Chapter Ninety-Five: At This Point
Jiang Tang’s father was getting old and couldn’t handle any further shocks. The doctor had explicitly instructed Cheng Jiu not to provoke him again; his blood pressure spiking could be dangerous.
Jiang Tang was his only daughter. For her to have committed such a thing—it was as if the sky had fallen. To him, it was utterly disgraceful, sinful even.
He desperately hoped it was all a mistake. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to face Commander Meng, or any of them.
Cheng Jiu stood rigid and silent, his expression dark and forbidding, making others uneasy.
Jiang Tang’s father slumped, instantly seeming older. “Jiang Tang is my daughter. I raised her myself. How could she do such a thing? I was almost forty when she was born. Her mother passed early, and we have few relatives. It’s always been just the two of us. I know her character; she would never do something like this!”
“Ah Jiu, you believe in her, don’t you? She couldn’t possibly—”
“Uncle Jiang, if you’re able to contact Jiang Tang, try to persuade her to return and turn herself in. It’s her best chance.” Cheng Jiu’s gaze was calm; he said nothing more.
Jiang Tang’s father stared at him in anguish for a long time. At this point, words were futile. The facts were laid bare: if Jiang Tang truly had committed a crime, then she was a criminal, no longer Cheng Jiu’s comrade, nor his friend.
“Ah Jiu, I can’t reach her. She hasn’t contacted me. I’m old, really just scraping by, not many days left—but Jiang Tang is young. That’s why I wonder if there’s been some misunderstanding...”
“Uncle Jiang, some things Commander Meng has already discussed with you. I won’t repeat them. Do you remember Xiao Shi? He’s gone.”
Jiang Tang’s father was stunned for a long time, muttering, “No...”
...
Outside, the wind and snow were fierce. Commander Meng and his secretary waited at the door, eyes stung by the cold. When Cheng Jiu finally emerged, the secretary hurried forward to ask about the situation.
Cheng Jiu said, “Please arrange for someone to take him to the hospital. His old ailments have flared up.”
The secretary nodded, “Understood, I’ll take care of it.”
Commander Meng looked at Cheng Jiu. “Are you alright?”
Cheng Jiu shook his head. “I’m fine.”
...
Snow covered the mountains, endless and pure.
Commander Meng’s child came looking for Cheng Jiu, knocking at the door for a long time.
Xin Gan heard the knocking, thinking Cheng Jiu had returned early. She opened the door to find the child instead.
The little one was alone, and upon seeing her, greeted her sweetly, “Auntie!”
Xin Gan took his hand and asked, “Are you alone? Where’s your mother?”
“Mom’s making lunch. I had nothing to do, so I came to find Uncle Cheng Jiu to play.”
“Uncle Cheng Jiu isn’t here. He went out. Does your mother know you’re out?”
“She knows. I told her I was coming to find Uncle Cheng Jiu. Since he’s not here, Auntie, let’s play together.”
The little boy wore snow boots and a hat with ears, lively and fearless.
Xin Gan said, “It’s still snowing outside, and lunch is soon. Let’s play indoors, alright?”
“Okay, then I’ll wait for Uncle Cheng Jiu to come back.”
There were no candies or toys in the house, and she wasn’t sure what to entertain him with. Xin Gan turned on the TV for him.
Cheng Jiu hurried back through the snow, opening the door to find the child sitting on the sofa. He frowned, half annoyed, “Why are you here again? Where’s your mother?”
“Uncle Cheng Jiu!” The boy spun around at the sound of his voice and ran over, hugging his leg.
Cheng Jiu lifted him by the collar with one hand. “What, here for another free meal?”
“Can’t I come? Don’t you want to see me?” The child was quick-witted, sweet-talking even at his age. Knowing Cheng Jiu didn’t particularly like him, he went to cling to Xin Gan instead.
Xin Gan was in the kitchen washing vegetables, hoping to have them ready so Cheng Jiu could cook when he returned, saving some trouble. But the little one now clung to her leg and wouldn’t let go.
Cheng Jiu leaned against the wall, arms folded, amused by the sight of the two, his heart feeling full. How wonderful it was to be alive, to come home to her.
But Xiao Shi had sacrificed himself.
Xiao Shi exchanged his own life for their safety.
