In the days that followed, Zhou Qiluo really did rent an apartment in the same complex, just as she said she would. But ever since Tang Yan had returned, it wasn’t so easy for her to get inside anymore. As long as Tang Yan didn’t open the door, she had no way of getting in to bother Aunt Ji.
One night, jolting awake from another nightmare, Zhou Qiluo lay alone in the white bed, screaming until her throat hurt. It took a long time before she could calm down, to separate the dream from reality. Her mental state had been deteriorating. She carried too much, and there was no one she could talk to. Day after day, it built up inside her, and she was reaching her limit.
Sitting at the edge of the bed, staring blankly out the window, she got another call from her family. Zhou Qiluo answered without a word, set the phone on speaker in the middle of the bed, and just let the voice on the other end yell.
“What the hell is wrong with you? At your age, you’re getting divorced? Are you still thinking about that woman? Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Because of you, the only son in the He family went off to become a monk. That’s the kind of sin you’ve caused!”
Zhou Qiluo clutched her ears tightly, trying to block it out. Her wide eyes stared blankly into space.
“Why aren’t you saying anything? Where the hell are you hiding? You’re not coming home, what, are you abandoning this family? Your mother cries herself to sleep every night. I’ve lost all face. Is that what you want? For us two old folks to just drop dead and make you happy?”
Zhou Qiluo silently ended the call. The silence that followed felt like the only peace she had.
Hugging her knees, she muttered, “Why won’t Yuqing see me… Does she really not love me anymore?” She buried her face in her knees, biting down hard, her tears falling, one after another, her voice trembling as she sobbed, “Why are you doing this to me? Why are you being so heartless? Why won’t you even give me a chance to make it right…”
That night, Tang Yan and Aunt Ji were eating dinner at home. Out of nowhere, Ji Yuqing asked, “She hasn’t come by to bother you these past few days, has she?”
Tang Yan smiled. “Nope.” Then, after a pause, the smile faded. “Actually… I haven’t seen her at all lately. Kinda weird.”
“That’s probably for the best,” Yuqing said, picking up her bowl. “If she can finally let go of the past and move on, that’d be the best ending.”
Just as she finished, the doorbell rang.
Both of them tensed immediately. Understandable—lately, that doorbell had become a source of dread.
Tang Yan hesitated, then asked quietly, “Should we open it?”
“Ignore it,” Yuqing said firmly.
They kept eating, pretending not to hear anything.
But when no one answered, the doorbell turned into heavy pounding. Tang Yan grew worried the door might get damaged.
“It’s fine,” Yuqing said calmly. “The door’s solid. Worst case, we replace it.”
“Is it really okay?” Tang Yan still looked concerned.
“You think hiding in there means you’ve won?” Zhou Qiluo shouted from outside. “You think you can stay locked up forever? You gonna live in there the rest of your life?”
Her shouting drew complaints from other residents, and soon someone called the security guards from the gate. As the guards tried to hold her back, Zhou Qiluo thrashed violently and screamed toward the apartment, “Tang Yan! Aren’t you the least bit curious who your father is, huh?!”
Tang Yan froze, her utensils clinking as she dropped them. Ji Yuqing felt dread rise in her chest—she was terrified Zhou Qiluo would say more.
“Your father is a rapist! A rapist who assaulted your mother!” Zhou Qiluo screamed.
Tang Yan couldn’t take it anymore. She shot to her feet, about to storm out, but Yuqing rushed to stop her. “Yanyan—!”
But she couldn’t hold her back. Tang Yan, overcome with emotion, flung the door open and ran outside. Yuqing followed right behind.
Outside, a crowd had already gathered, drawn by the commotion. Tang Yan confronted Zhou Qiluo directly, voice trembling. “How dare you say that? Who do you think you are?”
“You don’t believe me? Then ask the woman behind you—she knows better than anyone,” Zhou Qiluo sneered, eyes wild. “Your mother only got assaulted because she was trying to protect her. That’s how you came into this world. How ironic, right? And she still had the nerve to let you two live under the same roof.”
Tang Yan stood frozen, shaking all over, fists clenched tight. Around them, murmurs spread, people whispering.
She turned to look at Aunt Ji. Her voice broke. “Is it true, Aunt Ji? Is everything she said… true?”
Yuqing lowered her head, her silence answering for her.
“I’m really… a rapist’s daughter?” Tang Yan muttered in disbelief, devastated. She couldn’t accept it.
Then she turned and bolted, pushing through the crowd. Without hesitation, Yuqing chased after her, leaving Zhou Qiluo standing there, laughing hysterically—half triumphant, half unhinged.
The police soon arrived and took Zhou Qiluo away. She didn’t resist. Quietly, obediently, she got into the car.
“Yanyan! Yanyan!” Ji Yuqing called out, but Tang Yan was fast, and the gap between their ages and stamina made it impossible to keep up. As the night fell, Yuqing lost sight of her in the streets. People flowed past, but not the one person she needed to find.
She’d left in such a hurry she hadn’t brought her phone. Yuqing sprinted back home to call Tang Yan. She was terrified of what the girl might do—this was the kind of blow that could push someone over the edge.
Meanwhile, Tang Yan ran and cried, wiping away tears as she went. She couldn’t forget the way people had looked at her—like she was something freakish. She couldn’t accept it. She’d rather have no father at all than be the daughter of a rapist.
She ran and ran, until she had nothing left. Her phone buzzed nonstop—she knew it had to be Aunt Ji—but she just couldn’t answer. Not now.
Standing in a crowd of strangers, she felt like a leaf on the water, drifting with nowhere to go. She thought about going to see Xiaoyun, but remembered she was living with Shen Yuyin now. That wouldn’t work.
After thinking it over, she finally called Peiwen-jie.
Peiwen was surprised to get a call from Tang Yan at this hour. She happened to be at a bar with friends, but the music was too loud, so she rushed outside to answer.
“Peiwen-jie.”
“What’s going on? Your voice—are you okay? What happened?”
“…Can I come to your place?” Tang Yan asked quietly, her voice full of everything she couldn’t say.
Peiwen didn’t ask any more questions. She jumped in her car immediately. “Of course. Just tell me where you are—I’m coming right now.”
She could hear something was seriously wrong, and she wasn’t about to waste any time.