He lay on him, his body soft and boneless like the serpent of Eden, his lips, lightly pursed then released, blooming with the fresh red hue of an apple.
He was seducing him.
He Qinghong was acutely aware of this point.
But his mind was in chaos. When He Qinghong tried to find a clue, it was like stepping into a quagmire, sinking deeper and deeper, unable to struggle free.
His eyes traced the strand of long black hair stuck to the fair neck.
That faint, cold fragrance drew closer and closer. The strand of black hair drifted down wetly onto his prominent collarbone. A drop of water from the tip of Xin Hexue’s hair slowly slid into He Qinghong’s collar.
In the Walled city enveloped by rain and mist, within this blurred, dizzying window, the desk lamp flickered ambiguously.
The heavy rain washed away He Qinghong’s reason.
“Mr. He, I’m so scared…”
Trembling lips, slightly cool in temperature, pressed against He Qinghong’s lips.
His fingers, driven by instinct honed over years of training, pressed against Xin Hexue’s neck, having encountered an unprecedented crisis.
The pad of his thumb rested on the young man’s Adam’s apple, its curve prominent and smooth.
He Qinghong did not tighten his grip.
This was still an ambiguous refusal.
Yet that little protruding knot moved under his thumb, like a small boat rocking.
He Qinghong met those eyes, misty and dewy. They held no tears, only a quiet, rolling wave of emotion.
“My husband is dead. Isn’t that what you hoped for?”
“Mr. He, haven’t you ever thought, even for a moment, of encroaching upon the wife and child this dead man left behind in the world?”
A slender, delicate hand pressed against He Qinghong’s chest that was thumping wildly.
“If you never thought of it, why does it beat so fast, so guiltily?” Xin Hexue asked him.
Snap.
A string that had been stretched to its limit snapped.
The shower head in the bathroom sprayed noisily.
Cold water lowered He Qinghong’s temperature. He braced himself against the wall with a fist, his lean and firm back muscles flexing with the movement.
He felt feverish and lightheaded.
If he maintained this state, he would sooner or later be riddled with bullets by his enemies.
When he touched Xin Hexue’s Adam’s apple, there wasn’t a trace of unpreparedness or surprise on Xin Hexue’s face.
As if he had long guessed that He Qinghong knew he wasn’t a woman.
—If you are not a woman, how can you be pregnant?
—Perhaps there are men in the world who can get pregnant.
Xin Hexue had told him about the two-lined pregnancy test stick, and the ultrasound examination results from the clinic.
—Mr. He, you are ignorant.
Indeed, he was ignorant.
Even before tonight, He Qinghong had never imagined such a thing could happen in the world.
He felt his thoughts were extremely chaotic, as if he had crashed into a cocoon and was facing a butterfly that had just emerged. Its wings were still damp, fluttering towards him with a colorful powdery dream.
He Qinghong thought of many things.
His life up to this point played like a revolving lantern before his eyes.
He remembered the lamb that died by his gun, nudging his hand with its wet nose. He thought of some souls lost to his gun, blood splattering on glass. He thought of the 300,000 coins Zhou Liao had borrowed from him…
The more he thought of it, the less he could control his brain.
Finally, he stopped, only that dreamlike, illusory pair of eyes remaining in his mind.
He Qinghong came out of the extreme anxiety.
He walked out of the shower, only to see Xin Hexue sitting by the bed.
“You… haven’t left?”
He Qinghong had a towel wrapped around his waist as he usually did after coming out of his own bathroom. Now, realizing there was a second person in this space, an unprecedented feeling of embarrassment arose.
He immediately went to the closet and put on a shirt.
Xin Hexue touched the bedside table; it was spotless. He was very satisfied with this exceptionally clean and tidy room.
He had just checked the door locks and window locks over and over again.
Everything was shut tight, and only after confirming that no other person or non-human entity could enter did he breathe a sigh of relief.
“You have a tattoo?”
