Chapter 17#

I didn’t trust this child.

In the past, it was an unconscious distrust—adults instinctively overlook a child’s sense of responsibility and capability. Later, I didn’t trust him because I understood that some children are born like snakes that can never be warmed. No matter how clever he is, once he loses the warmth he craves, he’ll coil back and strike.

The past chilled my heart and froze the relationship between us. Thinking about it now, if I met a child on the street who needed help tying his shoelaces, the connection between us would be more natural than the one I have with Zhang Xiaoyuan.

Zhang Xiaoyuan stood there, small, his face still carrying the soft roundness of baby fat, but you could tell he had beautiful eyes—dark and calm, with thick, long lashes, exactly like Zhang Mingsheng’s. Sometimes, I really thought he was Zhang Mingsheng’s biological child.

I didn’t know what I looked like in the child’s eyes. Even with my altered appearance and ruined voice, I couldn’t hide the breadth of my shoulders or the shadow of my Adam’s apple that I had to lower my head to conceal.

But now, Zhang Xiaoyuan was staring at me with certainty, even though his small hands were already trembling slightly. Suddenly, he let go.

Before I could answer, he had already opened the door and run out, just like his pony named Lightning.

Amid the terrifying noise from the first floor, I could still hear the sound of his feet in cotton socks hitting the floor—thump, thump, thump, thump, thump. He ran with big strides; I’d heard he was good at sports in school, always placing in competitions. Zhang Mingsheng didn’t care about such things, but Ahai always praised the young master. The school also held parent sports days, which Zhang Mingsheng never attended, let alone me. It was always Ahai and Ashan looking after him.

If I were still Yu Fuchao, if Zhang Xiaoyuan were my adopted child, as his father, I would definitely take time off to go.

Too bad, my bond with him and his sister was twisted to the point where it could only exist in the cracks of shadows, only sneaking a glance when no one was around.

One second, two seconds, three seconds, four seconds, five seconds.

A full thirty seconds passed, and I was glad I still hadn’t lost my ability to count seconds precisely.

Zhang Xiaoyuan’s footsteps were like my heartbeat—closer, louder.

He was right outside the door. He pushed it open.

The moment I saw the two children’s little faces, I felt an eerie calm, and a terrifying thought suddenly rose in my mind.

Did I really need to take responsibility for these two children?

If I could ruthlessly sever my feelings for them, right now, in this moment, wouldn’t I have a better chance of leaving this place, of leaving Zhang Mingsheng?

Before I could think further, Keke’s weight crushed that fleeting wisp of an idea. Past and future vanished abruptly, leaving only the present, filled with the distant sounds of fighting and pale light.

Zhang Xiaoyuan was panting. He carefully placed Keke into my arms, then turned to close the door tightly. Keke’s face was rosy; she was drowsy, clearly having just eaten and grown sleepy. She burrowed against my shoulder, her warm little mouth near my ear: “Mommy, what’s going on?”

I said, “Nothing, your brother was just looking for you. He wants to play together.”

I looked back at Zhang Xiaoyuan, at his still-childish features and slightly parted lips. He was trying to steady his breathing, and he looked a little like he was pretending to be mature.

I said, “You did well.”

His expression didn’t change much, only his eyes widening slightly.

Sounds of fighting came from downstairs.

Zhang Mingsheng had arranged few people, and they came from different backgrounds. Some were servants of the Zhang family, who only knew Zhang Mingsheng on the level of “the Zhang family’s young master.” They wouldn’t easily resort to violence. Others had been left by his parents and aunt, including Ahai and Ashan—they were closer, entrusted with more by Zhang Mingsheng.

I only had a rough understanding of these people. They had weapons, rarely appeared at home, and generally followed Zhang Mingsheng when he went out, like a black shadow.

I considered today’s shift schedule and guessed that downstairs right now, probably only Ahai had a gun.

Here, halfway up the mountain, security personnel were expensive, let alone the various security systems and technology. Zhang Mingsheng was always cautious. I had no idea who had come, who had managed to break through several checkpoints and charge straight to the front door.

I didn’t have a gun. My gun and credentials had gone missing many years ago.

