Chapter 12: Shredded Pork and Green Pepper Noodles

Chapter 12: Shredded Pork and Green Pepper Noodles

Ten million wasn't enough to completely turn Chen Li's company around, but it could at least put out the immediate fire. A week of preparation plus an afternoon of clumsy proposals had actually managed to crack Gu Hansheng's iron wall. Zhou Lan marveled: "Talk about getting the most bang for your buck! Chen Li probably can't even wrap her head around it. You're a freaking genius."

Zhao Yu scratched the back of his head: "Maybe Gu Hansheng's feelings for Chen Xitong are just worth that much cash. It's got nothing to do with me."

"If it were like you said, wouldn't he have helped long ago?" Zhou Lan laughed. "His feelings for Xitong are just a small piece of it. I think the bigger reason he's willing to pay is your effort. What really got to him was you."

"You really think so?"

"Really. By the way, I need to call Chen Li right away."

Zhao Yu spaced out a little. If what Zhou Lan said was true, then Gu Hansheng's favor seemed to carry traces of affection for him—the ghost—seeping through Chen Xitong's shell like sunlight slipping through a crack in the wall, spilling a little onto him.

Zhou Lan was delighted, and Chen Li sounded just as thrilled on the phone, but Zhao Yu felt more conflicted. Per their deal, once Chen Li wired him the money, everything would be over—the whole Chen Xitong act, the whole thing with Gu Hansheng—all of it. He'd leave, like he'd never even existed.

He looked out at the city streets passing by the window, silently thinking that now was the perfect time to end it. The longer he spent with Gu Hansheng, the more Gu Hansheng's mark on his life would stick—and that was a dangerous sign.

He had to keep telling himself that the favor and special treatment he got weren't meant for him.

Chen Li got the ten million in no time, and Zhao Yu packed his bags early, changed back into his own clothes, and checked his flight information. He couldn't wait to see Auntie Guo. That excitement drowned out all the other messy feelings.

A text alert about his bank balance popped up. Zhao Yu glanced at it, immediately called Chen Li, and got straight to the point: "Fifty grand? Did you mess up?"

Chen Li said: "Xiao Yu, this is all I can give you for now. Think of it as the second payment. Once the company's back on its feet, I'll definitely pay you the rest."

"We agreed on one lump sum, paid in full. How am I supposed to believe you?"

"I didn't make it clear, but I don't think our partnership is done yet."

"Gu Hansheng already handed you a fortune. What more do you want? You want me to go beg him for more? Chen Li, that's where I draw the line!"

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line, then Chen Li said: "I'm sorry, Xiao Yu, but you can't leave yet. If you want the remaining money, stay and keep helping me."

Zhao Yu's knuckles went white as he squeezed the phone: "Aren't you scared I'll rat you out?"

"If you go blab to Gu Hansheng, neither of us gets a dime. Xiao Yu, I know you're a smart kid. Don't do anything rash. Aren't you doing great right now? Just keep things the way they are. That shouldn't be hard."

He was floored by her nerve. Clenching his jaw, he said: "When's your company gonna be back on its feet? Give me a deadline."

"I'm not sure, but I think we want the same thing. When that day comes, I'll pay you double what's left. Think it over."

And with that, she hung up on him.

Threats, bribes—she pulled out both in just a few minutes. She called him "Xiao Yu" while saying the coldest shit.

Zhao Yu hurled his phone at the cabinet, and the screen shattered into a million pieces. It was like finally climbing out of a pit only to have the ground give way, the sudden drop making his head spin.

All these years Chen Li had ignored him, and he'd barely held it against her. The night before he came back, he'd even held onto a tiny sliver of hope about seeing his mom. Sure, Zhao Lianfeng was scum, but Zhao Yu had never done a damn thing to Chen Li. No matter how he tried, he couldn't understand why he deserved to be treated this way.

Outside, the sky was overcast, and suddenly a torrential downpour broke loose. The television broadcast weather news.

"...Typhoon Floating Duckweed is intense with strong winds and high disaster risk. Residents should keep windows and doors tightly closed, and call rescue services immediately if in danger..."

Lightning suddenly split the sky, thunder booming.

As if by fate, all flights were canceled due to the sudden typhoon. Zhao Yu took out his old phone and looked at the chat with Meng Qi. The last message was from yesterday—he'd said he'd be back in a day or two, and Meng Qi had responded with excitement.

He recalled the first time he met Guo Lin. That had also been a typhoon day. Rain lashed the streets of Los Angeles. He couldn't remember why Zhao Lianfeng had beaten him that time, only that he'd run out of the house. The wind whipped the rain around, shrouding heaven and earth in a gray mist so thick you couldn't see the road. Palm trees in the distance swayed violently, their huge fronds swinging like fans, making the streets nearly impassable.

He was soaked to the bone, taking shelter from the rain at the entrance of a Chinese restaurant. Though it was daytime, everywhere was as dark as the end of the world.

Zhao Lianfeng hit hard. Zhao Yu was only sixteen then, no match for a grown man's strength. He was beaten black and blue, his ribs aching as if broken.

Suddenly, the glass door behind him was tapped. A little boy looked up at him, then pushed the door open. The wind yanked the door wide, and the boy tumbled out with it, about to roll into the street. Zhao Yu grabbed his clothes just in time. That boy was Meng Qi.

