Her tone this time was completely different from when she’d pushed him to get money from Sun Wenqu. And it was the first time she’d asked for his own money.
Fang Chi was sure something serious was wrong. He didn’t waste time asking, just withdrew his ten-thousand savings from the bank outside school and got in a cab.
On the ride, he kept calling Fang Ying, but she never picked up, which made him more uneasy.
She’d never gotten along with her mom, Fang Chi’s aunt, so she’d moved out long ago. But she never stayed in one place for long, sometimes moving four or five times a year.
The current place she’d just moved into last month. A bit far from Fang Chi’s school.
He frowned, thinking, even if it was an old complex, it was still a gated one with a doorman. If someone really came to mess with her, maybe, possibly, they wouldn’t even get inside…
That faint hope shattered the moment he saw the truck parked downstairs. A beat-up pickup, parked sloppy, blocking half the road, obvious “we’ll leave soon” style.
Fang Chi ran upstairs. On the fourth floor he already heard Little Guo’s crying from above. Only two apartments on the fifth, Fang Ying’s and Little Guo’s. He knew instantly.
He reached for anything on him to use as a weapon. Nothing but the envelope in his jacket. He charged up anyway.
The door wasn’t fully shut. Fang Chi shoved it open, four men stood inside.
Then he saw Fang Ying sitting on the floor, her left hand drenched in blood, clothes stained, though she seemed conscious enough.
“Where’s Little Guo?” His first instinct was the child.
“She’s fine,” Fang Ying’s face was blank, a red handprint across it, blood dripping from her hand though she didn’t seem to notice, propping herself up. “You… brought money?”
From the back room came Little Guo’s sobs, choked and breathless. Fang Chi’s brows tightened.
“Here to pay?” one man asked.
Another yanked at him: “How much you bring?”
Fang Chi shook him off, bent down to check Fang Ying’s hand, it was just a mess of blood, couldn’t even see the wound. He was about to ask when someone kicked him in the leg from behind: “Quit stalling, where’s the money!”
“Give them the money! Give them the money!” Fang Ying screamed, panicked, shrill, almost crying. “Give it to them, give it to them!”
Swallowing his anger, Fang Chi pulled out both the fresh cash and the envelope. The man who’d kicked him snatched them and cursed: “F*ck, this all? You think we’re beggars?”
“That’s all there is now.” Fang Chi said. For him, the only reason he hadn’t already swung at them was Little Guo.
If not for the child, he wouldn’t care who these guys were, after that grab, that kick, and that tone, he would’ve fought already.
But with Fang Ying and Little Guo like this, he had no choice but to endure.
“We came all this way and this is it?” The man smacked the money against Fang Ying’s head. “What’s this, buying junk food?”
“Give me a few more days… three days! Just three days!” Fang Ying pleaded. “I…”
The man slapped her across the face. “Three days? Three days? How many three days already? You think I’m some charity saint?”
He raised his hand to slap again, but Fang Chi caught his wrist.
He hadn’t meant to provoke, didn’t want to escalate, but it was pure reflex to block a blow aimed at Fang Ying.
That reflex, together with the less-than-20k cash, was enough to set them all off.
They came at him with fists, some kicks landing on Fang Ying too.
Her half-cry, half-scream sounded like she’d die any second. Fang Chi couldn’t care about anything else. He hunched over her, shielding her head and her mangled left hand.
At first the blows burned, sharp and hot. Later, he barely felt them at all.
He just numbly shielded Fang Ying. Fists, knees, and who knows what else slammed into him, but he barely felt the pain.
Getting beaten wasn’t a big deal, wasn’t the first time.
But this was the only beating in all of Fang Chi’s eighteen years where he couldn’t fight back. The most senseless, humiliating… and frightening one.
The vicious force in those first blows already showed these weren’t ordinary street thugs.
The debt Fang Ying owed wasn’t small.
If she couldn’t pay it back, Fang Chi didn’t even dare imagine what they might do.
