Chapter 88: A Familiar Face

When Cheng Yao and Bai Xiao returned from the cemetery, they stopped to have dinner on the way. Bai Xiao wanted to visit her parents’ house as well. It was a good time for it—late enough to avoid the daytime crowds, so neither of them would be spotted by the old neighbors, sparing them the trouble of disguises.

On the way, Cheng Yao talked to Bai Xiao about her parents’ old neighbors. These people had watched Bai Xiao grow up and were close to her parents, embodying the saying, “distant relatives are not as helpful as close neighbors.” It was a far cry from the unfamiliar relationships found in newly built communities. Over the years, Cheng Yao had also developed a good rapport with these elderly neighbors, though most were of her parents’ generation. Many had already passed away, and those who remained weren’t in great health. Few were often seen around the neighborhood anymore.

Some, after passing, had their children sell the family home; others had moved into nursing homes or been taken in by their grandchildren, and their homes were sold or rented out accordingly. There was a constant cycle of old faces leaving and new ones arriving in the community.

The Kong family, for example, had moved in later and weren’t acquainted with Bai Xiao’s parents; Cheng Yao didn’t know them either. Among those left, like Old Zhang, her father’s chess companion, he was much like Bai Xiao herself—born and raised in this very neighborhood. He was seven or eight years older than Bai Xiao and, being a boy, hadn’t played with her as a child—Cheng Yao recalled Bai Xiao mentioning that her childhood playmate was someone else, who moved away during middle school, and they gradually lost touch. Old Zhang, after working and marrying, had also moved out for a while, only visiting his parents on weekends and holidays. About thirty years ago, when his father became bedridden, he moved back to care for his parents, growing even closer to Bai Xiao’s parents and becoming a chess companion to her father, which was how he became acquainted with Cheng Yao.

To this day, Cheng Yao still felt awkward calling him “Uncle Zhang.”

Bai Xiao didn’t remember much about Old Zhang himself but recalled his parents vividly and was surprised to hear, “Uncle Zhang is paralyzed?” The “Uncle Zhang” she referred to was, of course, Old Zhang’s father. The memory made her a little sad. “He used to give me red envelopes every New Year... Auntie’s rice dumplings were so delicious...”

Cheng Yao nodded. The first time he visited his future in-laws, Bai Xiao’s father had even invited Uncle Zhang over to meet the prospective son-in-law. The following year, when he came by for the New Year, he ran into Uncle Zhang at the entrance, who later came up to give him a red envelope. Naturally, the Zhang family had been invited to his and Bai Xiao’s wedding. Back then, Old Zhang was a young man with a beer belly, but his mature features made him look middle-aged. Now, his beer belly had shrunk, his hairline had receded, and his face, nearly unchanged for decades, made him look younger in old age.

“It was a stroke—left him paralyzed on one side. Old Zhang cared for him for over ten years,” Cheng Yao said with a sigh. “Auntie passed away not long after. After they both died, Old Zhang didn’t move out. He stayed in the old house and often played chess with Dad near the subway station.”

“Oh? There used to be so many people playing chess over there. Some things never change,” Bai Xiao replied, her tone lighter.

“Last year, Old Zhang adopted a dog—a stray that Boss Le rescued for him. He named it ‘Good Boy.’”

Bai Xiao wasn’t particularly interested in Old Zhang’s affairs, which wasn’t surprising. To her, Old Zhang was simply the son of Uncle Zhang—a neighbor’s older brother she never really knew as a child, and later, an equally unfamiliar “son of Uncle Zhang.” In contrast, Cheng Yao had become familiar with Old Zhang after he moved back, due to his father-in-law’s friendship with him. But in the end, he was still just a familiar neighbor.

As Cheng Yao recounted these things to Bai Xiao, a wave of memories from the past thirty-five years washed over him—thirty-five years without Bai Xiao. He had been lonely, though not entirely so; he’d made many new “friends,” but never found another love. The emptiness left by Bai Xiao could never be filled by those “friends.” Yet now, with Bai Xiao walking at his side, the emptiness in his heart was filled, and suddenly, even the faces of his “friends” became more vivid, as if a fog had been swept away by the wind, as if a veil had been lifted from his eyes, revealing again the vibrant world before him.

The joys and sorrows, the comings and goings of others, could move him once more.

Cheng Yao glanced sideways at Bai Xiao, watching her serene profile, and couldn’t help but smile.

