Chapter 39: Jiang Ling

Late summer mornings were cool, especially in a cemetery where the sun had yet to reach. The wind blowing from the mountains carried a peculiar, heavy scent.

He Jueyun followed Qiong Cang all the way to a spot near the center. He watched as she crouched down and placed the bouquets in her hands before two adjacent gravestones.

Gray stone slabs and white chrysanthemums¹; a person’s existence became so simple after death.

He Jueyun recalled Qiong Cang mentioning before that she had nearly gone bankrupt buying two burial plots. This must be the place. He just did not understand what this had to do with Li Yujia.

He bent down, leaning closer to the gravestones to read the inscriptions. Once he saw the names clearly, he froze.

“They are…”

Qiong Cang nodded. “A year ago, she happily told me that her son was about to be released from prison. But having waited ten years, she was very nervous. She didn’t know how to face him, or what attitude to adopt to protect her son, to ensure he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable with their estranged relationship while also encouraging him to accept a new life as soon as possible. I said, ‘I didn’t major in psychology, so I don’t know. But he should be able to understand your acceptance of him.'”

Listening to her, He Jueyun knew that Qiong Cang’s relationship with this woman named Jiang Ling was out of the ordinary.

Her tone wavered when she mentioned this person, and there was sadness in her eyes as she looked at the cold gravestone.

Xie Qimeng thought she was an unfeeling person who lacked empathy, but she clearly was not.

As He Jueyun’s thoughts drifted, he heard Qiong Cang continue, “During the ten years her son was in prison, she never gave up her appeals. She always believed her son was innocent because that was what Fan Huai claimed to her. As a mother, she could only persevere by relying on her trust in her son. But up until Fan Huai was released, they never found any evidence to overturn the case.”

Qiong Cang brushed her fingers over the photograph, wiping away the dust.

The woman in the photo had delicate features and a bright smile. It was an ID photo taken when she was young, because after Fan Huai went to prison, she had never taken a beautiful photo again.

Qiong Cang stood up and took a step back.

“Since Fan Huai was about to be released, she hoped everything could be left in the past, even if there was no so-called truth. All those years of running around made her realize that obsessing over something fruitless might waste the rest of her life. Fan Huai was still young, only twenty-six. Ten years is a long time, enough for many people to forget what happened back then. She felt that perhaps they could start anew.”

Exhaustion could make a person compromise. The despair lay in the fact that the person who finally chose to compromise discovered in the end that the same fate still awaited her.

He Jueyun sighed. “For the unfortunate, fate is a labyrinth.”

You never know when it will suddenly take a turn. You think you are driving down a shortcut to the future, but you don’t know that it might just be a trap set by a hunter. Even if you face every turn with your heart in your throat, the exit is always moving in the opposite direction.

“I’ve never believed that a so-called fresh start is an optimistic concept. In essence, it’s nothing more than wishful escapism.” Qiong Cang gave a cold laugh and said, “But in this world, cowardice is not a crime. For Jiang Ling, that was her best possible outcome, and I can understand it. But for some people, it has only just begun. How can water that is close to boiling calm down just because she wishes it to?”

Looking at her back bathed in the morning light, He Jueyun asked, “What kind of person do you think Fan Huai is?”

Qiong Cang thought for a moment, then tilted her head up to offer her assessment. “Fan Huai is a genius with highly uneven skills. His grades in school were always average because the school didn’t have courses suited for him, and he didn’t like the academic atmosphere anyway. He lacked the drive to study and spent his days in a daze. He was the type of student who livened up the classroom and liked to cause a stir, yet wasn’t disliked. Everyone has someone like that around them. But in reality, his spatial reasoning ability is outstanding, far exceeding that of ordinary people. That is also why he was later able to avoid all surveillance and escape the police’s tight dragnet without any prior planning.”

Qiong Cang said, “I’ve never actually had direct contact with him. If you ask me what kind of person he is, I can’t give you an objective answer beyond an academic evaluation. That’s because everything I know about him comes from Jiang Ling. And I doubt you would accept her assessment of him.”

He Jueyun asked, “Why did you take him on as a student in the first place?”

Qiong Cang said, “Fan Huai saw me in a scientific journal and became curious about me. He wrote me a letter to test the waters, but I didn’t receive it. Later, he asked his mother to deliver the letter for him.”

Qiong Cang’s voice trailed off.

She remembered the first time she saw Jiang Ling.

By then, she had already begun living on her own for a long time. However, without any guidance from adults, her life was rather messy. She studied and grew in that rough, dismal environment, discarding everything she deemed superfluous, and became an oddball in the eyes of the public.