Hearing the commotion, Guo Lin rushed out from inside, scolding "You disobedient child!" while pulling Meng Qi back into the house.

Through the door, Zhao Yu watched her fuss over Meng Qi's hand, fretting over even the tiniest scratch on his finger. He envied him. Behind that door, someone could shield that boy from the storm. Rain blew under the eaves, soaking his pant legs, making his legs feel heavy as lead.

Just then, Guo Lin suddenly looked up at him. Flustered, he turned to flee. But Guo Lin pushed the door open and grabbed him: "Come inside! It's pouring out there! The trees are snapping—it's too dangerous for you to go home now!"

Zhao Yu stared at her, stunned. In a foreign land, few people had ever been this warm to him. Even neighbors who'd lived next door for years would just close their doors and pretend not to see when Zhao Lianfeng beat him.

Without giving him a chance to refuse, she pulled him inside. Seeing him drenched, shivering, with alarming bruises on his face, she immediately went upstairs to get him a set of dry clothes.

"Hurry and change—you'll catch a cold in this weather." She poured a glass of hot water as she spoke: "Thanks a minute ago—otherwise my silly son would've been blown away! Young man, I can tell you're Chinese too. Where do you live? Looks like you got into a fight? The neighborhood's been unsafe lately—there was even a shooting a few days ago. Oh my, terrifying. Better to avoid conflicts. Go change... yes, yes, go inside to change. Silly me."

Her words came like rapid fire, and before Zhao Yu could react, she shoved him into the back kitchen.

The T-shirt and jeans in his hands were clean, soft, and smelled of soap. Zhao Yu hesitated, then changed into them, the chill dispelled from his body.

Guo Lin was a woman of overwhelming warmth. Later she joked that seeing Zhao Yu that day was like seeing a homeless dog soaked in the rain—she simply couldn't bear to leave him alone.

That night, he watched TV with Meng Qi and ate the shredded pork and green pepper noodles Guo Lin made.

Sitting with these two people who shared no blood with him, he felt the warmth of family for the first time in ages. Like a drifting island finding a continent, Guo Lin was his continent.

But Guo Lin fell ill. She could no longer speak with her usual vigor, was rarely even conscious, wasting away in her hospital bed. Unable to afford the exorbitant hospital bills, she had to go home.

If he lost Guo Lin, he would lose his only anchor in the world.

Thunder rumbled outside the window. Zhao Yu suddenly felt terrified, the unease building inside him churning endlessly, with no one to confide in.

The cracked phone buzzed—a heavy rain alert. Staring at the glowing screen, he picked up the phone as if possessed and opened the chat with Gu Hansheng.

His finger hovered in the air for a long time. He didn't know what he wanted to say, his thoughts tangled and chaotic—until he accidentally pressed a comma and sent it. Zhao Yu snapped back to reality, realizing how absurd his actions were. A counterfeit who had deceived Gu Hansheng's feelings and money—what could he possibly hope to get from him?

He turned the TV volume to maximum, drowning out the thunder with noise, suppressing all the vague feelings and emotions that had begun to stir.

The rain kept pouring. The television broadcast news about flooded roads, severe waterlogging in many areas, and trees toppled by the wind crushing several cars.

The doorbell suddenly rang. Zhao Yu got up to open the door, then remembered that both Zhou Lan and Chen Li knew the door code. He peered through the peephole—and saw Gu Hansheng.

At this moment, Zhao Yu was wearing his own gray hoodie, with his packed suitcase sitting in the living room. He frantically changed clothes, stuffed the suitcase into the storage room, and only after scrambling through all that did he open the door, feigning surprise: "Brother, why are you here?"

"I was eating out and came by to check on you." Gu Hansheng carried a thermal bag from a restaurant, his umbrella dripping, his clothes damp in several places.

He hadn't come "on the way." There was no branch of that restaurant anywhere near here. Nearly every shop and mall was closed, everyone home hiding from the typhoon—yet Gu Hansheng had driven through the city's flooding and rain to stand at his door, all because of the comma Zhao Yu had sent and the calls he hadn't answered.

Zhao Yu hurriedly got him slippers and hung up his soaked jacket to dry.

Gu Hansheng turned down the TV volume: "No wonder I could hear the noise from outside your door. Doesn't it hurt your ears?"

Zhao Yu said: "It's because the thunder won't stop. I'm a bit scared."

"You're afraid of thunder?"

"Yeah."

Zhao Yu, too guilty to look at him, kept his head down as he took the food container from the insulated bag: "It's pouring out there—traffic must be a mess, huh? You didn't have to come."

Gu Hansheng sat down across from him, tore open the chopstick wrapper, and handed them over: "If I didn't come, what were you planning to eat? I saw Chen Li's been swamped lately, probably too busy to keep an eye on you."

"Thanks."

Zhao Yu took the chopsticks and looked down, only to find the round container held shredded pork with green pepper noodles. The fresh aroma of the peppers hit him, and the steam fogged up his view. This place's flavor was a bit different from Guo Lin's, but it instantly brought him back to the night he first met her.

The man across from him waited quietly while he ate a few more bites, and only when the bowl was nearly empty did he ask, "What happened?"

Zhao Yu kept his head down, and his nose suddenly stung.