That slow-creeping fear from deep inside left his body stiff.
“Three days. I’ll come back in three days. If you don’t have the money, don’t blame me for being ruthless. And don’t think about running, you won’t get away.”
He didn’t know how long it lasted before silence finally returned.
Only after the men left did Fang Chi snap back, coughing twice, the dull ache in his face and body finally registering.
“You okay…” Fang Ying nervously fumbled over his arms and legs.
“You,” Fang Chi grabbed her shoulder, stared into her face, “how much do you owe? Who the h*ll did you borrow from?”
Fang Ying didn’t answer. She just kept crying, hair a tangled mess, makeup smeared in dark, patchy streaks across her face.
“You went gambling again, didn’t you?” Fang Chi pressed.
Still silence. No matter what he asked, she wouldn’t speak. She just cried.
“You’re trying to get yourself killed,” Fang Chi muttered through clenched teeth, forcing himself up despite the pain and going into the bedroom.
Little Guo was trembling all over, crying. Fang Chi held her, soothed her for a long time until she finally calmed down.
His head was a mess. Once Little Guo was quiet, he returned to the living room. Fang Ying was still sitting on the floor. He glanced at her hand.
Looked like it had been smashed by a chair leg, skin torn open, flesh raw. Couldn’t tell if the bone was hurt.
Fang Chi shut his eyes for a moment, made himself stay calm. He took Little Guo along and rushed Fang Ying to the hospital, then hailed a cab and dropped Little Guo at his uncle’s place.
The moment his aunt saw Little Guo, she knew something was wrong. She pulled Fang Chi aside: “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” Fang Chi said. “She didn’t say anything. But don’t let her take Little Guo again anytime soon.”
“She’s better off dead!” his aunt spat harshly onto the floor.
Fang Chi didn’t reply, just left his uncle’s house.
His whole body ached. He hadn’t noticed before, but now realized his lip was split, the salty taste of blood faint in his mouth. As for his body, walking felt like dragging himself forward under a rain of clubs, every step ripping fresh pain.
He didn’t know how far Fang Ying’s past care for him meant he should go to help her now. But he figured, besides him, she probably had no one left.
Maybe no one else would help her anyway.
And if nobody cared, with the kind of life Fang Ying lived, it wouldn’t be surprising if one day she just disappeared, or ended up dead.
But what could he do?
And if he didn’t get involved… would he end up in trouble too?
—
“Hey, we’re going climbing today. Indoor. You coming?” Luo Peng’s voice came over the phone. “I’ll swing by to pick you up…”
“No. It’s not even the weekend.” Sun Wenqu was sprawled on the sofa. The house still reeked of air freshener, two days now, hadn’t faded. Who knew how much the cleaning lady had sprayed that day.
“You live like every day’s the weekend,” Luo Peng laughed, then added, “Bowen’s not coming. He’s busy today.”
“Even if he was, I wouldn’t go.” Sun Wenqu curled up one leg. Fang Chi’s kick still had his calf aching after two days. “I hurt my leg.”
“How? Fall? Did you get it checked? Want me to take you to the hospital?” Luo Peng sounded worried.
“No need. Just banged it.” Truth was, Sun Wenqu wanted to go out. He hadn’t eaten yet. But he couldn’t be bothered to move.
After chatting a bit more, he hung up. He sat on the sofa a while longer, then grabbed his phone.
On the table were a few takeout menus the cleaning lady had brought.
He picked one at random, thinking to just order something.
Flipped one open, didn’t like the look of it. Was about to check the next when the doorbell rang.
He was surprised. That bell had barely ever rung since it was installed. His friends always called first. Property management had no reason.
Grudgingly, leg aching with every step, he shuffled to the door. On the intercom screen, nobody.
“Who?” Sun Wenqu called.
Silence.
