Chapter 19 – Cemetery

Their conversation was interrupted by Bai Ling’s return.

Zhou Liao completely disregarded Qin Zhan’s words and naturally walked over to Bai Ling, wrapping his arm around her waist.

“Let’s go, babe.”

“First, let’s apply the ointment,” Bai Ling said, handing the tube to Zhou Liao.

“You won’t do it for me?”

“My hands are cold.”

“It’s okay, babe. I don’t mind.”

Bai Ling carefully spread the ointment across Zhou Liao’s neck. It was clear Qin Zhan had used considerable force, almost strangling him. The red fingerprints had already caused a ring of bruising to form around his neck, resembling scattered crimson dots. She could hear Zhou Liao’s sharp intake of breath as her fingertips pressed down.

“Babe, be gentle.”

“Sorry.”

While applying the ointment, Bai Ling stole a subtle glance at Qin Zhan. He was gathering his backpack from the floor. When their eyes met, she blinked deliberately and shifted her gaze to Qin Zhan’s phone. She didn’t speak, but her look seemed to convey a silent message.

“All done. Let’s go,” Bai Ling said, straightening Zhou Liao’s collar to conceal the bruises. “The doctor said you should avoid strenuous neck movements for the next few days.”

“Okay.” Zhou Liao instinctively took her hand. “Let’s go get dinner.”

Bai Ling paused, glancing back at Qin Zhan. But Zhou Liao, with his arm around her shoulder, gently but firmly pulled her downstairs.

“What’s wrong?” Zhou Liao asked, turning to look as well.

Bai Ling quickly faced forward. “Nothing.”

After the two had left, Qin Zhan reached into his pocket and hung up the still-ringing call. He pulled out his phone to find a text message from Bai Ling sent a few minutes earlier:

Were all your injuries from Zhou Liao?

Qin Zhan had no idea how she’d guessed it. He didn’t reply immediately, knowing Zhou Liao was right beside her.

After lunch, Zhou Liao killed time playing basketball in the gym. After the last class of the afternoon, he told Bai Ling in advance he wouldn’t be having dinner with her that night and also invited Ling Yang to join him. Then he drove his black G-Wagon toward the cemetery.

His grandfather’s grave was far from the city center, nestled on a quiet mountain, requiring nearly an hour’s drive. Since Zhou Liao’s parents were rarely in C City, he was usually the only one who visited on the anniversary of his grandfather’s death. Ironically, despite all the wealth and power, his family members were colder than livestock, each more indifferent than the last.

By the time he arrived, dusk was settling over the cemetery. The only other person there was an old man selling flowers at the foot of the mountain. Zhou Liao, as he did every year, rolled down his car window and bought several bunches of white lilies and yellow chrysanthemums. After paying, he stepped on the gas and drove up the winding mountain road.

His grandfather’s grave was located halfway up the mountain in a section decorated in classical European style. The marble headstone was inscribed with his life story, listing his countless honors and prestigious positions.

Zhou Liao felt no particular affection for his grandfather, or for any of his family, for that matter. They were like strangers who knew each other intimately. Ever since he could remember, his mother’s relationship with her grandfather had been as fragile as thin ice, every conversation filled with stern reprimands.

To the outside world, his mother was a powerful woman—with the best family background, education, and looks—but Zhou Liao saw her as rather pitiful, trapped her entire life in the gilded cage of her own excellence, like a cold, unfeeling machine. He often felt she lacked genuine warmth not just toward him, but toward everyone. Yet it seemed she despised him most of all.

Her marriage had been arranged by his grandfather. Perhaps she could have gained freedom after outliving him, but the man had ensured her remaining years would remain shackled before he passed away—by marrying her off and forcing her to bear Zhou Liao.

Zhou Liao placed the flowers before the tombstone. He didn’t kneel or prostrate himself in worship, but closed his eyes and silently murmured, “Poor old man, it’s just me visiting you again this year.”

Crows cawed from the branches overhead, and a gust of wind swept through the cemetery, chilling the air. Zhou Liao snapped a photo and sent it to his parents, considering this year’s duty fulfilled.

His phone buzzed incessantly with messages, all from Chen Xian urging him to hurry to the gathering. Annoyed, Zhou Liao locked the screen.

