Chapter 15#

Now, that watch, along with the jewelry Zhang Mingsheng gave me back then, has been tossed into the storage layer of my wardrobe.

The newspaper clipping has long since disappeared.

I’m an ordinary person. I can be weak, and I can regret. Whenever I think about how I misjudged him, I feel both angry and remorseful. I think, if I hadn’t saved Zhang Mingsheng on the day of his car accident, maybe none of what came later would have happened. Or, if I had left the banquet a little earlier, Zhang Mingsheng wouldn’t have had the chance to speed in my jacket.

If I weren’t an orphan, if my parents were loving and my family happy, naturally someone would have set off fireworks for me. I wouldn’t have been like the little mermaid surfacing for the first time, watching the fireworks fall like countless glowing fish in the night sky, my heart stirred.

Fancying a suddenly appearing, romantic stranger can bring bad luck. The fairy tales already told us that.

I lowered my head, signaling that I didn’t want to answer. He already knew all about the past; asking like this was pointless. Besides, someone like Zhang Mingsheng, what does he know about feelings?

Zhang Mingsheng saw me avoid his eyes and didn’t press further. He always just asked casually to tease me, like teasing a dog. He reached out, slid his hand from the side onto my neck, feeling my pulse, his fingers circling and tightening slightly, forcing me to tilt my chin up.

He said in a low voice, “I still think Sir Yu looked better before.”

“So you do know what ‘good-looking’ means,” I said, too lazy to bother with him, lowering my eyelids to squint at him.

Zhang Mingsheng didn’t take a fancy to me just because of my looks. He wasn’t greedy in his desires; the few times he was intense were mixed with strong emotions and raw madness. Desire is just one way to possess someone. Zhang Mingsheng’s tactics aren’t so single-minded.

“Of course I know, babe. I’ve seen lots of cops, but only you look the coolest when you’re shooting,” Zhang Mingsheng pressed closer, rubbing his nose against my cheek, our breaths mingling.

I parted my lips slightly to breathe more easily. I clasped my hands over his strong wrist, and in the thin breaths, I started counting seconds in my mind. This is how I cope with torment.

By the tenth second, I was trembling a little. In a daze, I heard a teary shout:

“Daddy! Mommy!”

It was Keke, coming down the stairs.

Zhang Mingsheng immediately let go of me, and I opened my eyes wide in shock. We both turned to look at the little girl crying.

I have weak nerves, and nothing scares me more than a child’s crying. Her sobs echoed endlessly. I closed my eyes, a sharp pain piercing my temples.

In this house, Zhang Yike is the most expressive; she’s been prone to crying and laughing since she was little. I don’t know who she takes after.

Zhang Mingsheng walked over, picked her up like a little animal: “Oh, what happened, little sister? Why are you crying?”

Zhang Yike’s words were garbled when she cried. I’ve corrected her many times: if you’re going to speak, speak clearly, or even I can’t help you. Maybe I was too impatient, which backfired. Later, whenever she cried, she always called for Daddy first.

I’m sure Zhang Mingsheng couldn’t understand what she was saying either, but he still smiled and nodded along to his daughter’s words.

Since he got me, his acting skills have greatly improved. Apart from cross-dressing challenges, I don’t know what he can’t act out. If the Zhang family ever goes bankrupt, he could easily step into the entertainment industry and add brilliance to 21st-century film and television art.

I watched them being affectionate, and gradually, a strange feeling welled up in my heart.

In front of Xiaoyuan and Keke, Zhang Mingsheng has always been a good father. He’s played the role of a normal person for over twenty years; playing a good father is like using a butcher’s knife to kill a chicken for him.

But I know Zhang Mingsheng treats Xiaoyuan and Keke differently—a subtle difference that even Mama Liu probably hasn’t noticed.

