17 Text Message

Both were lost in tangled thoughts, so much so that the silence between them felt as loud and intrusive as ringing bells and beating drums.

Suddenly, Zhou Suirong recalled that she had originally planned to return after dropping the person off in City B. When had that resolve crumbled?

Her fingers gripping the steering wheel turned white with pressure, as if the road ahead was a path of no return.

With her abilities, was she really going to educate someone about the law? The law of a sorcerer?

Fang Qingzhao kept her head down, texting nervously and breathlessly explaining, "She’s asking me to cooperate with the investigation. Just joking around."

Zhou Suirong couldn’t convince herself to believe that. She forced out a gentle, soft “Mm” from her chest and said as tactfully as possible, "You know turning yourself in voluntarily can lead to lighter punishment, right?"

Fang Qingzhao replied, "I know."

Hearing the stubbornness in her tone, Zhou Suirong held her breath and said, "Then you know..."

Fang Qingzhao hurriedly interrupted her reply, "I know!!"

She wasn’t sure if she was speaking to Zhou Suirong or the person on the other end of her phone, but she said, "I just need a little time, a buffer."

Zhou Suirong took a deep breath. Knowing Fang Qingzhao well, she swallowed back the questions that threatened to spill out. Her throat still burned dry after several attempts. She struggled to maintain a calm demeanor and asked, "Is your buffer in City B?"

Without looking up, Fang Qingzhao muttered, "Yes."

Zhou Suirong asked, "Can I take back what I said earlier?"

"You mean about the ex-boyfriend?" Fang Qingzhao finally looked up, relieved and magnanimous, "Sure."

Zhou Suirong: "...I meant the part where I said, ‘I don’t care what you do in City B.’"

Fang Qingzhao gave a faint "Oh."

Zhou Suirong suggested, "Can we both take that back together?"

Fang Qingzhao wasn’t too pleased, "Just like that?"

Zhou Suirong laughed, but the warmth faded quickly, crushed by the weight of his worries.

He was so confused he didn’t know what to say; it seemed anything he uttered would only worsen matters beyond repair.

The thought that harsh words might make Fang Qingzhao lose her trust in him, that he might fail to hold onto her at the last moment, sent a chill of panic and fear creeping deep into his bones.

Zhou Suirong almost resigned himself to the idea that he was making excuses and even deceiving himself. The remaining rationality screamed, fragile and on the edge. But it seemed there was no other way. After all, pointless arguments were the worst choice. Silence was better.

Fang Qingzhao buried her head in her phone, texting Ji He.

Fang Qingzhao: He heard it.

Ji He: That's great.

Fang Qingzhao: ??

Ji He: Don’t underestimate the police. I worry that a fine young patriot might send himself behind bars on a whim. That’s a loss no one wants to see.

Ji He: What if Zhou Suirong really did kill someone? What if that breaks your rules? What if, after learning the truth, he tries to kill himself again? Have you really thought through all the consequences?

Fang Qingzhao: He wouldn’t kill anyone.

Ji He: Your resistance only proves you’re wavering. Your trust doesn’t seem firm enough.

Fang Qingzhao: I just need a little time.

Fang Qingzhao: If you find any evidence to convict him, I’ll take him to surrender immediately. Otherwise, stop saying that.

She deleted those messages one by one.

Fang Qingzhao: Has that person Shen Zhiyang mentioned been found?

Ji He: Not yet. No one appeared in the coffee shop surveillance. The cameras always shut down before he shows up.

Ji He: We went to the technical investigation team at the city bureau to help Shen Zhiyang create a composite sketch. We spent a long time assembling and refining it.

Her replies slowed by a few seconds, suggesting some difficulties.

Ji He: We’re arranging with her colleagues for a lineup. If that fails, we’ll have to check nearby surveillance.