Jiang Yang, after being rescued from their side, had been immediately apprehended.
If Xiao Shi were alive, he’d probably get along well with the little one—he himself was just a child, still playful.
But there were no ‘ifs’.
Cheng Jiu’s gaze darkened, and he turned silently into his room.
Xin Gan watched him go, bent down to pat the child’s head. “Uncle Cheng Jiu has things to do today and can’t play with you.”
The child nodded understandingly. “Then next time, you must play with me. Remember.”
“I will, I promise.”
The boy sighed, a little disappointed, mimicking Commander Meng’s posture with his hands behind his back as he walked out.
Xin Gan went to send him home.
...
Cheng Jiu showered in the bathroom. In winter, the water was icy cold, but he stood under it like he couldn’t feel the chill.
Only this way could he calm himself.
Xin Gan opened the door and called his name at the bathroom entrance, but received no response. She knocked, “Cheng Jiu, are you showering?”
Only the sound of water answered.
Worried, Xin Gan knocked again. “If you don’t open up, I’ll break the door down.”
A minute passed; the water stopped. Cheng Jiu, dripping wet, hastily wrapped a towel around his waist and opened the door.
Xin Gan looked up at him. He lowered his head, water dripping from his hair, his expression lost, almost desolate.
Her heart clenched painfully. She hurried to fetch another towel, draping it over his head and rubbing him dry.
He was cold all over, even his eyes.
She said, “In this weather, a cold shower will make you sick. No matter how fit you are, you can’t handle it. Next time, don’t shower with cold water.”
Cheng Jiu caught her hand, the one holding the towel, and pulled her close, turning and pressing her against the wall for a kiss.
Xin Gan closed her eyes slowly, letting him.
She was warmly dressed, so she wasn’t cold. The heating in the house quickly restored his body temperature.
Her heart eased, but soon worried again.
His complexion was poor, gloomy, with a tense anger—not directed at her, but she sensed his emotions slipping out of control.
With a sudden clatter, something fell from the cabinet beside them—Xin Gan had accidentally knocked it over. She opened her eyes instinctively, but Cheng Jiu abruptly pulled back a little, saying, “Ignore it, keep going.”
Xin Gan looked up, blinking, her eyes clear like a startled kitten. She responded softly, but pleaded in a small voice, “You’re too rough, you’re hurting me.”
Cheng Jiu held her waist and instantly loosened his grip. Lifting her sweater, he saw a patch of red on her slender waist where he hadn’t controlled his strength.
He hadn’t meant to, and murmured, “Sorry.”
Xin Gan pinched his earlobe. “It’s alright, you didn’t mean it.”
Cheng Jiu said, “I lost control, scared you.”
“No, it just hurts. I’m afraid of pain,” Xin Gan said softly. “You’re too strong.”
Her delicate appearance was too tempting.
Cheng Jiu swallowed, his eyes dark and bright, fixed on her like a wolf spotting prey on the plateau.
Xin Gan licked her lips, her back pressed against the cold wall, staring back at him, not shying away. As if whatever he wanted to do next, she would accept, never refuse.
Because she liked him.
When you like someone, you can do whatever you want.
He’d never gone all the way before.
Xin Gan thought about it and said, “Don’t hold back anymore.” The meaning was clear.
Cheng Jiu lowered his head, whispering in her ear, “There are no condoms here, and you’re still young.” Not suitable for having a child yet.
Xin Gan: “I’m young but can marry you?”
Cheng Jiu let out a hoarse laugh.
“Who are you looking down on?” Xin Gan teased boldly, her heart racing, deliberately provoking him. “Still holding back?”
Cheng Jiu: “…”
If he held back now, he wasn’t a man.
She really wasn’t afraid of him, facing him head-on.
Xin Gan eventually softened, laughing sweetly, her hair covering her ears so he couldn’t see how red they’d become.
Cheng Jiu, more experienced than her, wasn’t easily provoked. Just as he was about to speak, she trembled slightly and said, “Be gentle with me.”
He tilted her chin up, leaned in, and whispered by her ear, “Alright, you can have my life.”
...
Men are often contradictory creatures. Cheng Jiu felt he hadn’t meant to, but at the critical moment, all restraint vanished.
Without protection.
