Wei Zhi seized this moment of tenderness. Raising her tear-filled eyes, she looked at Ji Qikun imploringly.
"Can we move the wedding date forward?"
Ji Qikun didn't react strongly; he didn't even look surprised.
"Why?" he asked.
"I want us to become a real family as soon as possible."
Ji Qikun looked into her eyes. After a moment, he smiled and brushed away the tears at the corners of her eyes.
"Alright."
Hearing his definitive answer, Wei Zhi felt a surge of relief. She continued to cling to him like a fragile bird until he voluntarily released her. She stood up straight at the appropriate moment, wiping the remaining tears from her face with her fingers.
Ji Qikun retrieved some tissues from the dining table and personally wiped away the last traces of moisture from her cheeks.
"You are too kind."
Wei Zhi looked up at him, her tear-streaked eyes resembling those of a pure, innocent doe.
"I’m... kind?"
"Because you're kind, you couldn't bring yourself to refuse your family," he said softly. "I saw long ago that they were just using you, but it wasn't my place to say anything. I was foolish too; my hesitation allowed them to hurt you."
As he wiped her tears, his voice remained gentle.
"I will protect you from now on. You only need to depend on me."
Cold moonlight spilled in through the vast floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a clear, spring-like radiance over his face. The light seemed to dance upon the bridge of his nose. His deep voice sounded like a seductive incantation, giving Wei Zhi the sensation that as long as she handed her life over to him, everything would be resolved.
"...Okay," she whispered, nodding involuntarily.
He watched her eyes for a moment, then smiled.
"This weekend, we’ll go to my eldest uncle’s place to discuss moving up the wedding."
***
The next day, Wei Zhi applied heavier eyeshadow than usual to hide her swollen eyes. In the finance office, she knew that at least Xiao Cai and the inventory accountant—both women—could tell she had been crying. They would likely gossip about her in the restroom later, but she didn't care.
Not long after she sat down at her desk, the office landline rang. Xiao Cai answered, her expression shifting to one of slight surprise before she handed the receiver to Wei Zhi.
"Security. They're looking for you."
Wei Zhi took the phone with confusion, but the answer came quickly—Wang Lin was here, right at the gallery entrance.
She hurried out the main doors and immediately spotted Wang Lin standing by the street, her eyes darting around anxiously. She was fidgeting with her hands, wearing a floral blouse and loose capri pants that looked entirely out of place on this trendy, bourgeois commercial street. Wei Zhi had bought those clothes for her at a mall the year she received her first paycheck. Even though it was a mall, it was from a discount counter; the top and pants together had cost barely two hundred yuan. Yet Wang Lin cherished them, never wearing them while working at the shop.
Wei Zhi’s pace slowed as a wave of anger, fueled by sorrow and pain, surged in her heart.
Seeing her emerge from the gallery, Wang Lin’s eyes lit up. she took quick, small steps to close the remaining distance between them.
"Xiao Zhi, Mom didn't mean to have someone else call you, but you wouldn't pick up my calls, so I..."
"What are you doing here?" Wei Zhi interrupted her explanation.
"Where... where did you sleep last night?" she asked cautiously. "Mom doesn't mean anything by it, I'm just worried about your safety..."
"I slept at Ji Qikun's house." Wei Zhi looked away, forcing her voice to remain cold. "I'm working. If you have something to say, say it quickly."
She had expected Wang Lin to ask why she owed so much money, or about the medication. Wei Zhi could see the questions crowding her mother's throat, desperate to be asked. But under the pressure of Wei Zhi's coldness, Wang Lin rushed to say something else entirely.
"Right, right, right away... Mom wanted to give you this."
Wang Lin pulled a thin cloth bundle from her waist pouch. When unfolded, it revealed ten hundred-yuan bills.
"What is this?"
"Take this. You need money living on your own, don't let yourself go hungry..." Wang Lin paused, then pulled a package wrapped in a black plastic bag from her pouch, holding it hesitantly. "Your brother helped me look up what these medicines are for... Xiao Zhi, do you... do you really have depression? Is it because of the loans, or because of things at home?"
"...What exactly are you doing right now?"
"What?"
"This hypocritical act—who is it for?"
Wang Lin froze.
Wei Zhi could no longer control her emotions; venomous words spilled out one after another.
"Have you ever truly felt sorry for me? Do you actually care why I'm depressed?"
"You just want to maintain the peace of your own life. You just want me to be like you—a puppet who accepts her fate, a numb member of the walking dead, quietly letting those two men suck my blood—"
"That's not true!" Wang Lin denied frantically.
"Then get a divorce," Wei Zhi snapped. "Can you get a divorce for my sake?"
Wang Lin stared at her, speechless.
Wei Zhi had asked her this question countless times. Every time, Wang Lin would dodge the subject or offer hollow excuses. Just as Wei Zhi was trapped by her mother's love, her mother was trapped by something else.
"Every month, I will send your medicine back to the shop. Other than that, do not contact me. I don't want to see you, and I don't want to hear your voice," Wei Zhi said. "The same goes for those two."