He rolled his eyes. Probably the neighbor’s kid again. Used to happen a lot, ring and run, until Sun Wenqu finally chased him off with a stick and smashed his doorbell. Hadn’t happened since.
After three years, again?
Just as he turned away, the bell rang again.
Still no one on the screen. Sun Wenqu felt his temper flare. He yelled: “Keep pressing! Eight hours straight, you can clock out after!”
“It’s me,” a voice came through the intercom just as Sun Wenqu was about to ignore it and go back to the sofa. “Fang Chi.”
Fang Chi? Sun Wenqu froze, turned, looked again. Sure enough, it was him.
“You sick in the head?” Sun Wenqu snapped into the intercom. “Three pharmacies out the back gate. Take your pick.”
“Afraid you’d see me and not open.” Fang Chi said.
“You don’t need me to open. You can just piss against the wall,” Sun Wenqu sneered, anger at that night boiling up again. “Piss away.”
He didn’t open. Went back to the sofa, picked up the menu again.
The doorbell rang.
And rang.
And kept ringing.
Sun Wenqu ground his teeth and ignored it.
Finally, after a few minutes, it stopped. He let out a long breath.
Then came noises from the yard, something knocked over, a flowerpot maybe.
The h*ll?
He dropped the menu and shot up. Before he could reach the door, heavy knocks rattled it, three thuds.
He actually climbed the wall in broad daylight?
Was there no law left in this world?
Disbelieving, Sun Wenqu peered through the peephole. Sure enough, Fang Chi, standing outside.
“Ten seconds,” Sun Wenqu barked through the peephole. “If you don’t get lost, I’m calling the cops!”
“I need your help,” Fang Chi kept knocking.
“No,” Sun Wenqu snapped instantly. He flopped back onto the sofa.
Shake him down once, beat him when it doesn’t work, and still come back trying? What kind of scammer’s persistence was this? He could run a master class.
“I’ll keep knocking till the cops come,” Fang Chi said.
If not for his bum leg, Sun Wenqu swore he’d have gone out there with a flowerpot and smashed it over Fang Chi’s head.
But for now, no cops. At worst, they’d show up and see him refusing to open. And with this scammer’s persistence, who knew what story he’d spin for them.
So Sun Wenqu decided to wait him out. See how long he could keep knocking.
About five minutes later, just as Sun Wenqu finally picked two dishes from the menus, the knocking stopped.
“I really do need your help,” Fang Chi’s voice came from outside. “It’s urgent.”
“No.” Sun Wenqu said.
“I’ll just come in then.” Fang Chi’s tone stayed calm, not rushed, not angry. Like it was just casual talk between friends.
“Come in, then,” Sun Wenqu actually laughed, almost impressed by his stubbornness. “You get in, I’ll buy you dinner.”
The yard wall was nothing, just for show, barely higher than a dog could jump. But the front door was different. Last time he forgot his keys, even the locksmith took an hour.
Silence outside. Fang Chi seemed to leave.
Sun Wenqu lounged back, watching the door, wondering what tool he’d try. Then suddenly, the window rattled.
“F*ck!” he shouted, leaping up. The window had been left open since morning to air out the freshener, hidden behind the curtains. He hadn’t thought of it.
Just as he jumped, the curtain lifted. Fang Chi slipped inside, landing silently in the living room right in front of him.
Smooth as h*ll. Didn’t even make a sound.
Right then and there, Sun Wenqu thought: time to get security bars.
He glared at Fang Chi, finally muttering: “You know this counts as breaking and entering?”
“Sorry,” Fang Chi said. “I really do have an urgent problem.”
Sun Wenqu stared at him, then slowly sat back on the sofa, leg propped on the coffee table. “Yeah? Urgent, like begging me for child support for your mom?”
Fang Chi really did have an urgent problem. Sun Wenqu could see it on his face, in his eyes. Gone was the blatant scorn from their first two encounters.
And he noticed the bruises, too.
“Need to borrow money,” Fang Chi said.
