chapter 5

She thought of the murderer she’d run into on the bus the day before yesterday-the one with the burlap sack.

He still hadn’t been found.

So she couldn’t help wondering if he’d come looking for her.

The more Qiu Rongrong thought about it, the colder she felt.

First she sped up, then she jogged, and finally she broke into a frantic sprint all the way home.

The moment she got back, she bolted the door.

“What’s wrong?” Zhou Jingxing happened to be coming down from the second floor. His eyes fixed on the bruise at the corner of her mouth. “What happened to your face?”

“I got picked on by a clique in my class.” Qiu Rongrong had too much on her mind, her breathing still uneven.

Right now, she needed to be with someone.

Only with someone nearby did she feel safe.

“Come up. I’ve got iodine in my room. I’ll put some on it.”

Qiu Rongrong sat on the edge of Zhou Jingxing’s bed.

Zhou Jingxing took out the first-aid kit, pulled out the iodine, and dabbed it on carefully. “A girl’s face is important. Don’t let it scar. If anyone bullies you again, tell me right away. I’ll handle it for you.”

“Thanks.” With him there, the panic she’d felt on the way home slowly ebbed.

He smiled, just like always. “You can lean on me. You don’t need to thank me.”

The antiseptic stung. It hurt a little.

His gaze fell on the corner of her lips-like it was casual, yet it lingered far too long.

Long enough to make Qiu Rongrong uneasy.

His thumb brushed over the bruise at her mouth, and he said hoarsely, “I’ll blow on it. It won’t hurt as much.”

Qiu Rongrong’s heartbeat started spiraling out of control.

No.

This couldn’t go on.

She forced her eyes away. “Brother… on the way back from school just now, I felt like someone was following me.”

One sentence shattered the hazy, intimate atmosphere.

“Oh? You think so?” Zhou Jingxing set the iodine down and walked to the window. He spotted a white figure tucked in the flowerbed, pulled the curtain shut, then turned back with a smile. “Maybe you’re just not used to things yet. You just transferred, so you’re wound a little tight.”

“It’s not… forget it.” Qiu Rongrong clenched her fist inside her sleeve, then slowly loosened it.

If that murderer really was still out there, she couldn’t drag her brother into this mess.

From then on, Qiu Rongrong only made breakfast and dinner at home.

At noon she stayed at school and didn’t come back.

When she went to clear the dishes, she saw the cake left outside Zhou Huaiyuan’s door had already spoiled.

Flies circled over it.

She pushed open Zhou Huaiyuan’s door, intending to ask why he hadn’t eaten.

Zhou Huaiyuan turned his head, like a mountain that might collapse at any moment.

Heavy. Slow.

His face was so swollen it looked like a steamed bun left to soak in rain until it went soft.

Seeing Qiu Rongrong, his breathing hitched. He opened his mouth like a black hole and let out a mournful wail. “Hungry… I’m hungry.”

Like a baby crying.

He slipped off the chair.

Crashed into a pile of takeout boxes.

He was like a giant monstrous infant, reaching for the tray in Qiu Rongrong’s hands even though the food on it had gone bad. His knuckles were squeezed by layers of fat, like five thick meat sausages.

“Give it to me.”

He crawled forward.

But his own weight pinned him to the floor.

“My stomach’s empty.” He shoved his fingers into his mouth and chewed, his face smeared with snot and tears. “I’m so hungry. My stomach’s going to eat me.”

He was already too fat to even get up and grab the food outside his door.

Qiu Rongrong immediately set the milk from the tray-still good-down in front of him.

Guilt rose in her chest.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you couldn’t walk. The milk is okay-drink this first. I’ll go make something right now.”

She rushed downstairs, dumped all the noodles from the fridge into the pot, then sliced in some celery and shredded pork.

When she came back up carrying the pot, Zhou Huaiyuan had already finished the spoiled cake. He held the plate and ran a tongue over it-greasy, slick as pork fat-licking it clean.

“That’s spoiled. You can’t eat that.”

But he still wanted to.

He tried to shove the plate into his mouth.

“Hey, slow down!”

He snatched the scalding pot of noodle soup and plunged his head straight into it.

In the struggle, hot soup splashed onto the back of Qiu Rongrong’s hand.

It burned.

