Chapter 16: Night in Dong Village

 

With a creak, the door to the first-floor apartment opened.

Anan walked ahead and entered first. Director Zhang, still somewhat afraid of Anan’s brother, followed closely behind.

Cheng Yun and Anan’s brother remained outside. Before going in, Cheng Yun asked, “What’s your name?”

Anan’s brother stared at her blankly, seemingly unable to understand. Even after Anan came back out again, he remained fixed on Cheng Yun.

“Come in,” Anan said to her.

Cheng Yun stopped looking at the man and turned to go inside.

Anan’s house was a three-story structure. As soon as they entered, the scent of wood filled the air. The living room was cluttered with various items, and because it was so dark, Cheng Yun couldn’t see clearly what was there. Anan led them upstairs to the second floor, past a corridor, and to two rooms.

“You two can squeeze in here,” Anan said. “My brother and I will stay in the other room.”

“Where’s your father?”

“He’s not here. He went to the city. He’ll be back in a few days.”

As he spoke, Anan opened the door for Cheng Yun. She looked up and saw a light bulb hanging from the ceiling. She found the switch by the door and flipped it a few times, but nothing happened.

“The light’s broken.”

Anan stepped inside and went straight to a large box in the corner, pulling something out.

Cheng Yun thought it would be a candle, but it turned out to be a flashlight.

Quite modern.

“Here you go.” Anan tested it a couple of times; the flashlight worked.

Cheng Yun switched it on and shone it around the room. There was only an empty bed and a table. A thin layer of dust drifted in the beam of light.

“You’re just letting us stay here?” Cheng Yun said.

Anan glanced at her. “I already told you the conditions aren’t good.”

“Whether the conditions are good or bad, you should at least give us a blanket. It’s so cold. Let’s huddle together for warmth.”

“Oh, I have a blanket.”

Anan went out. Cheng Yun heard footsteps climbing the stairs in the darkness. After a while, he returned carrying a blanket.

Director Zhang asked, “Do you have a rag?”

Anan went out again and came back with one. Director Zhang took it and wiped the bed frame.

While wiping, she said, “Hey, not much dust.”

Anan watched from the side and said, “This room is cleaned regularly.”

After a long day of travel, the three of them were tired. Cheng Yun spread the blanket over the bed.

“Alright, let’s rest tonight. We can talk about anything else tomorrow.”

She only removed her outer coat, sleeping in her sweater and pants. Director Zhang lay beside her, also fully dressed.

The blanket carried a damp, gloomy smell, and Cheng Yun pulled it only up to her shoulders.

It was late at night. After such a long day, strangely enough, once Cheng Yun lay down, she couldn’t fall asleep.

Director Zhang whispered, “Sister Cheng, are you asleep?”

“No.”

“Don’t you think this place is a little creepy?”

Cheng Yun chuckled in the darkness. “What’s creepy about it?”

“I can’t really say…”

“Hmm.” Cheng Yun teased, “Ghost movies are all filmed in places like this.”

After she said that, she felt Director Zhang shrink deeper under the blanket.

She laughed softly. “Little Zhang, you can’t be so timid.”

Director Zhang moved closer and whispered, “Sister Cheng, aren’t you afraid of ghosts? I’ve been scared of ghost stories since I was little. Even the really fake ones scare me.”

“Is that so?” Cheng Yun said slowly. “Are you scared now?”

“A little…”

Cheng Yun nodded. “You should be scared.”

“Hm?”

“Because there’s someone standing at our door.”

“Ah—!?”

Director Zhang screamed, but Cheng Yun quickly covered her mouth, afraid of disturbing the villagers.

“Keep your voice down.”

Director Zhang trembled under the covers. Cheng Yun patted her.

“It’s alright. I’ll go check.”

Cheng Yun got out of bed, walked to the door, and pushed it open. The person outside seemed startled by her.

Cheng Yun crossed her arms and said calmly, “Is something wrong?”

Standing there was Anan’s brother. He wore an old black down jacket, worn through in several places.

Like Anan, he was tall, but thinner, his posture slightly hunched. His skin was rough, cracked and peeling, making it clear he had worked hard at the bottom of society for many years just to survive.

His eyes were strange—staring, yet somehow unfocused—and his lips were pursed as if he wanted to speak.

Even the most weathered migrant workers wouldn’t look like him.

This person probably had some mental problems.

Thinking this, Cheng Yun grew slightly cautious. She glanced toward the room to the left and asked, “Where’s Anan?”

He paused before reacting, then casually pointed downstairs.

“Boiling water…”

His voice was hoarse, carrying a heavy accent. Cheng Yun noticed his raised hand; his knuckles were thick and scarred with frostbite.

“Did you need something? Oh, by the way, I still don’t know your name.”

Cheng Yun gave him time to think. Finally he whispered something she barely caught.

“Zhou Dong… something?”

“…Cheng.”

“Oh, Zhou Dongcheng.” Cheng Yun nodded. “How much older are you than Anan?”

Zhou Dongcheng slowly raised his hand and extended one finger.

“…” Cheng Yun was speechless. “One year older? Or ten?”

Zhou Dongcheng shook his head.

Just then, someone spoke behind him.

“My brother is an hour older than me. We’re twins.”

Anan stepped out from behind Zhou Dongcheng. As they passed each other, Anan reached out. Zhou Dongcheng handed him a dark, indistinct object before leaving.

