Chapter Twenty-Nine: Heartfelt Confessions Under the Moon
Night had fallen, pitch-black and silent. When Bao Kang returned home, he was surprised to find the light still burning in Bao Rong’s room. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he guessed that Bao Rong must have found some excuse to send Zhu Wolong away early, and he couldn’t help but feel a surge of irritation.
Without so much as a greeting, Bao Kang pushed open Bao Rong’s door. Seated at her desk with a book in hand, Bao Rong looked up with a resigned expression.
“Brother, you never knock,” she said.
“How come you’re back so early? Why didn’t you spend more time with Mr. Zhu?” Bao Kang’s face was stern as he got straight to the point.
“A thousand cups aren’t too many with a kindred spirit, but half a word is too much with the wrong company. I never had much to talk about with Mr. Zhu. Forcing myself to sit there any longer was pure agony.”
“You call that agony? Do you know what ‘Wolong’ means? It’s a crouching dragon—one who will soar to the heavens one day!” Bao Kang’s agitation grew.
“Even if he is a dragon destined to rise, I have no interest in that.”
Bao Kang strode over, pointing his finger at Bao Rong, his face full of exasperation, as if she were an unpolished gem.
“You, you… You’ve read so many books, yet you don’t understand the simplest of truths. What does a woman live for? Isn’t it to marry well and enjoy prosperity? Mr. Zhu is a dragon among men—the queue of girls eager to curry favor with him could stretch from our doorstep to the Old Zha Police Station. The fact that he’s interested in you is a blessing for our family, the favor of our late parents shining from above, and yet you don’t cherish it.”
Bao Rong set down her book and looked at her brother with solemnity. “Brother, I have no desire for wealth or glory in this life, nor do I seek grand passions. All I want is to meet someone who truly understands me, to spend my days in quiet companionship.”
Bao Kang, struggling to control his anger, pleaded with heartfelt pain, “You ought to consider my feelings too. Was it easy for me, raising you single-handedly? I was hoping you’d marry into a good family so I could bask in some reflected glory myself.”
Bao Rong rose, her gaze fierce. “Brother, I’m your own sister, flesh and blood. Can you stop treating me like a business transaction?”
“How can you say that? How could you think so poorly of your brother? When our parents died, I was just a boy of ten or so, and you were an infant, wailing for milk…”
As he spoke, tears welled in Bao Kang’s eyes, as if he were reliving those bitter days.
Not long after Bao Rong’s birth, both their parents passed away suddenly, and their family fell on hard times. The young Bao Kang, left with no choice, carried his baby sister in search of food, while Bao Rong cried hungrily in her swaddling clothes.
On the street, a woman sat by her door, playing with her infant. Bao Kang rushed over with Bao Rong in his arms, knelt before the woman, and begged through his tears, “Auntie, please, my sister is starving. Would you let her have some milk?”
Moved by his plight, the woman set down her own child, took Bao Rong in her arms, turned away, and nursed her…
Wiping away his tears, Bao Kang looked at Bao Rong with wounded pride. “Because I had to beg milk for you from a different woman every day, I developed a fear of women. Just seeing one makes me feel ill—afraid and awkward. I still haven’t been able to start my own family.”
“Brother, I’m grown now. I’ll take care of you.” Bao Rong, feeling somewhat guilty, tried to comfort him.
Bao Kang sighed. “Rong, it wasn’t easy raising you. You’ve suffered plenty with me all these years. When you were little, I swore I’d find you a good husband, so you’d never have to endure hardship again.”
“I know you mean well, but I’m your sister. You can’t force me to be with someone I don’t like, can you?” Bao Rong’s voice was plaintive.
“It’s because you’re my sister that I want the best for you! Mr. Zhu is handsome, capable, and comes from a wealthy family—far better than Lu Hehuan in every way.”
“Let me say this one last time: this has nothing to do with Hehuan. I just don’t suit Mr. Zhu.” Bao Rong, losing patience, set her jaw.
“There you go again! ‘Hehuan’—you say his name so affectionately and then claim there’s nothing between you. If it weren’t for that boy, you’d be with Mr. Zhu already!”
“Brother! I’m tired and want to rest. You should call it a night too.” Having reached her limit, Bao Rong opened the door, signaling him to leave.