Xin Hexue only caught a glimpse of black from the corner of his eyes on He Qinghong’s waist and back.
But before he could see the shape clearly, He Qinghong had already slipped his arms through the shirt sleeves. “…Mmm.”
“I have nowhere else to go.”
Xin Hexue sat calmly by the bed.
He Qinghong turned to look at him.
Xin Hexue: “The goldfish in my home died strangely. Have you seen anyone else enter my room? Someone actually added bleach to that fish tank. When I came back, both goldfish were floating belly-up, dead.”
He Qinghong frowned. “When you went out in the morning, I went in to turn off the faucet for you, then locked the door before leaving.”
Xin Hexue found it strange. “Did I not turn off the water when I left?” He clearly remembered…
He Qinghong: “Mmm, the bathroom faucet wasn’t turned off.”
Xin Hexue lowered his eyes, pondering something.
Naturally, he judged He Qinghong not guilty regarding the death of the goldfish.
Because the other party had no motive to kill the goldfish, and moreover, he had gone to great lengths to buy the square tank for them.
Most importantly, He Qinghong was his chosen new henchman. He didn’t want the mystery of the goldfish’s death to sow discord in their trust relationship for now.
Since that was the case, then where there is doubt, do not convict; consider him innocent and move on.
He rinsed his mouth and, beating He Qinghong to it, occupied the bed with the blue quilt.
He Qinghong was stunned, standing in a daze.
With no other choice, he went to sleep on the sofa.
Before turning off the light, Xin Hexue called his name.
“Qinghong…”
“My feet are very cold.”
He Qinghong, who was originally holding another quilt and heading for the sofa in the corner, heard his words and found his steps stopping involuntarily.
When Xin Hexue woke up, the spot at the foot of the bed held no residual warmth, only the indentation where a grown man had slept. The curtains on the side were already drawn, and the clear yellow sunlight outside was shining into the room.
He Qinghong was not home.
After washing up, he walked to the living room and saw the food covered by a dish cover on the dining table.
A large wide bowl of egg and mushroom noodle soup, with shrimp added.
…No scallions.
Xin Hexue’s brows relaxed.
It seemed He Qinghong had completely remembered his preferences.
Next to the bowl was a key, along with a sticky note with neat, blocky handwriting.
—”If the noodles are cold, there is an electric hot pot under the TV cabinet. Plug it in to heat. I have matters to attend to, and will be returning late.”
Xin Hexue touched the side of the bowl; it was still warm. He guessed He Qinghong probably hadn’t left long ago.
He sat down at the table and enjoyed his breakfast.
His chopsticks stirred the soup noodles, swirling the milky-white sliced oyster mushrooms. The taste was fresh and sweet, and Xin Hexue slowly slurped the noodles soaked in broth.
Now he was alone in He Qinghong’s home.
Xin Hexue had ample time to search this mysterious neighbor’s house to see if it hid firearms that ordinary people don’t have.
Therefore, he didn’t rush. He slowly walked to the sunlit window and stretched lazily.
Picking up the handheld telescope from the coffee table nearby, he slowly adjusted the focus wheel.
The old longan tree in the distance had exceptionally emerald green leaves, and they shimmering with a glossy shin under the sun. The male bird’s gorgeous tail flickered and jumped among the leaves.
………
Consecutive gunshots rang out.
Bang!
Bang! Bang!
Startling several birds into flight from the villa garden.
Every shot hit its mark. One after another, the struck targets fell. Vivid red blood splattered on the blindingly white walls, dripping profusely. Their bodies froze in the moment of death, contorted in unexpected directions on the ground and soaking the carpet.
He Qinghong stepped out from the darkness, looking at the pale, ghastly faces of the dead, comparing them with the photos in his hand.
Work was over.
One target cost between fifty to one hundred thousand coins.
The organization only offered such prices. In fact, the amount of money traded by the higher-ups from the employers must be multiplied by ten.
But by the time it trickled down to He Qinghong’s hands, a zero had been stripped away through exploitation.
