“I heard a news story yesterday, in a taxi,” Baishi said, his eyes fixed on Miss Shang.
Miss Shang let out a yawn, covering her mouth with her slender fingers. The early morning sunlight was thin, filtering into the office in scattered patches, making her hand look exceptionally pale—almost ghostly. Noticing this herself, she lowered her hand and rubbed them together to bring back some color. “Did you not sleep last night?” She pointed toward her own eyes, gesturing to the heavy dark circles under his.
“I didn’t,” Baishi replied dismissively, immediately returning to his topic. “But what I want to talk about is that news story.”
Miss Shang nodded. “Go on.”
“It was a radio broadcast. A woman called in. She said her five-year-old daughter came home one day and said, ‘I don’t like the teacher’s lollipop; it smells too bad.’ The woman said she understood what had happened instantly. Her husband is a police officer. She said that if she told him, with his temper, he would never let that teacher go. But therein lies the problem: they’re just an ordinary family with ordinary jobs. If that male teacher had nowhere else to go, if he was fired and started stalking their family, what then? Even if he was locked up for a while, what if he came after them once he got out? Her husband is a cop; it’s not an easy career to just pack up and leave. Both sets of grandparents live here, too. Were they supposed to move? And if they didn't move and the matter blew up, everyone would know the girl’s name. Word would spread, and how would she ever go to school after that? She said a lot of things, but in the end, she said she quietly transferred her daughter to another school without telling anyone. She felt incredibly guilty about it, so she just wanted to talk to someone.”
Miss Shang listened to the end. “And then?”
Baishi frowned. “She asked if she was wrong. Do you think she was?”
“That’s hard to judge.”
“You see? For one side, they have to endure the insult and then worry about the risk. Every path is the wrong one. What kind of logic is that?”
Miss Shang looked at him. “That is why that side is the victim.”
Baishi shook his head. “That’s too simple. The victim bears too much. What punishment could possibly match such an assault? After all, there is no reason for the assault, but there is a reason for the punishment. From that point alone, no punishment can ever truly match the atrocity.”
Miss Shang narrowed her eyes. “What are you trying to say?”
“Look, both murder and rape destroy a person’s life. Why is murder punishable by death, but rape isn't?”
Miss Shang poured herself a cup of tea. “In reality, not all murders result in the death penalty. There are various clauses; you can’t generalize—”
“That’s not what I mean,” Baishi interrupted. “I’m talking about the concepts, not a specific case.”
Miss Shang sighed. “It is cruel for the law not to consider individual cases. In that sense, you are even more cold-hearted.” She immediately set down her teacup. “I advise you not to lose yourself in a dead end. If we’re speaking objectively, don’t be too…”
“Forget objectivity. I can’t do it.” Baishi slung his backpack over his shoulder. “I should get to school. Sorry for disturbing you so early.”
Miss Shang smiled faintly. “You’re welcome.”
Baishi shouldered his bag and left her office.
Miss Shang was right; he hadn't slept well. Or rather, he hadn't slept at all.
But that was secondary. What mattered was that man.
Baishi knew he had to do something. A driving force he didn't quite understand himself told him he had to act, otherwise Pei Cangyu would be in too much pain.
Last night, he had stood in his bedroom, listening to the ticking of the clock. A scream had suddenly pierced through the music he was playing—it was just a stylistic choice in the arrangement, but in that instant, he associated it with Pei Cangyu.
He paced the room, biting his fingernails. He had promised Pei Cangyu he would do something, so he had to do it, or he would die of distress.
He had forced himself to take a shower and lay in bed, turning off the lights and trying to sleep in the pitch-black night, intending to discuss what they could do with Pei Cangyu in the morning. But the moment he closed his eyes, he saw Pei Cangyu’s shattered, broken expression. The image stung him so sharply that his eyes snapped open, and he couldn't close them again.
This wouldn't do.
It was too strange.
Why?
Did Pei Cangyu ask "why" too? Like everyone else involved in these kinds of incidents? Baishi sat up and spent the night searching for related news. Public opinion stood with the majority, but those were only the cases that had been exposed. In the anonymous submissions, the harm suffered by victims often came from acquaintances. Because they knew each other, was it just supposed to be forgotten?
Baishi felt a constant heat in his body. He kicked off the covers and sat up, seriously scrolling through those submissions. In many cases, the victims ended up with low self-esteem and depression. They would go through a long period of self-reflection, wasting away, spending more time alone, trying to repair themselves back to how they used to be.
Baishi thought about how Pei Cangyu’s grades had plummeted. He had clearly tried, but he couldn't do it anymore. If Baishi’s grades only fluctuated because his mind was in a mess, Pei Cangyu’s heart was simply cracked open.
Baishi kept scrolling, hoping to find the victims' wishes—what could be done to help them. Often, the victims chose forgiveness—though it couldn't really be called forgiveness; it was more that they truly couldn't do anything. To them, perhaps never seeing the person again was the best outcome. Only by never meeting again could they begin to soothe themselves and drag themselves out of the mire.
And that was often very difficult. It took a vast amount of time. It wasn't until many years later that they seemed a bit better. But perhaps, in truth, they weren't.
Baishi looked up. Was there no hope?