Ji He: We contacted the landlord of the apartment where the body was hidden. They said the place was sold two months ago at a higher price. Since they’re not returning to the country, they couldn’t transfer ownership, but the buyer didn’t mind. The contract was signed online, and payment was wired from an overseas account. The ID attached to the contract is a woman’s; we’re trying to reach her.

Fang Qingzhao: He’s acting brazenly, leaving too many loopholes, not seriously hiding his identity. You should find out who he is soon.

Ji He was exhausted, chatting with Fang Qingzhao with a sense of despair, wanting to smash the whole thing to bits: Even if we find him, so what? At most, we can have a little chat. Unless he suddenly has a change of heart and confesses.

Ji He: Any news from City B?

Fang Qingzhao: I’m not there yet.

Ji He: ? Are you on a field trip? Even riding a donkey, you’d be there by now.

Fang Qingzhao: [Location] Halfway there.

Ji He, unimpressed by her speed, teased again: Are you driving a broken tricycle?

Fang Qingzhao countered: Any news from City B?

Ji He: What news? Without solid evidence or suspect details, no case can be opened. There’s nowhere to even be cautious. Also, a female corpse was found on the outskirts recently, suspected to be a client killing a fallen woman after a dispute. The city is busy cracking down on prostitution and rounding up suspects; the detention center is nearly full.

Fang Qingzhao, ignorant on the matter, was slightly shocked: So many clients?

Ji He: Not really. There are many economic crimes, internet scams, illegal businesses. Plus various disputes, fights, traffic accidents, and mutual accusations in game halls... People are restless these days.

Ji He: When you return to City A, I’ll have my friend from the anti-prostitution unit tell you some tearjerking love declarations. We can discuss the nature of love.

Fang Qingzhao: No thanks.

Fang Qingzhao: I get carsick. No more talking.

She put away her phone and glanced at Zhou Suirong.

Both were lost in thought, their breaths weaving into a tangled mess, time seeming to stretch with each second.

This state lasted until around noon. Passing through a city, Zhou Suirong exited the highway and found a well-rated restaurant.

There were no parking spaces nearby, so Zhou Suirong dropped Fang Qingzhao off at the entrance to wait inside and enjoy the air conditioning.

However, when he found a spot and returned, Fang Qingzhao was still waiting by the roadside.

She stood on a square curb, gazing toward the street in his direction. Her slender figure was upright, strands of her long hair catching flecks of golden light, making her look warm and radiant.

Seeing Zhou Suirong approach, she offered a carefully considered suggestion: “I think we can arrive in City B tomorrow afternoon.”

A faint smile unconsciously curved Zhou Suirong’s lips. Looking up at her, he understood: “You’re tired from sitting.”

“A bit,” Fang Qingzhao admitted. “Not that your driving is bad, but next time let’s take the high-speed train.”

She lifted her hand and placed it on Zhou Suirong’s shoulder, stopping him in place.

Fang Qingzhao knew this wasn’t a good time, but withholding part of the truth wasn’t fair to Zhou Suirong. If he judged the risk too high and ran away halfway, it would be a huge loss.

From her vantage point, she unexpectedly shared the edited details: “Remember I told you about the murder in City A? The fleeing accomplice knows me well enough to have the killer pretend to be me afterward. The case itself isn’t directly related to me, but it involves some of my past research, so the police have to keep an eye on me.”

Zhou Suirong could only rate this story a five out of ten. “How did the killer impersonate you? Did she have plastic surgery?”

Fang Qingzhao replied mysteriously, “No, a more advanced method.”

He studied her for a long moment, his analytical gaze saying more than words, tracing her facial features carefully, then murmured: “Fang Qingzhao, do you know that when lies spiral out of control, they usually become irreversible?”

She replied firmly, “Impossible. I’m telling the truth. I’m just selectively describing the facts.”

Seeing her so confident, he teased, “Good, learning to lie now, just to deal with me?”

She was quick to respond, “Do you think I’m trying to deal with you?”

Zhou Suirong felt like he’d been lightly pricked but her expression said otherwise. Suspicious, he asked, “Are you mocking me?”