“It’s really hot-use a bowl!” Afraid he’d burn himself badly, Qiu Rongrong grabbed a half-finished bottle of mineral water nearby and poured it into the pot.
His face was buried deep in the pot.

He tore into the noodles with greedy bites.

“Don’t eat like that.”

Her vision swam.

Like a pig. Like a dog.

He didn’t even have time to chew. The food wasn’t food to him-it was just something to stuff into the hollow in his stomach.

“Slow down. You’ll have another meal.”

A voice spoke in her head.

No-eat faster.

Who knew when the next meal would come?

With a boom, her brain seemed to explode.

The ringing in Qiu Rongrong’s ears returned, and she stumbled back a few steps.

Zhou Huaiyuan’s thick fingers were red and swollen, covered in deep bite marks.

Qiu Rongrong remembered the killer torturing her father right in front of her-chopping off her father’s fingers and forcing him to eat them.

Her throat seized. She retched a few times, stomach acid surging up and burning her throat raw.

She braced a hand against the wall. Every cell in her body screamed at her to get out of this room reeking of rotten food.

Zhou Huaiyuan lifted the soup pot and poured the last mouthful of noodle broth straight down his throat.

Noodles hung from his chin. His face shone with grease, and soup stains clung to the corners of his mouth.

Clang.

The pot hit the floor.

The murkiness in his eyes slowly cleared a little.

“Don’t go, little sister. I’m not full yet.” Zhou Huaiyuan licked his lips and opened his mouth-scalded raw. “There are bugs in the house, crawling around outside the door. Can you boil one for me to eat?”

Qiu Rongrong saw a cockroach crawl out of a takeout container.

Her stomach churned violently.

The ringing in her ears cut off the voices around her. Her breathing turned rapid, and the scene in front of her looked like a film strip being torn apart-frame after frame jumping.

Finger bones, pools of blood, eyes twisted in pain… it all surged up at once. Her father’s bloated face after he died overlapped with the soup-smeared face in front of her.

Ignoring Zhou Huaiyuan’s hungry pleading, Qiu Rongrong staggered out of the room.

Then she collapsed in the hallway.

She woke up in Zhou Jingxing’s bed.

A warm towel was still pressed to her forehead.

“You were overstressed. You had a convulsion and passed out.” Zhou Jingxing handed her a cup of warm water. “Do you want me to help you ask the school for leave tomorrow?”

“No. I’ll be fine after I rest for a bit.” Qiu Rongrong closed her eyes.

She wanted to cry, but nothing would come.

So she still hadn’t truly made it out of that year.

“Do you want me to stay with you?”

“…No.” She wanted to be alone for a while.

“Then sleep.”

Zhou Jingxing tucked in the blanket, closed the door, and left her to rest.

She reached for the phone on the nightstand. After hesitating, she dialed Uncle Zhou.

No one answered.

Qiu Rongrong edited a text instead.

“Uncle Zhou, my brother’s binge-eating disorder is very serious. He can’t keep staying locked up in that room. He needs psychological treatment.”

She needed it too.

But she wasn’t going to tell Uncle Zhou.

She’d already caused him so much trouble. She didn’t want them worrying about her anymore.

Uncle Zhou never replied.

Qiu Rongrong tried to pull herself together.

She bought lightbulbs from the hardware store and replaced every dead one in the house.

She watered and fertilized the flowers in the garden.

She dragged out garbage bags and packed up all the takeout boxes from Zhou Huaiyuan’s room, then threw them away.

Then she took a brush, squeezed on dish soap, and scrubbed the filth off him.

After he’d eaten his fill, he became especially dull. He would slump there and fall asleep, snoring loud enough to shake the walls-almost the same as the gurgling sounds his belly made when he was hungry.

She poured cold water straight over him, and he still didn’t react.

When she finished scrubbing, she blow-dried him.

Then she sprayed air freshener.

Now, Zhou Huaiyuan had gone from a filthy fat older brother to a slightly cleaner fat older brother.

Qiu Rongrong felt that working up a sweat made her mood better.

So she simply rolled up her sleeves and cleaned the entire villa from top to bottom.

When she was done, she looked up and saw Zhou Jingxing standing on the second-floor corridor, looking down.

His brows were drawn together.

But when he noticed her staring up at him, he smiled again.

As if that trace of chill had only been her imagination.