Bao Kang shook his head helplessly. “So stubborn!”
He stepped out of her room, suddenly remembering something just as the door closed in his face.
The alley of Scholar Tree Lane lay shrouded in silence, every household shuttered and dark. Lu Hehuan and Ying Xi, carrying the bound and gagged Bai Yulou with Liu Rushuang leading the way, hurried toward Bai Yulou’s home.
Liu Rushuang pulled a key from Bai Yulou’s pocket and pointed at a modest house. “This is it.”
Lu Hehuan and Ying Xi stopped at the door. Liu Rushuang unlocked it, and the two men hauled Bai Yulou inside, tossing him onto the bed.
Bai Yulou, his mouth stuffed, struggled desperately.
Suddenly, Ying Xi turned to Lu Hehuan. “Didn’t you take a course on hypnosis? Can’t you remove the command from Bai Yulou?”
Lu Hehuan shook his head, troubled. “This kind of command reaches deep into the subconscious. Only the person who gave it can remove it. The hypnotized person rarely responds to anyone else.”
“Then will Bai Bai have to live like this forever? He might really end up taking his own life.” Liu Rushuang went pale with fear.
“The most important thing now is to help him rest and recover his strength. That might help him heal on his own,” Lu Hehuan said, frowning, not wanting to alarm Liu Rushuang further.
As they spoke, Bai Yulou managed to spit out the rag gagging him and began shouting, “Let me die! I killed them all! I must pay for Sister Hao and Cheng Zesheng’s lives…”
Liu Rushuang looked at him in despair. “How is he supposed to rest in this state?”
“I have a way,” Ying Xi said, striding over and landing a punch that knocked Bai Yulou out cold.
“Is that your solution?” Lu Hehuan couldn’t help but laugh.
“It’s a stopgap,” Ying Xi scratched his head.
“And what about when he wakes up?” Lu Hehuan asked skeptically.
“Knock him out again,” Ying Xi replied nonchalantly.
Lu Hehuan was speechless. This method was as crude and direct as Ying Xi himself.
Liu Rushuang glanced worriedly at the unconscious Bai Yulou and pressed Ying Xi, “Xi, is there no real cure?”
Ying Xi was momentarily at a loss.
After a moment, Lu Hehuan offered, “Actually, many people under hypnosis recover on their own if they’re kept happy and in good spirits.”
“Happy?” Liu Rushuang’s eyes lit up.
Ying Xi yawned. “I’m tired. I’m heading home to sleep.”
Seeing Ying Xi about to leave, Liu Rushuang quickly caught his arm. “Xi, walk me home first!”
Ying Xi shook her off, nodded toward Bai Yulou lying on the bed. “He can’t be left alone. You should stay and look after him.”
Liu Rushuang looked at Bai Yulou and scratched her head, caught in indecision.
Ying Xi didn’t wait for her to respond. He grabbed Lu Hehuan and hurried out the door.
Liu Rushuang had no choice but to stay behind and watch over Bai Yulou.
Night grew deeper, yet the lamp in the Lu family’s bedroom still burned. Lu Xiang lay in bed, thoroughly engrossed in “The Life of Heshen.” He adjusted his glasses now and then, age having clouded his vision.
Lin Zhi entered, her face covered in slices of cucumber, her hair—recently singed—wrapped in a scarf.
Lu Xiang glanced at her, puzzled. “Didn’t you eat enough at dinner?”
“You know nothing. This is for whitening the skin,” Lin Zhi shot him a look.
“What do you mean? Eating cucumber whitens your skin?” Lu Xiang was more confused.
“Not eating. You apply it, like this.”
She lay down beside him, placing two more slices over her eyes. “Some foreign ladies taught me this.”
Lu Xiang put down his book and sniffed dismissively. “Such slavish Western ways.”
“If you aren’t infatuated with the West, then why did you send our son to Britain?” Lin Zhi shot back.
“I was just giving him a bit of polish.”
“What polish? Now I can’t even see my son when I want to. That really gets under my skin.”
“All right, all right—just stick to your cucumbers,” Lu Xiang said impatiently.
Lin Zhi closed her eyes and began massaging her face. Lu Xiang resumed his book.
“I’ve heard there’s a new menagerie opening at Old Zha tomorrow, full of rare birds and beasts. It’s the grand opening—find some time to take me there.”