She snatched the black plastic bag from Wang Lin’s hand and turned back toward the gallery.
"Xiao Zhi—!" Wang Lin’s voice was frantic.
She didn't look back.
***
*"When a terrifying event occurs, people instinctively seek comfort and protection from their original source of security... Once such a cry goes unanswered, the basic sense of trust begins to shatter. The traumatized person feels completely abandoned, utterly alone, and cast out from the system upon which their survival depends. Thereafter, the sense of alienation and isolation spreads to every relationship, from the most intimate family members to the most abstract communities and religious circles. Once trust is lost, the traumatized person feels less like they are alive and more like they are dead."*
*Trauma and Recovery*. He had touched the cold spine of this book in the bookstore and brought it home.
Since then, he had carved out time every day after work to read it.
His life had been smooth sailing; he knew nothing of life under a different set of possibilities. He wanted to understand the psychology of those trapped behind the light, hoping to find one or two things he could do for them.
He still remembered Professor Chen’s warning—"No one can save another"—but he couldn't just stand by and watch.
He was a police officer of the people. He had chosen this path specifically because he wanted to save others.
Traumatized people were so common that many went their entire lives without realizing they were trapped in PTSD, repeatedly convincing themselves that every concession was made out of "love." He suddenly understood why those he had seen before, despite being abused, still refused to leave.
The word "love" felt heavier to Zhang Kaiyang than ever before.
"Studying psychology again? Thinking of a career change?" Old Wu passed by with his thermos, stopping to lean against Zhang Kaiyang’s desk and tease him. The scent of tea and steam rose from the thermos in his hand.
Zhang Kaiyang quickly put the book down and stood up. "Of course not, I'm just reading for fun."
"Reading for fun..." Old Wu closed the lid of his thermos, eyeing him with a complex expression. "You’ve already earned the title of 'Relationship Expert' in our station. Whenever there's a domestic dispute, they send you to mediate. What are your thoughts on that?"
"...What do you mean?" Zhang Kaiyang blinked, not catching Old Wu’s drift.
Old Wu sighed. "Are you really willing to deal with emotional disputes for the rest of your life? Your grades at the police academy were top-tier. Don't you want to handle some major cases?"
Finally understanding the implication, Zhang Kaiyang laughed, his neat white teeth contrasting with his tanned skin.
"I'm fine. Someone has to take every case. As long as I can help people, I'm happy."
"What a fool. Only you could deal with this trivial neighborhood junk every day and still come out smiling," Old Wu grumbled, shaking his head as he turned to leave.
"Wait, Master!" Zhang Kaiyang chased after him. "Is there any progress on Weng Xiuyue’s lawsuit? The deadline for the verdict is getting closer."
"Why are you asking me? Aren't you in private contact with Weng Xiuyue? You should know better than I do," Old Wu said crossly, clearly displeased that Zhang was blurring the lines between his professional and private life, helping Weng Xiuyue investigate even after taking off his uniform.
"You knew? Sorry, Master... but I definitely haven't abused my authority. I just wanted to help however I could..." Zhang Kaiyang rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.
Old Wu gave a theatrical snort, though his eyes didn't hold real anger.
"It's just like I told you before. She’s likely going to lose," Old Wu said, then quickly added, "That’s word from a contact I have at the court. Don't you dare turn around and tell Weng Xiuyue."
The smile faded from Zhang Kaiyang’s face.
"Stop wasting your energy. Focus on the cases that have actually been filed."
Old Wu patted his shoulder sympathetically and was about to leave when Zhang Kaiyang stopped him again.
The next day, Zhang Kaiyang swapped shifts with a colleague to take an early leave. After much pestering—promising to buy dinner and gift some fine tea—he finally got Old Wu to agree to pull some strings and arrange a meeting with the presiding judge in charge of Weng Xiuyue’s lawsuit.
At two in the afternoon, Zhang Kaiyang stepped through the solemn gates of the court, his heart pounding with nerves.
After waiting for about half an hour, he finally met the presiding judge, who had just finished a hearing. He was a thin man in his fifties of average height. Perhaps because he had just stepped off the bench, his face still bore a steady, serious expression.
After a few brief pleasantries, the judge personally poured a cup of tea for Zhang Kaiyang.
Zhang Kaiyang stood up awkwardly and accepted it with both hands.
The judge sat back on the black sofa opposite him, pushed his glasses up his nose, and got straight to the point.
"Old Wu and I have known each other for many years. He said he’s never met someone like you. To be honest, it’s a first for me too, meeting a young man like you. I know why you’re here, but I want to ask: why?"
"...Why what?" Zhang Kaiyang, who was about to launch into his prepared speech, was caught off guard.
"Old Wu said that Mei Man’s fall was ruled a suicide. The matter is closed as far as your station is concerned, and it certainly has nothing to do with you personally. But I hear you’ve been using your private time to conduct interviews, and you’ve even come to me. I want to ask, why are you doing this? Does this case have some personal connection to you?"
