Ba ethnic group's bewitching charm - the executioner - Chapter 15
Yang Zheng hadn't yet recovered from the hallucination of the bloody light. Just as he was about to say something more, the Executioner's icon turned gray—he was offline.
For the rest of the time, Yang Zheng sat there blankly, motionless.
Some deep-seated memories slowly surfaced, shrouded in a thick, bloody light. Yang Zheng tried desperately to dispel them, but no matter how hard he tried, the bloody light continued to envelop him tightly. At that moment, Yang Zheng suddenly understood why the police officer at the household registration office had cried that evening—when faced with profound helplessness, crying might be the best outlet.
But Yang Zheng did not cry. He knew that the executioner had already discovered his secret, so he no longer needed to pretend.
That night, he lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep. The television was on silent; the familiar faces on the Spring Festival Gala were still trying their best to create a joyful atmosphere. At midnight, the sound of firecrackers echoed throughout the city, incessant and continuous. The city had long ago banned fireworks, but at this moment, it seemed no one remembered. Yang Zheng didn't know what he would experience at the Night Child Bar the next night, nor did he know what kind of supernatural powers that the detective possessed, that he could know his secrets through the internet. However, he was still filled with anticipation for tomorrow night.
The next morning, when he went out for breakfast as usual, the police officer unexpectedly stood by the door again. When Yang Zheng came out, his gaze was weak.
"Can you tell me where Yangmei went? I really want to see her."
Yang Zheng paused for a moment, then shook his head.
"You must know, you must have hidden her." Suddenly, the police officer seemed like a different person; his voice became shrill, and his eyes flashed with the ferocity of a wounded beast. "Give her back to me!"
Yang Zheng stared at him coldly for a long time before saying with a mixture of pity and disgust, "I didn't hide her away, and she's not yours. There are plenty of young girls out there. Don't come here looking for a wife; I'm not your father."
Chapter 10
Life is as beautiful as a flower. It's a cliché, but many people still like to decorate their own or others' lives with flowers on birthdays and holidays. During the Spring Festival, flower shops are booming, especially those offering flower delivery services.
Now, a young man, holding a large bouquet of chrysanthemums, stood outside the fence of a small villa and rang the doorbell. A moment later, the door opened, and a woman in her late twenties emerged, with a fair complexion, long black hair, and an elegant composure. The young man was amazed by the woman's beauty, but he didn't forget his job—as the woman reached the door, he handed her the bouquet of chrysanthemums.
The woman hugged the flowers to her chest and subconsciously lowered her head to sniff them. Although the chrysanthemum fragrance wasn't very strong, she looked quite content. Then, she smiled at the young man, took the pen, and signed the receipt.
The young man turned to leave, glancing instinctively at the signature on the receipt. The handwriting was elegant, and the name sounded lovely—Hongmian (Red Cotton).
The young man murmured the name to himself, then subconsciously turned around and saw the woman walking across the small courtyard toward the door. He chuckled self-deprecatingly, got on his motorcycle, and quickly disappeared into the neighborhood.
A woman named Hongmian returned home, first arranging the flowers in a vase, then going upstairs via the spiral staircase. Upstairs in the study, a man and a little girl were sitting in front of two computers, intently watching the monitors.
Hongmian walked up behind the little girl and put her hand on her shoulder. The little girl didn't look up, her right hand flying across the keyboard. From the monitor, she was playing a game called Bubble Fighter, somewhat similar to the game Bomberman on Lianzhong. Players in a specific scenario continuously drop bombs, and the one who blows up their opponent wins.
The little girl was skilled and agile, but her opponent was clearly also a master. The two fought each other through the maze-like terrain, but neither could kill the other.
Hongmian watched for a while, then walked behind the man. The man was also playing Bubble Fighter; he was playing against the little girl. The man quickly turned around with a smile, then immediately turned back. But just then, Hongmian grabbed his right hand, which was resting on the keyboard. In that short time, he was blocked by four bombs from his opponent. The bombs exploded, and he died a heroic death.
The little girl over there cheered, and the man shook his head helplessly at Hongmian, but he clearly understood Hongmian's feelings.
The little girl ran over, took Hongmian's hand, and said with a grin, "Daddy lost. This time, he can't cheat."
Hongmian asked the man, "What did you lose this time?"
The man looked helpless and remained silent. The little girl took the money and said, "Daddy lost a week's worth of housework."
