Love with ulterior motives

Chapter 9

She walked over and shook hands with him politely. Tang Zhou's fingers were gentle yet strong. He wore a beige long-sleeved shirt and jeans, his eyes were calm, and he exuded the faint scent of toothpaste unique to married men—he had probably just finished brushing his teeth, Xian Jing thought.

“Anzhu and I were college classmates. I heard you were coming to visit, so I was tasked with hosting you.” Tang Zhou took the luggage from Xian Jing’s hands. “How about we have lunch at my place first, and then go to the hotel?”

"You're too kind. I'll just go to the hotel." Xianjing felt it wasn't convenient to go to someone else's house so abruptly. "I'll just eat whatever I want outside. Could you take me to Linyuan Road, which I'm looking for?"

"Don't rush, rest at noon first, I'll take you in the afternoon. I'll treat you to hot pot, it's been cold lately." Tang Zhou was very enthusiastic, a typical Sichuan man, his voice was crisp and clear, like a refreshing radish salad.

A steaming Sichuan hot pot, topped with a layer of bright red chilies, instantly spread a numbing and spicy sensation throughout her body. Her toes and bottom felt burning, and her lips were slightly swollen. Xian Jing looked somewhat comical, her nose red from the spiciness. Tang Zhou stared at Xian Jing, lost in thought, and slowly asked, "How is An Zhu doing?"

Xianjing was a little embarrassed and answered with her head down, "It's fine, her boyfriend is going to Japan."

"Oh, please tell her for me that I'm fine, but I still think about how she looked back then." Tang Zhou was still looking at Xian Jing's face.

Xianjing coughed lightly. "I will pass on the message. Thank you for your hospitality today."

Tang Zhou reached out towards Xian Jing's face. Xian Jing flinched, somewhat displeased. "What's wrong?"

"There's a grain of rice stuck to the corner of your mouth," Tang Zhou said kindly.

Suddenly, Xianjing realized how ridiculous she had been, thinking that everyone in the world liked her woman; that men weren't all lecherous. Thankfully, she realized it early.

After dropping Xian Jing off at her hotel, Tang Zhou sat for a while before getting up to say goodbye, saying, "The car will be waiting downstairs at four o'clock this afternoon."

Xianjing nodded her thanks, "I'm sorry to have troubled you."

As Wu Bilian opened the small red lacquered box, she felt she was getting closer and closer to home. Xian Jing could almost hear her own heartbeat; the tension and anticipation were indescribable.

(sixteen)

Tang Haobo and Tang Zhou both have the surname Tang. Could they be brothers? Xian Jing felt she was being foolish. Could Zhou Bapi and Zhou Zhiruo be siblings?

There are many people with the surname Tang in Sichuan. Xian Jing recalled that the Tang Clan in martial arts novels was a renowned family of hidden weapons in the martial arts world. They were indeed ruthless and adept at using sulfuric acid.

Ye You called, and I answered; it was a familiar voice.

"Have you had lunch yet?" Xianjing asked.

"If you don't cook for me, I won't eat," Ye You began to whine. "Come back soon, it's no fun without you."

"Eat your food properly, do you hear me?" Xian Jing's maternal instincts were being roused by a soft little hand.

"Did you miss me?"

"I've thought about it," Xianjing said truthfully. "Remember to eat lunch this afternoon."

"Where did you miss me?" Ye You asked teasingly.

"Where? I want to go anywhere." Xianjing checked the time; it was almost four o'clock.

"Then I won't eat lunch this afternoon."

"Don't do that, then I won't talk to you when I get back."

"If you don't want rice, can you have noodles instead?" Ye You tried to talk to Xian Jing in a roundabout way.

China Mobile, China Unicom, and China Telecom should be grateful to couples who are dating in China and should set up a special "Honeycomb Card" to encourage these separated lovers to make more phone calls.

Inside the car, Tang Zhou's color, his driving style, the air, and the furnishings all reminded Xian Jing of the man thousands of miles away. This was the feeling of longing.