What should be done?
Baishi didn't know why he cared so much, but one thing was clear: if Pei Cangyu was in pain, Baishi felt that pain too. He couldn't sleep at all when he thought of Pei Cangyu lying awake in terror.
He stood up again and paced. He leaned against the wall, gnawing on his fingernails. He hadn't felt this way in a long time—this sense of losing control, of being unable to do anything. He thought he had grown up, but it wasn't until he encountered a real bastard that he realized his little tricks were just child's play. A true bastard had no logic.
Baishi sat on the floor and continued reading the submissions.
Perhaps because Baishi himself was too pessimistic, he could only read the pain. When they said, "I'm much better now," it didn't look like they were better at all to Baishi. They were just healing themselves the same way they had been hurt—alone. They had no recourse, no logic to help them understand what had happened to them. The very foundation of being a person had collapsed.
Baishi kept scrolling until he stopped at a certain sentence.
"I saw him again during the holidays, haha. I didn't expect to see him. He was walking down the stairs, and I just thought to myself: fall down and die. Really, just fall and die, and then it'll be over. I'm really not a bad person; I just feel like I can't go on like this. I can't believe the world is just like this. Later, as expected, I had a relapse. Sigh, I guess I'll just hide during the holidays from now on."
Baishi stared at those words, sinking into deep thought.
***
Pei Cangyu slowly picked up his backpack. He didn't want to go to school today.
There was no particular reason; he just wanted to go for a walk.
He hadn't gone more than a few steps before Pei Yueshan came out from behind him. Because he had worked overtime yesterday, Pei Yueshan could go in a bit later today. He grabbed Pei Cangyu’s backpack. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Pei Cangyu lowered his head and turned a corner, walking alongside Pei Yueshan.
“Planning to cut class?” Pei Yueshan took out a cigarette and put it in his mouth.
Pei Cangyu didn't speak.
Pei Yueshan stopped talking too, silently walking with him.
On the road, there was a hungover salaryman who had just sobered up. He was walking unsteadily. As he passed them, for some reason, he turned toward Pei Cangyu and let out a loud, aggressive shout.
Pei Cangyu was startled—he had been overly sensitive lately—and flinched back. This seemed to embolden the man, who reached out to grab Pei Cangyu’s hair.
Pei Yueshan intercepted the man’s hand, slammed his cigarette into the man's face, and snarled, "Fuck off, you dumbass!"
Then he rolled up his sleeves and delivered a brutal beating. A few people who had been drinking with the man rushed over to join the fray. It was Pei Yueshan against three, but he taught them each a lesson one by one. Only after spitting on each of their heads did he pull Pei Cangyu away.
Pei Cangyu watched from the side, feeling a sense of dazed detachment.
Then he noticed that Pei Yueshan’s arm had been slashed by one of their keys, leaving a long, bloody gash that was seeping red. Pei Cangyu saw it, but he said nothing.
After bleeding for a while, Pei Yueshan finally noticed. He took off his outer shirt, gave the wound a messy wipe, and then tied the shirt around his arm. With a cigarette dangling from his lips, he asked Pei Cangyu, “Which way?”
Pei Cangyu said, “I’ll go by myself.”
Pei Yueshan waved a hand. “No. What if you skip school again?”
Pei Cangyu didn't want to talk, and Pei Yueshan remained silent with him.
As they neared the school gate, Pei Yueshan suddenly grabbed Pei Cangyu’s backpack strap. Pei Cangyu didn't turn his head; he didn't want to move.
Pei Yueshan’s voice was very low. He said, “Pei Cangyu, I’m definitely going to hell anyway. But you won’t.” He let go of the strap and gave it a pat. “Go to school.”
With that, he turned and walked away.
Pei Cangyu stood there, stunned. There were always these moments that made it impossible to even hate someone wholeheartedly. He truly didn't understand what gave people the right to just do whatever they wanted, to switch roles so freely. What did they think other people were?
Pei Cangyu felt even more disgusted. It would have been better if Pei Yueshan had just stayed a bastard instead of trying to return to normalcy. That would have made things easier for Pei Cangyu.
He didn't want to go to school.
He turned around, only to see the ever-present Baishi standing at the school gate, watching him. “Where are you going?”
Pei Cangyu glared at him impatiently. “Why are you everywhere?”
“I can find you wherever you are.”
Pei Cangyu tried to walk around him.
Baishi reached out and tugged on his backpack. Pei Cangyu stumbled back a few steps, swaying weakly. Baishi was so close he was almost holding him.
But Pei Cangyu didn't move, because he was exhausted. He had no strength left; he didn't want to move.
Baishi’s arms were nearly around him. Leaning down, he could smell the scent of Pei Cangyu’s neck. The stray hairs at the nape of Pei Cangyu's neck brushed against Baishi’s face.
Pei Cangyu lowered his head, burying it against Baishi’s arm. Baishi carried that aloof, refined fragrance characteristic of the Bai family, but now it just smelled familiar. Pei Cangyu took a deep breath and felt Baishi shudder slightly.
Pei Cangyu patted Baishi’s arm. “Let go.”
Baishi paused for a moment, then released his grip, watching as Pei Cangyu walked away from him.