“I’m not going. What’s there to see in animals? You’ve seen cats and dogs already, haven’t you?”
“They say there’s an elephant. I’ve never seen one before,” Lin Zhi replied with great interest.
“I bet the elephant’s never seen you either. Who’s to say who’ll be watching whom?”
Lin Zhi sat up abruptly, sending cucumber slices tumbling down. Her voice was sharp. “What a way to talk! I’ll ask you one last time—are you coming or not?”
“No, I’m not.” Lu Xiang was a little nervous but held his ground.
“You can go drink tea with widows, but you can’t take me to a menagerie?” Lin Zhi’s tone was heavy with sarcasm and old grievances.
Lu Xiang, anger rising, slammed his book onto the bedside table. “Lin Zhi, that’s enough! Stop dredging up ancient history!”
“Ancient history you created! If a younger widow invited you, I bet you’d let the rare beasts gawk at you in the cage!”
“You’re simply unreasonable!” Lu Xiang was flushed with fury.
“Who are you calling unreasonable, Lu Xiang?” Lin Zhi demanded.
“You. Unreasonable!” he retorted.
No sooner had the words left his mouth than Lin Zhi landed a punch to his eye.
Lu Xiang clutched his face, shouting, “Can’t you aim anywhere but the face?”
Still fuming, Lin Zhi kicked him off the bed. “Then get off my bed and sleep in the sitting room!”
She flung a pillow at him for good measure.
Lu Xiang slunk off to the parlor, pillow in hand, seeking refuge.
Bathed in moonlight, the winding path from Bai Yulou’s house to the police station was silent and secluded. Lu Hehuan and Ying Xi walked side by side, talking as they went.
“Sister Hao and Cheng Zesheng both lived such hard lives—one for her son, one for her lover. Both lost themselves living for others… So a person should be a little selfish, live more for themselves,” Ying Xi sighed, launching into his philosophy of life.
Lu Hehuan shook his head. “No, I can’t agree. If everyone were selfish, only looking out for themselves, the world would become numb and callous.”
“So you approve of what Sister Hao and Cheng Zesheng did?” Ying Xi was puzzled.
Lu Hehuan shook his head. “Their hearts were in the right place, but their methods were wrong. Dabaobao needed his mother’s love most of all. In her remaining days, Sister Hao could have spent more time with him, taught him how to face life bravely. And when Cheng Zesheng found out what she’d done, he could have persuaded her to confess, helped her care for Dabaobao. I think that’s what Sister Hao would have wanted most.”
“Lu Hehuan, tell me honestly—do you regret investigating Sister Hao?” Ying Xi gazed at him seriously.
“The truth is the truth. It must come to light,” Lu Hehuan replied without hesitation.
“But the people killed were vicious in life, deserving of death. If Cheng Zesheng was willing to take the blame for Sister Hao, why not let him? If you keep digging, you’ll just get two good people executed.”
“In the eyes of the law, there’s no absolute good or bad—no one has the right to take another’s life, no matter how cruel or depraved they might be. Everyone has the right to live…” Lu Hehuan paused, his tone gentle. “As for Sister Hao, whatever her reasons, she must answer for her actions.”
“You’re so cold and unfeeling,” Ying Xi shook his head, clearly disapproving.
“It’s not me who’s unfeeling. It was their one impulsive decision that destroyed a bond that should have lasted,” Lu Hehuan replied.
“Ah, Sister Hao and Cheng Zesheng really were a pair of star-crossed lovers.” For once, Ying Xi’s sympathy was genuine.
“Perhaps death was their release, freeing them from the judgment of others,” Lu Hehuan said sadly.
Ying Xi sighed and looked up at two close stars in the night sky. “Those two stars must be Sister Hao and Cheng Zesheng—one watching over the other.”
Lu Hehuan followed his gaze.
The sky was a deep, inky blue, scattered with twinkling stars and drifting clouds soft as gauze. It was a peaceful night, with spring’s fragrance thick in the air and the faint, mysterious songs of insects all around. Lu Hehuan’s thoughts drifted to fields of dandelions and rapeseed, to the black-canopied boats floating down the Suzhou River. He looked at Ying Xi and smiled—a smile that belonged to a young man still unspoiled by life.