“Twins?” Cheng Yun felt relieved when Anan appeared. She asked slowly, “Are you sure?”

Anan lifted the object—a plastic hot-water bottle. In his other hand he held a thermos, steam rising from its mouth.

Cheng Yun stepped forward to help hold the hot-water bottle while Anan poured the hot water into it.

“Hurry up and pour it, or I won’t get my accommodation fee.”

“…”

The light was off, yet Anan poured perfectly without spilling a drop.

As the hot water flowed in, Cheng Yun asked again, “Were you serious just now? You and your brother are really twins?”

“Yes,” Anan said softly. “Really.”

“Then why is he like this?”

Anan glanced at her. “What’s wrong?”

“Look at the water.”

Anan looked down.

Cheng Yun said calmly, “Does your brother have mental problems?”

Anan didn’t answer, as if unwilling to say more. Cheng Yun didn’t press further.

The hot-water bottle wasn’t completely full. After tying it shut, Anan handed it to her.

“Put it at the foot of the bed. It’s cold in the mountains.”

Anan was about to leave when Cheng Yun leaned against the doorframe.

“Boil some more water for me tomorrow morning.”

Anan turned his head. Her figure was indistinct in the darkness.

“I want to take a shower…”

Her voice was light and airy, like a black feather drifting through the night forest. As she turned and closed the door, it quietly settled.

Cheng Yun switched on the flashlight and saw Director Zhang lying in bed, only her eyes visible above the blanket.

“What are you doing?” Cheng Yun said, placing the hot-water bottle at the foot of the bed.

“Sister Cheng, why does his brother like to scare people like that?”

Cheng Yun lay down and pulled the blanket over herself.

“Go to sleep.”

After all that commotion, their earlier drowsiness returned. Soon both Cheng Yun and Director Zhang fell asleep.

---

The next morning, Cheng Yun woke up shivering.

The hot-water bottle beneath her feet had long since gone cold.

The blanket was still slightly warm, but her exposed face and neck were freezing.

The bed was hard and uncomfortable. Sitting up felt like rising from a bed of nails. As she shifted, she glanced at Director Zhang beside her.

“Little Zhang?”

Director Zhang was still asleep, brow slightly furrowed, mouth open as she breathed lightly, occasionally sniffling.

Cheng Yun sensed something was wrong. She reached out and touched Director Zhang’s forehead.

“…”

She had caught a cold.

Cheng Yun quickly got up and dressed. Director Zhang woke groggily.

“Sister Cheng…”

Her voice was thick with a nasal tone.

Cheng Yun walked over and pulled the blanket up around her.

“How do you feel? You seem to have caught a cold. You’re a little feverish.”

Director Zhang smacked her lips.

“I have a cold…”

“You lie down,” Cheng Yun said. “I’ll go see if there’s any medicine.”

“Sister Cheng…”

Just as Cheng Yun was about to leave, Director Zhang called her again. She turned and saw Director Zhang looking at her expectantly.

“Deduct… deduct money…”

Cheng Yun almost laughed.

“Damn it, did you catch that from Zhou Dongnan? Stay put.”

She pushed open the door, and in an instant the cold mountain air enveloped her.

Like a clear wave, it seeped through her skin and spread through her limbs.

Her hurried steps gradually slowed.

White smoke rose from a corner downstairs. Perhaps Anan was boiling water.

The night had faded, and the entire Dong Village revealed itself.

If the village at night had been like a black veil, now the wind had lifted it, revealing a pale ink painting beneath. The brushwork wasn’t delicate, and the details weren’t vivid, yet its value lay in its authenticity.

Authenticity had depth.

Cheng Yun slowed her pace and went downstairs.

Sure enough, Anan was boiling water.

The kettle sat outside on a small stool. The front door was open, and an extension cord ran from the corner, the kettle plugged into it.

Anan leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed, looking down at the steaming kettle.

Perhaps because he was home, he had removed his jacket and changed into clean clothes.

They seemed to be traditional casual wear—pure black, front-opening, slightly longer than usual, reaching about half a foot past his waist. The trousers were also black, simple straight-legged coarse cloth. The shoes were the same as before.

He was so absorbed that he didn’t notice Cheng Yun coming downstairs.

So he looked at the kettle, and she looked at him.

Each absorbed in their own focus.

In truth, she didn’t even know what she was looking at.

He hadn’t become more handsome, nor had his skin grown fairer. Leaning against the doorway, the back of his shirt was pulled taut by his crossed arms, forming a slight curve. His expression remained blank, lips pressed together, eyes fixed on the pot of water about to boil.

His skin was still dark, yet somehow different.

The face she had teased so casually throughout their journey, now set against green hills and an old village, suddenly evoked a feeling of vast emptiness and quiet awe.

Perhaps this was the essence of home.

Being here was ultimately different from being elsewhere.

Cheng Yun tilted her head slightly.

She felt that Anan suited this landscape perfectly—the small village, the mountains, even his dark clothes.

But to be honest, she wasn’t surprised by the feeling.

To Cheng Yun, Anan was like bamboo rice that hadn’t fully cooked—dry, hard, and unappetizing.

Yet sometimes, when you brought it closer, you could smell a faint fragrance seeping from the cracks of the bamboo.

Now, Cheng Yun could smell it.