How long will it take?

Tang Zhou said, "It seems we've taken the wrong road. Let's go back. Strange, I know this road very well."

Xianjing watched the sky grow darker and darker. A sense of bewilderment washed over her, and she clutched her bag tightly—a bag that held both entrustment and responsibility.

"We're here." Tang Zhou parked the car. "I have some things to take care of at home. Call me after you've finished visiting your friends, and I'll come pick you up."

Xianjing was grateful; Anzhu must have had severe glaucoma back then.

"Such a good man is actually married," Xianjing sighed. "All the good men are getting married."

Seeing the car speed away, Xianjing took the address and searched for each house one by one according to the house number. The road was really long, and she was very hungry. Some of the house numbers were worn or occupied by billboards and could not be identified at all. When she walked into the alley, moss grew on the walls and there were rotting animal carcasses in the corners. It was impossible to tell whether they were cats or dogs.

I asked a few passersby, and they said east or south, but they wouldn't say more.

Women are naturally prone to getting lost. Xianjing knew front, back, left, and right, but not east, west, south, or north. She didn't find 1494 Linyuan Road until it got dark.

Bad luck. The doorplates are all doomed to perish.

An old house, wooden windows, overgrown with weeds—after such an incident, even a garden full of roses would go unnoticed. A knock on the door; someone answers.

"Who are you looking for?" The person who opened the door was probably Wu Bilian's mother, an old woman with sagging breasts and wrinkles on her face like a spider web.

"May I come in and talk?" Xian Jing didn't want to explain her purpose right away. "It's about Bi Lian."

The lamps were dim, and the people were desolate. Incense burned in the room, like strands of sorrow. Xianjing hesitated. To talk about Wu Bilian again would be like tearing open a stitched wound and witnessing the pain and sorrow once more.

Wu Chuntao poured a cup of hot water, its surface heavily stained with limescale. Xian Jing wasn't thirsty, nor did she dare drink it.

Upon mentioning her daughter, Wu Chuntao burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably, "She really shouldn't have left us like this..."

Xianjing took her hand and comforted her, "It's alright, it's already like this. Life goes on." Xianjing opened her bag and took out a small box, "Whether you believe it or not, this is something she entrusted to me."

"She never appeared in my dreams," Wu Chuntao said, wiping away tears with her sleeve. "My heartless child, just like that, abandoned me..."

Xianjing choked up as she recounted what had happened, tears streaming down her face. "These are her bones. Please find someone to chant sutras to help them pass on. They've finally reunited with their family; that was her wish."

Wu Chuntao took it, "You haven't eaten yet, have you? The old man will be back soon."

"No, I'll have a friend pick me up later, it's arranged." Xian Jing was about to call Tang Zhou when she casually asked, "Was the murderer brought to justice later?"

“He turned himself in. He was sentenced to death, damn it.” Wu Chuntao regained her senses, the white hairs among her black hair clearly visible under the light. “I look almost sixty, but I’m actually in my forties. I have no hope of living anymore.”

Xianjing suddenly thought of her mother. No one in the world could bear such pain. Looking at Wu Chuntao's haggard face, she was overcome with grief. "Auntie, I will come to see you often in the future."

Wu Chuntao's hands were icy cold, and so was her heart. "I'll go cook. Please accept this small token of my appreciation, no matter what."

Xianjing didn't know how to refuse. Wu Chuntao brought out a photo album from the room. "You've never seen Bilian's face before, have you?"

Flipping through the photo album, she saw Wu Bilian, her delicate face truly captivating, like a proud swan in red ballet shoes, her neck long and slender, her waist supple, her toes high on the ground—ballet imbued her with a noble air. Xian Jing turned the pages one by one, until she came across a man, intimately embracing her; it must be Tang Bohao, for there was indeed a hint of murderous intent in his eyes.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Wu Chuntao suddenly appeared behind Xian Jing, holding a kitchen knife in one hand and frozen meat taken from the refrigerator in the other.