He hadn’t parked in the designated lot but had driven directly to an empty space near the cemetery. Just as he was about to reach his car, he detoured to the public restroom in the woods.

Even while he relieved himself, his phone continued buzzing relentlessly. Zhou Liao lit a cigarette the moment he finished and answered the call.

“Why haven’t you replied? Are you done yet?”

“Yeah, I’m done. Stop nagging.”

“We’re just waiting for you. Almost everyone’s here.”

“I know.”

“I’m worried if we wait too long, he’ll start talking behind your back. You know how he always says you don’t give him face.”

“Mm.”

Zhou Liao gave a perfunctory reply. Just as he finished speaking, a sudden noise erupted outside.

Zhou Liao turned his head, his gaze falling directly on the bathroom mirror. In an instant, he was inexplicably transported back to that night. A sudden chill ran down his spine, as if someone were watching him right then and there. He frowned, turned down the volume on the phone, and ignored Chen Xian’s relentless chatter.

Under the dim bathroom lighting, he methodically checked each stall.

“Hey, Zhou Liao?”

“Hey, where are you?”

Chen Xian’s impatient voice urged him from the other end of the line. After a moment, Zhou Liao finally replied.

“Don’t rush me. Just finished using the restroom. I’m about to head out.”

“Alright, I’ll hang up then.”

As soon as the call ended, the enclosed space grew even quieter, the occasional drip of water from the faucet now clearly audible.

Zhou Liao felt a sudden, inexplicable unease. He had never believed in ghosts or gods, trusting only in himself. Yet his sixth sense was screaming at him, filling him with an overwhelming sense of dread.

For the past few weeks, he had felt as if someone were constantly tracking and watching him. However, during his drive to the cemetery today, he hadn’t noticed any suspicious vehicles. While there might be others in the cemetery, he was certain no one else was in this particular section.

As far as the eye could see, the mountainside leveled out into a flat expanse. Zhou Liao was absolutely certain he was the only person and car here.

He pushed open the bathroom door. With winter approaching, darkness fell earlier each day, leaving only a few dim lights illuminating the path beneath his feet. Zhou Liao stepped out and scanned his surroundings again, but saw nothing. It was precisely this emptiness that amplified his growing unease and fear in the still, dark night.

Zhou Liao dared not linger. The distance from the bathroom to his parked car required him to cross a stretch of woods. He quickened his pace, his peripheral vision darting backward every few steps. A strange, icy dread began to crawl through him, surging to the pit of his stomach in an instant, then flowing through his veins to every limb, making his scalp tingle with unease.

At some point, he heard footsteps behind him—the distinct tap-tap of someone walking on the stone slabs laid across the grassy path. The footsteps were steady, neither hurried nor slow, keeping pace with him.

Earlier, Zhou Liao had dared to steal glances over his shoulder. But now, with the footsteps closing in, goosebumps erupted across his skin, and he didn’t dare look back. He swallowed hard and lengthened his stride, pushing himself faster until he was almost out of the woods and nearing his car. At the last moment, he darted behind a nearby wall, desperate to see who had been following him.

Sure enough, moments later, a dark figure emerged from the same spot. The instant the person’s head peeked out, Zhou Liao’s fist was poised to strike.

Unfortunately, his fist never landed. The dark figure seized his arm, twisting it with bone-cracking force and slamming him against the wall. The impact sent a searing pain through his forehead, leaving him no time to even glimpse his attacker’s face.

Before Zhou Liao could struggle, a hand clamped over his mouth and nose from behind. A pungent, stinging odor flooded his senses, and consciousness swiftly faded.

The figure dressed entirely in black watched the unconscious man before him. He pulled the car keys from Zhou Liao’s pocket and pressed the unlock button.

Opening the trunk, he shoved a gag into Zhou Liao’s mouth and bound his hands with a dog leash before casually shoving him inside.

Just as he was about to close the trunk, a phone that had fallen out of Zhou Liao’s pocket began to vibrate. The screen displayed an incoming call from “Chen Xian.” Qin Zhan stared at the caller ID for two seconds, then pressed the reject button and pocketed the phone.

Turning to leave, he cast one last look down at the utterly unconscious man. With a resounding slam, he slammed the trunk shut, leaving the back room to sink into impenetrable darkness.