“Hm?” Sun Wenqu glanced at him. Changed the wording now, “borrow”?
“I’ll write you an IOU, or whatever you want. As long as I can borrow it.” Fang Chi repeated.
“How much?” Sun Wenqu asked.
“100,000.” Fang Chi answered.
Sun Wenqu burst out laughing, leaned back into the sofa, grinning at him for two whole minutes.
Fang Chi didn’t react. Just stood there, watching him laugh.
“Man,” Sun Wenqu rubbed his face when he was finally done, “that’s hilarious.”
“So can you lend it?” Fang Chi asked. “I’ll pay it back.”
“Fang Chi,” Sun Wenqu picked up the menu, folding it slowly, “that’s your real name?”
“Yes.”
“Fang Chi,” Sun Wenqu squinted at him, “in your eyes, besides being some rich playboy, gay, and a scumbag who hits women, what else am I?”
“That’s it.” Fang Chi said flatly.
“Nothing else?” Sun Wenqu folded the menu again, tapped himself on the chest. “You sure not even ‘idiot’?”
Fang Chi looked at him seriously. “No.”
“Then why the h*ll do you think I’d lend you money!” Sun Wenqu roared, flinging the now-paper-plane menu across the room.
Fang Chi tilted his head, dodging. The sharp corner still grazed his cheek, right on a cut. Paper, but it stung. He frowned, said nothing.
“Out before I call the cops.” Sun Wenqu grabbed his phone.
Fang Chi didn’t move. After a pause, he said, “You just said if I got in, you’d buy me dinner.”
Sun Wenqu gripped his phone, resisting the urge to throw it at him. He muttered public service, righteous cause in his head about thirty times, then looked up at him: “Fine. Stand there.”
Fang Chi shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and stayed put.
Sun Wenqu ordered food, turned on the TV.
Honestly, he was impressed. Fang Chi didn’t look like someone thick-skinned enough for this, yet here he was, just standing there.
Sun Wenqu felt a tightness in his chest, like something stuffed with cotton. Annoyance he couldn’t get rid of, not even by beating him up.
After ten quiet minutes, Fang Chi suddenly said: “If a hundred thousand’s too much…”
“Huh?” Sun Wenqu jerked, startled.
“Less would be fine too…” Fang Chi said toward the TV.
Sun Wenqu closed his eyes, cut him off: “So it’s a hundred thousand, huh.”
“Yes.” Fang Chi quickly turned his head.
“No problem,” Sun Wenqu said. “But you’ll have to write me an IOU…”
“Fine!” Fang Chi’s mood shifted instantly. He pulled out his phone. “I’ll call her to come over right now.”
“Wait.” Sun Wenqu opened his eyes, lazily got up, and strolled over to him. He looked at the cut at the corner of Fang Chi’s mouth. “The IOU, you sign it.”
“Me?” Fang Chi froze. “But the money is…”
“The money’s your mom’s debt,” Sun Wenqu curled his lip. “Your real mom, right?”
Fang Chi glanced at him, said nothing.
“Mother’s debt, son repays,” Sun Wenqu drawled. “Agree and I’ll lend. Don’t agree, then finish your meal and leave.”
This time Fang Chi stayed silent for a long while.
Sun Wenqu wasn’t in a hurry. He strolled into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of yogurt, and started drinking.
When he came back out, Fang Chi finally said: “Fine.”
“By the way,” Sun Wenqu said while sipping his yogurt, “one more condition.”
“What?” Fang Chi’s brows knitted. “What condition?”
“Until the debt’s paid off,” Sun Wenqu stepped closer again, “you come here every day to clean, do laundry, cook…”
Before he could finish, Fang Chi turned, yanked the door open, and walked out.
“Not staying for dinner?” Sun Wenqu called.
Fang Chi ignored him. Slammed the door shut with a bang.
“Next time use the door, not the wall!” Sun Wenqu shouted after him. “Take the door, son!”