Cheng Jiu was afraid of accidents, afraid she might get pregnant. He finally left her and went to the bathroom.
Soon, the sound of water echoed. Xin Gan’s eyelids grew heavy as she listened, struggling to turn over and get up.
When Cheng Jiu came out again, she was clutching her chest, about to get up. He frowned and hurried over to lift her. “What’s wrong? Not tired?”
Xin Gan was exhausted, her limbs limp. “Is there hot water? I want to shower too.”
Cheng Jiu kissed her forehead. “There is. I’ll carry you in.”
“Mm.”
Steam filled the bathroom. On the shelf were two bottles of shampoo and body wash, neither her usual brands, not even any facial cleanser.
Xin Gan stood before the mirror, looking at her face—fair but slightly peeling and red, nothing serious. The cream Cheng Jiu had borrowed from Commander Meng’s wife wasn’t suitable for her skin; it made her itch, so she only used it once.
Cheng Jiu gently touched her face, examining it. “Allergic?”
Xin Gan nodded. “A little.”
“I’ll take you to the pharmacy tomorrow.”
“But isn’t it hard to go down the mountain when it’s snowing? It’s slippery; don’t trouble yourself.”
“It’s already cleared. Tomorrow’s snow won’t be so heavy—I checked the forecast.”
Xin Gan asked, “Do you know how to read horoscopes?”
“I do.”
“What’s your sign?”
After her shower, she seemed refreshed, eagerly asking him questions.
Cheng Jiu laughed hoarsely. “Aren’t you tired, all these questions?”
“I’m tired, but I want to talk to you.”
Cheng Jiu washed her clean, wrapped her in a towel. “So chatty—want to talk in bed?”
Xin Gan blushed and smiled, her slender hands looping around his neck, then retracting to touch his shoulder blade, fascinated.
Cheng Jiu carried her out of the bathroom, barefoot, gently laying her down and covering her with the blanket. “Rest for a bit. I’ll go smoke.”
“Still smoking?”
“To calm down. If I come back now, you’ll get hurt.”
Xin Gan nodded, blushing. “Then wear more clothes, something warmer.”
Cheng Jiu pinched her nose, indulgent.
His back was muscular, tanned from years outdoors, not as fair as hers. He was a man, unconcerned with appearance, not relying on his looks. His attire was always comfortable and simple, fitting his profession.
Xin Gan watched as he dressed, sideways, pulling up his pants’ zipper. She remembered something and asked, “Cheng Jiu, when did you first see me?”
Cheng Jiu turned back, answering without hesitation, “Photo—my mom showed me a picture of you when you were a teenager.”
“My graduation photo?”
“Mm.” Cheng Jiu came over to tuck her in. “You seem lively, hm?”
Xin Gan stopped asking, quickly closing her eyes to rest.
She’d planned to wait for him to cook, but after their earlier activity, it was already dark. Cheng Jiu finished his cigarette and went to the kitchen to make porridge.
No need for stir-fry at night; he made lean meat congee for Xin Gan.
Cheng Jiu couldn’t understand how girls could have such small appetites, like cats, eating so little and feeling full. Didn’t they get hungry?
Xin Gan was slim, but not overly so; she had curves where it mattered. He worried her small frame might get blown away by the wind.
Mostly, Cheng Jiu worried about her health.
Sleepiness crept in, and Xin Gan was almost asleep.
During their earlier activity, Xin Gan’s phone had fallen in the living room. When it rang, Cheng Jiu found it and answered.
They were married now, so there was no need for pretense.
He glanced at the caller ID—it was from Yongcheng, but no name, so he had no idea who it was. Worried it might be important, he answered for her.
The person on the other end paused for a moment before asking, “Are you Cheng Jiu?”
Cheng Jiu’s lips curled coldly. “It’s you.”
...
The caller was He Cheng.
He’d used a different phone to call her.
Cheng Jiu smoked, his expression hidden behind clouds of smoke.
He Cheng said, “Where’s Xin Gan? Why is her phone with you?”
Cheng Jiu never cared for He Cheng, who kept pestering Xin Gan, making things unpleasant. “She’s tired, resting. If you have something to say, tell me.”
“I can’t discuss it with you. This is between me and her.” He Cheng didn’t take Cheng Jiu seriously; he was always defiant.