Fang Qingzhao blinked, “I’m not. Which sentence?”

Zhou Suirong said, “Why do you like using rhetorical questions to sound sarcastic lately?”

Fang Qingzhao promptly defended herself with reason: “Rhetorical questions are a kind and respectful way to express oneself. They give the other person space to think and negotiate. That’s why teachers and employees often end with ‘What do you think?’ after answering or suggesting something. What’s wrong with that?”

Zhou Suirong was speechless.

She gave another example: “For instance, if someone asks, ‘Can I interview you?’ option A: ‘Do you think I can?’ versus option B: ‘No.’ Option A is more personable.”

“I choose B!” Zhou Suirong said nervously, suspecting she’d learned strange things when he wasn’t around. “Stop using rhetorical questions. They don’t suit you.”

Fang Qingzhao was surprised, then argued, “Lin Jie always says that.”

Zhou Suirong said, “She’s definitely sarcastic.”

Fang Qingzhao frowned, clearly confused and muttered unhappily, “So troublesome.”

Zhou Suirong touched her face. Her skin was warm from the sun and slightly sweaty. Feeling the coolness of his hand, she stood still. Much of his earlier irritation dissipated with the heat.

He thought he was probably worrying unnecessarily. How could Fang Qingzhao do anything illegal? She simply couldn’t comprehend such malice.

Fang Qingzhao rarely spoke of her past, thinking it dull. Zhou Suirong could only piece together a rough picture from her occasional hints.

— Her parents divorced when she was very young. The two broken people used the cruelest language to attack each other, trying to force Fang Qingzhao to testify against the other’s failures and faults. On the verge of collapse, they tore each other apart until nothing recognizable remained, leaving the ugly truth clearly to Fang Qingzhao before abandoning the toxic relationship to start new lives.

She began living independently before she was ten, mostly cared for by two nannies. She disliked talking too much with them, spending most of her time studying.

During her schooling, classmates and teachers treated her with tolerance and understanding, accepting her stubbornness and individuality without requiring compromise. They listened to her voice and needs.

The public, favoring prodigies, rarely corrected her unintentional offenses and encouraged her to be more straightforward and candid as she tried to integrate into society.

She didn’t have to worry about others’ opinions or expressions, basking in praise and admiration as she grew freely.

She was like a giant beacon of light, maintaining an untouchable distance from everyone.

Sometimes Zhou Suirong wondered what she would be like if she hadn’t met him.

Perhaps she’d still be standing on a spotlighted stage, watching everyone who passed by with equal yet detached eyes.

Not quietly pulling him aside to discuss, “Is so-and-so unhappy?” or “Why did everyone laugh when the atmosphere was so awkward?” or “That person looked troubled; does he need my help?” and then proudly saying, “I knew it!”

Even if she could adapt to and enjoy that solitude, Zhou Suirong couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy.

He reached out, placed his hand on her waist, guiding her down, and said, “Let’s eat first, great thinker.”

After the meal, as they got back in the car, Fang Qingzhao was still pondering.

“Xiao Xing asked Lin Jie if he could take a day off. Lin Jie said, ‘What do you think?’ and Xiao Xing said thanks.”

Mr. Zhou tilted his head to look at her, eyes encouraging: “Lin Jie was warning him. Xiao Xing should be back at work the next day.”

Fang Qingzhao’s voice lowered until almost a whisper: “Before, I told Lin Jie I needed a leave of absence. She asked how long. I said two months. She said, ‘Do you think two months counts as temporary?’”

In truth, Zhou Suirong couldn’t go against her wishes to give a correct answer or unfairly take her side, so he comforted her, “She was unclear; that’s her problem. So what did you reply?”

Fang Qingzhao closed her eyes, looking tired and resigned: “I forgot.”

The chance of her forgetting was nearly zero. Most likely, she felt doomed.

At 11 a.m. the next day, the two finally exited the City B highway toll station.