Chapter 2

Under the pretext of lighting the stove, he had twice hinted that something was in the woodshed.

If she went to investigate while he was gone, he would know she suspected him.

What would he do then?

I didn't dare think further.

But however hard I tried, I couldn't warn her.

Once he left, my mother immediately stood and looked around.

She soon found what she wanted.

A rag and a washbasin.

Taking the basin outside, she surveyed the yard.

The front of the house faced the main road. The boundary wall and gate had mostly collapsed.

A dark well stood in an inconspicuous corner.

Behind the house was a vegetable garden, overgrown in summer and buried in snow in winter.

A ragged scarecrow stood in its center.

She went to the well. Its surface was frozen, its winding gear so rotten it was barely recognizable.

With a helpless shake of her head, she crouched and scooped snow into the basin.

The camera concealed beside the well gave an almost imperceptible red blink, transmitting everything to Wang Xiude's phone.

At last my suspended heart settled.

She might suspect him, but she wasn't making it too obvious.

Soon she carried a basinful of snow inside, set it beside the brazier, and used the melting snow to dampen her rag and wipe the room.

As the thin dust came away, dark-brown spots emerged on the walls and floor.

She acted as though she hadn't seen them.

Only the hand holding the rag trembled a little.

“I'm back, Mrs. Feng!”

The door flew open. Wang Xiude strode in with two shopping bags and a gust of snow and cold.

“I bought flour, meat, eggs, chives, and celery. I didn't know what filling you liked, so I got a little of everything.”

There were bowls, chopsticks, a chopping board, and knives too. The other bag held plenty of bottled water.

He opened a bottle and gulped down half, then exhaled.

“That cellar of mine is wonderful. Warm in winter, cool in summer. Even the bottled water doesn't freeze.”

Washing vegetables, my mother asked, “You have a cellar too?”

“Of course. Beside the well. Didn't you see it?”

“No.”

Her expression didn't change.

“Perhaps the snow covered it.”

Another test.

There was a cellar, but it wasn't beside the well. It was in exactly the opposite direction.

Earlier, he'd taken animal traps from it and buried them beneath the snow by the well.

This twisted monster wanted panicking prey, not a cornered animal fighting for its life.

The dumplings were soon made.

The crescent-shaped ones held celery and meat.

The ingot-shaped ones held chives and eggs.

At first he hadn't much liked the arrangement, but her explanation was perfectly reasonable.

“After my daughter disappeared, I prayed to the Buddha. For the rest of my life, I would eat no meat and take no life, if only she could come home safely.

“All the meat dumplings are for you. Just leave me a few with chives and eggs.”

Unable to persuade her, he went aside with a dark face and hacked viciously at the filling.

A piece of red-and-yellow meat was almost reduced to paste.

Once the dumplings were wrapped, she carried the rag and basin into the kitchen and called, “Bring some wood, would you? Once I've cleaned the stove, we can boil these.”

He answered and turned toward the woodshed.

In the kitchen, she lifted the dusty pot lid.

Her face suddenly changed.

The huge pot, nearly a meter across, held a faint smell of blood.

She bowed her head and scrubbed the stove and pot furiously.

I couldn't see her expression.

I could only see tears falling, scattering tiny flecks of dust.

“Is this enough wood?”

He burst into the kitchen with an armful.

Seeing her, his expression shifted again and again.

Excitement. Pleasure. Wariness of danger.

A bloodthirsty urge to kill.

“Feng He. You're crying.”

This time, he dropped the friendly Mrs. Feng and used her full name without disguise.

“Why… are you crying?”

He put down the wood and tilted his head to study her, his eyes full of a predator's pleasure.

He hadn't brought only wood.

He had the axe too.

Beside my mother was only a large lid made of thin sheet metal.

The kitchen had a window, but iron bars as thick as fingers were welded across it.

She had no way out.

Yet she neither panicked nor screamed out her anger and hatred.

She only wiped her tears and spoke through sobs, her words broken.

“This time last year… my daughter and I were still celebrating at home…

“Eight out of every ten dumplings she made split open…

“I laughed at her for being clumsy. Told her no one would marry her…

“She laughed at me for being old-fashioned. Said marriage wasn't something every woman had to have…”

She suddenly crouched and burst into tears.

“Ruoxue… Mommy misses you… so much…”

I watched, desperate to throw myself into her arms and cry.

I couldn't.

His gaze changed from bloodthirsty to hesitant, then from hesitant to mocking.

He'd thought she would smell the blood, conclude he'd murdered me, and rise to fight him to the death.

Then he would strike first.

He hadn't expected her simply to… miss me.

Nothing more.

In the end, he abandoned the attack.

He put down the wood and axe and offered her tissues.

“Don't cry. Everyone has their fate. You have to bear your grief.

“If Ruoxue is watching from the next world, she'd want you to let go and live well.”

She nodded in acknowledgment and raised a trembling hand, rubbing clumsily at her cuff twice.

Gray stuffing showed through its frayed edge.

Tears seeped through it and soaked the red sweater underneath.

I'd knitted it for her two years earlier.

She'd loved it so much that she only dared wear it for half a day on special occasions.

Now it was her only comfort.

After a long time, she gradually calmed.

Bracing herself on the stove, she struggled upright and went toward the wood he'd brought.

