Ba ethnic group's bewitching charm - the executioner

Chapter 14

During the day, the household registration policeman still came by whenever he had nothing to do. Now, Yang Zheng and Yang Mei both knew his name was Ge Hua. Yang Zheng didn't say anything to Yang Mei, but she saw through the policeman's intentions from the beginning, and she felt helpless just like Yang Zheng. Whether Ge Hua was genuinely clueless or wise beyond his years, he ignored Yang Mei's coldness and continued to pester her day after day, his presence growing increasingly intense. Later, he was no longer content with just staying at the old house with Yang Mei; in the evenings when she got off work, he would accompany her as she left.

That evening, Yang Zheng watched the two leave one after the other, then went upstairs to process the photos. It was completely dark outside, and a low gust of wind whistled past the window. Suddenly, Yang Zheng heard some noise downstairs. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he saw Yang Mei had returned sometime earlier, sitting motionless on the sofa with her head down. The dim light reflected off her, and her sorrow seemed to take shape, spreading rapidly throughout the entire house.

Yang Zheng had an impulse to rush over and embrace her—but in reality, he only did one thing that night: take Yang Mei home. On the way, Yang Mei casually told him that the policeman had confessed his feelings to her, and very firmly stated his position. He had fallen in love with her, so he wanted to have her. She was terrified, and when the policeman forcibly grabbed her hand, she finally fled.

Yang Zheng remained silent. Walking along the road, he even vaguely sensed a gaze watching them—perhaps the household registration officer was lurking in the shadows, like a shadowy figure watching over them.

Although he didn't say anything, Yang Zheng felt his hands and feet turn cold.

He sensed an impulse growing within him.

That night, he hoped more than ever that the online detective would appear.

The next day, the household registration officer acted as if nothing had happened and came to the old house early in the morning as usual. But Yang Mei did not come to work until noon that day, which was obviously a test of the officer's patience. At first, he could chat with Yang Zheng for a while, but later, he sat there restlessly, his eyes darting back and forth between the clock on the wall and Yang Zheng.

Yangmei arrived late in the afternoon, looking pale and as if she hadn't slept well.

In the afternoon, two customers had made appointments. While Yang Mei was doing their makeup, several young girls came to the door. Yang Mei continued applying makeup, while Yang Zheng talked to the girls. The police officer remained seated on the sofa like a wooden statue, intently watching Yang Mei. It was as if she were the wind, capable of disappearing into thin air at the slightest distraction.

The filming didn't finish until after 7 PM. When Yang Mei came downstairs with her bag, the police officer was already standing up; he had clearly taken it upon himself to take her home. Unfortunately, he was invisible to Yang Mei. She walked straight up to Yang Zheng and calmly asked, "Can you take me home?"

Yang Zheng hesitated for a moment before agreeing.

“If you’d like to sit here a little longer, I can leave the door open for you,” Yang Zheng said to Ge Hua.

At that moment, the police officer's eyes held a hint of resentment. He stared coldly at Yang Zheng and Yang Mei for a long time before slowly turning around and leaving alone. His retreating figure carried an indescribable sorrow, as if he had suffered a great injury.

Yang Zheng took Yang Mei home. On the way, Yang Mei said, "He called me last night."

Yang Zheng knew, of course, who "he" referred to, but he remained silent.

“I turned off my phone and unplugged the telephone at home, thinking that he wouldn’t be able to bother me,” Yang Mei continued. “But when I happened to stand by the window, I saw a dark figure downstairs. Although I couldn’t see it clearly, I knew it was him.”

Yang Zheng paused, his hands trembling slightly. He knew he should say something to comfort Yang Mei, but he couldn't utter a word. He remained silent, only feeling his hands and feet growing colder and colder, slowly, like wind blowing in from the back of his neck, making his spine feel chilly—he only felt this way when facing something important or making a crucial choice.

When they arrived at the entrance of Yangmei's residential compound, Yangmei stopped and looked at Yang Zheng, seemingly expecting him to say something. But Yang Zheng resolutely turned and left, so he didn't see the tears streaming down Yangmei's face.

Back in the old house, he continued to linger online, waiting for the detective to appear.