The refrigerator was opened, and a blast of cold air wafted out. "Beautiful."

Wu Chuntao walked over, closed the photo album, and went into the kitchen with a smile. "She has a great talent for dancing. There are still photos of her winning awards on the wall of Bilian's room."

Upon entering the room and turning on the lights, Xian Jing saw that the room was spotless. She could clearly see Wu Bilian's image on the wall, her radiant smile, the light in her eyes, her hand holding a trophy, and the corners of her mouth turned up as if she were smiling at Xian Jing, as if she had something to say.

Xianjing felt very sleepy and said to Wu Chuntao, who was busy in the kitchen, "Auntie, I'm going to rest for a while."

Wu Chuntao stomped the frozen meat on the cutting board and agreed, "I'll sleep on that bed."

That small bed was the one Wu Bilian had used when she was alive. The room's furnishings remained unchanged; only she was gone. All the objects seemed to remember their owner, watching this unfamiliar, frail woman, watching...

(17)

I saw Wu Bilian, exactly like the one in the photo, standing right in front of me.

Dreams feel real when you're dreaming. Xianjing likes to dream because it allows her to escape reality, even nightmares.

"Thank you for letting me go home and reunite with my family." Wu Bilian's red ballet shoes were worn softly yet firmly, and she spoke gracefully, "Do you want to know my story?"

Xian Jing breathed a sigh of relief; it turned out that helping ghosts and helping people brought the same joy.

Wu Bilian turned around and disappeared. Before her was a magnificent stage, and thunderous applause. Sixteen-year-old Wu Bilian spun around with abandon, interpreting the despair of the famous play "The Dying Swan." Her graceful figure stole the show in front of the entire school. That night, the young and handsome Tang Bohao took her home. They kissed passionately at the door of her house. There were no streetlights, no pedestrians, only kisses.

Unfortunately, she didn't get into university or dance school. Wu Chuntao shouted loudly, and the ballet costume flew away like snowflakes under the scissors, just like cutting up a person's dream, leaving behind a pile of wreckage. Fortunately, there was still love.

In a filthy little hotel, two young bodies intertwined with desire, as if only by possessing each other's bodies could they possess each other's souls. No experience was no problem, as long as there was strength; no skill was no problem, as long as there was passion. And so, like wild beasts just beginning to develop, they successfully copulated in July, a season of failure. Vows of eternal love, impulsive ejaculation, semen mixed with blood, exhausted panting, empty eyes… everything was natural, everything was rebellious, everything was destined.

I'm destined to love you, and I wouldn't mind dying for you. Wu Bilian moaned ecstatically beneath her, a movement that surpassed any dance under the lights.

Tang Bohao grasped Wu Bilian's hand tightly, "Let's go together."

Dancing, dancing, dancing—it used to be a hobby, now it's a necessity; it used to be art, now it's a means of livelihood. Like a lotus flower dancing in the mud, she only cares about dancing; her ballet costume reflects her cold, proud face, like the loneliness of sending money home for the New Year.

Tang Bohao had to walk an hour from his dormitory at the chemical plant to Wu Bilian's rented room. He would walk there when he missed her. To save on travel expenses, he wore out three pairs of shoes. The shoes were cheap and not very durable. Poverty makes life miserable for couples, but love makes even water taste sweet. Only the person experiencing it knows the bitterness.

Looking at the brightly lit stage and Bilian fluttering like a butterfly, Tang Bohao could only sigh, "If you were with someone else, you wouldn't have to feel so wronged."

I won't allow you to say that. Wu Bilian hugged Tang Bohao tightly from behind. "I don't want to be with anyone else. I just want to be with you."

Even if I have to sell my blood, I will make sure she eats well and dresses well. Tang Bohao made up his mind.