“Then you won’t get the chance. She won’t respond to you. And stop acting like a leech, pestering her endlessly.”
“You’re wrong, Brother Cheng Jiu. Haven’t you ever chased a girl? If you don’t persist, how do you win her over? I almost forgot—you had a girlfriend in college, didn’t you? Surely you know how these things work.”
Cheng Jiu said, “He Cheng, sparring with me is pointless.”
Xin Gan was already married to him; He Cheng’s interference was useless.
Most importantly, Xin Gan’s heart belonged to him—Cheng Jiu.
He Cheng, in good spirits, didn’t hang up. Warmly, he said, “Am I not stating facts? The Cheng and Xin families arranged your engagement since childhood, yet you, Cheng Jiu, dated someone in college. Do you think the Xin family knew? If not, what would they think if they found out?”
“They’d think you didn’t honor the agreement—knowing you had a fiancée, yet still dated another girl.”
Cheng Jiu’s college relationship was common knowledge in his circle; he hadn’t hidden it. At the time, he didn’t know Xin Gan and hadn’t cared about the arranged marriage, so when he met someone he liked, he dated her.
If anyone wanted to make a fuss, it was indeed his fault. He admitted that.
But this was no leverage for He Cheng.
Cheng Jiu said indifferently, “So? What’s your point?”
“Nothing, just reminding you you’re no saint. You and I are the same—don’t think too highly of yourself. Besides, even if Xin Gan is married to you, it doesn’t affect my friendship with her.”
He Cheng hung up, not waiting for Cheng Jiu’s reply.
He hung up, and Ah Zhou stood nearby, shivering, not daring to look at him.
He Cheng ignored her and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, calling Mrs. He. “Has Cheng Hui visited lately?”
“No, she rarely comes. Why?”
“What about He Chuan?”
“He Chuan moved out, doesn’t live at home.” Mrs. He was surprised; He Cheng seldom cared about He Chuan, let alone Cheng Hui.
Oddly enough, since He Chuan moved out, Cheng Hui stopped visiting. Could it be because of He Chuan?
He Cheng said, “Alright, I know.”
“Ah Cheng, how are you? I saw your drama on TV—you’re amazing, starring from the start. You really are my son.” Mrs. He doted on him, though she originally opposed his acting career, fearing He Wei’s disapproval. But now that he’d done well, she could show He Wei.
He Cheng: “Enough, I’m tired of hearing it. Can’t you say something new?”
“Don’t be upset, it’s just my wording. Son, do well, I’ll speak up for you with your father.”
“No need. Whoever wants to be his son can be; I don’t have the fortune for it. Mom, I just have one thing I need your help with, if you still count me as your son.”
Mrs. He immediately focused. “You’re my son. Of course I’ll help. Tell me.”
He Cheng sighed. “Forget it—I won’t say it. It’d put you in a tough spot.”
“Son, don’t say that. I’ll always be on your side, just tell me.”
“Alright, Mom. I’ll come home tomorrow since I have no schedule. I’ll tell you then.”
“Okay, come home tomorrow. I’ll have Auntie make soup for you.”
Mrs. He was delighted, immediately going downstairs to tell Auntie to start the soup, even bringing out her treasured ginseng.
...
Ah Zhou had been standing in the room for ages, her legs aching.
The heating was strong, but she still felt cold. She wanted to dress, but feared displeasing He Cheng, so kept standing.
He Cheng shed his bathrobe, changed into a shirt and trousers, immaculate. He glanced at Ah Zhou and ordered coldly, “Bring my shoes and put them on.”
Ah Zhou hurried to fetch his shoes.
She knelt before him, disregarding her humiliating posture, putting his shoes on. Luckily, the hotel room was carpeted so her bare knees weren’t too uncomfortable.
He Cheng looked down at her and smiled. “You’re really like a dog. I say east, you don’t dare go west. So obedient, it makes one want to torment you.”
If she weren’t so desperate for money, needing this job, she wouldn’t let him bully her.
Ah Zhou bowed her head lower, not daring to look at him.
“I know what you’re thinking. You hate me, resent me, think I’m a pervert, right?”
“No, Cheng, I never thought that,” Ah Zhou suddenly looked up, tears brimming, at the edge of a cliff.