This was the question held not only by the judge, but by Old Wu and many others at the station.
Zhang Kaiyang knew his behavior seemed incomprehensible to many.
If he didn't follow major cases, he couldn't earn major merits. A "Relationship Expert" would remain a "Relationship Expert" forever, never becoming a station chief or a bureau director. Zhang Kaiyang knew all of this.
But he truly didn't care.
Was it naive? Perhaps. Was it foolish? Maybe.
But he felt that since there were bad people in the world who had lost their humanity, there ought to be fools like him who were single-mindedly devoted to helping others.
"Because I have a guilty conscience," Zhang Kaiyang said.
"Oh? Why guilty?" The judge leaned forward, looking intrigued.
"Because everyone knows that Mei Man’s suicide is inextricably linked to Ji Qikun. We all know it, yet we are powerless against him," Zhang Kaiyang said. "I am a police officer, yet I had to watch a murderer walk out the station doors."
The judge’s tone was meaningful. "Ji Qikun did not commit murder. That was the conclusion of your police station."
Zhang Kaiyang reached into his backpack and pulled out the book he had prepared. He solemnly pushed it across the coffee table toward the judge.
"Mental control—this term isn't very common in domestic circles, but it has a more familiar name: 'PUA.' Ji Qikun’s long-term mental control over Mei Man made it highly likely that at the moment she jumped, she was in an 'unresistible state of trauma.' I believe this falls under the category of the crime of abuse, which is why I suggested Weng Xiuyue sue him on those grounds."
"I heard from my master that this case might end in Weng Xiuyue’s defeat. That’s why I came here. I strongly hope you will look at this book, Your Honor. The author is a top American expert on psychological trauma. Perhaps after reading it, you will have a different perspective..." Zhang Kaiyang pleaded, pushing the book further toward the judge.
The judge let out a long breath, a sigh that bordered on helplessness.
He picked up the book, which was already dog-eared from repeated reading. "I will read it," he said. "However, you shouldn't get your hopes up."
"First, psychological abuse isn't as obvious as physical abuse. It’s difficult to define, and there are no precedents to refer to. Second, under current Chinese law, the crime of abuse is limited to family members living together."
"Mei Man and Ji Qikun were only a couple; it doesn't constitute the crime of abuse. As for the crime of intentional injury, one must prove that the perpetrator's actions directly led to physical injury of at least a 'minor' grade or higher, which is difficult to prove in this case. Your station knows this even better than our court."
"But—" Zhang Kaiyang couldn't help but interject, "the evidence Weng Xiuyue provided proves that Ji Qikun subjected Mei Man to long-term mistreatment—"
"Mei Man was an adult of normal intelligence," the judge said. "She was neither restricted in her freedom nor coerced by violence. She should have been aware of the consequences of her choices."
The judge’s calm, resolute words made the final verdict clear as day.
Zhang Kaiyang sat there, stunned, his heart sinking continuously.
Perhaps seeing the utter defeat on his face, even the judge showed a hint of sympathy. The man dropped his professional tone and spoke with the gentle manner of a senior colleague.
"When I first started working, I was just like you—a total idealist. I wanted nothing more than to catch every bad person in the world and ensure every criminal got the punishment they deserved. But the law is not a spear in your hand from ancient times, to be thrust at whomever you wish."
"The law is like a net that was originally full of holes, which generation after generation has refined into a cloth. But no matter how dense the fabric, there will always be gaps. As society progresses and concepts change, the appearance of people like Ji Qikun who slip through the holes will cause this cloth to become denser and denser, until it is seamless. But all of this takes a long time."
"If you allow one exception, more exceptions will follow, and then exceptions to those exceptions. How would you judge when to make an exception and when not to? In the end, the cloth would return to being full of holes. Once a principle is altered, there is no end to the consequences."
A dry sound escaped Zhang Kaiyang’s throat.
"So... the criminals who slip through the holes and remain at large... do we just ignore them?"
He hoped to hear an explanation that would make the deep sense of guilt in his heart vanish.
But the judge only lowered his wrinkled eyelids, masking a gaze filled with weariness and sorrow.
"The law has no optimal solution, and it is not perfect. I regret to say it, but I must admit that what pushes the rule of law forward is precisely the occurrence of these individual cases."
Zhang Kaiyang was speechless.
His logic could accept this answer; in fact, his logic agreed with the judge’s caution.
But his emotions sank into a pool of icy water.
Those simple words—"individual cases"—represented the brief life of a person, or even an entire family.
To advance the greater rule of law, must they sacrifice their own flesh and blood?
Neither man spoke again. Even the steam rising from the teacups gradually vanished.
The skyline outside the window looked exceptionally heavy in the gray afternoon. The skyscrapers stood like silent giants amidst the oppression. The thin sunlight struggled to pierce the thick clouds, yet it could hardly illuminate the world shrouded in shadow.
Zhang Kaiyang was lost.
***
**Glossary**
