Chapter 11: The Knock at Midnight

Although Cheng Yun had walked all day, she wasn’t very hungry. She asked Director Zhang what he wanted to eat, and he said anything was fine.

“Let’s just find a place to eat,” Cheng Yun said.

They returned to the same restaurant from lunch and ordered two bowls of beef noodles.

While eating, Cheng Yun felt a chill. The wind outside had picked up, and the sky seemed darker than it should at that hour.

“It’s going to rain,” Director Zhang said.

Almost immediately, Cheng Yun saw a tourist pass by with an umbrella. The ground wasn’t yet wet, but when she stepped outside after finishing, a drizzle had begun.

“It rains like this a lot in Guizhou,” Director Zhang explained. “Actually, it doesn’t matter whether you bring an umbrella or not.” He quickly finished his noodles. “Let’s go, Sister Cheng.”

Outside, he pulled an umbrella from his bag. “I brought an umbrella, you can use it.”

“What about you?” Cheng Yun asked.

“I’ll be there soon, I’ll stay down there.”

“No need, you can keep it. The rain isn’t heavy.” She glanced at the time. “I’ll wake you tomorrow morning, then we’ll decide where to go.”

“Okay.”

They parted at the restaurant entrance. Cheng Yun tightened her coat and headed uphill.

Halfway, the rain grew heavier. Alone on the road, she quickened her pace. By the time she reached her room, her hands were stiff.

Though resistant to cold, December in Kaili was harsh—six or seven degrees, damp wind biting like the north. Dressed lightly, she turned the air conditioner to its highest setting and took a long, hot shower.

Steam warmed her body. Dressed again, she lay on the bed, checked her phone—no notifications. The weather forecast confirmed showers. She played a game, then lazily dialed a number.

The phone rang five or six times before a deep voice answered, wind and rain in the background.

“Hello?”

“You’re missing?” Cheng Yun said.

“…No.” Anan’s voice was hurried.

“Why didn’t you answer Xiao Zhang’s call tonight?”

“Oh, I didn’t hear it.”

“Where did you go for your part-time job again?”

Silence. Then softly: “No.”

Cheng Yun sat up. “No? We were supposed to book the itinerary for tomorrow and the day after, but now we can’t find you.” She reached into her trench coat pocket for a cigarette, found nothing, frowned, her tone sharpening.

“Do you think you can do whatever you want just because you got the money? I chartered your car, and now you’re nowhere to be seen the next day, and you don’t answer the phone. What do you mean by that? Do you think I’m easygoing?”

Her words weren’t fast, nor loud—just cold.

Only wind and passing cars answered.

She sneered. “Zhou Dongnan, don’t provoke me.”

After silence, Anan’s voice came, brief: “Wait for me, I’ll be back soon.”

Then he hung up.

Cheng Yun listened to the busy tone for half a minute, then threw the phone aside, slipped on her shoes, and opened the balcony door.

Cold wind rushed in. Rain poured harder, pattering endlessly. The mountains and forests blurred under a veil.

She stood between the air conditioner’s heat and the storm’s chill, strangely comfortable.

Then—a flash.

She stepped forward. The narrow mountain path appeared, dark, no streetlights. At the bend near her inn, a figure emerged from the bushes, rounding the corner in seconds.

She saw him clearly: the dark, stiff leather jacket.

Back inside, a knock came—three firm raps.

She opened the door. Wind swept in.

Anan stood soaked, hands in pockets, breathing heavily, rain streaking his face, hair plastered to his forehead.

He looked at her. She glanced briefly, then turned. “Come in.”

He hesitated.

“I let you in.” She waited. “What? Afraid I’ll dock your pay?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Then come in!”

Finally, he stepped inside, closing the door. Silence returned.

Cheng Yun wrapped herself in a blanket, watching. He looked down, then pulled something from his pocket—a square white box.

A soft pack of Marlboro.

“You went to buy cigarettes?”

“Yes.”

“Where did you buy them?”

“Kaili city.”

“You went back to the city?”

“Yes.”

“Did you do any work along the way?”

He looked up, expressionless, pointing at the pack. “Have a cigarette first.”

Cheng Yun frowned.

“Have one first, then we’ll talk.”

She wanted one badly. She lit up, then realized his meaning. She turned, sharp. “Zhou Dongnan, are you saying I’m throwing a tantrum because I can’t have a cigarette?”

He stayed silent.

“You think I’m being unreasonable because I’m craving a cigarette?”

Still no answer.

“I’m asking you a question, aren’t I!”

He lowered his head, then raised it, choosing words. After half a minute: “You should still have a cigarette first.”

Cheng Yun stared. After all that, the same sentence.

She sat, smoked, her anger dissolving. Why did her mood ease? Why did she no longer want to be fierce?

But to let it go would prove him right.

She finished, stubbed it out, then noticed. “Why are your lips so black?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Are you poisoned?”

“….”

“Come sit down, I have air conditioning here.”

He sat opposite, freezing.

“Just got back?”

“Yeah.”

“You went to Kaili?”

“Yeah.”

“Can’t you say anything else besides ‘yeah’?”

“….”

“I’ll dock your pay.”

He looked up.

“Why?”

“I hired your car, and you disappeared without a trace, and you’re asking me why?”

“Last night you asked me to find you some cigarettes, but they weren’t available in the village, so I had to go outside to buy them.”

“It takes at most two hours to get back from Kaili, but you’ve been gone all day. Where else did you go?”

“…The train station.”

“Going to pick someone up?”

“Yeah.”

“How many times?”

“Three times.”

“How much did you earn?”

“Thirty per person.”

“Would others dare to ride in your car?”

“I borrowed a friend’s car.”

“You can lend me a car but make me ride in your beat-up one?”

He looked at her. “Aren’t you afraid?”

Behind him, misty mountains loomed. His voice was low, faint, wooden. “If you’re afraid, I’ll borrow a car tomorrow.”

Cheng Yun tilted her head, eyeing the cigarettes. She chuckled. “Go back to sleep now that you’re warmed up!”

He stood, went to the door.

“Seven o’clock tomorrow morning,” she said.

“Okay, where to?”

“The Dong village.”

He turned sharply.

“Didn’t you hear me? Go to the Dong village.”

After a long pause, he nodded. “Okay.”

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