He Cheng’s eyes flashed with disgust. “Enough, don’t treat me like a fool. Your face is full of reluctance. Yet when you’re lying on my bed, aren’t you cooperative? Don’t be two-faced. You eat my food, use my things—don’t think of defying me.”
Ah Zhou explained quietly, “I’m not, Cheng, believe me, I’m not that kind of person.”
“Whether you are or not is irrelevant. As long as you obey, it’s fine. If not, it doesn’t matter—you know those little videos of yours could get out, so go ahead and cause trouble.”
Ah Zhou understood and quickly wiped her tears. “Cheng, I’ll listen to you. Sister Ya told me to keep an eye on you; I haven’t betrayed you, I haven’t told her anything about you. I know what to say and what not to.”
He Cheng was amused. “Tan Ya Zhuo contacted you again?”
Ah Zhou nodded. “Yes. Our show aired on Star TV, getting popular. Sister Ya is afraid you’ll get arrogant, so told me to watch you and report to her.”
“Why didn’t you say anything before?”
“I was scared…I didn’t dare. Sister Ya helped me get this job, I was afraid…”
“Ah Zhou. Looking out for yourself isn’t always the best plan. Either be mine, or go back to her. Think about it.”
“I’m yours, Cheng, I’ll do anything you say.”
Ah Zhou hugged his trouser leg, careful not to get tears on it, then let go, not daring to touch him.
He Cheng was satisfied. “Good girl. Rest well tonight. If Tan Ya Zhuo comes, you know what to say.”
Ah Zhou nodded.
Tan Ya Zhuo, a big agent, couldn’t always be by He Cheng’s side, and she managed more than just He Cheng. Thus she sent Ah Zhou to keep an eye on him.
Ah Zhou was soft-hearted, already completely under He Cheng’s control. Tan Ya Zhuo didn’t know, or didn’t care, simply too busy for now.
...
Xin Gan woke in the night, groggy, got out of bed and nearly fell.
The sound wasn’t loud, but Cheng Jiu in the living room heard it.
He entered and turned on the light, seeing Xin Gan wrapped in a sweater, her long legs exposed, half-asleep, looking at him.
“You’re up?” Cheng Jiu went over and hugged her.
She leaned against him, murmuring, “I want water.”
“Lie back, I’ll get you some.”
He returned, carefully feeding her water.
Afterward, Xin Gan felt better, sitting cross-legged by the bed. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”
Her hair was messy, her sleepy look inviting pity.
Cheng Jiu touched her hand, covered her legs with the blanket. “I slept awhile, woke up to make a call. Are you hungry?”
“No.” Xin Gan said, “Let’s sleep together.”
“I’ll go turn off the living room light.”
Cheng Jiu returned, closed the door, paused at the light switch.
Xin Gan saw and said, “Don’t turn it off, come here.”
Cheng Jiu smiled. “It’s alright, let’s turn it off.”
Avoidance wasn’t a solution; sooner or later, he’d have to face it.
Back in bed, Xin Gan lay on her side, listening to her heartbeat.
Cheng Jiu’s sleep had been poor lately, especially with the lights off. It felt like being back in the basement where Ji Bai had locked him—dark, damp. There, he’d seen Jiang Tang.
Jiang Tang had held a syringe, its contents already injected into his vein.
Direct injection, addiction faster and stronger.
Jiang Tang looked at him, saying slowly, “I can’t compete with Xin Gan, I have no choice, Cheng Jiu. You forced me into this. I didn’t want to, but you’re always above it all, never seeing me. I had to use such a lowly method to drag you down.”
Once fallen from grace, it’s hard to climb back up.
His career was ruined, destroyed by Jiang Tang.
All Cheng Jiu thought of then was Xin Gan—what would happen to her if something happened to him?
Jiang Tang saw his attention wasn’t on her, and her resentment grew. Even now, he wouldn’t look at her, still thinking of another woman, thinking of Xin Gan.
Ji Bai laughed at the side, mocking, “You’re finished, Cheng Jiu.”
Jiang Tang: “Not finished. Cheng Jiu, let’s go to Cambodia, Burma—far from here, where no one can catch us. Ji Bai says she can get us out safely. As long as you don’t arrest her, we can all leave unharmed.”