Naturally, they were confident he could do nothing about it.
Indeed, that was the case. He Qinghong had not been particularly dissatisfied with the status quo before. He was not extravagant or indulgent. Beyond the basic food and clothing, he had no extra pursuits.
Then why did he continue doing these things?
He Qinghong did not know.
He had always been like this since his youth. He made a living from the dead and was accustomed to it.
He had never thought about changing this life.
It was like when a dog is young, if you put it with an adult cat, the dog, having suffered enough bullying from the big cat, would not challenge the authority under the cat’s sharp claws even after it grew many times larger.
Strictly speaking, this analogy wasn’t entirely accurate, but He Qinghong just thought of it. At this moment, he thought of that young man who was like a cat.
This was the only variable in his life.
He Qinghong suddenly became less satisfied with the status quo. He began to feel that the amount didn’t match the risks he undertook. He had new developments in his current stage and needed more money…
Wait, what did he need more money for?
First, he had to get a larger bed, a true double bed.
His brief moment of distraction caused him to make a rare mistake.
He Qinghong swiftly dodged to the side, and a shot from his backhand hit the sniper behind the door. The opponent fell with a crash.
But his mistake was not without consequence.
He Qinghong glanced down. The sniper’s bullet had grazed his left arm, and now there was a stinging pain.
…He was injured.
A flicker of bewilderment passed through He Qinghong’s eyes.
Before the guards arrived, he agilely leaped down from the second-floor balcony and disappeared along the path.
…….
Xin Hexue had his lunch outside.
After all, He Qinghong hadn’t returned, so he went to the same ice cafe as yesterday.
The business was still booming.
Xin Hexue ordered a portion of red bean ice and a plate of pork chop rice with fresh tomato and onion stew.
After paying the bill, he went to the dessert shop.
The old woman was outside, hurriedly trying to pull down the metal shutter door.
It wasn’t just her; the surrounding shops had also started to close after the peak lunch hour, as if they all had something to do.
The customers walking on both sides of the street were also heading in one direction. There was an indescribable strangeness on these people’s faces; they were wooden, as if they were marionettes on strings, converging into a human stream and moving forward together.
By now, the old woman had already crouched down to lock the metal door.
“Grandma, where are you going?”
Xin Hexue asked.
He had originally intended to ask her about Tan E, but it seemed the old woman had other things to attend to now.
The old woman stood up, raised her cloudy grey eyes, and recognized the visitor with the one eye that still had sight. “Oh… it’s you.”
“Today is the fifteenth. I’m going to pay respects to the Red Prince…”
She was probably referring to the lunar calendar.
Xin Hexue asked, “Who is the Red Prince?”
The old woman shook her head. “The Red Prince is the Red Prince.”
“Ah, I’m going to be late,” she looked towards the street where many people were walking, and said in a hurry, “Sorry about this. If you want dessert, come next time, and Grandma will treat you to a bowl for free.”
“Next time, next time.” She muttered as she left.
Xin Hexue stood still, catching a glimpse of Yu Xingzhou’s figure walking past the distant street corner.
It seems the high school student hadn’t seen him, and he had his hand raised to press down the brim of his hat as he strode away.
……
In the morning, Xin Hexue had searched for a long time but didn’t find anything that shouldn’t be present in He Qinghong’s home.
But it was different when he returned in the afternoon.
On the table with the green checkered tablecloth, there was an extremely refined bouquet of flowers placed in a vase. The petals were a bright red color, like blood.
Next to it was a brown paper shopping bag, the kind clothing stores use to pack clothes for customers.
Xin Hexue went forward and opened it curiously.
It was actually a set of baby clothes, all white, adorned with cherry pink patterns.
He Qinghong walked out of the bedroom. He had changed his clothes and there was a faint smell of blood in the air.
Xin Hexue turned his head. “Qinghong, what is this?”
“…I just happened to see it on the street.” He Qinghong averted his gaze for a moment. “I thought it might be useful.”