Gloomy in character, cold in attitude, unkempt, and slovenly.

Few people ever approached her, and even fewer cared about her. The polite formalities of social etiquette were the greatest kindness she could hope to receive.

She had seen fear and disgust in the expressions of countless people, and she disliked them just as much in return.

Back then, Jiang Ling stood humbly at her door, holding a letter. Every once in a while, she would raise her hand to knock.

The window in the dormitory stairwell was wide open, and as night fell, the temperature plummeted.

Qiong Cang did not open the door out of empathy for Jiang Ling, but rather out of irritation at being constantly disturbed.

Upon seeing her, Jiang Ling’s face, which was clearly young yet already deeply lined with wrinkles, first lit up with pleasant surprise, dispelling the exhaustion on her features. Then, surprise took over as she sized Qiong Cang up and down for a long time. Clearly, she had not expected her son’s so-called “A University teacher” to be a girl who looked much younger than her son and was visibly malnourished.

Qiong Cang waited for a moment. Seeing that she remained silent, she coldly went to close the door. In her haste, Jiang Ling jammed her hand into the gap.

The door slammed hard against her fingers. Jiang Ling let out a cry of pain, but she successfully blocked Qiong Cang from shutting her out.

Qiong Cang stared at her coldly, trying to discern her true motive.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry. I just spaced out for a second. I pinched my own hand.” Jiang Ling gasped in pain, stuffing the letter into her coat. Freeing up a hand to nurse her swelling knuckles, she offered Qiong Cang a friendly smile. “Are there no adults at home?” she asked.

Qiong Cang tilted her head. It was the first time she had ever seen such an indescribable expression on a stranger’s face, one that mixed embarrassment, ingratiation, and warmth.

She felt a sincerity from this woman that set her apart from others.

Her instincts were never wrong.

And that was precisely why she did not drive the woman away.

“Let me help you tidy up the place,” Jiang Ling said. “Did you forget to throw out the kitchen trash? I think I smell sewage.”

Qiong Cang remained silent, stepping aside slightly to let her in.

Jiang Ling stepped inside and found the situation even worse than she had imagined. Tucking her hands away, her toe accidentally brushed against a pile of takeout boxes on the floor, and the clutter ahead looked even more disastrous than the entryway. She turned back to look at Qiong Cang.

“What is it?” Qiong Cang asked.

Jiang Ling sized her up, reaching out to gently tug the collar of her T-shirt. “Let me go buy you a couple of new shirts first,” she said with a smile. “What kind of clothes do you like?”

Qiong Cang’s lips parted slightly, and she raised an eyebrow, unfamiliar with this kind of interaction. She read a sense of genuine happiness on Jiang Ling’s face, so much so that she thought she was imagining it.

“They’re all the same,” Qiong Cang had said back then. “Whatever is fine.”

·

He Jueyun’s low voice broke her train of thought. “Is that when you met his mother?” he asked.

“Yes,” Qiong Cang said, the corners of her lips curving upward. “She was very good to me. Her daughter had gone to college and married before even graduating, drifting away from her. Her son was behind bars, unable to be there for her. She was incredibly lonely and desperately wanted to be needed. She was a gentle soul, but unfortunately, her life circumstances made everyone who knew her reject that gentleness. I happened to look like someone who needed taking care of, so she redirected her maternal affection toward me.”

It was solely for Jiang Ling’s sake that Qiong Cang had accepted Fan Huai as her student and guided him so diligently.

Initially, she felt nothing special toward this student she had never met. She simply thought of it as a way to offset Jiang Ling’s “housekeeping fees.” She hated owing anyone.

Yet, Jiang Ling had taught her a great deal in return.

The middle-aged woman was always rambling, with an endless stream of things to say, showing her care in every little detail.

Her influence on Qiong Cang was subtle but profound, quietly marking a turning point in Qiong Cang’s otherwise monotonous life. It had even given her the illusion of having a family.

Under her influence, Qiong Cang began to present herself decently and act politely.

She learned that clothes needed to be washed and changed regularly, that layering T-shirts over T-shirts was not the proper way to dress, that life required a certain quality, and that keeping clean was a good habit. She learned that optimism was an attitude and humor was a virtue. She had even read through a collection of Chinese and foreign dry jokes² on Jiang Ling’s recommendation.

Even if they never came in handy.

Qiong Cang’s voice drifted softly on the wind, yet every word remained distinct.