"Household chores?" Hongmian smiled broadly. "So Xiaotong felt sorry for her mother and asked her father to help her with the chores."
Xiaotong—since this little girl is Xiaotong, then the man must be Ma Nan. Last summer, after surviving the ordeal at Peach Blossom Mountain, Ma Nan finally found his wife and daughter. The family of three had been separated for so long, and even now, spending every day together, they still felt they couldn't make up for the lost time. For Xiaotong, happiness meant living with her parents forever, never being separated. Wasn't this also Ma Nan and Hongmian's current wish?
By noon, Hongmian had prepared a table full of dishes. Today was the first day of the Lunar New Year, and the first Spring Festival after the family of three had reunited, so everyone's heart was filled with warmth.
While eating, Ma Nan noticed the bunch of chrysanthemums in the vase. At first, he didn't pay much attention, only casually asking Hong Mian, "When did you buy these flowers? I didn't know."
"The flowers were delivered by a courier company this morning, but the delivery slip didn't have the delivery person's name on it."
Ma Nan paused for a moment, but didn't ask any more questions.
After lunch, Xiaotong took a nap in her room. Hongmian went to the study and saw Ma Nan sitting at the table, lost in thought. She went over and gently touched his shoulder. Ma Nan grabbed her hand tightly. Hongmian instantly sensed Ma Nan's inner tension, and something else that moved her—that time, when Ma Nan finally found her and Xiaotong, he had also held her hand so tightly, as if letting go would mean losing them again.
"What's wrong with you?" Hongmian tried her best to sound relaxed. At this moment, she saw a receipt on the table in front of her, which was left by the flower company after they had asked her to sign for it that morning. "Is there something wrong with that bouquet of flowers?"
Ma Nan shook his head: "I can't be sure right now, but this matter is a bit strange."
"Because the person who sent the flowers didn't leave their name?"
Ma Nan nodded, then shook his head. There were some things he wasn't sure whether he should tell Hong Mian. The family had gone through so many ups and downs to be reunited, and now he didn't want anything to disrupt this peace.
He thought that perhaps he cared too much about his current peaceful life, which was why he had become suspicious.
But that bouquet of chrysanthemums still couldn't put his mind at ease.
In the afternoon, he called Qin Ge, but Dong'er answered. Dong'er said Qin Ge was sleeping. Ma Nan hesitated for a moment, but Dong'er had already woken Qin Ge up. Qin Ge was still a little groggy, and Ma Nan knew he couldn't explain things clearly over the phone, so he asked if he could come out for a bit. Qin Ge said no problem, and suggested they go to Tianpeng Teahouse.
When the two met, Ma Nan told Qin Ge about the chrysanthemums that had been sent to her. Qin Ge didn't think anything of it, but Ma Nan said, "I don't have many friends in this city. Besides you and my students, I really can't think of anyone who would have sent the flowers."
"I don't have that kind of romantic flair. If I had that kind of spare money, I'd rather go out drinking with someone," Qin Ge said.
"Then there are my students left, but most of them live in other places and have gone home for the Chinese New Year since school is on holiday. Even if they can order online, given their personalities, they won't leave their names, and they'll probably write some blessings on the cards."
Qin Ge nodded, agreeing with Ma Nan's assessment; those young people certainly wouldn't become "unsung heroes."
"Maybe it was given to you by a girl who has a crush on you." Qin Ge still didn't take it seriously. He knew that many girls at the school where Ma Nan taught liked him.
Ma Nan shook his head again: "Why did this person specifically send me chrysanthemums?"
"Is there anything wrong with chrysanthemums?" Qin Ge tilted her head and thought for a moment. "It seems there are quite a few rules about giving flowers these days. I don't know about other things, but to express affection, you have to give roses. What's so special about chrysanthemums?"
"Chrysanthemums themselves are not bad. In the language of flowers, like roses, they symbolize admiration. The chrysanthemums I received were gerberas, which represent mystery and excitement."
"It's quite mysterious," Qin Ge laughed. "But why do you care so much? It's a good thing that someone is sending you flowers."
"You still don't understand. If it were any other flower, I definitely wouldn't be this nervous."
"What exactly are you trying to say? This stammering is suffocating." Qin Ge was getting a little anxious. This Ma Nan, dragging him out during the New Year, was talking nonsense over a bunch of chrysanthemums.
Ma Nan sighed and sat up straighter. He stared at Qin Ge, his eyes still hesitant, as if considering whether to speak his mind or not, or where to begin.