Cheng Jiu’s consciousness was fading, addiction quickly eroding his will. He struggled, resisting, but his body convulsed uncontrollably, curled up, as if thousands of ants gnawed at his bones. Unbearable.
He looked at Jiang Tang—cold, hateful, furious, witheringly sarcastic. “I’m not interested in you, nothing will change that, not even death.”
“I won’t leave with you. You’re not worthy.”
Sweating, his body started to twitch.
Jiang Tang tossed the syringe aside, sneering. “Let’s see how long you last, Cheng Jiu. I’ll wait for you, I have all the time.”
Ji Bai said, “Ruthless, indeed. The saying holds true, the most poisonous is a woman’s heart. Jiang Tang, I wonder if you really like him—ruthless enough to let him fall, to make him just like us.”
Ji Bai laughed without restraint, her laughter sharp and shrill.
Jiang Tang retorted, “This was your idea. Calling me ruthless? Look at yourself—you’re more capable than me.”
“Of course, otherwise this man would’ve caught me long ago.”
Cheng Jiu’s ears rang, unable to hear them clearly. His will, though strong, crumbled under the drugs, collapsing just like any addict, symptoms manifesting.
Ji Bai knew this too well. Once Cheng Jiu fainted, she told Jiang Tang, “The dose was strong. I only have enough for three more shots, no more. But three is enough to deal with him.”
“When do we leave?”
“Why rush? I still need help, a few more days.”
“If we delay, they’ll track us down. Don’t underestimate them. We need to leave soon.”
Ji Bai rested her chin in her hand, unconcerned. “Do you think I have no way? What’s the hurry—they have spies, so do I.”
Jiang Tang didn’t know how formidable Ji Bai was. With the big fish caught, only small fry remained, nothing serious. In recent years, domestic forces had cracked down on such organizations; Ji Bai couldn’t possibly have more power.
With the main group gone, there shouldn’t be any left.
Ji Bai seemed to guess her thoughts. “Stop wondering. If I didn’t have some skill, I wouldn’t be alive now. Miss Jiang, just keep an eye on this man, don’t worry about the rest.”
Jiang Tang: “…”
...
Cheng Jiu woke again, weak and trembling, unable to focus his vision, taking a long time to see Jiang Tang.
She brought him a bowl of porridge, blew on it, and held it to his lips. He turned his face away coldly.
Jiang Tang said, “You should eat a little. Don’t worry, the porridge is clean, nothing added.”
Cheng Jiu saw the injection marks on his arm, immediately realizing what had happened. He looked at Jiang Tang with biting sarcasm. “Jiang Tang, is this your choice?”
Jiang Tang: “It wasn’t my choice—it was forced on me. I’ve liked you for years, but you never saw me. I can’t swallow that. Cheng Jiu, I’m just a woman.”
Cheng Jiu’s scorn deepened.
“If you’d accepted me from the start, we wouldn’t be like this now. Cheng Jiu, don’t blame me—it’s you who’s heartless. What’s so good about Xin Gan?”
“Jiang Tang, feelings are feelings, duty is duty. Have you forgotten your responsibility? Betraying the group, betraying comrades, mixing with criminals—can you justify the burden on your shoulders?”
Jiang Tang was unmoved. “Responsibility? My father spent half his life on such things, ended up injured, and after retirement, what did he get? Sleepless nights, unable to eat, relying on expensive medicine just to survive. Your family’s better off than anyone’s, you never had to worry about the future. But mine is different.”
“I have to use my meager salary for my father’s medical bills. And for myself. Cheng Jiu, you can’t possibly understand how I feel.”
“The straw that breaks the camel’s back takes only a single grain.”
Cheng Jiu retorted bluntly, “You’re just finding excuses for your downfall.”
Jiang Tang: “Say what you want, you’re not wrong, but it won’t change anything. Cheng Jiu, I hope you stay as calm as you are now when your addiction flares up—don’t beg me then.”
...
Ji Bai contacted a big boss in Burma, seeking help for their escape overseas.
She relayed the news to Jiang Tang, joking, “Undercover games aren’t for real life. Miss Jiang, I’ve laid all my cards on the table for you.”
Jiang Tang said, “Don’t worry, I won’t betray you. At this point, there’s no turning back for me.”