Ever since Keke was born, Zhang Mingsheng and I slowly started to seem like an ordinary couple. Zhang Mingsheng enjoyed it, but I felt tormented inside. He was acting, acting to the point where I couldn’t tell if there was any truth in it anymore. And I was acting too, acting until it became a habit, as if I were sleeping on a film set, having to go to work the moment I opened my eyes.

Zhang Mingsheng could stop Keke’s tears, but he couldn’t stop her unease.

In the end, Keke crawled into my arms and quietly rested her head on my shoulder. No matter how afraid she usually is of me, no matter how clingy she is to Zhang Mingsheng, whenever she’s sad or scared, she burrows into me like this, as if I’m a tiny island in this sea. And I am the only other island that instinctively calms her. Our bond is complicated, like a rainbow bridge that appeared out of nowhere on Earth. She loves me, she depends on me—this is an instinct she can’t change.

I feel comforted by this, but also exhausted.

A child who shouldn’t have existed has become my ball and chain.

Most importantly, I can’t completely bring myself not to love her.

When Keke’s tears dried, breakfast began to be served.

Zhang Mingsheng lifted me into the wheelchair and pretended to pull out the chair for me before pushing me to the table. Mama Liu saw this and beamed. She always thought our relationship was very good—rare for a middle-aged couple.

I said irritably, “Pull it farther away, it’s in the way.”

Zhang Mingsheng smiled, gave a look, and called Ahai to take the chair away.

Everyone was present; even Ahai was standing aside, nibbling on a slice of red bean toast. Mama Liu made it herself, experimenting with Ahai over twenty times before succeeding.

I wonder how much money Zhang Mingsheng pays Ahai to convince him to stay. As for Ashan, there’s no need to convince him; he’s honest and silent, always following Ahai and doing whatever he says.

I always thought they were biological brothers, except they don’t look alike—Ahai is thin, Ashan is strong. They often stood in front of my single hospital room like two door gods.

Everyone was eating breakfast, but Zhang Xiaoyuan was nowhere to be seen.

Even his perverted father could sit down and eat breakfast peacefully, yet this elementary school student dawdled and refused to come downstairs.

I was a little impatient. I could guess what Zhang Xiaoyuan was doing. To make it up to his son, Zhang Mingsheng gave him a computer. He’d been tinkering with it for days, supposedly playing some game. He stayed up late every night, with dark circles under his eyes like a little panda that’s never happy.

I caught a glimpse of the game interface once and saw that Zhang Xiaoyuan’s in-game name was “月是故乡明”—“The moon is brighter in my hometown.” It’s a good line from a poem, but it sounded like a forty-five-year-old middle-aged man trying to keep up with trends, reminiscing about his youth in a game. I don’t understand why my children go to such extremes—one a natural-born princess, the other aging before his time.

Ahai and Ashan’s IDs were simpler, still Ahai and Ashan. The two IDs were neatly arranged, and their character appearances were plain and neat, as if they were in military training in the game.

I called Ahai: “Tell Zhang Xiaoyuan to come down for breakfast. Tell him if he doesn’t come down now, he can forget about using the computer ever again.”

Zhang Mingsheng was dividing a piece of cold broccoli. Hearing my words, he lowered his eyes and chuckled softly. The knife slid across the vegetable, scraping the bottom of the plate, making a loud clatter and a harsh screech: “If he doesn’t want to come down, sending a tray up is the same.”

He sure knows how to play the good cop.

Mama Liu was feeding Keke, tying a small bib around her neck, the little spoon chasing her mouth, spoonful after spoonful. Keke was overwhelmed. After three spoonfuls of oatmeal and apple puree, Mama Liu paused, and Keke finally found a chance to speak. She suddenly said, “I just saw big brother.”

“Did little sister go play in brother’s room?” Zhang Mingsheng bent down, looking into Keke’s eyes as she sat in her high chair.

“Mm-hmm,” Keke nodded emphatically. She spoke very frankly, with a innocent look on her face. “Big brother led me downstairs just now.”

Just now, neither Zhang Mingsheng nor I had seen him.

Why would he suddenly lead his sister downstairs?