Wu Bilian's feet were small but very resilient. Sometimes Tang Bohao would watch her dance from below the stage and see her delicate toes peeking out from her worn-out dance shoes. He would spend half a month's salary to buy her expensive new dance shoes, which were dazzling and attracted all eyes. The men in the audience would drool. Men in the entertainment industry often had a thing for small feet and would fawn over her, but they couldn't win her heart. Not every woman loves money. And so, today felt like yesterday; there was nothing new under the sun.

Wu Bilian had a severe cold and went to the hospital for an injection. As the sharp needle pierced her skin, blood splattered everywhere. The intern doctor couldn't find a vein and clumsily searched for one.

She finally managed to get in, but Tang Bohao wasn't by her side; sorrow blossomed in her grief. When she was sick, she always thought of the person she loved most.

The chemical plant needed to work overtime. The concentrated sulfuric acid was viscous and colorless; even with masks and protective clothing, the corrosive, deathly smell was still noticeable as it was diluted. Someone had died on the spot from improper dilution; the splashed concentrated sulfuric acid carbonized organic matter—through the mask, the person's face was charred, their throat blackened, unable to breathe, their features unrecognizable, a vibrant body transformed into a numb corpse. In an instant, Tang Haobo broke out in a sweat. No wonder it was sulfuric acid; no wonder people always retaliated by splashing sulfuric acid instead of vinegar. The more dangerous, the more stimulating.

Tang Haobo fell in love with his job that night and performed exceptionally well.

For the sake of her future, Wu Bilian decided to agree to her boss's request to perform pole dancing that night, and to be even better than a ballet dancer.

(eighteen)

No man in the world dislikes watching beautiful women perform pole dancing.

Business was twice as good as before, and the boss was overjoyed. He took extra care of Wu Bilian, his cash cow, but he couldn't understand why she would be willing to marry Tang Bohao, such a mediocre man.

"What you see as mediocrity, I see as a prince," Wu Bilian thought.

Tang Bohao was furious, watching the golden wig dance wildly under the lights, the thong underwear vaguely revealed by the transparent short skirt, and the sexy high heels replacing the red dancing shoes. The greedy eyes of the men made him jealous and drove him crazy.

"Make money cleanly," Tang Bohao roared at Wu Bilian, who was removing her makeup. "I can support you, but you're not allowed to trample on yourself like this."

I have no choice. Wu Bilian's tears melted the mascara, filthy tears. Let's break up.

You've changed. Tang Bohao thought desperately.

Go find someone new, forget about me, we have no future. Wu Bilian turned away, cold and heartbroken.

The door was slammed shut. Tang Bohao went back, weeping silently the whole way. The heartless woman had completely forgotten the kindness she had shown him; all she cared about was money.

Wu Bilian removed her wig in front of the mirror, tears streaming down her face. Her head was bald, a result of chemotherapy. "If it's happiness, I'd give it all to you; if it's pain, I'd keep it to myself, simply because I love you and don't want you to suffer with me. My love, do you understand?"

Wu Bilian stopped dancing; the money was too little, and her health was too weak. She switched to being a hostess; the money came quickly, and the faster she could prolong her life, the better. The boss grinned, "The sooner you figure it out, the sooner you'll make money."

Tang Bohao didn't go looking for Wu Bilian. He simply watched her drink with other men every night, drunkenly clinging to them like a groveling female dog. He channeled his grief into energy, conducting various experiments with sulfuric acid on different animals in his rented apartment—rats, dogs, cats, birds… until late at night when he found the beggar's body, run over by a drunken, fancy car in a corner of the city. He carried it home; the beggar was light, presumably empty-handed, but filled with hatred. Who would fear that? The experiment was a success; Tang Bohao was driven mad by love.

The doctor coldly told Wu Bilian that the treatment was very effective and that she should pay for another course of treatment.

How much? Wu Bilian was wearing a woolen hat she bought on the roadside, looking like a monster, even though it was hot.

20,000. The doctor remained expressionless.