“She tried so carefully to find a balance, wanting nothing more than to live peacefully in this fragile, volatile world.

“But over four months ago, her daughter died, and her son became a brutal murderer once again. All the evidence proved that he was an utterly vicious, unforgivable monster. So, she committed suicide.”

A person who had lost her faith, carrying a pain she could never let go of, had departed this world.

He Jueyun glanced at the dates carved on the tombstones. Both were painted in bright red: April 3rd.

The very day the police had launched a city-wide manhunt for Fan Huai.

“Before she died, she called me and said, ‘I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked you to teach my son.'” A pale smile touched Qiong Cang’s lips. “I thought her apology was absurd. It’s impossible for me to judge the past based on events that haven’t happened yet. Besides, people shouldn’t evaluate a process solely by its outcome. I don’t believe the knowledge I taught Fan Huai led him astray, and I certainly don’t regret it. But if I had taken a moment to offer her a word of encouragement back then, perhaps she would have held on.”

Looking at Qiong Cang’s bloodless lips and her slender frame, which looked as though it might be swept away by the wind, He Jueyun felt an inexplicable, unspeakable bitterness rise in his chest.

The sunlight spilling over the crest of the hill draped a translucent, golden shroud over her.

For the first time, He Jueyun felt with absolute certainty that this person was just like any ordinary human being.

She was neither unfeeling nor cold; she had simply grown accustomed to facing the world with silence.

Just because she did not display her joys and sorrows to others did not mean she felt nothing.

A young woman drifting like duckweed, and a mother who could not find her way home. He Jueyun could easily picture the two of them clumsily supporting each other, seeking mutual solace.

They had occupied a far more important place in each other’s lives than they realized.

Hearing his own voice sound dry and raspy, He Jueyun asked, “Do you believe Fan Huai is innocent?”

He Jueyun’s question caught Qiong Cang off guard, sending her into a brief daze.

Qiong Cang recalled how, back then, Jiang Ling would occasionally talk to her about Fan Huai’s case.

Jiang Ling had always lacked someone to talk to. Her daughter refused to live in a world of self-delusion, so Jiang Ling did her best not to bring it up in front of her. Yet she couldn’t very well tell strangers that her son, who had already been convicted by the court, was actually innocent. She felt that would be too disrespectful to the victim.

Only when facing the precocious, quiet Qiong Cang did her irrepressible urge to confide in someone finally surface.

She had not been looking for Qiong Cang’s validation; she had only needed Qiong Cang’s silence.

Out of curiosity, Qiong Cang had looked up the relevant files from back then. When Jiang Ling brought it up again, she told her, “I looked into Fan Huai’s case. The eyewitness and physical evidence back then were very complete. The witnesses had no connection to one another and no grudges against Fan Huai. The evidence and logic of the case fit together perfectly. The probability of it being a wrongful conviction is very low.”

Jiang Ling seemed startled. Her face turned pale instantly, as if she was terrified of what Qiong Cang might say next. She stammered, “Is… is that so? He… he… maybe.”

Qiong Cang was surprised by her intense reaction. She quickly realized that countless people had probably said similar things to Jiang Ling before, and whatever followed those words surely wouldn’t have been pleasant.

So she added, “Unless the real Murderer has a great deal of influence.”

Perhaps because she was bad at lying and her words rang hollow, Jiang Ling did not believe her. Instead, she fell into a state of deep panic because of them.

She was truly a kind person. She accepted the moral judgment society inflicted on the families of criminals, viewing it as part of the cost of the crime.

Only much later, when Jiang Ling never brought up the matter again, did Qiong Cang realize that her careless remark back then might have hurt her.

Qiong Cang’s fingers twitched slightly, and she clenched them into a fist against her palm. “I never judge others by vague standards like good or bad. I only believe in evidence and facts. If Jiang Ling is so hung up on the so-called truth, then I’m quite interested as well.”

He Jueyun gave her a long look, then asked, “Are you free on Wednesday?”

Qiong Cang dipped her chin to thank him.

He Jueyun still had one question he couldn’t figure out. He raised his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, hiding the stinging in his eyes, and asked, “Why did you ask me for help?” The two of them weren’t actually that close, were they?

Qiong Cang said sincerely, “Because you’re a good person.”

If it had just been that sentence, it would have been fine, but she just had to add, “And relatively easy to fool.”

He Jueyun instantly felt like he was having a heart attack.

“Good person” was turned into a derogatory term by people like them.

Qiong Cang, however, gave him an innocent smile from across the table.

Translator’s Notes