Catching his look, Bai Xiao asked, “What are you smiling about? What are you thinking?”

“Nothing. Just... it feels so good, talking to you like this,” Cheng Yao replied, slipping his arm around her shoulders.

Bai Xiao widened her eyes. “Uncle Zhang’s story is ‘so good’?”

“No, no,” Cheng Yao quickly corrected himself. “I meant, it’s good to share these things with you.”

Bai Xiao chuckled, tilting her head to rest on Cheng Yao’s shoulder.

Cheng Yao pressed his lips together in a smile, then glanced behind him.

It was just an ordinary street. Most of the shops were closed; only a 24-hour convenience store cast bright light.

Other pedestrians walked by—nothing unusual.

Cheng Yao frowned, slowly withdrawing his gaze.

“What’s wrong?” Bai Xiao looked up at him.

“Nothing. I just feel uneasy today,” Cheng Yao said, shaking his head.

“Because of the visit to the cemetery?” Bai Xiao asked.

He shook his head again, but slower this time. Suddenly, he remembered the buzzing of his phone while at the cemetery. He hadn’t checked to see who had messaged him; during the bus ride and dinner, he’d only used his phone for payments and hadn’t glanced at the notifications.

He took out his phone and checked his messages, pausing in surprise.

“What is it?” Bai Xiao asked again, her voice a bit tense.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Remember those notifications at the cemetery? It was an old classmate. Now that we’re all retired...” he trailed off.

Their generation of classmates had gradually retired, which made them nostalgic for old friends and their youthful days, clamoring for a class reunion. The class leader had sent out a group message; the long-dormant class chat was active again, messages flooding in one after another.

“Seems like we won’t be able to go this time,” Bai Xiao said with a hint of regret.

Cheng Yao squeezed his phone, looking at Bai Xiao, who appeared calm—any trace of regret had vanished from her face.

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. A few names surfaced in his mind but were quickly buried deep in his heart.

...

Old Zhang, whom Cheng Yao and Bai Xiao had just mentioned, was walking his dog near the neighborhood.

Because he and his wife had cared for his parents for so many years, they had long fallen into the habits of early-to-bed, early-to-rise. But in the past year, since adopting Good Boy—the stray rescued by Boss Le—their schedule had shifted later. After dinner, his wife would head downstairs for the plaza dance and take Good Boy for a quick walk. Around this hour, Old Zhang would finish watching a couple of TV episodes and take Good Boy out again to do his business.

“It’s hot, hurry up, Good Boy. Don’t run in there—too many bugs,” Old Zhang muttered as he tugged the leash.

Once Good Boy found a spot and began his business, Old Zhang glanced around idly.

Though balding for years, and plagued with high blood pressure and stomach issues due to obesity and family history, his eyesight remained sharp. By the dim light of the street lamps, he immediately spotted Cheng Yao and Bai Xiao in the distance. All he saw was Cheng Yao’s profile, with his arm around a young woman with long hair.

He recognized Cheng Yao but couldn’t see the woman’s face, obscured by Cheng Yao. Seeing Cheng Yao with a young woman, he decided not to call out. Curious, he watched a moment longer, scratching his sparse sideburns, wondering why “Cheng Yao’s nephew” would be here with his girlfriend at this hour. Had Cheng Yao lent the house to his nephew after going on vacation? He hadn’t seen anyone move in during the day.

Old Zhang’s mind began to race.

Elderly people like him either “keep to themselves” or are consummate social butterflies, knowing every bit of gossip in the community. Old Zhang was certainly the latter.

He was so caught up in thought that he only returned to himself when Good Boy brushed his leg.

By then, Cheng Yao and Bai Xiao had already walked out of sight.

He wasn’t curious enough to follow. Once Good Boy was done, he took out the paper and plastic bag he’d prepared and cleaned up after the dog.

As he stood up, he looked up and saw another figure on the small road.

It was a young man in a shirt and slacks, his bangs covering his eyes, revealing only a straight nose and a strong jawline. His hands were in his pockets, posture upright yet casual—he seemed to be strolling, but soon disappeared from Old Zhang’s view.

Old Zhang stared in a daze as the figure turned behind a building, craning his neck instinctively for a better look.

Good Boy tugged twice, whining softly, pulling the leash.

Old Zhang glanced down at the dog, habitually reaching to scratch his sideburns, only to hit the plastic bag with his rough hand.