Under the moon, in his youth, Lu Hehuan once walked the lanes with Ling Yan.
He had tried several times to take her hand, but Ling Yan always slipped away.
“Hehuan, your father came to see me today,” Ling Yan stopped and looked at him solemnly.
“Don’t mind him. No one can interfere with us.”
“Hehuan, I don’t want to make things hard for you. Your father is right—we’re not of the same social standing. We shouldn’t be together…” Ling Yan’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“Ling Yan, I don’t ever want to hear you say that again. Trust me—I’ll marry you, I promise.” Lu Hehuan gripped her hand, his eyes full of passion.
“Hehuan…” Ling Yan’s eyes brimmed with tears, but she smiled through them.
Lu Hehuan pointed to the two brightest stars in the sky. “Look, Ling Yan. Those two stars are us. I’ll always be by your side, protecting you. No one can ever hurt you.”
Deeply moved, Ling Yan leaned her head on his shoulder, feeling as insubstantial as a mote of dust beneath the vast heavens—but with Lu Hehuan beside her, she could rest there poetically, as if the whole sky were her home.
Ying Xi nudged Lu Hehuan, who was lost in thought, gazing at the sky. “Hey, what are you daydreaming about?”
Lu Hehuan sighed, looking dejected. “I want to protect Ling Yan, too. But I don’t even know where she is now.”
Ying Xi hesitated, then probed, “You still haven’t let go?”
“I made her too many promises. I don’t dare forget,” Lu Hehuan’s eyes grew red.
Ying Xi snorted, unconvinced, and slapped him on the shoulder. “Promises are just words for the living. Even if you believe them, she may not. If she truly believed you, she’d have come back by now. Why is she still hiding from you?”
“I believe Ling Yan has her reasons,” Lu Hehuan replied with conviction.
“Don’t be naive. You think women are all faithful as stone? You’ve been gone three years—do you really expect her to wait? She’s probably married by now.”
“Ling Yan wouldn’t.” Lu Hehuan’s faith in her was absolute.
Ying Xi adopted a worldly air. “You say that, but I’m telling you—women are the least reliable of all.”
Lu Hehuan looked at him. “You must have been hurt by a woman.”
“No.”
Hands clasped behind his back, Ying Xi sped up. Lu Hehuan caught up and nudged him with his elbow.
“Detective Ying, tell me your story?” Lu Hehuan had a sense there was something Ying Xi was hiding.
Ying Xi grinned roguishly. “Plenty of stories. Which one do you want to hear?”
“The one that hurt you the most.”
“You’re just asking for trouble, aren’t you?” Ying Xi raised his fist playfully.
“After all, we’ve shared a bed—no need to keep secrets from me,” Lu Hehuan joked as he dodged.
Ying Xi lowered his fist. “What secrets? You could find them all out at Paramount.”
“Was the woman who hurt you from Paramount, too?” Lu Hehuan pressed seriously.
Ying Xi saw he wouldn’t let it go and rolled his eyes. “Are you picking a fight?”
“No, I just want to know the truth.”
“The truth is nothing special. The woman I loved was from a different background—her family objected, so I gave up,” Ying Xi said, eyes fixed ahead.
“And where is she now?” Lu Hehuan asked.
Ying Xi smiled. “Probably married with kids by now.”
Lu Hehuan was moved, afraid of touching a raw nerve. He asked gently, “Do you ever think of her?”
“We live in separate worlds—why bother? Besides, after I gave up that one tree, I found an entire forest. I’m much happier now! Lu Hehuan, you should learn to let go.”
“I’m not as heartless as you!” Lu Hehuan retorted.
Ying Xi gave a knowing smirk.
Suddenly, Lu Hehuan remembered something and changed the subject. “By the way, how’s your stomach?”
“I’m fine. It’s just an old issue—I’m used to it,” Ying Xi replied carelessly.
“You’re so young to have stomach trouble. You really don’t take care of yourself.”
“What can I say? I like my drink. Too much wine, and the stomach suffers.”
“Then drink less.”
“Impossible! I’d rather live wild and drunk than eke out a meager existence!” Ying Xi declared heroically.
Lu Hehuan shook his head. A drunkard is a drunkard—he’d sooner die than give up his wine.