reaching for her seatbelt. Her movements stiffened for a split second when she heard that.
“What use would calling you be? Can you pay for me?”
“Nope.” Luo Yang chuckled. “But I can help you curse out those profiteers over the phone until you feel like not buying it wasn't a loss after all.”
Qiu Shubai’s movements returned to normal, the buckle clicking into place.
“Pointless.”
She threw out those two words, and as the window rolled up, Luo Yang saw her turn her head to the other side.
He couldn't see her expression, but the way she raised her hand to tuck her hair behind her ear was just a fraction slower than usual.
The taxi driver leaned his elbow on the steering wheel, his cigarette already extinguished. He glanced at the back seat and then at the young lady still standing outside. In a thick Yuanxing City local dialect, he asked, “Sonny, your girlfriend?”
“Classmate.”
“Classmate?” The old driver chuckled, shifted gears, and released the clutch. The car began to roll forward. He caught Luo Yang’s eye in the rearview mirror and chuckled again, but didn't press further.
They had driven half a block before Luo Yang added, “She really isn't.”
“I didn't ask,” the driver said.
Luo Yang shut his mouth and leaned back against the seat. He remained silent.
He shifted his sitting position several times during the ride—leaning left, then right, and finally just resting the back of his head against the headrest to stare at the roof. His fingers unconsciously brushed against his space ring several times.
Knowing Yan Zhi was home put his mind at ease, but new thoughts immediately cropped up.
What was she eating at home? How many bags of frozen dumplings were left in the freezer?
He had witnessed the girl’s passion for cola and chips, but she couldn't just eat that for days on end.
By the time the car pulled up in front of the villa, the sky had already darkened. Luo Yang paid the fare and climbed out of the taxi. The evening breeze carried the residual heat of the day, brushing against his face.
The lights on the first floor of the villa were on, casting a warm yellow glow from behind the curtains.
He walked up the steps and patted his pocket. His keys were still there; fortunately, they hadn't been lost in the ruins of the industrial park.
Feeling the cool metal against his fingertips, he inserted the key into the lock and gave it half a turn.
The click of the lock turning was quiet in the night. The light from the entryway spilled out, finally allowing his long-tensed heart to relax a little.
The sound of the television reached him first. He was very familiar with these lines—the protagonist of a classic shonen battle anime was shouting his ultimate move at the top of his lungs. Accompanied by the stirring orchestral background music, the living room windows hummed from the volume.
He took off his shoes and stepped barefoot onto the wooden floor, walking a few steps inside.
The living room was empty. On the coffee table sat three empty cola cans and an open bag of chips. The remote was resting on the arm of the sofa. The scene on the television continued; the protagonist punched the villain in the face, sending him flying over a dozen meters and crashing through three walls in a cloud of dust.
He was about to call out A-Zhi’s name when another sound drifted over from the kitchen.
The metallic scraping of a spatula against an iron wok, the low hum of the range hood, and...
Was someone talking?
Luo Yang’s footsteps immediately lightened. He moved silently against the wall until he reached the sliding door of the kitchen.
He pushed the door open a crack. All the lights in the kitchen were on, making it bright as day. The flames on the stove flickered evenly beneath the pot, where something was stewing. The aroma wafted through the gap in the door.
Savory, fragrant, with a hint of sweetness—it smelled like braised meat.
The range hood was sucking up the grease and smoke, its white casing wiped clean.
Yan Zhi was standing by the refrigerator, holding an unopened bottle of cola in both hands, looking up at the person beside her.
It was a woman wearing dark gray loungewear. The style was very plain, but the fabric clearly wasn't cheap.
An apron was tied around her waist with a neat knot at the back, and her hair was casually tied up. She wore no makeup, and her skin was well-maintained, making it hard to tell her exact age.
She held a spatula in one hand and was pointing at the cutting board on the counter with the other, saying something to Yan Zhi. Her voice was mostly drowned out by the noise of the range hood.
Luo Yang’s pupils shook violently the moment he saw that face clearly.
He pushed the sliding door open, the track making a dull grinding sound.
The woman turned her head. She didn't have any particular reaction, nor did she stop what she was doing. She simply gave him a glance before flipping the contents of the wok twice. The sauce from the braised pork bubbled at the edge of the iron pan before popping with a soft snap.
“You’re back?” her voice was flat, as if she were merely commenting on the weather. “Wash your hands. We’re about to eat.”
Luo Yang stood at the door, momentarily unsure of what to say first.
Too many questions popped into his head at once, all crowding his throat, none yielding to the other.
“…Mom?” he finally squeezed out those two words, his voice feeling a bit airy. “What are you doing here?”
“Can’t I come to my son’s house?” Yan Ya set the spatula on the stove, reached out to turn down the heat, and turned to face him.
Her gaze swept over him from head to toe, pausing for less than half a second just below his collarbone before moving away. She showed no extra emotion.
“You’ve lost weight,” she said.
“I haven’t—”
“Go wash your hands.” Yan Ya turned back and picked up the spatula again. “Dinner is almost ready.”
Luo Yang stood his ground.
“Mom, how did you know I was living here?”
Yan Ya lifted the lid of the steamer beside her, a cloud of white steam rising and blurring her silhouette.
She used tongs to pull two trays of steamed dumplings out and set them by the stove. “You should think about it. Does a little thing like this really count for anything to the Luo family?”
“…”
I suppose there really is no hiding from the family.
Luo Yang was silent for a moment before switching to another question. “Why did you suddenly come here?”
“Your father told me to come check on you.”
Yan Ya plated the braised pork, her movements steady; not a single drop of sauce splashed out.
“He said you’ve been in Yuanxing City for so long and he didn't know if you were eating properly. Knowing you, it’s probably been nothing but instant noodles or takeout.”
“I have been cooking for myself…” Luo Yang instinctively tried to retort, but his peripheral vision caught Yan Zhi expertly twisting open her bottle of cola. “…With another person around, I have to make a few decent meals no matter what.”
“Another person.”
Yan Ya repeated the words, looking down at Yan Zhi. Her gaze was calm, showing no surprise, and even held a hint of scrutiny.
Yan Zhi twisted the cap off, took a small sip of cola, and looked up to meet Yan Ya’s gaze. She blinked twice but said nothing.
“She’s very well-behaved.” Yan Ya looked back at Luo Yang. “But since when did you have a little sister? I don't recall being told.”
“It’s a long story…”
“Then take your time. We’ll eat first, talk later.” Yan Ya brought the last dish to the dining table and untied her apron, hanging it on a hook on the wall.
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