“Ugh!” he exclaimed, quickly holding the bag away.

“Woof,” Good Boy barked quietly.

“All right, all right, I get it, time to go home,” Old Zhang replied, but as he walked, he kept glancing back toward where the young man had vanished, muttering, “So strange... Did I see that right? How could I run into two people in just a few minutes...?”

Good Boy led the way to the neighborhood trash bins.

After tossing the bag, Old Zhang stood there a moment, then abruptly grabbed the leash and walked in another direction.

Good Boy looked at him in confusion, resisting slightly.

“Wait a bit, we’ll go home soon,” Old Zhang comforted the dog, heading straight on.

He walked quickly at first, but as he neared the building where the young man had disappeared, he hesitated, unsure which way to turn. He went left a few steps, then backtracked, then right, peering ahead, but stopped short.

Good Boy circled him in confusion.

Old Zhang looked down at the dog. “Ah, forget it, what am I thinking...”

Yet after a moment’s pondering, he started walking again, hesitantly.

When he caught sight of the young man again, he startled himself.

He watched the man’s back, hesitated a moment, then stepped forward, about to call out.

As he took a step, he saw the man’s face.

Now a cigarette hung from the man’s lips. He wasn’t smoking, just letting it burn. Because of the way he tilted his head, his eyes were visible beneath his bangs.

Those eyes were black as ink, yet in their depths there seemed to be the crimson reflection of the cigarette’s ember. That gloomy gaze, unmasked and direct, radiated a chilling malice.

Old Zhang froze in place, his throat tightening as if squeezed shut, unable to utter a sound.

A sudden sense of danger overwhelmed him.

The man’s eyes shifted.

Before their gazes met, Old Zhang instinctively turned away, head down, tugging Good Boy along. “We’re going home now! Hurry up! No dawdling! Quick, or we’ll get in trouble at home!”

Whether through uncanny intuition or shared fear, Good Boy tucked his tail, whimpering and letting Old Zhang drag him away.

Man and dog hurried awkwardly from the building, fleeing as fast as they could.

Only when they had run some distance did Old Zhang finally relax, feeling goosebumps rise all over his back.

He wiped the sweat from his sideburns, looked at the now wilted Good Boy, and comforted him, “Good Boy, I’m sorry, I wasn’t scolding you. Sigh... this business...”

With wobbly knees, he walked a few steps, then stopped.

Good Boy tugged the leash, but Old Zhang didn’t move.

He glanced back, torn between fear and worry.

After thinking it over, he pulled out his phone, scrolled through his messages, and found “Little Cheng,” dialing Cheng Yao’s number.

The phone rang a few times before someone picked up.

“Little Cheng, it’s Old Zhang,” he blurted out, then hesitated.

“Hello, Old Zhang,” came a muffled voice from the other end.

Old Zhang didn’t notice anything odd, and stammered awkwardly, “Um, are you on vacation?”

“Mm.”

“So, Bai’s old house—did you, um, did you lend it to your nephew?” For all his gossip, Old Zhang had never called someone up just to dig for information, and it made him stutter.

“Mm...” came the same indistinct reply.

“It’s just, I think I saw him in the neighborhood... Your nephew—does he, uh, know anyone, I mean, anyone in the area...?” Old Zhang trailed off.

“Oh, it’s fine. I know about it,” the voice replied, still muffled, but the words were clear.

Old Zhang hesitated, but with such a firm answer, didn’t know what more to say.

“Don’t worry, my nephew is a good guy. Nothing’s wrong.”

All he could do was force a laugh in response.

After hanging up, Old Zhang looked back along the path he’d just run, shivering, and sighed deeply.

...

“Did Old Zhang spot us?” Bai Xiao guessed.

“Probably. He must think I was up to no good with a young woman,” Cheng Yao chuckled.

Bai Xiao giggled as well. After laughing, she lowered her head again, flipping through the thick stack of her parents’ medical records. Though they were just repetitive prescriptions and follow-up notes, she examined them closely, as if trying to make up for the thirty-five years she’d missed.

Cheng Yao kept her company for a while, then got up to fetch some water in the kitchen.

Standing at the window, he looked down.

The street in front of the building was deserted, bathed only in the yellow glow of streetlamps, where a crushed cigarette butt lay under the light.

Cheng Yao frowned, carried the water back to the room.