As the scene became increasingly familiar, the alley finally appeared before me. Yet, for reasons unknown, a vague sense of fear took root in my heart, as though something terrible had once happened to me here.
I hesitated to enter, but thoughts of Chu Qingci and the words someone had spoken to me compelled me forward. After much deliberation, I gathered my courage and stepped inside. A faint, indistinct sound of arguing reached my ears, growing clearer the deeper I ventured.
Once in the alley, my unease intensified, constricting my breath. The path stretched long, the exit still far away. Panic gripped me, and I broke into a hurried trot. To me, this alley seemed endless.
Meanwhile, Chu Qingci's argument had ended. I reached the alley's mouth, just in time to see the silhouette of his father retreating into the distance. Chu Qingci stood there, his head bowed, concealing any emotion in his eyes. His face bore no visible wounds, but it was pallid and gaunt, his lips tinged a deathly gray, and damp strands of hair clung to his sweat-beaded forehead.
I knew, however, that beneath his clothing lay a body battered and bruised beyond recognition. In that moment, I could only be thankful that his father hadn't turned his violence toward his face.
Emerging from the alley, I was certain my own complexion must have looked ghastly. The cold sweat on my body chilled under the wind, leaving me trembling. When Chu Qingci noticed me, surprise flickered in his eyes, mingled with a faint, almost imperceptible concern.
He approached slowly, step by step.
"What's wrong? Are you okay?" His voice was as gentle as a mountain spring flowing on a warm spring day, and he reached out to steady my unsteady steps.
I shook my head. "Can I choose not to answer that question?" I whispered. Unable to find the words to explain, I opted for silence.
"You can," he replied, as if he had anticipated my unwillingness to divulge the truth.
What surprised me next was his lack of inquiry as to why I was there at that moment. His demeanor gave the impression that he had known I would come all along. This piqued my curiosity, and I studied him intently.
He turned and began walking forward. Ahead stood an old house, into which he stepped.
"Shen Jia, follow me," he called back.
I hesitated for a moment before his words stirred me into action. Falling into step behind him, we entered the courtyard. I took in the house—a two-story structure with an aged appearance. The peeling walls on both levels spoke of neglect.
Chu Qingci approached the main door, retrieved a key from his right pocket, and unlocked it. Inside, the furniture was shrouded in layers of white cloth, the windowsills buried under thick dust, and cobwebs adorned the corners. The place had clearly been uninhabited for a long time.
We walked in silence, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken words. Though I had countless questions for him, the earlier events rendered me mute.
Chu Qingci moved toward the south-facing guestroom and kitchen, opening their windows to let in fresh air. Returning to the living room, he removed the coverings from the sofa, revealing upholstery shielded from dust but not entirely untouched.
"Sit," he said. I complied, settling onto the sofa as he stood with his back to the light, gazing at me intently.
I looked up at him, words bubbling inside me yet unable to escape. Against the backlight, his features were hard to discern.
"Shen Jia," he murmured, his lips barely moving.
"Yes?" I responded softly, the sound amplified in the hollow space.
"I know you have questions. I had planned to explain everything on the 20th, but circumstances seem to have changed." He smiled faintly, his tone tinged with humor.
"Shen Jia, you saw it, didn't you?" He sat down, his voice calm yet weighted.
I nodded in silent acknowledgment.
For someone usually reserved, Chu Qingci began speaking freely, as though a dam had broken. I sat quietly, listening as he unveiled his story.
"The man you saw earlier is my father. Every scar on my body, including the one on my forehead you once asked about, is his doing," he began, his eyes flashing with unbridled disdain and sarcasm.
"My mother married him while pregnant with me. She claimed I was his child, and he believed her because they had been together during that time. Their relationship had ended briefly, during which I was conceived, but they reunited shortly after. My mother, blinded by her feelings, chose to marry him, carrying a secret that defied all norms. She must not have considered the devastation that would follow once the truth came to light."