The room was dark, with only the dim light from the monitor. Yang Zheng stood in the darkness, his body tense, like a sprinter waiting for the starting gun to fire. He could feel the power gathering within him, but it didn't surge and search for an outlet like before. It gathered slowly, patiently waiting, but eventually, it would overwhelm Yang Zheng and engulf him.

After that night, the police officer still came to the old house every now and then. Yang Zheng and Yang Mei never spoke to him again, and he just sat silently in the corner, his eyes fixed on Yang Mei, occasionally glancing at Yang Zheng. If he were a woman, his gaze could be described as "resentful," but he was a man, and a policeman at that, so his gaze should have contained dissatisfaction and hatred.

Time flies, and the Spring Festival is here in the blink of an eye.

Two days before the Spring Festival, starting from the 29th day of the twelfth lunar month, Yang Mei never came to the old house again. The household registration policeman sat blankly at Yang Zheng's place for two days, his face so gloomy it looked like it could be wrung out. He didn't ask Yang Zheng, but Yang Zheng didn't know why Yang Mei hadn't come either. He called her cell phone, but it was switched off; he called her home phone, but no one answered.

Yang Zheng was just as worried as the household registration police officer, not knowing what had happened.

On the evening of Lunar New Year's Eve, when the household registration policeman left the old house, he made no attempt to hide his hostility towards Yang Zheng. He was convinced that Yang Zheng must have done something wrong, and therefore his heart was filled with resentment.

Yang Zheng breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the household registration police officer leave. Just as he was wondering whether he should go to Yang Mei's house to check on her, he suddenly saw the officer, who had already left, stride back into the courtyard.

Ge Hua walked straight up to Yang Zheng, glared at him fiercely, and said, word by word, "You hid her!"

Yang Zheng was about to argue when the police officer in charge of household registration didn't allow him to speak and punched him hard in the cheek.

The long-lost pain, like a knife, cleaved a gash in Yang Zheng's body, and the surging power slowly seeped out like blood. Yang Zheng staggered backward, fell to the ground, and then quickly stood up, standing tall in front of the household registration police.

The police officer didn't see Yang Zheng's clenched fists, nor did he notice the significant change in Yang Zheng's expression. His cowardice saved him—he actually cried, like a child who had just suffered a great injustice.

Yang Zheng froze, his clenched fists slowly loosening, but his expression remained stiff. He couldn't yet understand the feelings of the man before him; he only felt that some things were different from what he had expected.

The police officer left without saying anything more, tears welling up in his eyes, as if that punch had brought him relief.

At night, Yang Zheng took off his clothes and stood under the shower. The cold water was bone-chilling. His joints felt stiff. He slowly squatted down, hugged his knees, and curled up as much as possible, imagining that he was still in his mother's womb, surrounded by warm fluids.

In the middle of the night, Yang Zheng sat in front of his computer again. The killing crowd was still bustling with activity. The jumping text was no longer meaningful to Yang Zheng. He sat in front of the computer with the only purpose of waiting for the executioner to appear.

The long-absent detective did not disappoint him tonight; the gray icon suddenly became bright.

Yang Zheng was jolted awake, and even his hands, which were resting on the keyboard, began to tremble slightly.

“I’ve been waiting for you.” He typed rapidly on the keyboard.

“I knew, that’s why I came.”

"When will you let me be your helper?" Yang Zheng asked.

"I will come to you when you are ready."

"I'm ready, I'm ready to do anything for you anytime."

"Including murder?"

Yang Zheng hesitated, his hands trembling even more violently. He clearly longed for it, but he still couldn't make a decision with a clear conscience.

"You're hesitating; it seems you're still unwilling to face your true self."

Yang Zheng gasped for breath, his ten fingers resting on the keyboard, but he couldn't type a single word.

"Have you forgotten why you came to this city? Have you forgotten why you're afraid to face the girl you like?"

A flash of blood-red light appeared before his eyes, and Yang Zheng groaned, as if a knife had pierced his heart.

"If you're really ready, come to Night Kids Bar at eight o'clock tomorrow night. I'll be waiting for you there."