At that thought, I held Keke tighter and gently kissed the top of her fluffy head. Zhang Xiaoyuan also moved closer; he seemed a bit awkward. I reached out a hand to him, and he took it without hesitation.

I understood him. He and I were the same—as children, we didn’t want to be abandoned; once we grabbed something, we wanted to hold on tighter. But in the end, no family ever adopted me.

I really didn’t know which of us was luckier.

A gunshot rang out. I heard a violent shattering sound. Something had broken—the crystal chandelier? The glass door of the living room? I didn’t know; I couldn’t guess.

I waited nearly a minute. No more gunshots.

I thought: now there was good news and bad news. The good news was that the intruder had run out of bullets. The bad news was that Ahai had also run out of bullets.

Ahai was no longer young, and he’d always had moral boundaries. I wasn’t sure, facing a violent man whose murderous aura I could smell even from the second floor, whether Ahai could gain the upper hand.

I patted my daughter’s back, then looked into Zhang Xiaoyuan’s eyes and told them, “Close your eyes. Only open them when Mommy says you can.”

I told myself—I told my body—not to forget, not to forget all the hand-to-hand combat techniques you were trained in. Though they had withered away with the muscles, strangled by illness in this increasingly emaciated body. But I begged myself: though the past was gone, I still needed the remnants of who I was.

I needed him. I needed Yu Fuchao. I needed the traces of his existence, everything he had. I needed the overwhelming strength of my youth, to protect everything I wanted to protect.

I felt the sweat on Zhang Xiaoyuan’s palm. I knew he was scared too.

So I tightened my grip on his hand even more.

In this unknown number of years by Zhang Mingsheng’s side, this was the second time I faced a threat that didn’t come from Zhang Mingsheng himself.

That bastard—who had he provoked, and for what? All my hatred again fell upon Zhang Mingsheng.

I started grinding my teeth.

“You pick up your sister and hide in your bathroom. Don’t make a sound.”

I set Keke on the ground and placed her little hand in Zhang Xiaoyuan’s.

At this moment, I finally chose to trust this child. I entrusted my daughter to him. He held Keke’s hand, gave me one last look, then ran toward the bathroom. The two children’s figures—one taller, one shorter—didn’t know what was happening, but they obeyed the adult’s instructions, hiding in the bathroom, perhaps even sitting in the bathtub.

And then?

What about me?

If I died, and died because of Zhang Mingsheng, would Zhang Mingsheng still go after Li Yi? At this critical moment, I suddenly calmed down and began calculating what I could trade with my life.

At that thought, I was startled. I didn’t know if Zhang Mingsheng was still alive or had died on the way, allowing someone to barge right up to the front door without any fear.

If he were dead.

Could Zhang Mingsheng die?

Someone with such luck—he’d been in a car accident, and I, the idiot, had dragged him out. I had a long scar on my arm that later turned into a pinkish mark. But he came out unscathed, his only abnormality being his extraordinary mind. At thirty-five, he looked no different from someone in his twenties, still outwardly gentle and handsome.

I was a bit annoyed with myself. Why think about him? Let him die!

Downstairs, they started fighting—hand to hand. The walls made dull thuds as they were hit. From time to time, there were heavy objects falling and glass shattering—muffled crashes and sharp cracks. The sounds were loud and frequent, a stark contrast to the silence of the second floor, where only my own breathing could be heard.

I found a baseball bat, gripped it in my hand, and then turned off the light. In the darkness, my fingers trembled involuntarily; I had to keep adjusting my grip to keep the bat from slipping out of my hand.

I didn’t know how long I waited.

When the sounds of fighting downstairs finally subsided with a roar, the fabric on my back was already soaked with cold sweat.

I no longer knew whether I was scared or not. I only knew my nerves were taut, so much so that I could hear the dripping of water in the bathroom.

Every gust of wind outside the window felt like torture.

Suddenly, someone came up the stairs. I could hear it—they were walking, leather shoes clicking. I wasn’t sure who it was walking down the hallway, but I could tell there was more than one person outside the door. How? If Ahai had won, only he would come up.

I held my breath.

The footsteps stopped outside the door.

With a click, the lights in the hallway went out.