“I'm all right, Xiude.

“Go outside. Let me collect myself. Then I'll cook the dumplings.”

He shrugged.

“All right. Call if you need help.”

He turned to leave.

“Wait.”

He stopped and looked back, puzzled.

Then his eyes widened, and he sucked in a breath.

Before him stood a mother holding an axe, her gaze ice-cold.

“You just told me to bear my grief, didn't you?”

Expressionless, she enunciated every word.

“I told you my daughter was missing. Why do you assume…

“that my Ruoxue is dead?”

He backed away in fear.

She advanced, axe in hand.

“I… I just said it without thinking! I don't know anything!

“I'm sorry. You said she'd been missing six months. I assumed she was dead…

“It's my foul mouth! Don't get upset. She's a fortunate girl. She'll be safe!”

He scrambled to explain, even slapping his own face several times.

For an instant, I could see my mother truly wanted to kill him.

Hunter and prey had completely changed places.

She stared at his neck as though she would bring down the axe in the next second.

But she didn't.

Her arm dropped helplessly.

She went to the stove and chopped the logs into pieces.

“I'm sorry, Xiude. I shouldn't have tested you.”

At that, the tension vanished from his face.

“It's fine. I misspoke. It was easy to misunderstand.

“When it's light, I'll help you search. This road is only a little over ten kilometers. We'll check every house. We're bound to find something.”

An unreadable smile appeared on her face. She nodded and went on chopping.

Only then was he wholly reassured.

He left the kitchen and sat beside the stove again.

Then he flicked his left hand.

A sharpened steel spike slid from his sleeve into his palm.

At first, I'd thought she'd frightened him into panic and careless words.

I'd even wondered whether, if she swung the axe, he might fall to his knees and beg, admitting what he'd done to me.

I had never imagined it was all an act.

He must have been certain that even if she struck first, he could move faster and drive the spike into her.

Thank goodness she hadn't attacked.

I looked back toward the kitchen.

The water was boiling.

But she stood beside the pot holding the dumplings, never dropping them in.

Steam thickened in the room.

Thicker and thicker.

Suddenly, she set the plate down and took out an unmarked medicine bottle.

She tipped out five pills and carefully tucked one into each of five meat-and-celery dumplings.

I understood at once.

She'd already seen through his performance.

Perhaps she hadn't attacked because she couldn't be certain of winning.

He was a tall, strong, middle-aged man.

She was over fifty, her health broken by six months of grief.

Even with the initiative, she might not land the blow.

She would have only one chance.

But there were miniature cameras in the kitchen.

They must have recorded her putting in the pills.

I looked toward him beside the stove.

He was whistling, warming himself leisurely, apparently delighted.

His phone lay beside him, displaying the kitchen feed.

But the steam was so thick that her movements were invisible. Only a vague silhouette remained.

No wonder she hadn't hurried to put the dumplings in.

She'd already found the camera.

Before long, the dumplings were cooked.

Smiling, she brought out two plates and set them on the table.

“Time to eat!”

He inhaled the aroma rapturously and flattered her.

“What wonderful filling. I can smell it through the wrappers!”

She glanced at him, pushed a bowl and chopsticks toward him, and poured a little soy sauce.

“All talk. How will you know whether they're good without tasting them?”

She picked up a dumpling and placed it in his bowl.

I saw clearly.

It was one of the five she'd put pills in.

Without a second thought, he laughed, picked it up, and dipped it in the sauce.

The chopsticks slowly rose.

His mouth opened wider.

“Oh! Nearly forgot.”

He put it down and slapped his forehead.

“Dumplings need liquor. The more you drink, the livelier it gets! It's New Year. How can we not have a drink?”

He pulled over the shopping bag, found a bottle of Erguotou, unscrewed it, and took a long swig.

The strong liquor went down. He smacked his lips, exhaled alcohol, and laughed.

“That's good! Have a glass?”

She smiled and shook her head.

“No. I'm too old for strong spirits.

“Don't just drink. Eat. They won't be good cold.”

“Yes, yes. Dumplings!”

Once more, his chopsticks lifted the drugged dumpling and slowly brought it toward his mouth.

So slowly it was agonizing.

Just as the wrapper was about to touch his lips, without warning, he let the chopsticks fall.

The dumpling dropped into the bowl, splashing soy sauce.

My mother's face tightened. Silently, she shifted her chopsticks into a reversed grip.

He shook his head and breathed out liquor.

“Let's save a few for Ruoxue first.

“Who knows? We might find her after our reunion dinner.”

He took an empty bowl and put his dumpling in it.

Then he selected four more from the plate and added them.

My mother's eyes widened in disbelief. For an instant, even her breathing stopped.

Those five dumplings were exactly the five she'd drugged.

Wang Xiude knew.

He knew everything.

She forced a smile and nodded.

“Of course. If Ruoxue knew someone remembered her, she'd be happy.”

He stuffed a dumpling into his mouth and spoke indistinctly as he chewed.

“These are exquisite. Delicious!

“You should open a dumpling shop beside this road. Call it Ruoxue's Dumplings.

“Put her photograph on the sign. Everyone passing would see it. Someone might have met her. Then we'd have a lead!”

Mockery.

Naked mockery.